Contrasts

In the hospital because your poor grandmother has broken another bone, and nurses are stupid and doctors never come and you're surrounded by such sadness, and you are reminded yet again of your firm belief in atheism.

And all you need is some French toast, and a cup of tea, and a brilliant first half of Prime Suspect with the divine Helen Mirren.

I Have The Cake, And I Ate It Too

Today I did the ultimate in extravagance: I got a cleaner. It's just a one-off though. Never being home, the place has become a bit of a bachelor pad. The arrogance of the whole thing, of paying someone to do this gives me a bit of a kick; I went all out and paid extra so they even wash the dishes in the sink. Ooh yea. She even said to me "when you come home tonight the place will be sparkling". I can't wait to come home tonight!

Repeat to self: This will not become a regular thing, this will not become a regular thing...

Since I'm Horny

...and having erotic dreams and flirting with drivers in traffic and wearing low cut tops to no avail,

I will blog about potato chips.

I stumbled upon this recipe yesterday and made it last night, and honestly it's genius. Life will never be the same again.

Peel and thinly slice a couple of potatoes (1 large potato makes a tiny serving, so count on at least 3 potatoes). Use a mandolin or simply slice thinly and evenly - think just thicker than using a vegetable peeler. Wash and pat dry - any moisture and they will steam.
Toss the slices in a tiny amount of olive oil, just a drop will do for the whole lot. Arrange in a single layer on a microwave-proof, flat tray or plate (or line the plate with microwave wax paper). Microwave for 5-7 minutes until light golden - watch carefully as they will quickly burn. Pop into a bowl and season with seasalt or any seasoning you like.

Voila - crunchy potato chips exactly like you get in a packet, except they're fresh, healthy and ready faster than you can drive to the servo.

Party Party

Wow. What a brilliant night! I couldn't of asked for a better bash. Everyone we wanted to make it, made it, and then some, and it was so good for all my friends to finally meet (it's only taken 9 years). Having it at Tonic was perfect, everyone loved it, the intimate shabby space, the music, the good vibe and the crowd, ie no wankers. I love my friends! Everyone was in good spirits and looked beautiful. Speaking of which I wore my Lagerfeld for H&M dress, long black beaded necklace and sparkly Fendis; favourite comment was "I'm not a lesbian but I gotta say you look damn hot". The gift of drugs was much appreciated as D and I kicked on to Candy's around the corner. Actually, we didn't even dance, we sat and had a giggle and prolly picked up another stalker after enjoying the kisses of a Sicilian kid who looks like the lead singer of the Dandy Warhols.

I slept all of Sunday, apart from sauntering down to the video shop and Harry's for a hot dog, watched the beyond bad American Dreamz and slept some more. The end. I love birthdays!

Photos, taken on film, to come.

Far Away Friends

Happy Birthday to dear R - I hope you had a wonderful day and I can't wait to see you next year!

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It was so good to hear from A, after both of us being so slack for months, calling from Goa and offering to pay for a ticket to join them. Honestly, you have a heart of gold! I will see you soon my dear...

Bliss Is...

The summer's first dip in the clear aqua ocean. The water is 20 degrees, the waves are welcoming, it's refreshing under the toasting sun. Finishing Gordo's autobio on the grass, while waiting for fish and chips, the first order of the day, golden and crispy. I love Bronte. I love the beach.

Happy Friday!

Ha! Scribbled on my to-do list for Saturday:

viking helmet
cosmopolitan shoes
solarium

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+ Just bought a couple Moleskine City guides, which I have been gagging for for months. eBay is such a saviour for us in the antipodes.
+ Kylie #2 last night was fantastic. The gold seats were much worth it and Kath and I had a great time. She's beyond adorable. Favourite outfit? The black mini dress with patent over-the-knee boots and black headdress. I really want a pair of over-the-knee boots, but flats.
+ It's party time! Can't wait for Nat and I's joint birthday party tomorrow night at Tonic. This year's theme is SEX, and our choices for the CD invite:

Joint: Justify My Love, Madonna
Natalie: Flaunt it, TV Rock
Freak'n You, Jodeci
Good Enough, Bobby Brown
SexyBack, Justin Timberlake
Slave for you, Britney Spears
Me: Get Me Off, Basement Jaxx
Skin, Madonna
Piece Of Your Action, Motley Crue
I Feel Loved, Depeche Mode
Scorpio Rising, Death In Vegas (sung by Liam Gallagher)
Hidden Song: Wait (Whisper Song), Missy Elliott and Busta Rhymes

I Really, Really Love This Photo

From December US Vogue

I'm no fan of Gemma Ward, but I love this photo so much I want it blown up and on my walls.

2006 Year Of The Stalker

I thought it was Year Of The Pig? Actually it's Year Of The Stalker. Let's take a look at some of the men that made this year 'special':

1. Brazilian Guy
Met while out with A, through my beer goggles he was incredibly gorgeous but without them he just sounded like Borat. Never ending calls and texts ensued.
Memorable Moment: The text that read "I'm outside your place, please just come and talk to me". How do you know where I live?!

2. Turkish Guy
Yes, he was hot, but after being less than impressed with his package (I wasn't in the mood for "it's not the size it's how you use it") we took off and left him calling. And texting. For the next few months. It's thanks to him that I now never answer private number calls.
Memorable Moment: Answering the phone thinking it was my private number sister and instead it was him trying to catch me on the sly.

3. Chris (Psycho)
This is how his name appears in my phone. After one nice date he went all psycho bitch on me, calling and texting non-stop - the complete Jekyl and Hyde routine. It went from "I'm so into you I haven't fallen for someone like you in years" to 10 minutes later "I'm too good for someone like you, never contact me again". Dude, I never contacted you in the first place. Psycho alert!
Memorable Moment: Saving the texts and emails for AVO purposes.

4. Tony
Little Italian boy I met out one night, instead of just having a bit of fun he again started texting non-stop begging me to see him. He just had no idea. After telling him no more I thought it was all done with until a whole month later when another text came through. Unbelievable.
Memorable Moment: "I thought I meant more to you" - did you? Why?

5. Vin Diesel
Totally hot guy takes an interest in you. You are impressed by his Popeye arms, and can imagine them pinning you back while he bangs you into the wall. What you don't imagine is twice-daily texts, and when you meet up for a casual drink the interogation of why you don't call or want to see him more. It's just too much, and for what?
Memorable Moment: The whole thing - I meet a tres sexy guy and he's only interested in one thing: settling down. What a yawn.

In fact, the whole thing has been a yawn. What is it with the perseverance of these men? If I contacted someone I was interested in, and never heard back, I would be shattered enough to leave it at that. Do they have egos of steel? Whatever, over it. Next.

This Week

I've spent the week at Kath's while Jay has been in Vegas for a buck's week (which again I cannot wait to go to after hearing his croaky stories - 15 hours sleep in 4 days; 3am breakfasts at Hooters *sigh*). Well my admiration for my sister continues to rise. I don't know how she does it. I know I couldn't. I just know I would break.

Nothing beats the stillness of lying on the couch after the evening's bath-cook-feed-run around like fruitloops-go to bed routine, and watching Foxtel. It has given me the gift of Foofy Foofy and Gitte, and my new favourite, Ladette to Lady ("'Bottoms'?! What on earth is 'Bottoms'!"). It has made my heart beat faster with The F Word, and No Reservations. And all the random goodness in between, from Fashion TV mon amour to even Bill 'White Pants' Granger 'making' a fruit salad (embarassing).

Oh well back to the five channels of nothing that I never watch and bed at midnight world.

One Week Before Summer

1. Place massive alcohol order at Dan Murphy's.
2. Start contemplating what to cook for what will be the smallest Christmas to date: two (mum and I).
3. Order gifts and personal summer reading from Amazon.
4. Check cocktail sites for ideas on what to do with #1.
5. Wake up in the morning and smile when the weather report says Sydney - 33 and sunny.
6. Realise that next time it will be summer you will be in Ibiza!

Story Of My Life

"Is it possible to feel enriched and hollowed out at the same time?" - Tony Bourdain.

I Am In Love

Yes, with Tony Bourdain, that's no secret. I realised last night my love for him is so strong I can finally see the attraction of stalking. Not that I would. Promise. I do love travelling so if we happen to bump into each other it would be purely coincidental. I swear.

But now, I have a new love. Strange Love.

Best. Show. Ever. FACT.

The one thing I want for my birthday is a viking cap, nothing else

Quotes From These Past Few Days

"I miss u".
"Jules, there are so many Abos here, listen to this (holds phone out)...If he asks me for $2 I'm going to punch his fucking head in".
"I want to have casual sex with you".
"Australia doesn't have any culture" - "well do you go to the theatre, galleries, see Australian movies..." - "I don't consider those things culture".
(Explaining this week's Neighbours): "Stefan Dennis proposed to Lyn Scully" - "isn't she married to Carl Scully?"

Happy Birthday Nat

From wasted at the Sheaf:

...to bopping at Kylie this week:

Love ya! Have a great birthday and year to come.

Four In Hand

Last night Airport Guy and I caught up for the first time since I decided single is the way to go, for dinner at the Four In Hand pub and restaurant in Paddington. I've always wanted to come here, and for good reason: this is a great, cosy bistro that makes me feel good as soon as I step through the door; tiny, one waiter, dark wood, specials scribbled on the mirror, and a pub with pokies on the other side.

The food is Sydney bistro with prices we fell in love with when this trend kicked off years ago: $18 entrees, $29 mains, $13 desserts. I wasn't expecting an amuse-bouche but loved the Peruvian gazpacho, a smokey tomato shot topped with a drop of grassy oil. Then, how could I resist the petit dejeuner irlandais? As the cute waiter explained, it was a twist on the traditional Irish breakfast - cannelini beans instead of baked beans (the only slightly disappointing element as they were a bit hard, would have preferred a more cassoulet-type flavour); sausage replaced with a circle of flakey quail, then a slice of earthy black pudding, and topped with a quail egg and strip of crunchy, very smokey bacon. Clever! My main of roast mulloway was a delight, the seasoned, crispy skin of the fish better than any side of fries, resting on smoked tomato and around the plate the accompaniments of thyme gnocchi, oxtail and pearls of heavenly marrow bone. Luckily we both wanted the same dessert, chocolate delice with malted icecream, the delice perfectly soft and warm on the inside and the icecream, well, I love malt so it was a winner. The bitter chocolate wafer wasn't great and the coffee didn't push my buttons, but the shiraz was really nice and it was just a lovely meal.

The Case Of The Wallets

Last night I came home to find a package from Australia Post containing my wallet, stolen last week. It had been dropped into a mailbox, after being sifted through, and everything was still there, including the one thing I regretted losing in the break-in - the note from the Milanese laundromat signore who we danced with to Italian love songs after dropping off my clothes.

SEI SEMPLICAMENTE MERAVIGLIOSA

What is it with me and wallets? In Paris three years ago my wallet was stolen, and then utterly bizarrely returned to me by an Australian family.

This week has been a stunner for polarising actions. Karma?

Mum broke up with Boris.
Car broken into, handbag and wallet stolen.
Flights to Europe booked for 2007, including nabbing last frequent flyer flight from Europe in July.
Drunken texts and phone call to ex.
Free Kylie ticket.
Wallet returned.

Show Girl

Thanks Nat x 1000000 for the free ticket to Kylie last night! What a lovely surprise - from not seeing Kylie to now seeing her twice! She's such a performer, amazing costumes (oh, YEA), lighting and hot dancers. What more could an Aussie girl who lined her childhood walls with Kylie and Jason posters, or pretty much all of Sydney's gay population, want?

Goats Are The Best

Oh and I'm going to see Kylie next Thursday! I'm not one of these diehard fans (although I do heart Confide In Me and Come Into My World very much) but finally realised it will be an awesome show that is a must.

Communication

Not alcohol...is the key.

Don't drink and drive (ahem). But certainly don't drink and text. Or call. I made that mistake and paid for it with a shame that ate at me all weekend. You have visions of yourself acting with dignity. Not standing at the Charing Cross intersection outside a pub with tears streaming down your face shouting down the phone about a concept called love.

We talked, and our feelings and issues mirror each other's. We talked. And the hurricane of thoughts in my head were released, and I feel at ease. Such a precarious thing, to feel at ease.

Beach. Books. These two things are my consolations. I get lost in both. The salty air purifies the mess inside me, and the pages soothe. I could never live far from the beach.

And then there are wise words from a special person, a hug from a friend, a pizza slice at midnight amidst the circus around my corner, and this sort of thing:

Sculpture By The Sea with D, and Jet, the star!

Alcohol

Never again.

I can't believe what I did. I am utterly ashamed of myself. I know time heals etc etc but right now I feel lower than low. What a fucking idiot.

You Know What I Hate?

Moods.

I hate how one day all you pray for is the earth to swallow you up, and another you are bouncing off the walls.

Sexy new shoes instantly transport you to the latter. Je vous presente my gorgeous new Bottega Venetas, black leather and linen with dark brown heel. Bliss.

Is it ok to love shoes more than most people?

Giddy Up?

Thank you to the junkie loozer who broke into my car this morning. Not only did my wallet not have anything in it, you probably upped my karma for winning in the Melbourne Cup this afternoon! And I reported your ice addict ass to the cops, so hopefully you'll be doing it Oz-style in the not-too-distant future (ok, let me enjoy the fantasy).

The Dinner Party Of My Dreams

Just stumbled upon the Hedonist's New Year's Brunch, from my one true love Tony Bourdain. I cannot think of anything I would rather eat, or serve, either for new year's brunch, or for a sexy supper with a luvvah. And look at the styling, it couldn't be more perfect.

Leche de Tigre with seviche
Scrambled eggs with smoked Nova Scotia salmon, chives, and crème fraîche, topped with a healthy heap of Osetra caviar on a buckwheat blini
Blood-orange mimosa
Strawberries tossed with balsamic vinegar and a chiffonnade of mint

Notice the stubbed cigarettes near the mimosas, god I love this man

Merry Christmas

"I totally don't mind if you bring someone to the Christmas party. I want you to know that".
"If you were bringing someone I just wouldn't go to the Christmas party".
"But we're adults."
"I could be the biggest adult in the world and I still wouldn't react differently".

I wish we could just say what we feel and it would be the same thing.

Actually no scrub that, I'm sure we are capable of saying it, we're just not capable of making it happen.

Ode To Cigarettes

I love cigarettes.

They make the little things easier.

I miss cigarettes.

Why haven't they made them healthier?

Travel

Travel is on the mind again, flight availability checked, and emails go back and forth containing ideas, new and old city names, excitement.

For some reason I google the Cervantes Hotel in Paris where we stayed when I was 11, to see if it's still there. It was one of those absolute shockers: dodgy stains on the carpet, miserable, and backing onto a metro station where the shrieking of trains continued through the night.

From TripAdvisor: "The owner was at the desk when we arrived...He barely acknowledged we were there. A shrug of the shoulder when asked if the room was non-smoking as requested on booking."

Love it.

Why do I love travelling so much? I firmly believe it was this trip, aged 11, that injected me with this love of geography. Mum says she wanted, for me, for it to be a family trip; it was far from it. But with my naive young eyes, I didn't see the painful relationship between mum and dad, I saw new places, monuments, cute waiters, different currencies every few days that sparkled in my hands like treasure, restaurants where everything was new, and tasty because of it, hotels that (mostly) seemed like palaces, languages that enchanted. And it fired up my blood for more.