the penultimate reason i love my beautician. in a mate's way. or not.

last friday i was having a post-wax cigarette with my beautician (aka "the goddess of wax"). we were hugging a lot and crying together and declaring our mutual love and adoration for each other.

i swear, if i could find a man who treated me as good as this hot hungarian mama does, i would be a satisfied and happy woman.

i mean c'mon ladies, she touches my vadge, tells me she loves me, cuddles me, then gives me chocolate and cigarettes. and ain't no man ever done that for me consistently for two years running. actually, ain't no man ever done that for me for two days running.

*sigh*

anyway, on friday she sat me down and told me that she would be my surrogate mummy when "the badness" happens. this made me cry. a lot.

HOW SWEET IS THAT?!?

but in considering her most beautiful and jizz-inducing offer, i am wondering whether i really want a mother who:


- touches my vadge

- ogles my baps

- texts me when she gets lucky

- gets lucky WAY more often than i do

- offers to share her sexual partners with me


i'm not from queensland after all. (nb: for all you foreign readers, queensland is an aussie state often accused of being full of racist bogans and family fuckers. for further proof, go here.)

so i think i'll stick to paying her to rip the hair out of my folicles and joining her for coffee and cigarettes every now and then.

at least she doesn't ask me what i reckon about shapelle corby while i'm "assuming the position" on her day bed. so wrong.

as you were.

i too love the theatre process, roguemaze.

so some actor dudes have been encouraging me to take up playwriting again.

i say "again" because i dabbled in the art of play in my formative years. i think i was pretty awright at it too cause i placed in two young playwriters competitions and saw my major year 12 drama work (a mindfuck of a one-acter which emerged from my dark place) workshopped by the sydney theatre company.

you see i started out as a budding theatrical actress, attending every drama class i could convince my parents to pay for and vowing never to compromise my integrity by appearing in feminine hygiene commercials. i did a few plays in high school before ending up in a state drama company when i was 17. it was this experience, combined with a nasty case of the self-starvies, that showed me the error of my ways. that is, that i could never possibly be an actress because quite frankly i hated being looked at. i also had a major problem with the traveling orgy of drama queens that is the theatre company.

and so i decided to write instead. this would mean i could still be a part of the theatre world, yet at a safe distance from both the stage and the actors on it. but alas, during my final year of high school i discovered a new passion, a passion that was to take over my life informing my choices of both university degree and political persuasion. i discovered human rights (or lack thereof i suppose) and i made it my mission to heal the world. for you, and for me, and the entire human race.

i volunteered for several years for various social causes, spoke out publicly (well, at my parents' dinner parties at least) against...well...everything, and hugged a damn lot of trees while sipping soy lattes and singing kumbaya. but then people in my own little world started dying and my attentions got diverted to more personal challenges. i still want to heal the world, i just have to do it through less hands on and more cop out "have some money young english charity collector" means for the moment.

i would indeed love to put pen to paper once again - or fingers to keyboard as is the case these days - and churn out a work of theatrical mastery to rival chekov. however there are two major factors in my life preventing me from dazzling the sydney theatre scene with my astounding wit and my penchant for (over)punctuation. these are:

1) finding the time to write amid the plethora of commitments that doth be my burden. they currently be the essay on the third wave of western feminism, the essay on kristeva's thesis on the power of horror, the mini-thesis on the cultural implications of inter-country adoption, the increasingly long work hours, the constant care of my terminally ill mother, and the rampant alcoholism rendering me incapable of performing almost all of the above duties in recent weeks. and;

2) a total lack of inspiration for anything to write about that would be worthy of the theatre.

nevertheless i have decided to once again dabble with the writing of plays. or at least to dabble with the idea of it. that way when people ask what exactly it is that i do i can say "oh, i dabble in playwriting". i can also get bitch slapped for sounding like a pretentious wanker. but i guess that's the plight of the dabbler.

cotton says i could take inspiration from the recent sequence of events that has comprised these most fucked up two years. but why write an angsty, self-indulgent play when i already write an angsty, self-indulgent blog? i believe that one must diversify their genres or people will get bored.

so i will let you all know how my dabbling turns out. and hey, if anyone has any thematic suggestions for me, feel free to pass them on. i'll be sure to credit you when i'm heaps famous and stuff.

oh, and as for you, young vixen lady, i'm still intent on that joint venture we've so often discussed these past few months. move to sydney so we can get crackin' already!

family first

have you ever overheard a nasty conversation about yourself that was obviously not intended for your burning ears?

you know, like those scenes in movies when some poor little bugger eavesdrops on his "parents" and finds out he's adopted and is all shocked and depressed even though its bleeding obvious to everyone else because the little bugger in question is in fact black while the rest of his "family" are dead ringers for the fucking brady bunch.

no? you haven't? not ever? well, you're a lucky bastard aren't you just? huh?

i guarantee you that this is not because people don't talk about you behind your back. because they do. all the time. in fact, there are probably at least 4 people you know bitching about you RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!

cope.

i myself was privy to such a conversation several months ago. i won't go into detail because i'm over it. and by "over it", i mean i only fly into uncontrollable fits of rage once a month or so. my therapist says this means i'm "healing".

i also don't want to give the backstabbing chatterboxes in question the satisfaction of publicity. but let it be known that, despite my current care-factor reading of "almost zero", back then it really fucking hurt.

there was one particular sentence uttered during this little tête-à-tête (that i'm so totally over) that lodged in my mind like a stubborn bullet, causing thought haemorrhages to spew forth from my brain on a regular basis ever since.

he said: "she really needs to get her priorities straight."

i thought: "go to hell you cuntfaced piece of dirt, my priorities are damn straight. fo shizzle."

okay, so i didn't really think "fo shizzle" at the time, because that phrase hadn't yet entered into my everyday vernacular. but it was something along those lines.

anyway, today i am going to let you be the judge of my personal priorities scale. my priorities have changed extremely little since that cursed day last year. except for number 3, which pretty much changes daily. sometimes hourly. ooh, i think it changed just then in fact.

so these are my priorities:

1) my family - this means my wonderful mum, my beautiful sister, my devoted brother-in-law, my blessed unborn nephew and my funny little polish nanna. i would do anything for these people. ANY. FUCKING. THING.

2) my friends - who are also my family in a tree-hugging, 'central perk' hanging, beverly hills 90210: the college years, amigos para siempres kinda way.

3) fucking (insert name here) - my current choice is daniel brühl from 'the edukators'. in fact, my current choice is fucking all three hotnesses from this brilliant film. i am the first to admit the tawdry selfishness of this priority. but come on, a girl's gotta get laid. well, a girl's gotta dream about getting laid at least.

4) everything else

so people, do my priorities sound mixed up to you?

sorry seems to be the hardest word

from Bringing Them Home: Report of the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families:

"They would not let us kiss our father goodbye, I will never forget the sad look on his face. He was unwell and he worked very hard all his life as a timber-cutter. That was the last time I saw my father, he died within two years after."

- Jennifer

it's sorry day. well it was sorry day. it has been sorry day every year since 1998. and yet some sad fuckers are still hiding behind semantics and refusing to say the one little word that would make such a difference to so many.

and so, instead of waiting any longer for the pathetic little man to pull his finger out of tony abbott's bottom, today a new phase of the healing process has been declared. today begins a new journey. today begins the journey of healing.

i'm still sorry, though. for what it's worth.

DECLARATION OF THE STOLEN GENERATIONS ON THE NATIONAL DAY OF HEALING

We, Australia’s Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Stolen Generations, our families and communities, still experience grief and trauma as a result of Government policies and practices. We remember those who have passed on without receiving justice.

We recall the crimes since white settlement began. The rape and massacre of many of our people, which resulted in the destruction of whole Aboriginal nations, and the attempt to ‘breed out’ our Aboriginality and assimilate us into the white population.

THESE ARE ACTS OF GENOCIDE
The theft of our children, and the mental, emotional, sexual, and physical torture many endured in government and religious institutions – and the ongoing suffering. The refusal to allow our Elders to teach our heritage. The desecration of our culture. Our removal from our traditional lands – our ‘belonging place’ and our spiritual connection. The banning of our beautiful languages, and the compulsory teaching of a foreign language and religion. The detention of our Elders, families and nations on reserves and missions. Our exclusion from the social, political and economic development of our beloved country. The adoption of a Constitution without our input. The constant imprisonment of our people, many of whom have died unjustly in custody.

THESE ARE ACTS OF BARBARITY
Yet we, the Aboriginal Nations and peoples of Australia have continued to resist. We have worked against incredible odds for our voices to be heard and our plight addressed. We have formed organizations. We have worked for the freedom of our people through petitions and campaigns at home and abroad. We changed the Constitution through the 1967 Referendum. We honour those non-Indigenous people who have stood with us in our struggle, and those who stand with us today.

THESE ARE ACTS OF RESISTANCE
We fought until the Australian Government removed the untrue and insulting notion of Terra Nullius and recognised our Native Title rights. We have persuaded Governments to inquire into the deaths of our people in custody, the Stolen Generations, the health and welfare of our people, and to change policies. Our voices will not be silenced. Our stories will be told.

THESE ARE ACTS OF TRUTH-TELLING
We will continue to fight for self-determination, and for the recognition of our Aboriginal people as the First Nations of Australia, the restoration of our languages, the reconstruction and development of our economic life, including royalty payments, the inclusion of Aboriginal rights within the Australian constitution, restitution for past injustice, and a national Government apology.

THESE ARE ACTS OF JUSTICE
We acknowledge the compassion and contribution of Australians, churches and Governments to the healing of Stolen Generations expressed in the Bringing Them Home report, Sorry Day gatherings, Bridge walks, apologies in Sorry books and invaluable programs such as Link-Up and the Bringing Them Home counsellors

THESE ARE ACTS OF HEALING

Many people have come to our country who suffered in their homelands – from the early convicts expelled to our shores for petty crimes, to those seeking asylum today. We do not want any one to experience the humiliation and trauma that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people have endured over these past 217 years.

Many of us – Aboriginal, Torres Strait Islanders and non-Indigenous people – are on a journey of healing. Together, we will continue to work for, and be a part of, the healing of all peoples and cultures in our country, so that we become a nation based on truth, justice and freedom.

WE CALL UPON ALL AUSTRALIANS TO JOIN TOGETHER ON MAY 26TH 2005 TO COMMEMORATE A NATIONAL DAY OF HEALING FOR ALL LIVING IN OUR COUNTRY.

sounds fair enough to me.

xox

i should probably get rid of the exposed live wire and the dead cat in the kitchen too, huh?

so i've been made the new occupational health and safety officer at work.

hoorah!

i am going to put up some posters around the office to ensure my colleagues have a clean and safe working environment that we can all enjoy together.

kumbay-fucking-ya.

anyhoo, i need some help with the captions for some of the posters. below are my suggestions:



never wear high waisted jeans with white running shoes. people may mistake you for jerry seinfeld and ask you annoying questions such as "so, funny man, what's in the box?" or "hey, jewboy, where's your bagel?"

actually, if you wanna keep your job here, minion, never wear high waisted jeans at all. they're way uncool and heaps unflattering.



you can't fit a square shape into a circular hole. didn't you ever watch sesame st? there was a song to this effect. it went something like this:

"you can't fit a square shape into a circular hole, doo doo doo doo doo."

and i think it was sung by a group of ethnically diverse children feeding some ducks at the zoo.

can anyone think of any other signs to help promote oh&s in my workplace?

c'mon friends, we're talking about people's lives here.

and now i'm lovesick...

la nadine: a medical retrospective:

1981 - i entered this world in a style befitting of a true drama queen: choking on my umbilical chord and gasping for my first breaths. definitely a portent of things to come.

1983 - the first time i cracked my head open. that's right, the first time. it was my big sister's first day of big school and i just felt she was getting way to much attention so i jumped head first into a gutter. that learnt 'em.

1984 - i had a hernia removed from my left hip bone. i remember distinctly that i was watching gremlins with my sister when they came to get me for the surgery. i also remember wondering why the hell they couldn't think of somewhere other than my bottom to stick the long, jabby thing.

- two weeks after returning home from the hospital, my mum found another hernia on my right hip bone. i've always been all about the symmetry. i swear i remember a lovely nurse called barbie with long blonde hair and big boobies. although many of my memories have been tainted by porn so i could be wrong on that one.

1985 - the first time my adenoids were removed. that's right, the first time. i remember wishing i could always eat that much jelly and ice-cream.

1986 - i cracked my head open for the second time. all i remember is a spiral staircase, the promise of chocolate at the bottom, and some very guilty looking bigger kids staring at all the blood in fearful horror.

- i cracked my head open for the third time. that's right, the third time. trampolines are evil bastards. especially when you attempt to backflip off them.

1987 - a horrific roller-skating accident landed me in emergency with a gazillion splinters on the palms of my hands. the incident involved a psycho dog, a telegraph pole and a whole lot of fucking pain.

1988 - my burgeoning career as an ethnic folk musician was cut short when my gypsy-style ukelele/banjo thing attacked me. i was merrily composing music for my new album when one of the strings snapped and forced itself through my thumb. i haven't been able to listen to a gypsy kings album without crying since. and that hurts.

1990 - i was bitten by a seal. read about it here. i can't bear to relive the painful memories again.

1996 - i broke my little toe when a thirty year old mentally challenged man stepped on it in a drama class. that's all i'll say about that for fear of appearing unsympathetic to certain minorities. but it never healed properly. and to this day it tingles when my best friend gets lucky.

1997 - the second time my adenoids were removed. that's right, the persistent little fuckers grew back. but this time, an evil demon disguised as an ear/nose/throat doctor had the bright idea of taking my tonsils out at the same time. consider this a warning people: if your tonsils are still occupying space in your throat, HANG ON TO THE SQUISHY LITTLE BUGGERS FOR DEAR LIFE! because...

- five days after the operation, five days of excruciating pain like you will never know (unless you give birth or get shot or something), i woke up in the middle of the night bleeding from the mouth. SERIOUSLY FUCKING BLEEDING! we're talking blood-soaked sheets and enough left to fill a bucket on the way to the hospital. you think you've seen a lot of blood? you ain't seen nothing. and then...

- five days after that, IT FUCKING HAPPENED AGAIN! this time i actually went back to sleep in hope the blood would just go away, risking both my life and my mother's linen. but the salty liquid just kept coming and an hour later i was back in the car with a bucket on my lap and a vampire's smile.

1998 - i severely threw my neck out go-go dancing while on tour with my then theatre company. go-go dancing is a dangerous activity people. but fuck is it fun.

2000 - another operation. this time in my womanly regions. i will refrain from further elaboration. i would like to maintain my male readership. and (what's left of) my dignity.

2002 - it was new years day and exactly one week before i was to fly to thailand for a trashy girlie holiday. i woke up at the boud's house in cursed agony. it seemed that the skin on the soles of my feet had been all but peeled off. but before you go accusing the boud of sadism, i accept full responsibility for the incident (and i seriously doubt he remembers anyway). stupid velvet thongs! suffice to say i was on crutches for the next week and unable to swim for the first 2 weeks of my trip.

2003 - the tear gas incident. that's right, the tear gas incident. could i be any cooler? i certainly think not. it was during a riot at my university in chile. man, those chileans know how to put on a good riot! i wasn't actually rioting myself, but rather trying to make it back to my house from class without being trampled on or hit by a molotov cocktail. my friend tim and i ended up stuck in a back alley coughing and spluttering, our eyes stinging like bitches, and green stuff pouring out of every facial orifice. HOTT!

- upon arrival back from chile to be by my father's bedside, i was struck down with a mysterious infection in a bone in my foot. i was hospitalised, sedated for the trauma of being away from my dying father, and allowed to go home only on the premise that i would "lie down for 5 days and use crutches only when absolutely necessary". yeah, as if! nobody keeps this woman horizontal for 5 days. well, almost nobody, huh schmitzy?

since then - so far all clear. which is not to say that i have not spent 90% of my time in the past 2 years in one hospital or another. i just haven't been the patient for awhile. nor have i been very patient for that matter. hmm.

obviously i'm embellishing, but you'll get my drift

random conversations at uni yesterday:

1) during a tutorial presentation on the 'globalization of gender'*:

la nadine: the globalization of human trafficking is a relatively new phenomenon, correlating with the crackdown on the international drug trade and embedded in the increased commodification of sex and sexual identity.**

random student #1: but illegal trafficking has been going on for like forever. like, what about about that dude from colombia and scarface and stuff?

la nadine: (ignoring ridiculously inane movie reference) yes, i know that, i'm saying that due to the increased national and international policing of drug trafficking, crime syndicates have turned to human trafficking as a new means of profit generation.

women and children all over the world, especially from russia, the former soviet union, and south-east asia are being kidnapped and tricked into sex slavery and smuggled across borders and into brothels.

random student #2: but prostitution has been going on for like forever. like, what about geishas and mary magdalene and stuff?

la nadine: (ignoring blatant stupidity of both references) yes, i know that, but the commodification of humans for the purposes of prostitution and pornography on a global scale has not been going on "for like forever".

random student #3: but pornography has been going on for like forever. like, what about the marquis de sade and hugh hefner and stuff?

la nadine: don't you people listen? are you all mental? on drugs? deaf?

I'M TALKING ABOUT GLOBALIZATION FOR FUCKS SAKE!

*seethes*

2) during a meeting with the faculty heads to discuss my "special circumstances":

la nadine: i apologize that this situation has dragged on for so long, and i'm doing my best to get through all the work, but what's been happening in my life these past few years is completely out of my control.

random staff member #1: we understand that, and we're sorry about your parents, but we need you to try and finish this course as soon as possible.

la nadine: as i said, i'm trying, but things have worsened once again, and i may have to pull out of uni at any time with no notice.

random staff member #2: la nadine*** we've been patient with you these past few years, but its just dragging on too long, and we need you to try and finish this course as soon as possible.

la nadine: i assure you that i am trying to finish the course as soon as possible. you want me to fucking pinky swear on it?

random staff member #3: we just need you to try and finish the course as soon as possible.

la nadine: don't you people listen? are you all mental? on drugs? deaf?

I AM TRYING FOR FUCKS SAKE!

*seethes*

*drowns sorrows in vodka*

*blogs through the pain*




*yes, i am a left-wing, humanities, glorified arts student wanker. cope.

**i am highly aware of how annoying i sound. double cope.

***okay so she didn't really say 'la nadine', but it would've be way cool if she had.

letterhead

dear natalie portman,

look at your bad self with your shaved mug.



you go girlfriend!

*snaps fingers and jolts head in the traditional stereotyped african-american style*

you look HOTT!

i always wanted to shave my head but never went through with it for the following reasons:

1) i am an incorrigible wimp;

2) my mummy wouldn't let me;

3) i believe that my regrowth would resemble an albino's pubes.

so...um...you wanna come over to my house and play 'portia and ellen'? bags me being portia.

sorry, that's probably a little too forward, huh? i mean here i am knowing heaps about you, what with you being all famous and stuff, and you probably know nothing about me. unless of course you read my blog. which is almost as unlikely as network ten paying any attention to my angry letter of complaint.

so anyway, here's a bit about me to help you in your decision:

- my name is la nadine. actually its just 'nadine', but i added the 'la' to make myself come across as a cool blogger (oxymoron much?)

- i am 23 and 10 months old. turning 24 scares me a bit. it means i have reached my mid-twenties with nothing to show for it but a few zany travel stories and some over-priced designer clothes.

- i live in sydney, australia with my mum, betty. she is wonderful. but she is very, very, VERY sick and i am very, very, very, very, VERY sad times infinity plus a gazillion.

- i am going to be an aunt in 2 months. i love babies. in an aunt's way.

- i got really drunk on saturday night and my head still goes ouchie.

- i have a friend called mike bennie. he is funny and cool and really nice. he is also friends with my friend andrew the boob toucher. he requested that i mention him on my blog. and now i have.

- i really like spicy food. really, really, REALLY spicy food. its not a meal unless water comes out of my eyes and my stomach hurts. can you say 'sado-masochist?'

- i can do the splits.

- my favourite colour is red. and black. but apparently that's not a colour. fascists.

- my favourite word is 'oligopoly'. i may call my first child 'oligopoly'. unless i have twins, in which case they will be 'bang' and 'olufsen'.

- i have a mega teenage girl type crush on your ex-boyfriend. cope.

- word has it i have great baps. i can neither confirm nor deny this rumour. but the boud did just send me photographic evidence. note to self: stop getting drunk anywhere near the boud's camera. welcome to trashtown. population: me.

so nat, (can i call you nat?) what do you say? do i sound like your type of love muffin? can you forgive my crush on your ex? can we invite him to join us some time?

or, we can just be friends if you want. that would be okay with me too cause i'm actually not that much into the whole lesbian fingerbang thing these days to tell you the truth. but its fun to play pretends sometimes, don't you think? of course you do, you're an actor. der.

please send me a signal if you're feeling my groove. like, say, give birth to a bagel-eared princess in a science geek movie with a budget that could feed a small developing nation for a year. kay?

until then, kisses. in a mate's way. or not.

la nadine

xox

a (slightly altered) viewer complaint letter sent to network ten this morning by yours truly

dear sir/madam,

i am disgusted at the level of tolerance shown by network ten and the makers of 'big brother' to the blatant racism displayed by one of the housemates on last night's show. nelson, the (BRAINLESS, JOHN HOWARD-LOVING, MISOGYNIST, ANTI-SEMITIC FUCKMONKEY*) housemate in question, referred to 'big brother' as a "jew" after the former refused a request for replacement jewellery by another housemate. apparently this is an inane reference to the archaic stereotype that all jewish people are frugal by nature**. swift action was indeed taken, with nelson being immediately called into isolation and warned for the comment. however i believe this is too soft a reaction. by not removing nelson from the show altogether, i believe a message is being sent out that racism is not appreciated, but will be tolerated nonetheless. i am personally offended as a jewish woman, and morally offended as a human being. i would be just as irate were there to be racist or derogatory comments made against any other racial or ethno-religious group on national television. i request that nelson be taken out of the competition for his appalling behaviour, and i doubt that i am alone in this sentiment.

regards,

(la) nadine *****

*okay, so i didn't actually write this on the original letter in fear of my complaint being disregarded and my name being added to the network ten 'foul-mouthed, bleeding-heart lefty' hit list. it exists, i swear. the schmitz told me. really he did. watch your back friend, for you might be next.

**this is hilarious coming from he who confessed to only having entered the competition in order to win a car and/or make a quick million. i'd call him a hypocrite, but i don't think he'd understand what i was saying, what with my funny jew-speak and all.

the hell of the spotty brain

"they" say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

i don't think "they" know what the fuck they're talking about.

because if "they" had ever experienced real hurt- the kind that gnaws away at your insides until there's nothing left but hollow - then "they" would know that sometimes death is more appealing then inner strength.

so "they" can just fuck off.

sorry for the scaries, kids, but its raining in nadstown. black clouds have covered the sky like a freak eclipse and ain't nobody singin' the sun'll come out tomorrow.

so grab an umbrella or run for cover. its gonna be one hell of a crazy storm.

i'd like to thank the academy

yesterday the boud's sister sent me a very interesting and rather amusing email.

that's right boys, the boud has a sister. and yes, she is every bit as aesthetically blessed as the hot rocktographer himself. but don't go getting all excited about finally being able to live out your gay boud sex fantasies in a totally heterosexual way (you know i'm talking to you, sidebottom, don't even try and deny it). she is a taken woman. and no longer a boud by name.

anyway, back to the very interesting and rather amusing email.

in said email, sister of boud had copied a message that now comes up at her place of employment whenever she tries visit nadstown.

this be the message:

"Access to the site "welcome to nadstown" has been denied for viewing from your connection.

You are seeing this error because the website you attempted to access contains material that has been deemed INAPPROPRIATE.

Please remember we do actual content filtering, not just web sites, but the content within.

This service forms part of the *** Business Broadband package and has blocked you access to this page because it has been determined that this page falls into a category:

PORNOGRAPHY, gambling, OBSCENE OR UNACCEPTABLE LANGUAGE, music or video downloads."

this is a big achievement. it means that all my hard work - the blood, the sweat, the time-wasting google-searching - has finally paid off. it means that i can finally sit back and enjoy the ride for awhile. it means that i might have a career in hardcore adult fiction yet.

and there are some people i'd like to thank.

i'd like to thank sister of boud for the heads up about this most joyous development in my blogging career.

i'd like to thank elmo and the boud for making me the little blogger that could.

i'd like to thank ms fits and the law for making me the dirty-talking, pash-partying, spa-going blogger that did.

i'd like to thank my mum, my sister, and my bro-in-law (who will try and hide their disappointment when i tell them of this wonderful achievement while all secretly thinking "she could have been a lawyer, if only we'd sent her to private school.")

i'd like to thank the schmitz for being the best cyber-stalkee EVA. it's because of you that i will soon launch 'gaelgate', which will be kinda like 'schmitzgate', but much hotter, weirder and not at all legal. it probably won't lead to text messages and the occasional friendly beer either.

i'd like to thank fluffy, bookie, ukelele, sugar, jess, clem, kranki, mystixxx, and ms cynic cause they all rock my world j.t. stylez.

i'd like to thank everybody on my links list for making words that i like to read. i love all of youse 4 evs. well, maybe not 4 evs. and maybe not all of you. let's be honest with each other here.

but most of all i'd like to thank YOU, the voters, my fans, for taking a chance on a little girl from tex...

sorry got a bit carried away there.

*steps down from chair and puts back vibrator award*