The Semi Naked Truth

The Only Light

2006-03-10T00:28:00.000+11:00

When the world is crashing down around you and you are quietly imploding internally, there is only one thing left to bring a moment's joy into your life: Vegemite and avocado on a corn thin.

It is pure. Pure, unadultered gold and sunlight. It gives one a reason, the only reason she has, for getting out of bed.

As life has turned a very dark shade of black and the temperature has plumetted well below zero, I shan't be 'round to play for while.

x

Ouch! That's My - Oh Yeah, I Asked You To Do That Didn't I?

2006-02-07T23:07:00.000+11:00

So, lying on a bench the other day, wearing a paper g-string (think small, linen, waist high Japanese cock pouch - VERY wrong) with my knees pulled up to my chest and a stranger attentively pouring hot, hard wax and prodding me around the labia majora, perinneum and such regions (that we don't usually love to mention when they're our own, especially in such a distastefully clinical and non sexual way), my glory spread to the heavens, feeling about as fucking exposed, vulnerable and ridiculous as one could POSSIBLY EVER FEEL, I decided, between gasps, 'what better way to distract said stranger from my anguish/hole(s) than to introduce the topic of film criticisms?'

And thus I launched into my take on Brokeback Mountain: "yeah, nah, yeah, good...? Yeah it was good. Didn't really blow me away though."

Fuck, conversation over. Thoughts of two hotties getting it on in the mountains surely can't distract her for that long. In fact she might get carried away and start crying over my giney or get aroused... Ummmmmmm... Shit!

So I quickly jumped in with "And I plan on seeing Walk the Line tonight."* That'll get her, I thought. Yup.

Oh jeeze. I ran out of things to say so just tried to control my breathing and not to cry with humiliation.

* I did in fact see it and it was AWESOME!!!!!!! Fucking brilliant. One Joaquin is worth ten Jake and Heaths. Both he and Reese Witherspoon are brilliant and the movie is amazing in every way.

This blog successfully includes the longest sentence I ever did write (yeah whatever Steve Martin), the most embarrassing truth about my self yet exposed and the weirdest format for film review ever. Go darce!

Favourite thing today: just to turn another corner (hell why not)... Switch Board for one of the hottest coffee experiences in town.

Kings of Leon and other Adventures of Darcy

2006-02-02T19:27:00.000+11:00

A wee absence. Let me just say that funding applications are a sure way of driving you to the land of fucking boring, where one gets old.. fast.

So Kings of Leon. I think I'm getting too old for live gigs where there are no seats. I think I always was too old. Why was I born old?

The only reason some teenager didn't get my broken Becks bottle rammed into their eye was because THEY ONLY SERVE DRINKS IN PLASTIC CUPS after 10pm at the frickin' Palace. What kind of a palace is that? Not one fit for a princess like me, that's for sure. Nor, indeed, my fair prince.

I survived a set and a half of fuckin' shit boring support acts before squeezing my way out to the back where I could get some breathing space with the adults.

And yeah, they were pretty good but if they didn't tell us how much fun they were having up there (way more than Sydney apparently - YEAH!), I'd have never guessed. They were better than comedy night at the Brunswick Hotel but not as good as Bonnie "Prince" Billy's gonna be! Ears are still ringing today - don't you hate deaf sound mixers?

A late review of the Big Day Out: I tried to throw my phone number at M.I.A and her sexy side kick but it bounced off someone's head. Getting wet just thinking about them up there. HOT!!!!!

It's always nice to catch a glimpse of someone's head on the main stage. That way you really know they're there.

Go! Team were the no team.

Iggy... well if you like your steak over cooked...

Beer and ice cream - FAR TOO EXPENSIVE!!!!

Last B.D.O I reckon.

That's all I squeezed into my life beyond rehearsals and application land. Don't be jealous.

Favourite thing today: my osteopath. I think I want to make love to him.

Hmmm

2006-01-24T22:00:00.000+11:00

I like my smell.

All of them.

Does Cate Blanchett Ask Herself These Questions? Probably Not.

2006-01-24T19:22:00.000+11:00

I think acting is one of the weirdest occupations ever. I really do.

(Aparently weirdest is not a word but for the purposes of this, it is. OK?)

I am constantly asking myself why I am doing it and swinging between unbridled passion and enthusiasm (less of the latter as the years go by) and utter confusion.

I mean, to start, it's make believe. But we frequently take it very seriously. I was sitting around with a group of rather fabulous actors today, a rather fabulous actor/director and a fabulously fabulous actor/writer, discussing the psychology of the scenes and lines and their meanings and the back history and BLA BLA BLA!!!!!! Whilst I also take this very seriously, well perhaps serious is a little bit of a misrepresentation, but I do engage in it and offer insightful, intelligent and hilarious comments whilst throwing up challenging questions and possibilities (as you can imagine)... but I digress - where was I? Ah yes, whilst I also engage in this I am frequently struck with the ridiculousness of it and have to stop myself from blurting out "BAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH. WHATEVER!!!!!!!!!" and running around the room like Ken Bruce with my pants down.

Then there's the whole "career" thing. What a fucken' joke. There are about seven actors in Australia (even though they're in America) making a career out of it. Making a living that is. I frequently hang my head in shame and mumble under my breath that I am an actor because I find it hard to take seriously as a job and even harder to call myself one when I am in fact selling fruit and vegetables or renovating cafes. And I fret and sweat over where my next job will come from, if I will ever work again and if I will ever get a role that I actually like. The only one year of my life where I survived entirely off acting and didn't have to resort to any other jobs was on a job which was probably the lowlight of my acting curriculum vitae and which I was deeply disappointed in and embarrassed of.

Then there's trying to take yourself seriously as you enter stage left and act all real and listen and remain "present" whilst trying to find your light and not bump into the furniture then exit and carry on as you were, returning to your game of sudoku in the dressing room.

Then there's celebrity and fame and I won't even go there cause it's a quagmire and thankfully I don't have to deal with it.

The upside is that when you are a part of a great show/film/(are there any great Australian TV shows? I"m sure there have been) you feel exhilarated. You are telling stories and taking audiences somewhere and WAIT! Please stay with me here! It's true. Acting is entertaining/informative/reflective/challenging/healing... all sorts of fucking wonderful things and, dare I say it, enormously important for us all.

Imagine a world with no TV, theatre, films, satires!

But still. I think I've done one of those in the past five years.

It's weird and wonderful and offensive and exciting and demanding and silly and fun and fucked.

Truth is I never feel wholly myself until I'm doing it.

Favourite thing today: having an acting job.

(I could have gone on forever on this one but I thought I'd keep it brief. Life's too frickin' short.)

Last Weekend of my Holiday

2006-01-22T23:41:00.000+11:00

The only way to cope with a weekend inside a fan forced oven is to eat frozen things all day, take a plunge in the teeming urban version of heaven (The Brunswick Baths) and drink Cerveza with lime whilst playing backgammon with a hottie.

The only way to cope with turning up to a "Dirty" thirtieth in a suit jacket and tie (sans top, avec saucy bra), high heels, seemed fish nets and raunchy knickers (you got it, no pants/skirt) and cum (moisturiser) dribbling out the corner of my mouth and down my chin and finding a roof top of mother fuckers, NONE OF WHOM ARE DRESSED UP, is to make like I am BETTER than Bridget Jones and just fucking act normal.

I was, needless to say, popular.

Favourite thing today: my spray bottle. Fill a spray bottle with water and squirt yourself and sheets periodically during the day/night. Especially good with a fan. Brilliant.

I Wanna Bust Out Too!!!!

2006-01-19T22:26:00.000+11:00

Having just finished Shantaram (finally!!!!!) I opened the paper today to read about two other recent jail escapees:

Robert Cole (also known as Andrew David Robertson; mysteriously not unlike author of Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts), who starved himself, in a matter of weeks, into a pint sized super model prisoner so he could squeeze out between the edge of his cell window and it's external bars. Thankfully Who Magazine was not around at the time to take photos of him by the prison pool and therefore his diet regime went unnoticed til he slipped from his room, scaled a wire fence, climbed another, walked along it and jumped over the edge to his freedom, leaving in his a wake a bundle of pillows under his sheets. (My mum would never have fallen for that one). He was so small that not even the security cameras or motion detectors picked him up. Do we think he CSIRO dieted his way to freedom? Or was it the blood group diet? At any rate, look out fatties! I think we've just found ourselves Australia's Biggest Winner!!!!

Then there was a return to jail for Christopher Dean "Badness" Binse who has successfully escaped from prison or hospital security wards no less than SEVEN times!!!! Fuck me dead! He must love the place though, or maybe it's the challenge of getting out again. He only got out of jail last February (in a limo). This time he threatened to kill two strippers at Spearmint Rhino and took a bullet out of his gun to leave at the scene. Huh? And they think Cole is a sicko.

I can't wait to see how he gets out this time.

Anyway, Gregory David Roberts escaped over the front frickin' wall of Pentridge in broad day light! Don't worry if you haven't read the book, I'm not giving anything away here.

So I've decided that if I ever go to jail, I am definitely busting out! I've got a middle name and everything! Have any women escaped from jail in Australia? In the mean time I have compiled a list of things to do in prison:

1. Lose weight

2. Get fuck off fit

3. Read loads and fast track another degree... something useful this time.

4. Get over my fear of masturbating in a room full of women.

5. Get religious.

6. Get unreligious

7. Seduce a guard

8. Write love letters to my beloved (not the guard!!! My beloved on the outside!)

9. Meditate

10. Get a tat or three

11. Start a food fight in the mess hall

12. Make a number plate

13. Start a jail yard choir

14. Campaign for organic meals

15. Avoid getting my head kicked in

16. Let a lady touch me in my swim suit area

17. Find out what Jika Jika means anyway

18. Do some movement workshops with the prisoners. No wait a minute, I just re read 15. Scrap that. Ummm... howl at the moon

19. Grow my pubes down to my ankles (could be handy in my escape)

20. Befriend a rat (could also be handy)

See yous cunts on the other side!

Favourite thing today: Shantaram. You simply gotta read it. It's amazing.

Am I Back?

2006-01-18T21:33:00.000+11:00

... I Don't Know.

I just thought I'd test the waters.

I wrapped my dog poo in Leyton Hewit's face today and it gave me such pleasure. (I don't even care if I spelled his name incorrectly. Suck it Leyton!)

I am back... in Melbourne that is. Been blissing out in Lorne with blissful people (the ones in my house, not in town), blissful weather, blissful food, blissful views and fresh air and a dog that makes me laugh hourly. Been as blissed out as one can be with a bung neck... like a blissed out nanna. That's me. Ahhhh... Codeine. How I love thee. Bliss.

Before that it was worksville, hence the absence.

Christmas was ace, New Year's was acer - very grown up, until we broke into the Brunswick Baths. Did I say that out loud? It wasn't me!

Gettin' ready to start full time rehearsals so no promises on the blog front.

My new year's blogsolution is to blog when I want, about what I want, in the manner I want.

So what's new darce?

Well, it means that I don't care if you don't like irregular posts, I'm not going to drop in on anyone to let you know I'm around and I'm going to try to avoid writing crap for the sake of writing. So we'll see how it goes. I am periodically confused by what the hell I am doing in the blogosphere anyway so... I'm gonna cruise.

Happy New Year dudes. (I am aware that I may be talking to myself here.)

Favourite thing today: my tomatoes. They've gone sick.

Correction

2005-12-08T22:02:00.000+11:00

George Michael.

GEORGE!

You'll know what I mean if you were offended/puzzled by the original mistake and otherwise there is little need to know.

I have no excuse. I have very vague moments and my brain struggles with names... always. It just generally struggles actually.

I have been swept up in the end of year Christmas insanity and have decided that I might call it a Summer break in blog world so until I have a rampant urge to say something, I will probably be mostly absent.

Love your work. Have a great weekend and go nuts this Christmas.

darce xxx

Why I Have Decided to Become Mauritian

2005-12-08T13:17:00.000+11:00

1. So I can be a sexy, black, Creole, Bhojpuri or French speaking man. Ah... woman.

2. So I can be one chilled out mother fucker.

3. So I can believe that "all problems are better solved with a smile".

4. So I can live on a tropical island with a stable economy and fuck off white sand beaches, surrounded by reefs.

5. So I can smoke dope for breakfast and not freak out.

6. So I can drink rum and Coconut Creole and Banana Coladas.

7. So I can eat Jackfruit Curry, Swimmer Crab Bouillon, Salt Fish in Tomato Sauce and Taro Fritters.

8. So I can make people melt when I speak/smile.

9. So I don't beat myself up for writing a blog when I should be cleaning sticky shit off my windows.

10. Just 'cause.

*books ticket and solarium session*

Favourite thing today: You guessed it.

Yeah Baby

2005-12-05T08:27:00.000+11:00

There's not much point fantasising about women when you have a boyfriend, is there?*

Did anyone notice I wrote two blogs on Friday, having just lamented my lack of blogspiration?

Wow.

*I've just realised that my boyfriend doesn't read my blog anymore so I can pretty much get away with saying whatever I like now. Woo hoo!

Stackular Spectacular and Other Divine Moments in my Day.

2005-12-01T19:10:00.000+11:00

I took a spectacular stack on my bike this morning. Actually, it was perhaps not so spectacular as it was retarded. I was riding home from the pool and had bought a paper on the way but had nothing to carry it with so held it and my bike handle in my left hand. Tried and failed to get it under my arm in time to brake for the road/passer-by but couldn't co-ordinate it and, like a dick, slammed on my brake with right hand only (a big bike no-no) in order to avoid stacking into said passer-by at the speed I was going and instead did a big skid on the gravelly sand and came down on my right side.

Said passer by said "Shit," as she rushed to my aid, "are you ok?"

"Yes," I replied in an almost disappointed Homer Simpson tone "I'm fine" as I collected my Green Guide and lifted myself shamefully back to the vertical position, sand stuck all over me.

I now have:

a grazed knee

a grazed foot

a grazed palm with gravel embedded in it

and a sore right ankle and wrist.

No hand jobs for anyone this week. Sorry.

As I headed home from filming I was crossing Alexandra Pde and was struck by a man on the other side looking down to the pavement and doing some fancy wibbly wobbly hand movements. He seemed paralyzed and I, concerned about him, thought I should just make sure he was alright and that he wasn't stuck there in the baking heat, unable to cross the road.

I tentatively asked as much only to find out that he was doing some "light work". He was a light worker you see and I, as it turns out, am part of the evolutionary path of Jenny who is much older than me. About 50 in fact. This and something about the cosmos and inter connectedness of us all and bla bla, he explained to me with his skanky breath, all over unwashed odour and 3 or so sharp, brown, crescent moon teeth. He realised this about Jenny when I interrupted him and knew my intentions weren't good and some other shit which I didn't hear as I was so taken aback by that particular observation.

"Woah, back up there buddy. Did you say my intentions weren't good?"

"No. They weren't good...(crap, crap, crap about crap)" he clarified at which point I walked off, ignoring his pleas to come back and listen.

If my intentions weren't good, why did he think I stopped him?

To learn his fancy new dance moves?

For money?

To pick up a stinky soothsayer?

Fuck off. Bake and die in Fitzroy for all I care. Charity is so last year.

Favourite Thing Today: It was going to be either Trampoline Gelati, Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. So good on a hot day like today, even if there were shells in my Pistachio section (at least it's real!) Gimme, gimme gimme...

or... a shower at the end of a hot day. Mmmmm...

but, The Salvation Army gets my vote. Yes folks, The Salvation Army. Why? For regaling me with Christmas carols at the end of my street. "Hark" said I, "what music doth drift so sweetly on this afternoon breeze?" as I set forth to find out. I opened my front door to find a S.A. brass fourtet at the end of my street, ON the road, playing Christmas carols. I wandered down to see what the occasion was and was met by a gorgeous afternoon cool change and joined the by other curious neighbours in their Summer frocks, with their children, all delighted by the music. "Merry Christmas," they greeted us all cheerily with huge, warm smiles and then took requests. I requested "I Want Your Sex" by Bob Michael* but they opted for my new neighbour's offer of Drummer Boy instead, an old favourite of mine so I was pleased. Meanwhile others collected money for their Christmas drive and I was moved to donate and was thanked with a heart felt, "God bless you". And God bless you.

It was a particularly Australian, Summer, Christmas experience.

*Perhaps I didn't but I would have, had I had a chance.

How Dry Can This Blog Dry Get?

2005-12-01T11:54:00.000+11:00

This drought sucks. My drought that is. The great blog drought of '05.

I'm as blog dry as a mouth full of concrete in the desert;

as scratchy sex on an E when your vagina feels like it's lined with sand paper and full of gravel. No good at all. Very un good;

as a salada without cheese;

as a north wind;

as a crumbly, dry, "no thank you very much" piece of sponge cake;

as a martini.

I've got no water, no lubricant, no creamy toppings, no moisturiser, no butter in my cake and no olives (not that they'd make my martini any wetter but I wouldn't mind one anyway.)

I look unto the heavens daily and ask "when will this drought breaketh?" As yet the heaven's have not replied.

And so I pray.

And in the mean time I trip off in the 34 degree heat to film a student film in a laneway which I regrettably said yes to.

Favourite Thing Today: Heartbeats by The Knife. HOT! A new and welcome discovery for me. It will definitely be my Summer anthem. Also rather keen on Jose Gonzalez's version which, I must confess, was the first I heard. Desperately sad I missed his gigs. Do you think he'll want to play at my next birthday?

I'm in Shock

2005-11-23T22:08:00.000+11:00

You know the dribbly, poohey audition I did yesterday? Well...

I got the fucking job!

Oh my god. I have been speechless.

Who won the If Awards damn it?!?!?!?! I only caught the end.

The Proposition? Best film? Are they on drugs? It was not a good film!!!!!!!!! Look Both Ways and Little Fish shat all over it. Who cares if Nick Cave wrote it? It was a shit script.

OK. Breathing now.

I gotta get outa this little bubble soon and get back in touch with what's going on out there.

People are starving to death in Niger.

Random Ramblings From a Busy Blogger/Absentee

2005-11-22T16:30:00.000+11:00

Well clearly I didn't mean that I had been busy blogging but rather with life beyond the 'sphere. You know, doing "stuff".

Boring stuff.

Just allowed some shamefully bad acting to dribble out of my bottom in an audition for a role I really wanted in a play I love with a director who I ADORE! Fuck! Why do I screw the ones I want and nail the ones I don't? Sabotage? Ugh.

Had sex with two different friends of mine in a dream the other night. But you know the dreams where you are having sex but it's not in the least bit sexy or arousing? What a waste of sex in a dream! I don't get sex in my dreams often so, come on!

Anyway, it's always weird when you wake up from the dream but it was even weird in the dream. I remember thinking "what am I doing?" Especially because the sex with the second friend (no, it wasn't with both at once, damn it - that might have qualified as sexy) was AWFUL!

I almost told him. I was going to tell him how bad he was in bed too. Thank fuck I didn't. I often speak before I think and am far too honest. That would have been way awkward.

So, as I have resumed my job as an organic green grocer, expect to hear much over excited updates on what's hot and not in the market. Oh yeah, darcy'll bring you the latest on the seasonal do's and don'ts in the fruit and veg land.

At the moment DO: avocado. Oh YEAH baby. Touch me! Creamy Hass goodness.

Bananas were rocking last week.

Golden kiwi - just do it!

Little red capsicum...mmm...

and...not much else to rave about. All the standards are good, as usual. Still enduring a seasonal change over.

Asparagus still good and we have some sexy herbs if you don't grow 'em.

If you have to eat apples this far out of season, only do pink ladies. Don't even look at the others.

DON'T: pumpkin. Just wait alright? Til Autumn.

And don't be too tempted by stone fruit and mangoes yet. They'll get cheaper and way better.

Also don't pay $5.95 for a punnet of strawbs. Unless you try them first and they are outstanding and you can't live without them. (Ours are way cheaper now).

Aahhh, the wisdom; the insight.

x

Lazy Bitch Loveless Blog

2005-11-15T15:31:00.000+11:00

Ooh, what a surprise, darcy's taking time out.

It's 'cause life is boring and busy again and painting, plastering, grouting, digging, hauling shit around, fixing, cleaning, shopping, reading, auditioning, looking for work and doing my tax does not make for good reading, nor fuel the imagination.

Maybe marching does but hopefully you were there anyway.

So, later dudes.

x

The Animal Circus is in Brunswick

2005-11-12T18:09:00.000+11:00

The K9 is home, looking like a FREAK!!! Half a shaved head and ear, pink, spotty skin showing through, terrible, lumpy stitching...and a cone. Poor, poor baby.

Very happy though. Running into everything with a big "doink" and getting the bottom of it caught on the ground and steps. He has a completely distorted sense of space. Hilarious. He will be known as the Mayor of Coney Island for the next two weeks.

Pussy cat is regaining his appetite and spark and is as smoochy as ever. He too looks a bit odd with shaved front legs. He was thrilled to have the dog back and so curious about his cone. Seemed a bit disturbed actually.

Thank god (so to speak). So the house has become a sanctuary for strange looking healing animals.

Bless.

Thanks well wishers.

x

If Beer is Currency, How Many is a Life Worth? - Love Blog Number 4

2005-11-09T12:06:00.000+11:00

Another thing I love about Australia is that it is probably one of the only countries in the world where you can take a station wagon full of green waste to the tip, be let in after hours by someone who doesn't work there, take another load in the next morning and have the staff joyfully accept a six pack of beer for the lot of it, instead of the cash I owed them.

I am, however a little distressed today and need advice.

Picked up the cat from the hospital today and swapped it for the dog. My dog needs to get a heinous lump (prob benign tumor) removed from his head. The vet suggested that although they have surgeons at the Lort Smith who are qualified to do it, I might be better off taking him to see a specialist as the procedure would be safer and the outcome possibly better, although she could not tell me in which ways.

The consultation with the specialist alone would cost $95 and the surgery over $1000! I took him to the Lort Smith in the first place, on advice from my vet, in order to save money as I am

a.)unemployed

b.) haven't anything left from my last job and

c.)will be resuming work as a green grocer next week - a job from which I don't plan to make my millions.

She was worried that it may not look great when it was finished. I said I didn't care what it looked like, and nor does the dog, but I didn't want to compromise my dog's health or make the wrong decision based on money. Anyway, after some discussion I decided to leave the dog there to have surgery tomorrow.

It will still cost between $450 and $575. (The cat just set me back $384.20). I broke down in tears in front of the receptionist when she asked me how much I could pay today. I actually sat there and wept and didn't know how to answer her. I just passed her my credit card. How pathetic.

So what I'm wondering folks is:

a.) are there any surgeons out there who will operate on my dog for a six pack?

b.)am I a bad parent?

c.)does anyone want to adopt a beautiful 15yr old cat or dog?

d.)does anyone have a high paid job for me?

Thanks for listening.

Oh Crap! I Might Have Killed My Lemon Tree.

2005-11-07T22:17:00.000+11:00

My poor baby. My beautiful lemon tree.

I didn't mean it, I just went a bit sick with my new pruning hand saw. Totally the wrong time of year to prune a lemon tree, I am aware, but it was getting desperate. Or I was.

It was too big for it's boots. Too high, too low, too banging into walls and too shading the rest of the garden. I couldn't wait til March.

So I went the hack.

And now my lemon tree looks like Lyle Lovett.

If I haven't killed it then I have definitely given it a very wrong and bad hair cut. I feel like the mother of a barely teenage son. You can hear me insisting "it's for your own good," in a well meaning but intensely irritating voice. And now he has to stand in the school yard, all awkward and ashamed to be alive, whilst girls snicker at him and boys throw rocks at him...just wanting to die...running into his room when he comes home, locking the door, throwing himself on his bed in tears and yelling "I HATE YOU MUM! I hate you! I hay-ay-ate y-y-you..." And me, knowing that I fucked the haircut up. That I subjected my only son to this torment through my haste and sheer lack of care during the hair cutting process.

Oh! What have I done!!!!?????? My little lemmy wemmy. My squeezy, yummy, citrus baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so so-o-o-rry.

I seem to be screwing everything up at the moment, or everything around me is going wrong or breaking.

I burnt the beetroot last night, to a blackened crisp. Thought there was enough water in the pot to last the few minutes it would take me to dash to the shops but came home to that "uh-oh" smell. Didn't know what to do so I took to the streets in sheer desperation with a placard made of cardboard and crayon, bearing the words "SAVE THE BEETROOT!". No-one cared. Not even my Middle Eastern neighbours. I thought they'd understand. What else am I supposed to put my pomegranate molasses on? They sold it to me!

My car's broken, my cat's broken (he's in hospital), my dog's broken (he's going to hospital on Wednesday), my shovel went missing (who steals a shovel? Yesterday's was borrowed)...at least my spirit's not broken.

Why does everything go wrong when you're unemployed? Fuck life's expensive!

It's fuckin' good though and I love it.

Blundstones and Bikinis - Love Blog Number 3

2005-11-06T18:28:00.000+11:00

The above, plus hot pants, sunnies and gloves, was my attire for my gardening mission today. With a big shovel.

What a day! Gorgeous. I spent it ripping out the old, waist high vegie garden, putting in new manure, compost, pea straw and vegies.

YUMMY!!!!!!

I would have done it topless but I have a gaping gap in my side gate.

Got grimy and stinky and all scratched up from my lemon tree. An awesome day all round.

Finally decided that if any of my neighbours were nosy enough to come and peer through my side gate then they deserved to cop an eye load of boob and thus removed the bikini.

And now I have a third nipple.

Yes folks. It's not funny. I went to the bathroom to clean a cut in my dirt embedded fingernail and soon discovered, beneath the chicken poo and sweat, a massive bite on my left breast. I can't feel it but it is about 5 times the size of a fresh mozzie bite with a gaping red areola around it. It is, in fact, competing with my real nipple for attention...and winning.

Not pretty.

But who cares? I had the best day.

After cleaning up and showering I sat down to a nice cold bee- gin and tonic and planned what I will cook this Summer.

Divine.

So you are all invited around this January for some kind of feast involving tomatoes, corn, basil, parsley, rainbow chard, chilli, beetroot, mint, lettuce, lemon and lime.

Favourite thing today: Australia. Do we live in the best country or what? Fuck we're lucky. If it weren't for the politics and the odd racist or Spring Carnival going fashion disgrace, this country'd be Utopia.

PS This is blog no.2 today. If you want to find out what I was like earlier today, before I was in such a good mood, or what I thought of last night's venture to the theatre, read below blog.

Darcy's Review of Metamorphosis...The One at the Malthouse (Warning - This is Not a Love Blog)

2005-11-06T14:53:00.000+11:00

Metamorphosis
A Play by Ben Ellis
From the Original Novella by Franz Kafka
Directed by Ben Winspear
Performed at The Malthouse
by a Bunch of Fuckin' Actors*

Review by darcy:

Boring.

So boring.

So, sooo boring.

So fucking, terribly boooooooooooooorrrriiiiiiiiiing.

Oh Christ.

Oh my. Oh dear. Oh wow, just how boring can you get? You are by the far the most boring thing I've had to endure this year. No really, I think you've just out boringed everything I've ever been bored by. Ever.

Oh, I know, slap me over the face with some theatre. No, please, I want you to. Be bigger. Be more obvious. Squeeze a few more worn to death themes in, I could never tire of them.

Oh fuck! Let me out!!!! I'm so bored!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

When is this fucking play going to finish? Now? Oh no. Now? Oh no. NOW?!?!?!? Fuck! Come one! Please! I can't take it any more. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaase!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Somebody help me! I can't yell at the stage. I WANT to. Christ I want to but I have three friends up there. Three!

What am I going to say to them after the show?

If I bite into that wooden railing will it hurt my teeth? If I walk over and smash my head on that wall will anyone notice?

I hate theatre. I HATE IT! I don't care if it has hitherto been a passion of mine, I herein renounce any love I've ever had for it. I should have listened to roguemaze long ago. Die theatre, die! Oh, you just did. I was wondering what that smell was.

Of fuck, thank Christ. It's OVER.

Yes, champagne please. With a dash of vodka in it? Oh thanks. Excellent.

PS (I know the bitchy pants came back on but there was no love to be had in this review)

*Good ones too but fuck - what could they do? It was like watching people in jail. Hell perhaps.

Sweet, Sweet Beer, You are a Bastard - Love Blog Number 2

2005-10-31T22:51:00.000+11:00

Beer.

You are like a dangerous ex boyfriend. I want you so much, I have loved you for so long but I know how bad you are for me.

Why do you tease me so?

You with your gentle amber effervescence, your cooling temperature, your sweet yet bitter dance on my tongue, your low cost, your friendly availability in such sizes as a jug...why?

What did I ever do to you? Why do you treat other people better than me?

I remember the first time we met, in my grand father's glass. He wouldn't let me spend too much time with you because he knew how much I liked you. We then later started a secret romance that my parents didn't know about, sneaking meetings in the park, at parties, on the beach. How you kept me warm at night, cool during the day, spurred me on to do things I would never otherwise do. Oh, the memories.

But you are cruel. You push my stomach out to bursting capacity and make my face go all puffy and red. It is even worse the next day with the memory of you and the smell of you on my breath, in my pores, my face as turgid as a newly blown balloon. I can't breathe when you are around. Literally.

So I had to stop. But I can't and you know it.

Just leave me alone! I'm hanging with vodka, can't you see? Even if she does cost twice as much. I even flirted with cider for a while there...let's just say I was settling for less than I deserved. Wine? I love wine but it makes me tired.

You know you are unparalleled. You know it! There are others who are better, out of your league even but you can't take them everywhere and my wallet can't cope. I just want you to stop staring at me, that's all. It's so hard when you're with my friends all the time, you don't understand. You don't make their faces expand? Why? Why just me?

Arsehole.

Sorry, I didn't mean that.

And as for your bitch cousin, bread, well, she's not much better. Tart. Worse than a tart. Part of a tart...sort of. In fact she's worse than you! At every restaurant I turn up to, there for breakfast, lunch and tea....sitting there all plump and fluffy by the olive oil, popping herself in the toaster when it's cold and drowning herself in salty butter. Nasty little temptress. I can't wake up when I have her, can't breathe, can't digest anything and she does the same thing to my face as you do. You're both trying to disfigure me. You grab me by the sinuses and throw me to the ground.

I am not that weak! You watch me. I don't care how hot it gets! I am never, ever, EVER going...to...oh...maybe... just...one more...time...

I love you.

Favourite thing today: Bee- No! So Much Art...So Few Bullets' new production at The Store Room. Look it up on www.sofewbullets.com or check out cotton's blog (no can link...traviscotton.blogspot.com?) and go see it! It's hilarious.

Love Blog Number 1

2005-10-31T21:21:00.000+11:00

Smells like Summer out there!

Yummmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Was a bit angry with daylight saving yesterday morning when I had to not only set my alarm (very much against my religion on a Sunday!) but also get up an hour early to do "stuff", especially after a night at the pub. By the time evening had rolled around, I was nice and tipsy on rose ( as in rosAY - I have no fonts and therefore cannot accent it) and surrounded by spunky, intelligent, divine and very-much-missed-by-me-lately friends in my back yard and it was still light, I felt a lot better about it, indeed excited.

How good is this time of year?

The sweet smells of jasmine, lavender, garlic and beer; the pink clouds; the somnambulant, dog walking neighbours; the lack of clothes; the mozzies; the promise of festivals; the freckles; the basil, corn and tomatoes; the sex; the love; the asparagus; the smiles; the beer garden at The Retreat; the broken air con in the car; thongs; the pool; the beach; the smell of food on the breeze; ice cream; sun screen; my animals lying lazily in the sun, blissing out, panting; the possibilities; the long days; the bomb.

Love it!

Go forth and sweat my friends.

xx d

Hey, Not Even my Computer Wants to be PC

2005-10-29T15:25:00.001+10:00

I was very PC for many years. Such a good, open minded, understanding individual.

Over it.

You might have noticed. I bored myself. I'd like to think that I still see all sides of the coin and seek to understand everyone for who they are, why they are etc. but to be honest I have found room for a healthy bit of disliking here and there these days; a bit o' judgment. Love the odd put down.

I'd be a tough Prime Minister. I have already decided the hard line I'd take on policy making for the better good of all. The pink polo would obviously be made illegal, umbrella use would be heavily policed, if not banned, bad, loud phone rings and their subsequent loud public conversations outlawed, girls would have to wear more than a singlet in the cold, there'd be no more horse racing carnivals; the public thus spared from drunken, sun burnt, smoking bitches in feathers with strappy heels in their hands and men in suits and mirrored service station sunnies polluting our streets, all fast food chains closed and reality TV wiped from our screens for ever.

Vote for me!

Anyway, after all of that, I have decided to take off my bitchy pants for a few days and blog with love. Gotta keep myself in check.

Kisses to all!

My Sincerest Thanks...

2005-10-28T11:37:00.000+10:00

I would like to thank the following three women for saving me from 0 comments obscurity: Elaine, sublime-action and another outspoken female. (If I knew the first thing about creating links I would but as I can't even get the fonts happening on my blog, you might have to pay homage to them through my comments...and I suggest you do).

Thank you ladies as I was getting a wee lonely there for a while.

When I first blogged back in June this year (I'm so new at this!!!!) I thought it was funny that people would comment, then slowly the neediness crept in until I started to depend upon it as a radar that what I said was worthwhile or of any interest to anyone. Then I pulled out for a bit as I felt myself slipping into a nerdy world of attention seeking. I have since been on and off the blog machine as I feel creatively fit. After a wee absence, I crept back on, without slutting myself across other people's comments page as a cheap means of advertising but found myself continuously checking in to a flurry of nothing - no comments. No readers?

Ha ha ha ha ha!

I love that.

So, I would also like to thank everyone for not reading or not commenting if you did because it made me laugh daily, kept my ego in check and served to keep my blogtentions pure.

Thank you!

Have a lovely weekend!

x