...if it kills me...

soon after my father died and my mother got "the badness", i started blogging, seductively lured into it by miss elmo and the boud.

i soon found that this strange world we call blog provided me with just the therapy i needed: ESCAPISM.

i always said that when my mother's time came, i would close the curtains on nadstown for good and never look back.

and now that time is FAST approaching, yet i just don't think i can let go of this place so easily.

it has become my second home, and some of you have become like family.

okay, so it has become my TOTALLY NERDY second home, and some of you have become like that lecherous, alcoholic uncle who tries to feel you up at the chanukah dinner.

but hey, i LIKE that uncle. in a blog way.

however right now i am all out of the funnies - well, the mildly-amusings and vaguely-interestings anyway - and i must be with my real family in my actual home.

and so dear friends, slight acquaintances, complete strangers, and anonymous haters, i must now announce the commencement of my temporary leave of absence from the blogosphere.

i will be back. i promise. i don't know when. i don't know in what state of mind. but i will be back.

actually, knowing me i'll be back tomorrow ranting about some inane celebrity occurrence or the fact the my lunch was less than satisfying.

you'll all just have to wait and see.

watch this space, kids...

x

i'm a hand model, not a hand prostitute

a photo of my hand is currently featuring in 'the body confessional', a photography exhibition in sydney.

the photo was taken a few years ago by the gorgeous miss sophietta's father, who asked me to pick a part of my body him to photograph, and then to write a few words on why i chose that particular part.

i don't remember why i chose my hand, nor what i wrote, but i think i recall that i was wearing hot pink nail polish at the time. i was so wild in my youth.

so anyway, last night miss sophietta texted me to inform me that somebody has purchased the photo of my hand. this is wonderful for two reasons:

1) miss sophietta's father is kindly donating all proceeds from the exhibition to the cancer council of nsw for breast cancer awareness month;

and,

2) i can now add 'hand model' to my resume.

all i need now is an expensive coke habit, a junkie boyfriend, and a reputation for getting my lez on with my friends and i'll fit right into the modeling industry.

*awaits smart-alek remarks on the last comment*

i'm scarred. possibly for life.

things you don't want to find in your boss' office:

- termination of employment papers with your name on them;

- your boss. naked. unless he looks like this. or she looks like this;

- a dead body;

- a picture of yourself. naked. no matter what you look like;

- A CASSETTE LABELED 'OVERCOME IMPOTENCE - BY THE AUSTRALIAN DOCTOR'S COMMITTEE'.

like a moron

dear madonna,

you fucking idiot.

now will you realise that kabbalah is a sacred practice for devoted jewish scholars and not a fad-diet nor fashion trend?

wearing a red ribbon around your wrist does not entitle you (nor britney, nor demi, nor paris) to use a legitimate religious faith as your latest wacky celebrity antic. it is disrespectful and it is pathetic.

please go back to doing what you do best - making great girlie dancing tunes like 'vogue', 'express yourself', and the incredible yet similarly controversial 'like a prayer' - and leave the spiritual enlightenment to those actually worthy of it.

and if you really need something in your life to make you feel all zen or chi or whatever it is you are searching for, buy a copy of the celestine prophecy and down a shot of wheatgrass for fucks sake.

shalom.

la nadine

reasons i love my beautician: a new era

for those of you new to nadstown, the 'reasons i love my beautician' series began when i realised just how much i love she who rips the hair from my follicles and tends to my "special places" with loving kindness.

the goddess of wax - as i have so named her - is a middle-aged, hungarian nymphomaniac with a killer bod and a heart of gold. she hugs me when i'm sad, and she texts me when she has the sex.

she is the purveyor of pearls of wisdom such as this (when asked if she minds giving brazillian waxes):

"honey, once you've seen one pussy, you've seen them all."

and classic moments such as this:

"ven i am angry with my son, i go home and say to him: i bet i saw more pussy than you did today."

(n.b. it helps to imagine a strong hungarian female accent when reading her words).

and whats more, she gives GREAT wax.

how could i not love her?

the goddess has recently returned from an extended stay in the mother country, and i can't wait to see her. nor can my nether regions for that matter.

this is a phone conversation we had yesterday:

me: hey woman, how are you?

the goddess: horny.

me: you're always horny.

the goddess: your point?

me: hmmmm....so, how is your love life then?

the goddess: grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

and yours?

me: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

i officially give up. every time i let my guard down, even slightly, i get screwed. and not just in the happy, tingly way.

the goddess: poor baby. you vont to come over on monday for dinner? i'll get you drunk on hungarian food and take advantage of you.

me: for sure. except that I'LL get YOU drunk on vodka and take advantage of you.

the goddess: good.

me: great.

the goddess: vee are joking right? you know i only like the cock, right? and also, you're younger than my son.

me: (too busy laughing uncontrollably to answer).

the goddess: stop laughing at me!

me: (still too busy laughing uncontrollably to answer).

the goddess: bitch.

me: slut.

the goddess: see you monday.

me: bye.

i will report back soon on any hilarity that ensues on monday. because i know you are all dying to hear more.

have a good weekend, kids.

x

pyramid scheme

today i received my weekly newsletter email from the wayside chapel.

i have long since been a supporter of this wonderful institution, and am always charmed by the stories pastor graham long has to share in his weekly updates.

today's newsletter contained a particular anecdote that put a huge smile on my face, which is something i needed today.

this was it:

"A fellow told me yesterday that he had just bought one of the
pyramids in Egypt. Today he asked me for $2. Geez, land values must be in serious decline."

i just love that mr. long, a dedicated pastor and activist for the disenchanted, can write about his encounters with such a sense of humour, but without losing his deep compassion.

its almost enough cause for religious conversion.

okay, that's a lie. but i hope it made some of you smile too.

x

ain't no sunshine

10 things i hate about jessculture's interstate move:

1) no longer shall i watch her imbibe bowls (yes, BOWLS!) of coffee as we sit for hours in her favourite couch-filled cafe.

2) who else will serenade me with 'roxanne' and 'i touch myself' at the karaoke joint, the pub, the supermarket, my car, etc?

3) three words: hot lesbian love um...that was all i had.

4) she will no doubt find instant fame and fortune in her adopted city, and will in turn forget all about li'l ol' me and our plans for world domination/joint creative ventures.

5) who will go with me to sexpo next year and entertain me by making the funnies and putting her fingers in places they probably shouldn't go?

6) there sure as hell ain't nobody else in this whole town who will accompany me on a 3 hour drive (there AND back) for a 2 hour visit to a friend of mine in the country whom they have never met.

7) i will miss the feeling that my stomach is about to burst open and spew forth my innards because the funniest woman i have ever met* is regaling me with yet another hilarious tale.

*i.e. YOU, jessculture.

8) who else will send me hilarious text messages to brighten my day and moisten my thighs?

(and before any of you wise-asses pipe in with "but la nadine she can still text you. she's not moving to antarctica, stupid. ha ha ha ha", i am FULLY AWARE that she can still text me from her new home. but it just won't be the same.)

9) moving to ******** to pursue creative success and tongue kiss the locals was my dream. MINE I SAY!!!

10) people will stop inviting me places now that miss jess can't come with me.

and now for the customary nadstown farewell country love ballad, rewritten each time a friend departs these shores.

this time it is entitled: "bye bye baps mcgillicutty".

i met her at a nerdfest sometime last year,
she kept trying to feel me up and grope my bits.
i thought: "who is this busty wench i see here?"
while daniel boud took photos of our tits.

we soon became great friends, almost like sisters,
although sisters aren't supposed to touch "like that".
she took me to the zoo, it gave me blisters,
and daniel boud took photos of our baps.

in leaving here a piece of me goes with her,
to keep her company where next she nests.
and if not before i'll see her for the new year,
and daniel boud will take photos of our breasts.

bye gorgeous woman, i will miss you much.

x

you know you've reached the zenith of your nerdiness when:

you start blogging in your dreams.

forgiven, and probably soon forgotten

in a small local paper somewhere in rural australia there is a section entitled 'buckets and bouquets'. this provides an opportunity for members of the community to write in their jollies and their gripes about things that have affected them throughout the week.

the edition of the paper i read included things such as:

"buckets to the hooligans who egged all the cars on smith st on friday".

"bouquets to sam the butcher for always giving me an extra chop for my boys".

personally i think this is a super way of expressing one's emotions. and thus, in the spirit of 'buckets and bouquets', i am starting a new segment in nadstown. an homage, if you will.

here goes...

blisters and boobs #1

blisters: to the malevolent cocktard who called my office last week and abused me for something that was in NO WAY my fault, and then slammed the phone down when i calmly told him he was out of line.

boobs: to the very same man for calling back ten minutes later and not only apologising, but also calling himself a "cunting asshole" without any prompting from me whatsoever.

i just love it when people surprise me like that. snaps to him for swallowing his pride and asking forgiveness from the faceless voice at the other end of the phone.

at least some people in this country can still say sorry.