Monthly Archive for July, 2010

Dear Rihanna

Published on July 28, 2010 in Cranky/Dopey Bitch and Pop Culture. 15 Comments

I get it. At the moment your pop incarnation is cool and edgy with some sort of pseudo-lesbian vibe. I mean, who wouldn’t after that dick-head you were with beat the living crap out of you?

But do you know what else you are? A silly bitch. Normally I couldn’t give a shit about what others do, each to their own and all that; as long as you aren’t hurting anyone.  Technically you aren’t holding a gun to anyone’s head but when you are a role model for the impressionable young, the criteria of ‘not hurting anyone’ has to be expanded.

The question I ask you is this; Does a woman who has been a victim of domestic abuse have to sing a song with the lyrics ‘I like the way you touch me there/I like the way you pull my hair’? I get that ‘Rude Boy’ is about sexy-time and supposed female empowerment (pfft – by objectifying men and taking on a domineering persona?) but you can’t imagine that people don’t take the knowledge they have of you in ‘real’ life and apply it to what you sing about. ‘Oh ho – that Rihanna, she likes it a bit rough eh?’

Then there’s your latest offering, a collaboration with renowned bad-boy Eminem. Disregarding the words, I like ‘Love the Way You Lie’ but I don’t like that the message it sends is that you are complicit with a song that glorifies physical and emotional abuse.

I just don’t get it. Sing about your experiences – let us know how confused and hurt and scared you were. But to willingly be part of the aforementioned songs? It is insidious.

You need to get a clue cos at the moment you may think you are coming across as hot, strong and confident but to me it is just sad, brittle and distasteful.

Love,

Grumpy

I Want to be on Thirsty Merc’s Team

Published on July 24, 2010 in Pop Culture. 14 Comments

The venue was a huge barn-like structure with a bar at one end and a stage at the other. The roof was adorned by large Chinese lanterns and red parasols. Beetlejuice-esque pieces of art such as a giant gnarled hand protruded nightmarishly from the wall. I nursed my ginger beer, tapping my foot.

     ‘Tramp Stamp is on your team’ said Snazz.

     ‘Huh?’ I replied, smothering a yawn. It was 10 o’clock and normally I would have been ensconced in my bed with a book for half an hour, not at a gig. We had already had greasy Mexican, frozen margaritas and Spanish hot chocolate, which for me is a night out in itself.

     ‘You pick ‘interesting’ people to put on each other’s team’ explained Snazz ‘It is mean and shallow but it passes the time.’

     ‘Well in that case,’ I said, scanning the room ‘Teen Wolf is on yours.’

We had already been through 2 support acts; Village Kid who were fantastic and Ali Towers who grew on me and pissed me off with his one-man band talent.

     ‘Nana Mouskouri for you’

     ‘I raise you Ranga Man’

     ‘Drug aware hoodie’

We could have played the game all night, so varied the crowd was but finally, finally Thirsty Merc took to the stage. Thank god for that because I was already trying to plan my late entrance to work so that I could have a 30 minute sleep-in.

Once they started though, going to bed was the last thing on my mind. Well mostly. That Rai is cute for a dude that looks like a pirate. (Love you husband!) Absolutely electrifying. Tight, accomplished, engaging and rocking. They played one of my favourites as well as a heckler’s request for ‘No Sugar’. Rai threatened that they needed to do an obscure B sides tour, which is what Snazz was bemoaning they should do as the gig she has seen in Bunbury the night before was a little too mainstream for her taste.

It was near 12 when they left the stage for the final time, even though I could have danced and sung for at least 2 hours more. With the house lights on, dazed, deafened, and delighted we made away across the rapidly emptying drink-spilt dancefloor.

     ‘Hey’ said Snazzy spying a familiar figure as we emerged into the chill night air ‘Teen Wolf is actually kinda cute!’

Hardly Normal

Published on July 17, 2010 in Cranky/Dopey Bitch. 13 Comments

A while ago I had a whinge when I went to Harvey Norman (an Australian furniture/electrical retailer) to buy some ink cartridges. If you recall I was pissy because they charged 10 cents extra for a double ‘value pack’.

Today I returned there for yet more ink. I saw that I could buy my one blue ink for $17:95. Hmm, not bad. Then I wondered, ‘The others are BOUND to run out soon, do I buy more?’

Perchance what did I spy next? A value pack containing all required colours for $99. As per usual I had to do some laborious mental calculations to figure out that why, yes, that was a saving. Point number one to retail superstore. I was walking away from the wall of ink when I thought ‘Wait, let me just check if these inks do the same amount of pages.’ Meh. Maybe 50 less. Still a goer.

By this stage the cute foreign (Spanish perhaps?) salesdude came over and asked if I needed help. Before I could even open my mouth he told me he could do me a good deal. Dude – huh? It was pretty clear I was already buying the stuff. Are you new at this? Then he proceeded to show me that I could in fact get the same value pack PLUS 120 pages of photo paper. For the same price.

Wait, no – NOT even the same price, because he took $10 off before I could blink. No mouth-opening or eye-blinking was to be taking place in front of this gentleman obviously.

I thanked him and walked away quickly and bemusedly. Was that another point for Harvey Norman, or minus 2 for having lovely but soft-nosed salespeople?

Sometimes I Just Wanna Tell You Stuff

Published on July 15, 2010 in Beloved, Books n Stuff, Pop Culture and Teaching. 10 Comments

It isn’t all literary sophistication around here you know. Well. Actually if you are a long-time reader/friend you probably definitely already know that, having been subjected to posts about pubic hair, haemorrhoids, and me dropping and dragging in Year 9 English classes.

That disclaimer out of the way, I just wanted to let you know how much I love Freaks and Geeks. How the doodlewhacker did I miss this show? I mean, I had heard about it vaguely around the traps and I knew that it was set in a school but that was it.

Love, love, love it. So poignant, funny, heart-breaking, cringe-inducing and lovely.

I am yet to procure the last 2 episodes but I will get my dirty hands on them, don’t you worry.

When I cornered Beloved into watching an episode or two he was all ‘Isn’t that chick from Juno?’ I thought that too, except that, was Ellen Page even born when it was made? Okay, so she probably was but she would have been, what? 5. Okay, I exaggerate. She was 12.

Watching this show I realised which role Linda Cardinelli was made for. If she wanted to be in films that have turned into the biggest pile of poo. Bella a la Twilight franchise. Tell me I am wrong. And yes, she is too old so that cannot be part of your argument. This is my fantasy re-casting, okay?

Have a nice day!

Sisters – A Memory to Keep

Published on July 11, 2010 in Babies, Nostalgia and Queen Me. 28 Comments

In the big wooden bed they lie, curled like a closing quotation mark. The room is mauve and lilac. Pushing past the tropical foliage the light through the window is insistent.

One of them makes an unladylike noise and the other rolls over, eyebrows raised. The offender opens an eye and giggles. They both do.

They could be 10 and 11. The quiet, the comfort, the naughtiness, the illicit mirth induced snorts feel like it, but they aren’t. At 31 and 32 they have just eaten steak sandwiches on the front lawn, on plastic backed blankets; champagne bubbles tasting of a Karratha Winter (which is anyone’s Summer) tickling their nostalgia and beckoning for nap-time.

Thousands of miles away from the memory’s home, the Little One asks the Big One if she remembers them sharing the bed that came to stay just before Gran from England did. The Big One doesn’t at all and the Little One reminds her what a terrible memory she has. The Big One is always indignant. She has a very good memory thank you very much. It is funny how shared histories merge and diverge.

They say that if they were their mother, at the age they are now, they would have a Big One of 6 and  Little One of 5. They can’t imagine how she survived it, no matter how long-haired, blonde and sunny, brunette and shy,  yet altogether endearing they were.

Without wanting to wish away their younger selves or their future babies, they marvel at, and are grateful for the years they have had with each other, alone. The Big One wonders if, however, they are being punished for waiting; the time, the money, the career. Is this why it is taking so long for their own families to arrive?

But whatever happens, the Big One loves the Little One and the Little One loves the Big One and they cherish their time, just as sisters, visiting in this red-earthed town.

On a Cheery Note, I’m off to Karratha!

Published on July 6, 2010 in Babies, Beloved, Married Life, Nostalgia and Queen Me. 9 Comments

There is nothing like an impending flight to make you assess your life up until said trip in a flimsy metal contraption that is very, very high up in the sky. 

It is not that I am scared of flying. It is more  a fear of death/not being around. I am so freaking nosey – all the things I will miss out on if I am not here! Of course I would want my husband to move on. But not too soon. And she will not allowed to be hotter or smarter than me.

But as I mentioned above it causes me to look back on my 32 years. I have and have had a really nice life. My family is generally whole, my childhood was sunlight and dust mote filled, my love life wasn’t rent with any particular betrayals or scandals, I went to university, I traveled Europe after my beautiful wedding, my friends give me joy and fulfilment. I have written a book, that if anyone so desired, only (hopefully) needs a bit of tweaking before possible publication, if not for the fact it is any good, but for nostalgia’s sake.

If it was my turn to go, the only thing I would be sad about would be not having insects with my Beloved husband.

I don’t think that being in a plane crash would be an ideal way to meet my maker, but shit it’d be a story told in the family for generations. I have also heard that if compensation is sought by the relatives, they often get quite a lot because of the psychological trauma the deceased would have suffered knowing they were going down. That might just be in America though. 

Anyway. If I am meant to go ‘young’ , if it is not in a blaze of glory, this way it will at least be in a blaze of some sort.

Grumpy Young Pussy; ‘Received’ Loud and Clear

Published on July 1, 2010 in Beloved, Cranky/Dopey Bitch and Queen Me. 23 Comments

‘Why do you want those mean fuckers to give you a review?’ Beloved asked.

 ‘I dunno, feedback?’ I replied feebly. ‘And I have to practise getting slammed if I want to be a writer.’

 But of course it was more than feedback. I wanted validation, acceptance and a little more traffic. I knew that when the review happened I would probably cry like I was at my first day of primary school, not knowing where to put the tissue box we had to bring – scared, confused and out of my comfort zone.

I imagined that I would be told that my template is a terrible colour (regardless that I love it), I am shallow, anal-retentive, flippant, insecure, arrogant and take my husband and nice lifestyle for granted, have whiny-ass body issues and have no idea what the ‘real’ world is like. Well…at least that is what I think on a down day.

However, there was one thing that I wouldn’t be able to abide. MoFoKA, who reminded me of the delicious, nasty, hilarious, train-wreck viewing website back in January, and I were discussing when my review might happen after 5 months of waiting, and what the harsh, cold light of reality would have to say about Grumpy.

‘I don’t care what they say,’ I said with more than a quiver in my soul ‘just as long as they don’t tell me I can’t write. I would die if they said that.’

Did they say that?  Opening my comment box at 5am, to find that curt message awaiting me – my breath caught and my legs jolted with adrenaline. Were all my dreams still intact?

 Go and have a look for yourself.