I'm kinda absent at the moment

Apart from the fact I'm spending lots of time with NTWAH and enjoying the freedom allowed by the festive season, I'm also creating a MySpaz site. Yes, yes I know it's a cult and I'm simply aiding and abetting society in this endless global-tribe mentality but just because the rest of the developed world is doing it doesn't make it wrong.
I'm keeping this blog for my personal crap that you, my friends, could possibly find interesting (or not). The MySpaz is much more a professional front. It is still for friends and family, mind, but it won't carry personal bloggy stuff.
My nic is danniboi80 who want to check it out.
I'll resume normal transmission soon.
Time for a gin I think.

Totally shagged

This four day Christmas break has me completely slaughtered.
It's the second day back at work and I'm still so tired I'm thinking of installing perspex eye-lids so I look like I'm awake when I am, in fact, fast asleep.
None of this is helped by the fact the air conditioning is no-longer working in this god-forsaken dogbox in the middle of the industrial south.
When asked yesterday (late in the piece) if he would come and fix it the air con, the bloke suggested he might come today. Might. Maybe this afternoon sometime, he suggested. Inferred. As a possibility.
He's not coming.
This office is like a sauna. It's 34 degrees outside and promises to be humid today.
By yesterday afternoon were all asleep at our desks, as if someone had been pumping carbon monoxide into the building. Biartch-trice in particular promised to attack anything or anyone that might possibly look like at some point getting in her way in any way. Even an accidental over-attentive stare in her direction and she could have cut you off at the knees before you'd even seen her move.
The air con man, therefore, may not be so much lauded as rendered unable to walk when he eventually arrives. (As Bea holds his still beating heart, ripped freshly from his chest, aloft as a warning to other lazy tradesmen).
I would join her in this pursuit were it not for the fact that I am so tired. In fact, I'll probably barely bat an eyelid. (And I won't have to, if they are perspex).

Merry Christmas, schlappers!

Here it is... one of those grand Christmas posts people don't have time to read at this time of year. That's okay, pop it aside and read it in February.

It's been a bit of a watershed year for me with lots of life lessons and personal growth, etc, etc, *vomits*.

Started the year by becoming spectacularly single. As a result I spent much of the first six... seven... eight months of the year enjoying the advantages of that, adjusting to the change and getting ludicriously drunk.

Mostly my partner in crime was McPheedashit, who had also become rather single. Dancing Daniel moved to Sydney for an incredible opportunity at a dance school over there at about the same time. Which was great for him, but left me rather alone. Thank goodness for McPhee!

I've also made a heap of fantastic new friends this year, who I would not be without for quids. They know who they are. Big love.

In March I was invited to attend Mardi Gras in Sydney, so I stayed with DD and Nash then. It was amazing to be in that city during MG and an honour to be on a float called "Outback Mountin'"... which was partially inspired by Brokeback Mountain and partially inspired by Outback House.

In June my protestations to my employer that they didn't pay me enough to do what I do paid-off and they moved me to a branch office in the southern suburbs. I now write the Mel-VILE Times - 40,000 copies, 60,000 readers. And I pretty much write it myself. It's been a challenge getting to know a totally new area (I didn't even know some of these suburbs existed before I started writing about them. Seriously). I also write for the Freo and Cockburn papers and I edit all three when our editor is away (which has been most of the last six months).

I'm still writing lots of arts and in the last year I've met/seen/interviewed (name drop alert) Hugh Jackman, Kylie Minogue, John Waters, Brett Tucker, Betty Churcher (inspiring), Dame Kiri Te Kanawa (b*tch), Verity James, Andreas Scholl (gentleman), Rachelle Durkin, David Hobson, Max Bygraves (he's got two hands), Enda Markey (very attentive), Courtney Act, Simon Gallagher, Irina Baronova, MC Lars, Tim Minchin, Tim
Brooke-Taylor (highlight of the year), Denise Drysdale, Bryn Terfel, Amanda Muggleton, Breakestra... there are more, but this is off the top of my head.

In terms of work, I get the very rare shift at Nova now. That really seems to have dried-up. but then, I did tell them I was leaving for Europe, so they started looking around for new casual/newsreaders.

Europe, by the way, was a serious concern. I was supposed to have left in August and I moved out of my flat and rented it out in preparation for going away. I moved in (supposedly briefly) with Dad at his Bayswater pad. Still living there, still loving it. And, I believe, so is the old man.

We're getting along so well we've decided to sate our appetite for European travel together. In March we have a month together floating around the continent. We fly into the UK (Edinburgh) and work our way down to London before travelling from Paris to Prague... via train and several countries/cities (including Florence and Vienna). Dad stays a month longer in Europe than I do.

In the meantime, New-Thom-With-An-H will be house-sitting for us. NTWAH is the other big bit of news for 2006. He is an amazing boy and I love him. We met at my favourite nightclub in September and have barely been apart since. He's a keeper.

2007 will be my biggest year yet. Not only is there travel afoot, but when I get back (all going well) I should start filming my documentary. An amazing woman called Melanie (my director) has put incredible amounts of work into ensure that my initial idea will be an educational and entertaining product that is far more likely to be sold/aired than anything I could ever have produced. There will also be a book to go along with it... which I have to write. Very excited about the whole thing.

I have also put the flat on the market. I bought it on Christmas Eve three years ago and I can't see myself living there again... after some wise counsel I've decided to sell. It's on the market for 2.5-times what I bought it for, so it will hopefully net me a tidy sum to do everything I want to do.

Anyway, I have crapped on for long enough. I hope you are all wonderfully well and happy and I wish you all the best for the Christmas season and a safe and blissful new year.

(Ah, such fond memories: Me Lara and Phil [not Philbert] at Mcpheedashit's famous cocktail party).

Powerful enemies?

From News.com.au this morning. This story continues to fascinate the crap out of me.
Ex-spy's fatal polonium dose 'cost $12m'
BRITISH detectives believe that the radioactive substance used to kill former Russian spy Alexander Litvinenko cost in excess of $12 million, The Times reported today.
The newspaper said preliminary results from the post-mortem on Litvinenko's body have shown that he was given more than 10 times the lethal dose of polonium-210, large quantities of which were found in his urine.
Litvinenko fell ill on November 1, and died on November 23. Several of his friends have blamed the Kremlin for the murder, but Russia has repeatedly denied that it had any involvement in the ex-spy's death.
"You can't buy this much off the internet or steal it from a laboratory without raising an alarm so the only two plausible explanations for the source are that it was obtained from a nuclear reactor or very well connected black market smugglers," an unidentified British security source was quoted as saying.

A writer or a singer?

It's late and I'm tired but I'm jotting something down because it's been a while since a self-indulgent rambling and I know how you all rely on it so.
Just got home from a 50th birthday party of a friend of family. Not my family, New-Thom-With-An-H's family.
Good fun but passed unremarkably. Did get a question from the man-of-the-hour's neice though. She looked at me and said "are you a writer or a singer?".
"What makes you ask that?", I replied.
"I don't know, I guess it's the indi haircut".
I've been typecast for my inability to get to a barber.

Sweet mother Mary

It is almost 2am on Tuesday morning. I have just got home from Sydney. My plane, bless it, was supposed to land just after 10. A severe electrical storm kept us grounded for a couple of glorious hours at Sydney airport. It was a kind of shabby ending to a truly brilliant weekend - with the double disaster in that it meant I didn't get to see New-Thom-With-An-H today. *sobs*
There were a couple of mini disasters in Sydney, mind you. Firstly we were nearly late for Daniel's performance because of crazy bad traffic. Secondly, I didn't get time to see Enda. And thirdly, the good porn shop was shut til December 13 for stocktake. *sobs*
But the fantastic moments outweighed the bad 100:1.
Firstly I got to see Daniel and Nigel and have some quality time with my darling DD. I spent all Saturday with the Allcorn family and Fiona at Chez Allcorn de Roseville - which was pleasant beyond believe. I feel so adopted by that family.
Daniel bought tickets to the ballet at the Opera House for me for Christmas... with a little help from Juli's protege Craig, one of the coryphees in the Australian Ballet Company.
The ballet was simply equisite. The best I have ever seen. Raymonda is actually a pretty crappy story, but the dancing was so light and effortless it was like they were weaving silk before my eyes. They are so much more gentle and light than the WA Ballet. [insert contempt for Simon Dow here].
Afterwards Daniel and I met Craig at the stage door and then we had a drink at the Opera Bar before heading back to Oxford Street to a place called Slide. It was great to meet Craig and we really really hit it off. I think I have a new friend for life... which is always nice. He's born three days before me, in the same year. Spooky, huh? He's off to Oslo, for six months to some kind of Norwegian ballet.
I left him at about 3am and popped into say hi to Phil at Midnight Shift briefly before heading to bed.
Sunday Daniel and I just hung around and went for a walk out to the Cross and back before watching DVDs over lunch. Good chill time.
That night we (Nigel, Phil and I) went to see Daniel's show. He was only on at the very end, but was a standout. After that I caught up with another Outback House reprobate, sailor boy Adam. Ended up at Arq with him and his mate Chris. Boy do those two know how to have a good time! And generous to a fault.
I stumbled home at 6am, which I justified as being 4am at home - but that didn't stop me from sleeping til 1pm. Whoops. Serious Sydney time wasted.
So I had lunch with Craig again before spending an hour with Daniel and heading to the airport... which takes us back to where this story begins.

And the winner is...

...Sydney.

Boarding a plane to the great city in just a couple of short hours. Very excited. Cannot wait.
On the face of it, I'm going to see Dancing Daniel for a Christmas catch-up and to see him perform in his end of year production at the Brent Street School for Specially Gifted Super Talented Kids Who Don't Mind Wearing Leotards Or In Fact Embrace It.
But it is also giving me a great opportunity to catch-up with the Allcorns (who I spent a very special three months in the desert with on national TV), and possibly Adzy Carter and Fiona 'Schoobs' Schubert (both also of that Little House on the Prairie experiment).
Daniel is taking me to the ballet (at the Opera House, if you don't mind) and afterwards we're hanging out with Craig - one of the dancers (a former Allcorn student) who I've heard a lot about but never met.
Philbert83 is (to quote him) "presenting as my bitch" to go Daniel's doo.
Let's not forget staying with Daniel means staying with Nigel, who I love and adore because he is an Australian TV tragic in exactly the way I'm a British TV tragic.
Aaand I get to see Enda into the bargain.

Talk to you Tuesday!

A Royale visit

Many of my acquaintance know of the character quirk that is my obsession with Bond, James Bond.
I have long harboured a desire, neigh ambition, to own all 20 movies on DVD.
Last night New-Thom-With-An-H and I went to see Casino Royale - the 21st instalment of the franchise, loosely based on Ian Fleming's original novel.
As everyone knows, it focuses on how Bond becomes a double-0 and his first mission. It was also Daniel Craig's first outing as 007.
It was brilliant.
This would have been a brilliant film on it's own merits, even if it hadn't been a part of the Bond series. But the fact that it is a part of that cinematic history, and carried with it all the baggage and expectation, made it all the more wonderful and delicious.
There are things that you wouldn't find believable in a normal film, but we suspend our disbelief because this is BOND.
Characters like Jaw and Oddjob, even Blofeld and Goldfinger with their ludicrous obsessions, aren't literally believable, but they're bloody great Bond villains.
And Casino Royale carried on with that legacy.
I think Cubby Broccoli would have been proud of this film, and of Craig's characterisation. The film is still high action, but there are long slow sequences - like the older Connery films. It is shot in the traditional Bond style we have come to know and love. It's not as kitsch as Brosnan's last outing (Die Another Day), which was essentially and homage to the franchise (enjoyable nonetheless).
They've also continued to play with the tried and true. You have to mix-it-up a bit, I think, to keep things fresh. Especially in a franchise where even the opening credits and music, receive so much attention and criticism.
This is traditional Bond fair of the Connery variety. Craig is excellent (and fking hot... witness the nude/chair/torture sequence and two shameless Ursula Andress-style emergences from the ocean in tiny trunks), as is Eva Green.
Look I could clearly bang on about this for ages. I won't. Go and see it.

This article, from today's Daily Telegraph, provides an interesting look at how some of the Muslim community view social mores. It makes me wonder whether homosexuality will ever be accepted, when a sip of champagne and a woman declining to wear the hijab causes an uproar on a webchat for Islamic youth. The next generation appears to subscribe to these archane believes as vehemently as the last, in some instances. I know they are religious convictions (albeit fundamentalist ones) but it still surprises me.
But good on Iktimal Hage-Ali. I think she's great.


Vilified over sip of bubbly
THE state's most promising young Muslim leader has become the victim of a hate campaign because she celebrated with a glass of champagne after being named NSW Young Australian of the Year.
Iktimal Hage-Ali, 22, has been targeted on Muslim websites for drinking alcohol and declining to wear the traditional hijab. Her anonymous attackers condemned her after she drank the champagne to toast her award at the NSW Art Gallery last Thursday.
"It's true, I was celebrating. Bloody hell, I had a glass of champagne in my hand – so what?" Ms Hage-Ali told The Daily Telegraph yesterday.
The Islamic youth website Muslim Village posted dozens of messages berating Ms Hage-Ali.
"A person who drinks champagne, especially unabashedly, cannot represent the Muslim community," one member wrote.
Another added: "She knows we don't appreciate her representing us – but it's the power that drives her. Drinking champagne, that is sick."
The cowardly accusers also berated Ms Hage-Ali for wearing "revealing" clothes, nail polish and make-up.
"Her matching nails, eye shadow and top . . . were not . . . how Islam would like to portray a Muslim female to the wider community," one said.
Yet while the majority criticised her, a few did come to her defence.
"It wonderful that a young Muslim woman has won the award and that is a cause for celebration, not denigration," one chatroom member wrote.
Ms Hage-Ali, who is a finalist for the national Young Australian of the Year to be named next month, said she was shocked by the tirade, but refused to tone her comments down.
"I'm proud of what I have done, my family is proud, my friends are proud, my colleagues are proud," the State Government public servant and tireless community worker said.
"They're not looking at the fact that a young Muslim person has won a prestigious award – they are looking for the negatives."

The Ultimate Showgirl

I need to get this off my chest.
Last night I saw Kylie's Homecoming Showgirl effort at the Burswood Dome.
Kylie was brilliant. I'm told she was on stage, I don't remember. I was sitting so close to the stage all I could see was the incredible bodies of the back-up dancers.
I think that is the most homoerotic show I have ever seen - far beyond the Mardi Gras or Pride after parties.
There was a point where a locker-room shower ascended from below the stage with four of the hottest boys you ever seen in tiny speedos showering. I thought that was reasonably un-toppable until shortly afterwards one buff boy started doing sit-ups resting on the thigh of another buff boy, with his legs wrapped around the guy's back for support.
Kylie herself was resplendent. Brilliant. A consumate showgirl. It was a truly great show.


I stole those pics off the net. They're from the original show. The costumes for Homecoming are much much hotter. (In the sense that they hardly exist at all).
Oh yeah, and apparently there was some singing in this show... but I don't remember that. LOL.
Nah, it was great.

I'm so damned excited: Rudd for PM

I've been backing this particular horse for years and now my political dream - Kevin Rudd for PM - might be about to become a reality.
I first fell in love with the man when I was working for a Federal Labor MP. I had the chance to sit in on a party committee meeting (Defence and Foreign Affairs) as my Member's proxy. He was brilliant. Measured, calm, intelligent, considered, enthusiastic, sensible, passionate, committed, informed. I decided then and there that he was the best choice for party leader and, of course, Prime Minister.
Even through the Latham Year (The Year of Living Dangerously) I backed Rudd to the hilt (my friend Radio Daniel is witness to this) and I could not be happier with the result of today's caucus meeting and leadership vote.
So let it begin. Let Rudd and Gillard - The Dream Team - take it up to Howard. We now have the best chance ever of wrestling power from that jumped-up diminutive tyrant.
GO TEAM!