I'm one step away from Plunging head first into some majoy Givenchy purchases, i hate Gwen stefani for plagerising the back-to-back 'G-G' symbol for her own shiteous label of hoodies , trackpants and sunglasses mutated from Tom Fords designs. What a cunt!
Anyway they are totally impractical, i can't fit lunch into them (why am i eating lunch?) but oh, the leather trim and shiny shiny metal hardware.

I haven't had sex in months , i've been working my arse off and having to deal with the C.E.O directly every monday, what a great way to start your week ! And i got a birthday party on saturday out in the 'hills' district with some middle eastern guys and gals (work related but they hot) where the fuck is that?
Plus i have a meeting with someone about organising our telecommunications in the clinic, multi-platform communications, er , i don't know! i'm totally fucked!! i have to look like i know!! kaka!! big KAKA!!!
And i haven't figured out what to wear to the meeting, do i bling or just wear Prada? !!!
Ontop of it all we got 2 country girls who we have to train as apprentices, good God, i met them on saturday and oh sweet Jesus bum, we may need to start with some emergency liposuction . They had to walk sideways down the hallway for Christs sake! oh and the clincher was when miss doughnut says to me
"i may not be pretty on the outside but i'm beautiful person inside (pause) here"
"Just the one dear?"
MUAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... ohhh no i didn't say that i just tilt my head to the side and made a smile that looked like i was over come with emotion but really i just wanted to throw-up the contents of my duodenumn and said in a soft voice,
"you are beautiful **places hand on miss doughnuts hand, oh it's actually her finger** i see that coming through"

Eventually.

Is there a word for people who treat fatties like that? besides 'cunt' there must be a proper technical term, fatist? boomba-basher? obesist?

On some calmer news, i got some cool shirts for mum at Ralph lauren on sunday down at the Quay and sniffed round COACH whose accesories are pretty funky, young, fresh! And ok, i admit it, i had a quick poke round Louis vuitton but i didn't buy anything!!! i swear!! why am i using exclamation marks??!!!

What's with all these german dutch swedish backpackers of late??? geezus it's like abbaville !!! i just want to throw soap at them and say "we do wash here" AND "fuck... haven't you seen people from the asian continent before??
take a photo why don't you!! it'll last longer!!!
Bloody backpacks. Oh, i was carrying one today...... ermm..but it was Prada.

Anyway, i really need a smoke but i haven't even had time to do that, i mean i had to squeeze in latteria at 3:30pm sunday. that was my only "down-time" .

Oh and today, i did a G-string bikini, the bottom bit not the top on a partially-deaf girl who lip-reads so i spoke really quickly just to make things interesting.

Hm... Givenchy .....

Time has become precious as i marvell at moments and try to recognise myself in myriad of possible incarnations.
As i tried in vain to keep dead leaves from the entrance and wild summer winds push glass doors ajar and the fluctuating barometric pressure signaled thick grey lurching forward up in the sky my heart threw its self on the floor and screamed for my attention. Amongst shrills of an angry telephone, the dry scrape of lead pencil skirting along perfectly lined booking paper and pressence of souls in various moments of expression gently patting their faces with ice and walking away closer to becoming socially invisible . All i could do was let him throw and kick and cry till tears of indignation were left like tiny photos flicked open from brass lockets for me to sweep away.

The flowers shudded as my father poked a european wasp nest with willow and a can of incesticide he created his own overcast day nearby. They writhered as babies freshly born to die thorax arching in mysterious itallics their wings crackling and my shoe print across vaporating eyes. A nest the size of your fist, not mine, fibre, soil, leaves regurgitated into perfect cells was filled with tiny white replications dotted with black-eyes-open witnessing this massacre recording death of the family to only be part of modern history, our contemporary revolution , their argument for devolution .

So tomorrow is sunday! i shall walk away into the world unchanged and pretty without my sugared heart but i know that eventually i will become nothing more than dirt for wasps to spit out .

Atleast we got the same underwear.

Ok, it wasn't too bad yesterday.

We decided to make the best of it, me and little miss sunshine had macdonalds and sat back with some trashy magazines. We caught up with the latest craziness at work and did a bit of work .

One woman i epilated didn't take the pain very well, she kept arching her back and shaking her body, looked like she was having an orgasm, hehehe, was kind of funny in a weird way and then i find out the coppola-girl (she looks like sophia coppola) is actually a, lesbian! hehehehehe. I didn't know! i was in shock!

"omg! you're one of them!" i exclaimed.

We got a lot of lesbots clients but they're pretty ones, hehehe.

Anyway i've been posted to work in the city half my week and half in the blue-rinse. I don't mind, happier that way, i could have wine with lunch in the city at that little cafe in the strand.

Sometimes i wonder if this is what i am meant to do eventhough i enjoy permanently epilating peoples body parts and the remaining staff are really inspirational "senior electrologists" the C.E.O finally acknowledges, a conversation with the coppola-girl made me think.
She quit her lucrative job with an international media company to go travelling and explore her options.
She said "so many people get into a pattern and then become afraid to change so they don't think and don't take other options. So many options out there"
As i get older i do feel more vunerable thus look for safer options, when you're young you don't think of mortality but more about the thrill of chances . But once you have taken those chances and realise at times they don't pay off, there is opportunity and opportunity for loss.
I guess fear sets in and resigning to the mundanity of living.
Bills have to be paid .

I felt this year would be good to just set myself into work mode, before it's always been abit scattered with lots of adventures to fill in time. So many guises to play and charades to perform and letting the hours flow beneath our feet. Cafe days.

White picket fence, my favourite clothing store has finally closed. The place where i got introduced to skinny jeans and Hussein Challayan pants and westwood belt... finally closed.

I'm sitting here about to go to work but all i want to do is stay.
All i want is to not pretend to be 'happy there' although at times i believe in what i want.

I want to run round newtown in japanese wooden clogs and watch a movie and drink coffee and smoke and talk about dreams and characters and watch the sun cast shade after shade along scribbled walls.

Lots of things we can't recapture look so good.

ok, i'm off to work now.

"Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?"

Smoked salmon and a bottle of dry white in some tiny tiny cafe along the strand arcade. The waitress looks like a model but has hips build for insemination and the stud-waiter has ceasers bald skull.
Lunch was long as we had extra time to spare before the onslaught and my noodle-in-a-bowl didn't turn me on.

The greek accountant was first off my pretty tangent, first treatment so lots of surprised facial expressions with reassuring "i'm tough" lines thrown to my feet , fallen in puddles of mock concern.
He had a girlfriend but left him on the day he preposed and goes to the north for drinks.
One look at the shirt he hung oh so neatly behind the door, the tiny but horrifying red-dot symbol of mass consumerism cheap-starched-striped business shirts in plastic bags like some unwanted vegetable in the $1 bin.

She dropped the zero and went shopping at Valentino.

A house wife here and there, some young dumb thing wanting to be smooth for her new-husband and a tiny old lady with 60's white leather handbag that had a clasp! worked at the bloodbank "i don't do anything with blood, just administation" she laid perfectly still whilst i inserted needles into her nostrils.

And then, of all the bloody buggery buggers comes the elderly tranny.

Her hair was a mess, head like marlene detriech but after death and wore this "windows XP" tracksuit!! It was free at the microsoft convention??? what the fuck???? and to finish it off she had tanned pantyhose on.
"see my toes are curled, they don't look so nice like those girls in sandals"
"what girls in sandals? oh your toes, er.. yes.."
"when i go to th-ailand (she pronounced the 'th' as in "theory) i will have everything done!"

i'm thinking, honey you're pushing 60 in a blue nylon windows XP tracksuit unable to pronounce Thailand properly, please sit down and count your bingo numbers.

"so...who do you want to look like?" i stupidly ask

"Delta Goodrem in Thigh-land they can do that"

Sure madame windows-blue-screen-with-quasi-roman numeral-version-of-some-shit-hole-operation system you're going look like Delta goodrem,. then i'll go to Thigh-land and have them make me into a blue triangle Mr Cool from Mr men.

She kept looking at me in a creepy way and said how she would "love to have your skin, so brown and exotic" then proceeded to stroke my arm!!

FREAK-A-LEEK !!! no spring onion please.

There was some other tranny with the drama-queen so when i finished and walked out to reception i see this huge figure with long fake hair covering the front of the persons face, how i know it was the front, she/he was trying in vain to put ice onto their face but it just was on their hair.

I just thought, 5 minutes to go and it'll all be over.

On the trainstation saw this really hot guy, mmmm, but then i looked at his feet and noticed he was wearing thongs/flip-flops with that used dirty outline of his feet on it. Then proceeds to eat take-away sushi from its clear plastic coffin.
ERGH. Hot but, er... dirty thongs/flip-flops and eating sushi on a train station ERGH.

Some homeless man walked round in tracksuit pants with half his pubic hair sticking out carrying empty plastic bottles.
A girl drinking out of 2.5 litre juice bottle. I know it's more economical but it really is not a good look and what you going to do with an empty 2 litre juice bottle when you're on a train station ??? besides giving it to the homeless man with pubic hair sticking out???

Bulk-buy bottle bongs???

I'm smoking again.

I know i know, but it was that or ending up a manic masturbator.

I did buy perfume by the way, it's "serge luten gris' soft and summery, kind of smells like what advertisers would want us to believe womens panties in summer would smell like. Sweet and virginal with a hint of juicy musk that's been rubbed gently with burnt wood!

God damn it, i smell like womens panties.

Anyway, my week has been such and these days drip slowly through the perforations of exisitance.

"Well can you send me a pic of yourself, i mean i could turn up and you be some 60year old morbidly obese guy named bruce with loose teeth"

Work can really take the shit out of you, especially if it's full-time whilst u struggle with flu.
My boss was coughing and wheezing all week and bought this huge spaceship vapouriser which covered most of the city clinic in a fog of eucalyptus and kept showing anyone within an inch her creepy ghost photos. Fortunately it was abit more sane in the other one .
Why is the air con. in trains so cold?? it could be mildly warm or 40c but whenever u step into a train it's 10c?
Why do people eat subway in the train? it stinks out the whole carriage .
Why do teenages/emo kids hang round under the townhall steps? it stinks of urine! leave some space for the homeless!!

Fortunately my flu has gone away now after sleeping most of the non-working time. But i'm getting really sick of instant noodles in a cup . I miss the french cakes and gorgeous things next door. Two more weeks till they re-open....

I need to work out again, im so out of shape and feel embarrassed in skimpy clothes.

Where are my skimpy clothes?

I did this womans nipples on thursday, she had huge holes in her nipples i thought for a moment they were going to squirt at me.

But it was nice to catch up with the wildgirl, she works in adelaide now and goes to the beach after her work, swim,tan then cooks dinner. What a life eh. makes me want to go there , who would have thought adelaide as a prospective haven.
3hrs on her underarm and bikini top.

I didn't go out at all this week, just for a moment to get silver shoes.

If only it couldn't get anymore hectic.
Work work work, the clients have been much better this week, i had the fireman on tuesday, lovely fellow, so big.. i mean.. as in build, so much of him hehehe anyway then i had the Screamer, who is by all accounts a lovely lady, but she tends to scream and burst out in a sweat. She was much quieter this week however earlier on i had this girl who must have been going through her.....you know.. lady flow month .
"it's so sensitive...ohhhh... " *burst out in sweat, i had to mop her up with napkins.
Then we decided to try her bikini line and when she took off her pants i saw so much hair i never seen so much, it was long and dense and all round her thigh, more than me!
Anyway she only lasted 30min cos she just couldn't take it, i had to change the bedsheets she got so wet.
Llife goes on, i got a flu thing, coughing and wheezing at first i thought i had hayfever but i think it's more than that. But that's ok cos everyone has it at work so we're sharing pseudoephedrines, yay!

Today i went out to incu and bought silver flat sneakers! so fab! then ate sushi train and emptied out 3 packets of wasabi on the fried baby octopus balls, they quite small....

So no one guess the thing below... it's a female condom, "Diaphram"

It comes in a gorgeous pink hardcase to pop into your purse for those, special occasions.

This is a ...........

Winner gets nothing in particular.

It has been so hectic lately i could feel my clitorous receeding into a womb somewhere or something like that.
Work has been all go go go leaving very little time for anything. I had to sqeeze an hour Fragrance hunting on thursday, they sold out of Marc Jacobs Grass, Cotton, Rain. Who would want to smell like Cotton? idiots, mind you i wanted to smell like Grass.
I went to every perfumery in the city, nothing, either they don't stock it or sold out.
I was devastated , took me years to actually like a new fragrance, at the moment im using Micheal kors which is very, umm.. strong and sexy but i want something light and fresh to match this new persona, the 2007 of me.
Anyway, screw that, i'll look for something else tomorrow, i'm determine to smell exclusive and fresh.

Had a bunch of difficult clients lately, they just want,want,want! so afterwork i go into Darrel lea chocolates and bought so much chocolate earned myself a $5 voucher. For more chocolate.

One client complained that i didn't do her nostrils last time because i " seemed scared". First of all, we don't do nostrils, we do nasal rim! so she flipped up the sides of her nose "is this visible enough for you?
Oooook... inhale, think calm thoughts...
So i did what i seemed "scared" to do last time, i inserted 8 lots of 16 needles into the thin meaty bits of her nostrils..
" have the current up as high as u want... i want all these hairs gone... OHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.................EEEEEEEEKKKK.....OHHHH SHITSHITSHITSHIT OOOOOOHHH...........
She went into a sneezing fit but hell will freeze over if you're going sneeze after i've inserted freggin hair-fine needles up your nose , so i held her nose together watching her face explode bright red , 6 times.
I thought pleasant thoughts.
Afterwards she thanked me as she stared into the mirror to see if any hairs were left.
"all gone! just gone!"

Client number 2 wanted his beard sculptured even though he is going to have all of it removed.

me in monotone "Would you like me to do your initials on ur chin?"

client number 2 responds in a joyous tone "yeah! yingyang would be good"

Client number 3 "i think my bikini line is crooked"

me "it's the way you're holding the panties"

She looks confused so i demonstrate by moving her panties left and right then a small bump slips out of the side, it's fleshy and round i look at her confused.

client 3 whispers "i'm going to have my boys removed next week, they've been tied for months now, my boys are about to leave the nest, forever"
she/he sighs i squirm on the inside but smile like Ivanka trump post liposuction, you know you vant it baby.
If my daddy was Donald trump i would completely mispell the word incest.

Some random shite came in and asked if the hairs can be replanted after we have permantly removed them, on his testicals.

....................

Sure use a bloody compass from back-to-school specials bargin basement bin!!!!

Deep breath.

The army boy came in this week, 7 hrs on his neck and shoulders, thank god it was split between 2 people, he has to have it all removed because he's going into the army.

Yes, you try and figure that one out because we couldn't.

On a happier note, the Lactose intolerant tranny will look round "local supermarkets cos that's where they hide" for clear M&Ms.
I made an off the hand comment about why there aren't any see-though smarties or M&Ms and where do peanuts go when their shells get robbed. He/she rides a bicycle in a dress "i can't get the right size, have to have them custom made by my girlfriend, she makes clothes for all those famous celebrity dragqueens"

umm what famous celebrity drag queens?????????

I nearly suggested a bodybag but really, i ran out of coffee.

Today is the day after the end of 2006.
As most end of years there were explosions in the sky and sentimentality falling through hotel awnings into unrecognisable bits to be only trodden on by crowds of onlookers.
It wasn't suppose to be like that, resigned to hiding and hoping it would just tick over but at the last minute John threw possiblities across my path and i took it.
First was drinks down at chippendale with Dayvd, anymore champagne?
Then we bused it to camperdown, don't think i've ever gone there before but anyway that's where i met Xiong and his boyfriend, Daniel. Yes, that Daniel.
We haven't seen each other for years, so much has gone under the bridge i don't know when exactly we took sail, away from each other.
It was a surprise for both of us however it was good too, finally finish what we should have all those years ago.
He hasn't changed still tall and pasty white with an obtuse sense of humour even though it has bevelled throughout the years. He's become what he always wanted to have , something i knew i couldn't give.
At times i catch him reticent at this new lifestyle, the infantile and vapidness, confused at why he is in the wading pool but then you can't have it all your way, as long as your core vision stays, the rest can melt into the shadows.
I guess i missed him, but you can't take back what you have given away, as i said we set sail on different paths.
I am happy for him, atleast our conclusion has been set.
John drank hideously as usual, ha! how much can the boy drink!
The people there, vague, young, amusing . Interior was quite good with the salvation army decor, they made it work except for the red plastic stools.
And the host, made a wonderful roast beef and potatoes, absolutely delicious. If only i knew how to cook....

Round 11pm we legged it back into the city into an office block near the harbour.
Met the lovely Swedish Julia and the ambiguous matthias, don't think i want to psychoanalyse swedish men aslong as they can put ikea furniture together i'm fine.
Julia wore a funky sailormoon-meets madonna-leggins!! I was creaming my fashion pants darlings. I love the quirkiness and she's tiny and has a sweet personality so it was just, so fab. The rest of the crowd up there were those boring breeder-fashion victims.

The fireworks came and went, i've seen it all before, bang bang happy new year.

Getting home was an experience.

We ran to a bus that was being hurridly boarded by allsorts, young man started to kiss an old woman passionately before she could pay the driver, a large indian family came wooshing out of nowhere with 16 kids and somehow managed to board within 3seconds, i counted. It was kind of frantic, exciting, sexy except the bus got very crowded and the air con wasn't working.
A man with the british flag across his back (is it st georges day??) hong kong housewife picking her nose and korean guy scratching his teeth.
I curled up on Johns sofa listening to the intoxicated outside his apartment, screeching of distant buses, rattling of gossiping fruit bats flying between figtree to fig tree whilst mosquitoes hovered above my head like a black string halo stung me all night long.

Care of John's flickr.

Well, Christmas was so well behaved around family , faux christmas trees and botox smiles. However boxing day was fun!

Headed down to Lyns micro-pad in Elizabeth bay right on the water, gorgeous day and fantastic tibetean and korean food by tien-zin fantastic wine, champagne and gorgeous water views and yatch things, anyway the day was so lovely.
Then we had a few drinks and Amy started to unhinge.
We got a lecture on how her husband didn't buy her a birthday present.. wooo that went on for hours , even when i kept filling her glass up, it got to the point when she couldn't even hold the glass, some of us ate roast pork soaked in sauvinon-blanc.
She told us also about a dream she use to have about a dark monster and a client who had a leg cramp and she had leg cramps too and then she passed out!
Amy ended up on lyns sofa oblivious as we had Dusty springfield and Faithless blaring out of the stereo.
We knew it was time to exit.
John and i hopped over to Nicks for some more drinks, i eased up because throwing up is not an option for me anymore, but it was so nice to catch up with Nick and john and drinks and cats and things.
It's still bit of a blur but we ended up in chinatown later eating vietnamese food.

Boxing day photos at flickr.

Boxing Amy.

What on earth has happened to my face?

Maybe it's the stress of dealing with le family who i only see once a year and realise each time how old i am, "i use to babysit you!" **runs away in horror**
I do believe it might have to do with a muscle relaxing cream i've been using which i was quite sceptical of but i like the cherry smelling cream. Ergh, after 6months i realised in photos i have this stoned/tired/fucked-up expression!! even if i move every other part of my face.
I''ve overdosed on muscle relaxing cream!!

My head hurts alot, really alot, how pissed could i look?
So John ever so graciously offered drinks at his house amongst his housemate having sex and trying to sneak back and forth to bathroom. Quite amusing.
We hit Stonewall, god that place i haven;t been back for ten years. Met johns danish gay couple, was interesting, nice people, the Danes. All i could think of was Danish cookies and Queen mary and i don't know.. blonde people. They got alot of attention. We were ignored as usual. Oh wait, john was asked if he was selling pills by some retarded twink and a crazy girl with lacey finger-cut gloves got her glomesh handbag stolen.

Saw Gav and friends, we sat round looking fabulous and drank whilst fat people took off their shirts and danced.
Party drugs make you do silly things.
I hopped over to Pheonix, and omg, it was tragic.
A dozen or so people, a lesbian felt me up (again) and later on some muscle guy was chatting me up, he was kinda nice but short but i wanted to dance, not get laid. So i told him i was straight and it got him even more excited. Anyway he left me alone eventually. I jumped about and flung my head like a cheap bag of chips in a violent fight amongst hungry seagulls.
It was fun, it would have been more fun if it was busy, like before, in the past, in history.
Atleast Pete got to experience the sweatiness of it, i think Gav might have freaked out.
Ah, but he was preoccupied in Gloria Jeans with a very lovely boy who owns backstreet boys cds and speaks with a quiet south african accent.
I have a strange feeling he might be bottom. And you know what that means.

Ouch my head.

I'm about to go out clubbing with john, nick (if i can find him) and friends.

It's strange, i'm feeling very hesitant and just want to call the whole thing off however it is the perfect evening for clubbing as christmas is 2 days away so i can get myself presentable for that then boxing day i got 2 parties to do.
It's been a while, a long while, since early this year but that was with that boy who ran away. So i guess there is a little after effects still there, i feel old and fat and...well... i've lost that nievity that i had about venturing round the scene, to be seen, now i don't care if anyone notices or not, i don't need that validation.
However i thought i could really have a fun time with nick and john and even catch the famous Gav and take him over to pheonix make him experience the "toilets" there.. hahaha.
I'm older, wiser however slower and resigned to what life always is , a passing of human events.
I started to get panic attacks again since monday i guess, i thought they could still be the nicotine withdrawl symptoms but it's oh so familiar. Rocks my confidence and makes me devolute and hide.
But i know if i give in it'll make it harder to do other things later on, more adventurous and complex (such as being on that God damn fundraising committe) so i'm going out tonight not only to catch up with some great people, jump around (do i remember how to dance?) lose some weight hopefully, and lose myself into the world of sexy drum beats and sampled psychedelica but also, to say fuck off to demons of discontent, 2006.

I miss Andrew very much when i think about the crazy-club days we had, dressed up like freaks and taunting the plastic-boys. Laughing at our own misfortune, having a hot pash with some stranger outside his place then climbing up those stairs and into the heated toilet.

Spoke to Prem today at lunch, she's still in a state of shock, she tells me
"i keep thinking he's going to SMS me or call me or enter through the door, it's like a nightmare but it doesn't end"

And then i think, i should live abit more.

Oh, i'm back to full-time starting next week, 2007 is looking busy already and it has yet to begin.

It's been a year already, these times seem to extinguish innocense ever more quickly.

I don't remember what i've done this year, sober? smoked less? met a rugby playing indian, worked abit more, spent less, tried to control fat, spent more time with family, no my grandfather still isn't dead.
From Marilyn manson to Amy winehouse back to Marilyn manson.
2006 was an unfulfilled year, artistically barren and emotionally anorexic with lashings of grunge pretense.
I slept alot.
Wore skinny jeans.
Got praise from a teenage goth boy about my weird shoes.
Became semi-hermit whilst old friends flew away to distant places , their distant faces.....

I don't have nicotine to occupy my mind just thoughts.

Part of my angsty youth withered away and all that is left in its wake are stormclouds of malice.

Oh but ofcourse to level my self loathing when i went into work on tuesday afternoon i was told Prem's new boyfriend she had saved herself for, the boy whom she introduced to everyone that day, holding her handbag with a bunch of roses fell asleep at the wheel of his car on the sunday and crashed into a tree in the middle of the night.
Dead at 24.
I didn't know him, i've even forgotten his name but i remember seeing how happy Prem and he was saturday afternoon.

I've got to try and make 2007 into something more than treading water.

Ah, erm... i ended up at some bar in darlingharbour on a balcony with glass tables along the edge. Well i hope they were glass tables, after a few vodkas i don't know.
We had our christmas staff party at this bizarre french-chain-resteraunt with faux tree trunks and monkeys stabbed through out the place. We had alot to drink , alot of wine and shits and giggles.
I had quail for entree, veal medallion for main and lemon meringe thing for dessert! fantastic!
Then i get an incromprehensive call from Amy my crazy-korean friend about drinks on boxing day.
Oh, i drank so much i felt it this morning which i proceeded to go out looking for new lighting for the house.

My head is still abit of a blur however i'm enjoying my voice which has fallen 4 octaves, don't know how those hollywood startlets do it, partying and still look great.

Everything seems like a haze lately, it's this weather , it's this christmas overload.
I've re-aligned my bedroom (again) and purchased more woven grass baskets to give my space a more polyethnic vibe mixing metals and futuristic plastic with rawness of handwoven baskety things.
I'd really like a dog actually, a pug. . They so cute! and compact! I could take them out in a Hessian "make a difference" bag from oxfam and wear peruvian beanies whilst pug bites off the pompoms!
Oh the possibilities.
But as night follows day carpets of ink and violets the woven basket thingy is sitting on the floor.
Work has been.. the usual... i got a new client from afghanistan! ohhh how exotic!
The ice-maker in our new fridge is working finally so there's nothing quite like having a constant supply of cold-cubes , yay for automated ice!
I hope my new stepper machine arrives tomorrow, i want firm buttocks.
And i got the staff christmas party on saturday oh the times we're going to have, we scored a bottle of our favourite drink each.
The drag-queen got a case of V.B (tres vulger) , miss C got a bottle of Burbon, Madame L. got red wine and i got a bottle of vodka! woot!
We 're going to drink it all saturday night and get terribly raucus relieving ourselves all over darling harbour, most probably throw eggs at Cargo-bar or do a shit on the ice at Ice bar. Fun!

Also, i've been put in a committee of some sort. I don't know what exactly but my boss says it will involve rock music, fund raising and er.. committees.
What do you wear to a committee?
If it was a court-case i'd go all out and go down to the vault and wear my dead grandmothers Tiara! God damn it.

I had a quaint lunch with dear John this afternoon.
We had smoked chicken and cranberry sandwiches and latte and lemon ice tea. We talked about our lives, other peoples lives, the paucity of fashion and he wore a striped Ben sherman polo top which reflected his youth oh so evidently whilst i flickered in the shadows.
He is still knitting his scarf but by the time it is winter i will wear my ultra-thin fox fur tie and we will buzz around fashion like blowflies behind cattle.

(there's no nudity, just social-intercourse).
Here's Francois sagat, some new wave gay-pornstar whose claim to fame is blurring the lines of sexual identity. No wonder straight guys are going all 'pretty' on us and girls doing post-degree studies, where are the straight men? they scream.
It's all so confusing however this interview is a classic.

Anyway i bought a stepper machine and intend to step myself into a firmer booty. So firm i could open beer bottles with it.

Oh, and Francois has tattoed hair. Yes, it's a tattoo on his head.

I'm eating pears heavily coated in custard, i think that's saying something.
Saturday, ergh, spent 5 hrs removing hair from a girls buttocks then on the way home on public transport i was stuck sitting next to a group of teenage boys who wore these hats and dressed in what i would call, new-wave emo where the emphasis is on block colours and asymetry but no angst (cos they all on prozac). They were posing and taking photographs and being loud about the party they went to and a movie that had "sex scenes" . They wore those hats.
I could have mistaken them for mannequins from Myers however these moved and talked, unfortunately.
Bah, maybe i'm just getting old, grumpy and old.. hahaha. I guess i was just as loud a few years back.
We all know what a job does to your free spirit.
So today i went over to Forbes and burton for a solo-lunch, just me and a weeks worth of magazines i want to catch up on.
Am reading, well, looking-at-the-pictures of Vogue italy. It has a celebrity issue and Nicole ritchie is on the cover. She looks so glamourous with that huge head of hers and tiny wrists, tiny wrists! I don't have a clue what's written but i could make out some words. Nice photos though and it came with Casa vogue, Vogue home which had some great retro 60s interiors more nature and stone surfaces than bakelite-kitch. Some great ideas and inspirations there. One of my favourite interiors is one of Bob dylans study room where its just a simple table and chair (cane thatch seat) ceramic vase and flowers with bits of writing paper , solid waxed floor boards but not high gloss and gorgeous ceramic ashtray and cup of coffee. A minimised english cottage scene pushed slightly to the edge.
So chic and simple .
Lunch was turnip and salmon mash on sourdough and two eggs. Quite filling but oh so delicate.
I exclamied "Eventhough i wear fur and leather was the salmon mashed with the turnip?"
Tara - "um, no. The salmon was poached in milk then gently flaked through the turnip and potato mash"
The way she described it was so fabulous i had to taste the milk-poached salmon gently flaked through turnip potato mash.
I also had mango and rasberry swirl in celebration of these 60's haute-interiors i was flipping through. It was really a glass of mangos, so thick! so sticky and mangoey, i had naughty thoughts whilst trying in vain to move mango-flesh inbetween my teeth.
Lunch was fantastic as always, i strolled to Townhall as i am getting hideously fat but cannot stay away from food and i haven't smoked for weeks now.

The glorious summer sun warmed celtic skin strewn across Hyde park, a derranged frenchwoman chasing white cranes and pigeons sailing on the glassy pond infront of the war memorial. Evocative moods amongst fig tree shadows and a mother telling her son to only press the button with his elbows at the traffic lights because he had to eat with his hands later.
A man carrying a tiny maltese dog kissing it's wet nose and the wind that hid behind starbucks wooshed across our faces as we crossed elizabeth street.

I bought a scarf at Oxfam for my mother for christmas, i was tempted to go Gucci but, i think it's time to change, time for meaning in our consumerist hearts besides she already has a Gucci scarf.
Nearly bought the pumpkin-shape tea pot however, i've decided to use what i have, use it till it falls apart then buy. To stop accumilating and start utilising all the tings i have.
The cup above was actually my grandfathers, finding all sorts of things in the bowels of oak laminate cupboards.

I woke up early today so i can run into IKEA and buy a corner desk, assemble it and have lunch at Latteria but when i got to Moore park it was gone! Just gone!
So i came home to a bedroom without a fulfilled corner.
Might have to buy it online.
Anyway manage to get myself out to Latteria and have coffee with John and his new haircut. Looks great! And he was in his usual element kind of modern preppy sports. We hit white picket fence because he was looking for a pair of shorts but i came away with a Dior homme shirt .
I nearly bought the helmut lang black jeans however it looked big on me, despite being size 28. Ventured into Burberry to say hello to Nick, poor thing was dealing with a group of mainlanders but we managed a quick chat then got out of there. Perved about David jones, lots of 'street' clothes with cute boys wandering about.
Ran round Myers as i bitched about fat people on the escolators and then john goes.. "look, on my right" and i look and it's this youngish guy who wasn't, er....thin. So many bored sales people and overdressed perfume vendors, i mean really, all you're doing is spraying perfume at people at $9 an hour, why are you wearing a suit?
God, i could never work at a department store, i'd rather pick rubbish off trains with plastic extender-grip.
There was this really hot guy at Myers whilst we were venturing round the kiddies clothing section because John can still fit into a size 12-year-old. He was built and had a shaved head and his shoulders looked like they'd been licked by the sun. Omg i could have spooged Thomas the tank engine if we didn't move onto another section.

Eventually john left empty handed, it's hard to find the right pair of white mid-crop pants, shorter than capri.
But never give up when it comes to fashion, it's all about timing.
Here's the scottish guy with the tissue in his pants post
and i didn't smoke today at Latteria. i'm doing ok after watching Bai-Ling sing.