Welcome to my blog where fear and phobias rule the day. My own phobias include, clowns, balloons popping, planes, planes crashing, planes filled with clowns crashing, planes filled with clowns holding balloons crashing....you get the general idea. Oh and although I love animals I hate them dressed up in clothes.
Other blogs that are friends of mine
My brother David
Sites I like
It's weird, it's funny, it's sad, it's beautiful, it's my favourite
He's weird; he's funny and another fave
Shameless self promotion type Kate Browne into search, cough up $1.65 and read some of my work
Sunday Life & SMH
Good astrology site us Pisces people are believers (when it suits us that is)
Kate Brownes Pub
These guys defy description
Dean and Nigel
They are painfully cool and they like Duran Duran to boot
Tuesday, May 28, 2002
A wet and nasty day in Sydney town. Cold and steel grey. One bright spot is that flying high up on the Harbour bridge is the glorious red, yellow and black of the Aboriginal flag up all week for Sorry day. Nice one....
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Whilst I do rather like Ferrets, I do not like them wearing hats.
Wednesday, May 22, 2002
A musical Recommendation
I think I am finally over the plague of Kasey Chambers inspired C&W obsession that has dogged me and my minidisc for the last 5 months. I am now on the case of the UK Indie Acoustic scene and feel I must stongly recommend the wonderful Turin Brakes I am digging on them big time.
File not Found
Hey where has Erin gone? She truly is a case of file not found today which is shame because I just did a search on her name in google and she came up first. Alas.
Perhaps the Mormons read her blog, got together in their short sleeved shirts and conspired to bring down the blogging bliss that was indeed, the wonderful File Not Found.
Monday, May 20, 2002
Make that four times
Fell over again. In a restaurant in East Sydney on friday night (I've just not having any luck in the evil east) after one too many red wines I managed to fall down a flight of stairs much to the amusement of not just my friends but the entire dining population. I don't think I'm going to survive the month at this rate.
On a brighter note at least I now have a bruised arse and elbows to match the bruised knees from last weekend.
What's going on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, May 16, 2002
I think I'm going senile. In the space of one week I have fallen over exactly three times. Once at the aforementioned party where I did an impressive (unitentional) splits kind of routine which caused one guy to yell out "nine point six for technical difficulty" and then had to help me off the floor. Worse is the falling over in the street on your own kind of deal - once in Oxford St and once on Parramatta Rd this morning. Both times I tried to pretend that I'd slipped on something (nothing there) and then tried to laugh it off gaily even though my pride, and this morning, my back were smarting.
Only thing worse than falling over is that I went through a total of three dinners in Stanley St the other night. The first bowl of pasta was the wrong order because the waitress had heard me wrong (I'm obviously incoherent), the second bowl was delivered and I promptly picked up the sugar canister and poured it over my entire meal. The waiter is shreiking "Noooooo" and Rox is looking at me like I'm insane and I look back at what I swore was a canister of parmesan cheese in my hand has morphed into something white and crystal like. People around me are laughing and small children are staring wide eyed at the crazy woman with the sugar. When the waiter brings me my third bowl he actually holds my hands away from the bowl and insists that he puts the parmesan on for me. I allow him and sit there in my sugar shame, ears turning red from embarassment.
Should I book the nursing home right now?
Monday, May 13, 2002
I went to a party that Roxanne held on the weekend. I knew it would be a pretty wild party given an interesting combination of elements that included the wearing of wigs, karaoke and more than a sprinkling of English backpackers.
The party was wild, however although the idea of karaoke al fresco seemed like a good one at the time it seems that the neigbours (and most of Bondi) did not agree. When the Police turned up for the third time, Rox opened the rollerdoor to speak to them and I decided to scarper as I don't really like confrontation. I'm sorry I did, because in todays paper is a picture of Roxy in a trashy blonde wig, her face pixelated out like a criminal with the title about "Parties no fun for the police". If that's not the sign of a danm good party I don't know what is.