for a limited time only...

offer on again!

hurry, only while "stocks" last.





UPDATE: thanks to all those kindly souls/horny fuckers/drug addicts/ego-maniacs who emailed me wanting to take me up on my offer.

its nice to know there are people out there who care/want to sex me/need drugs that badly/have such terribly low self-esteem.

but i've decided to struggle through on my own for now.

sorry. i guess you called my bluff.

i'm a tease like that sometimes.

my bad.

x

screw you, bacharach!

(disclaimer: i'm sick. very sick. again. don't judge me 'cause i'm delirious. i know not what i do. oh, and please: SEND HELP!)

dear burt bacharach,

having discovered an old vinyl of yours in my mum's record collection, i was having a total retro lovefest with your musical stylez until:

'but a chair is not a house,
and a house is not a home,
when there's noone there
to hold you tight,
noone there you can kiss goodnight.'

MY HOUSE IS TOO A FUCKING HOME! SO THERE!

i've spent the past three months renovating it and making it pretty and you can't take that away from me, burt bacharach. no sirree.

i'm rubber, you're glue, etc.

and besides, there is occasionally someone there to "hold me tight" and "kiss goodnight". just because it's rarely the same someone twice is not of consequence.

anyway, that's all i wanted to say.

as you were,

la nadine

x

p.s. i am, however, totally with you on the whole 'what the world needs now is love sweet love' issue. you're sure as hell right about that.

too much information

a phone conversation i had yesterday with perfect tim:

me: what's that weird beeping noise?

perfect tim: what weird beeping noise?

*beep*

me: that weird beeping noise.

perfect tim: oh that. don't worry about that. all my work conversations are recorded.

me: do ya think you could have told me that before i graphically updated you on my sex life?

*beep*

perfect tim: (laughing) oh, yeah, sorry dude.

me: grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

lady-crush five

i seem to have temporarily lost my blo-jo.

my blog mojo, that is.

why, what did you think i meant, gutterbrain?

anyway, i promise to make serious efforts to track it down, but until i find it again, please be satisfied with the following photo gallery of a few lady-crushes i have had in the past.

yup, we've had the GF3, we've had the GR3, and now its time for the LC5.

i just couldn't narrow it down to three for this one, so filled with lady love am i.

in a totally non-sapphic, giving props to my sistahs, r-e-s-p-e-c-t, kinda way.

mostly.

so these be thems:


1) patricia 'i see dead people' arquette, circa 'true romance':
















it was spunkrat arquette's appearance at the oscars in a leather catsuit when i was about 13 that first alerted me to to the fact that women could make me feel tingly too.

and for that i thank her.

2) janet jackson, circa 'rhythm nation':
















she might be spawned from the loins of insanity itself, but BY FUCK CAN SHE DANCE!

and to a gal like me, who has been dancing in one form or another since the age of four - be it jazz, ballet, belly, salsa, funk, hip hop, booty or pole - that's all that matters.

also, any woman who loves her baps as much as old "malfunction" mcjackson does is okay by me.

3) dolly parton, circa ALWAYS AND FOREVER:















i've documented my everlasting love and admiration for the queen of dollywood before, but here are a few more reasons why dolly reigns supreme:

- 'I look just like the girls next door... if you happen to live next door to an amusement park. '

- 'I wanted to be the first woman to burn her bra, but it would have taken the fire department four days to put it out.'

- 'I'm not offended by all the dumb blonde jokes because I know I'm not dumb... and I also know that I'm not blonde'.

*sigh*

(i must mention here also that i hold bette midler in the same high esteem as i do the divine miss p, but that i felt it necessary only to include one of them on today's LC5 for diversity reasons.

you can however read all about my midler madness here.)

4) tina fey and amy poehler (these two cannot be separated), circa now:













current hosts of saturday night live's coveted 'weekend update' spot, collaborators on 'mean girls' - one of my all time favourite movies - fey and poehler and living proof that smart, funny girls are THE SHIT!

if i could be granted one wish right now, it would be that myself and miss jessculture could share a double date with these most fabulous testaments to girlpower.

but only if they come dressed as the bush twins.

5) senator hillary rodham clinton, circa LOOK HOW CUTE SHE LOOKS IN THIS PHOTO:






















i can't really explain this one, but i think it is mostly to do with her composure in the face of controversy.

philandering husbands, lesbionic rumours, frequent bad hair days - nothing fazes this woman!

HILLARY FOR PRESIDENT!

---

i just realised thems ladies are all freaking seppos.

sorry bout that, aussie sheilas.

and sheilas everywhere, all over the world.

i love youse too.

the good ones anyway.

swears.

x

fridayness

a collection of random stuff floating around my brain today:

- john howard has renewed his call for an overhaul of the australian schools history curriculum.

he says students need to be made aware of the "central issues" in our nation's development, and that his ideal of a new syllabus will not be an "official" version based on his ideological standpoint, and will include indigenous history, as well as the history of immigration.

oh really, johnny?

i'm tempted to go back to high school if the truth is actually going to be taught there.

or, if not, to sit at the back and shout "LIES" every time i disagree with something.

also I believe a schoolgirl uniform could come in VERY handy on weekends.

---

- there was a teller at the bank this morning rubbing his nipples with great aplomb while staring at his computer screen in a most presumably porn-viewing of ways.

---

- my flatmate search is proving rather difficult.

how is it that the minute i need somebody to live with, everybody i know is suddenly all stable and content in their living arrangements?

---

- if you are looking for something to do in sydney over the next few weeks, and you like being down with arty shit:

go to the old fitzroy, have a laksa and a beer, and take in 'thrall'.

'thrall' is a fabulous play, written by the magnificent sue smith, directed by the devastatingly attractive leland kean, and featuring a cast so smoking i almost hacked up a lung on opening night marveling at their brilliance (or perhaps it was because i had the flu?)

mention my name at the door and you might not be allowed in.

---

- this past week my life has been defined by a bizarre series of coincidences and random encounters.

if i was more of a tree-hugger i'd get all spiritual and ponder whether the universe is trying to tell me something.

but i'm not, so i don't.

---

- i have become intrigued of late by the alleged falsification of details in the media hype surrounding new film '2:37'.

one of my sources last week alerted me to the possibility of rather immoral lies being used in the film's promotion.

that's right bitches, i gots sources. SUCK ON THAT!

of course this is all absolutely none of my business, but i do love a good smackdown (when and if one is in order).

and that's all i'll say about that.

---

ohmigawd if fondula don't win triple j unearthed this year my whole notion of right and wrong and good and evil and hot and not will be forever tarnished.

this has nothing to do with the fact that i've like totally got a lady crush on sex-on-legs vocalist martelle hammer.

nothing at all.

---

-the goddess of wax is doing it kinda tough at the mo.

this makes me sad.

please, if you need your "bits" tended to anytime soon, email me for her details.

i promise you won't regret it.

in fact, i guarantee you'll love it so much you'll try to grow hair in new places just so you can see her more often.

lord knows i've tried to.

---

- it's possible i have a new crush.

i'll confirm when i know for sure.

watch this space.

---

and those are just some of the many things taking up space in my head today.

see what i have to put up with being me?

i hope you all have lovely weekends.

eat, drink, be merry, etc.

x

i wanna be a super(role)model

today a friend said unto me the words:

"everyone needs role models".

and despite the fact that said friend was talking about his disturbing man-boner for survivor host jeff probst, he got me thinking about my own choice of role models.

now it may sound like a cliched answer to a beauty pageant question, but my role models are three strong, successful women who have struggled against adversity to make something of themselves, while at the same time devoting themselves to their children.

my role models are my late mother, my friend keera's mother, and my friend elo's mother.

i won't go into the details of the achievements of these amazing women, but let's just say that they are all, in their own right, MUMS WHO ROCK!

in a non-musical way.

oh, and also on my list is vanessa paradis. because she gets to make the sex with our johnny. and that's no small feat in my books.

i hope i too can be somebody's role model one day.

i guess i should start doing something other than wallowing, blogging, shopping and pole-dancing, huh?

talking heads?

strange as it may seem, fair readers, there are many things you do not know about me.

i mean colour me mysterious, but there are just certain aspects of my life that i like to keep to myself.

like, for example, my real name. and also where i live. and whom i make the sex with. and my bra size. and...

you get the point.

something i have never revealed before on this here blog is my love of spam.

as in email spam. not that spiced ham stuff. ew.

yes spam is a constant source of amusement in my otherwise mundane existence.

and thus, shocking as this may sound to all you web-savvy tech-heads out there, i leave my email accounts unfiltered.

(GASP!)

most recently i have been reveling in the increasing aggressiveness of the spam i receive.

no longer do titles involve only misspelled naughty words like 'ddicck' and 'ccumm', but tend now to be commands such as "MAKE HER CCUMM ALL NIGHT LONG!" and "GET A BIGGER CCOCK NOW!"

SHEESH!

bossy much?

i don't even have a penis and yet i am compelled to obey!

so today i received what has got to be my favourite piece of spam to date.

firstly, it was from the email account of one 'buckles_the_dog', a fact that is entertaining enough of itself.

but to top it off, it involved this gem of a subject heading:

"If ccoccks could talk they would definitely say buy our Penis Enlargement Patch..."

!!!

now i don't know about y'all, but i always wondered what penises (penii?) would say if magically blessed with the power of words.

thinking about it now, i imagine they would be more likely to say something like:

"IF YOU'RE GONNA BE DOING THAT AGAIN YOU COULD AT LEAST BUY ME DINNER FIRST NEXT TIME?"

or:

"STOP PUTTING ME IN PLACES I DON'T BELONG, WARNIE!"

but that's just me. and lord knows i haven't given the matter a whole lot of thought.

your thoughts?

what pearls of wisdom do you think penises would impart on us if only they could talk?

gettin' wiggy with it (na na na na na na na)

the email below was sent to a friend of mine by a female colleague at his place of employment.

it was also sent to the entire staff of the law firm at which they work.

and then later it was sent to me for my amusement.

please read it carefully, and then let's discuss.


From: **** ****
Sent: Wednesday, 9 August 2006 3:52 PM
To: Sydney Staff
Subject: Does anyone have a women's wig?

If you have a women's wig floating around can you please let me know because I'm urgently in need of one. Preferably with pigtails but at the end of the day I'm not going to be fussy. I apologise for sending this to all of you but time is of the essence here -- this is matter related.

Thanks very much

****


WTF?!?

my initial reaction was that perhaps poor **** had been diagnosed with "the badness" and was desperately seeking a wig before her hair fell out, but couldn't afford to buy one for herself.

but the "preferably with pigtails" line pretty much void that explanation, as did the realisation that lawyers in swanky corporate firms ain't usually lacking in the pennies.

but the only other possible answers i have thus far come up with involve either nursery rhyme-themed fancy dress parties or raunchy schoolgirl role play funtime.

surely there is a reasonable explanation to ****'s dilemma that involves neither cancer nor the impersonating of children?


and furthermore what the befuck does she mean by "matter related"?

WHAT MATTER IS IT RELATED TO?!?

is this some type of fancy legal jargon i'm not privy to, or is **** in such a rush to find herself a (preferably pigtailed) wig that the english language has become all too much for her?


and lastly, **** states with much aplomb that she is "not going to be fussy" at the end of the day.

does this mean she will be fussy in the morning? at noon? fussy in the evening time?


i am intrigued, people. obsessed even.

so many questions running through my brain.

so much time on my unemployed little hands to think about possible answers to them.

please help me get to the bottom of this before i drive myself, and those around me, insane(r).


and hurry!

time is of the essence here -- this is matter related.

so won't the real oscar o'sullivan please stand up.

dear all-people-out-there-named-oscar-o'sullivan,

a long time ago i wrote a post on this blog about porn names.

in this post i explained the porn name game.

i then confessed my own smutty pseudonym, and called on others to do the same.

basically it was a light-hearted piece of fluff presumably written at a time when i had run out of creative juices and had fuck all else to offer my readership.

the post in question included the following paragraph, about which many of you have been getting all up in my grill recently:


'your porn name is calculated by adding together the name of your first pet with the title of the first street you lived on to form one raunchy moniker.

well, okay sometimes its not raunchy at all and people end up with porn names like 'oscar o'sullivan'. and apart from the double 'o' factor, there ain't nothin' pornographic about that pseudonym.'


please understand, all-people-out-there-named-oscar-o'sullivan, that i in no way intended to imply that yours is an abomination of a name and that you should rue the day your parents ever conspired to lumber you with it.

in using your name as an example i meant only to intimate that it would make a rather dull porn name, and NOT that it is a dull name of itself.

the same can also be said of my own run-of-the-mill name, as well as the names of almost everyone i know. except for my dear friend kinky st bartz, that is.

TO SUMMARIZE: there is absolutely nothing wrong with the name oscar o'sullivan. in fact i quite like the name 'oscar o'sullivan'. i may even name one of my children 'oscar o'sullivan'.

heck, some of my best friends are named 'oscar o'sullivan'.

so please, all-people-out-there-named-oscar-o'sullivan, stop taking offense from my employment of your name as an example of non-orgasmic monikerage.

i could just as easily have used any other double 'o' name - like 'oliver o'brien' or 'omar o'toole' - but yours was the first that came to mind at the time.

so whaddya say then, all-people-out-there-named-oscar-o'sullivan, can we call a truce?

kisses,

la nadine

x






*awaits abuse from people named 'oliver o'brien' and 'omar o'toole'.

sickening

this past week i've been sick.

very sick.

coughy, spluttery, sweaty, tingly, moany, achy, breaky sick.

and it SUCKED!

i hate being sick.

i don't get sick very often.

in fact i'd go so far as to say that i get sick "rarely". perhaps even "hardly ever".

i'm pretty sure that the lenient attitude my parents took towards dirt when i was a child has ensured that my immune system will keep on rocking in the free world long after the rest of me has closed up shop.

and thus whenever i actually do get sick i am always taken by complete surprise, and never quite sure what to do about it.

for some inexplicable reason i don't take anything of the medicinal persuasion to aid my recovery and alleviate my ailments. this is not a tree-hugging stance against chemical therapy. it just never really occurs to me at the time that such things exist.

and i only ever go to the doctor for either private woman stuff or to have my happy pills dosage upped.

basically i find sickness to be a complete waste of my time, and the time of everybody else around me.

of course i refer here only to the type of sickness in which you know you will make a full recovery within a week, maybe two, and soon return to your regular existence without long-term consequence.

i am not in any way belittling terminal illness nor permanent disability. no sirree. i wouldn't dare.

and speaking of terminal illness*, my sister took great joy this past week of reminding me what a monumental brat i occasionally took the liberty of being during my mother's long illness.

here was a woman - my wonderful late mother - who battled horrible, bastardly cancer for almost two years, and somehow made it look like a freaking holiday.

she never once complained. she never once lashed out at those around her. and she never once questioned "why me?"

and yet during this time when i would on occasion find myself stricken with some distant cousin of the common cold, i would lie on the couch for days wincing and moaning and loudly proclaiming my imminent death.

and not once did she slap me upside the head like i so very, VERY much deserved.

that woman was a treasure.

i, however, am just plain sick.






*smoothest. segue. ever.

mainly concerned with sex

last weekend i went to sexpo with my pole dancing pals miss alyson and miss keera.

of course it was not anything akin to the festival of hilarity that was my sexpo experience last year, but it had it's moments nonetheless.

what can i say, i just love being surrounded by overweight, sweaty bogans having swordfights with rubber vadges (i kid you not) and ogling my cleavage like they ain't seen a sheila in 10 - 15 with no chance of parole.

suffice to say miss alyson, miss keera and i were part of the vast minority who didn't bear a striking resemblance to these über-hotties:















"ah hears that thairs sum thang called 'sex' out thair, earl. you tride it?"

unlike last year when i was too scared of buying anything - for fear that the second i handed over my shiny pennies the ghosts of my lost loved ones would appear before me, hanging their ghostly heads in shame and "tssk tssk-ing" at me from beyond the grave - this year i went BARGAIN MAD!

among other things that shall not be mentioned here - for fear the ghosts of my lost loved ones read my blog - i gots me some shiny new 6 inch pole dancing heels, a beautiful set of 400 thread count egyptian cotton sheets (with no holes cut out anywhere as i assumed may be the case), and a copy of this:





















i love that the censorhip warning on the label states simply: 'mainly concerned with sex'.

and as miss keera so aptly pointed out upon reading this, aren't we all?