Garfunkel & Oates

I’ve only just discovered these amazing ladies!!!

They are two L.A. actresses (and have been featured in minor roles in loads of big shows, if they look familiar). Together they are Garfunkel & Oates. They write and perform funny songs – mainly about things that have happened to them in real life.

With such titles as:

“Pregnant Women Are Smug”
“My Self Esteem’s Not Low Enough To Date You.”
"One Night Stands"

Theses women are the female answer to Flight of the Concords. (Although they are very unique, so you can't really compare them.)

Here's a peek at some naughty lyrics from their song about a guy who would always bring his friend Steve along on dates:

It’s not that I don’t like your friend,
but how many hours with him can you spend.
And it’s not that I don’t think he’s great,
But it’s only you. Only you...
I want to fellate.

Saw them live in NY and haven’t stop listening to their stuff!!!

Check em:

Taxi Karma

I once refused to get out of a taxi until the taxi driver told me a joke.
(Obnoxious drunk much?)

So it was karma when I hopped into an LA cab late one night, and the driver kept speeding up to cars with women in them, sticking his head out the window, and yelling “Call me baby, call me!”

He was CRAZZY! The first words he uttered to me were "If you want to smoke pot in this car it's fine with me."
Then he kept turning around to talk with me, taking his eyes off the road for looooong periods of time. I was both freaked and kind of amused all at once.

I had no cash so he stopped at a bank. As I walked towards the ATM, he followed me in his cab, arm out the window yelling “Hey baby! What’s your number!” He thought he was hilarious!

I though he was a douche. Thank god the hotel was walking distance from the bank.

And now, before you stop reading… a joke, from comic genius, Anthony Jeselnick:
You don’t know anything about pain – you don’t know ANYTHING about pain, until you’ve seen your own baby, drowned in a tub. And you definitely, don’t know anything, about how to wash a baby. ;)

How to break free of Wardrobe Monotony!!

Ever notice when you’re shopping that you are drawn to similar clothes? “This top is sooo me,” you’ll think… and quite possibly you already have one that’s practically the same at home.

This is even more noticeable when shopping with friends. Everything they look at is familiar to them. It’s frustrating right? You want to say – “Don’t you already have that exact beige jacket - only slightly longer sleeves?”

But that’s their style, so you let them buy it.

Well, do yourselves a favour. Next time you go shopping bring a non-toxic friend who has fabulous style! You will need a friend who is bold enough to be honest about what looks good on you, but not bitchy enough to be the jealous type.

Then let them pick out a bunch of stuff – that THEY think would look great on you.

Items are not going to be anything you would have picked for yourself. You are going to look at them and think "mmmm... not really me."

But try them on anyway. And anything that says ‘well, hang on a sec, I kind of don’t mind this’ BUY IMMEDIATELY!

I did this twice with Chelsea while she was in NY, and now every time I wear these pieces I feel like a new woman. I’ve grown to absolutely love them.

Don’t worry, I still love my grey + denim uniform, but this has helped me break my pattern and look at other clothes that I may not have previously.

After all, a change in style is as good as a holiday if you ask me. Chelsea, are you for hire?*

*Turns out she is! And admits to doing it for all her friends. Contact Rachael at Snapdragons and Teapots for a holiday from your style!

Am I hot? Or did I just release an egg?

Did you know that when you ovulate (ladies!) your face changes to a more relaxed and open state? That means you subconsciously become more attractive… sexually speaking.

So the next time someone tells you “You look great! Did you change your hair?” Consider saying “Thanks! No I haven’t changed my hair… but perhaps I’m ovulating!”

Eeeeeew!

L.A. Highlights

Shared a hotel room with my new friend Bee and she found this note under her bed on our last day. It was weird – because we had both been drinking a lot of red bull.

***

There was nudity (male), throat singing and bbq wieners. Plus a bunch of skinny Norwegian actresses in bikinis, who kept showing me picture of them with Quentin Tarantino from the Screem Awards ceremony.

That’s what happens when you say 'yes' to a house pool-party with an old acquaintance. Despite how weird it was, the party was very quiet.

***

A cute boy I swapped details with on the first night, texted me flirty messages all weekend like: “you’re pretty cute” etc [which I found flattering, but rather primary school seeing as we hadn’t spoken. Weirdo!]

Then, back in Oz, with Sally!! We looked at his facebook – and WTF! Not only is he reading a bible in his profile pick, but HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND! Who has written loving posts – all over his wall. Fucking douchebag men! His real name is Brian Beer. A prime candidate for dontdatehimgirl.com

***

John Cleese, guest speaker at the Screenwriting Expo, imparted these words of wisdom, to the packed audience:

“Over all the years I’ve been alive and working, I’ve started to realize the truth and that is - Nobody really knows anything, about anything! And that’s all you really have to know.” ♥

You Know You're a Newyorker in Oz when...

I'D COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN THE FOLLOWING:

- How gorgeous and well put together the women are here.
- How quiet it is. Why aren’t people thinking out loud?
- J-walking is illegal?
- How good the shopping is (I’m sorry – it’s true!)
- How good proper coffee is (drip filter is standard in the US).
- How perfect the weather is (and how bored it makes me feel).
- How easily my mum can piss me off.
- How much I love girly sleepovers.
- How ocker everyone sounds.

L.A. - I'm a kid in a candy store!

I listen to a screenwriter podcasts interviews, with Jeff Goldsmith – almost every day.

Humble, passionate and without ego, he has the nerdy enthusiasm of the Steve Irwin, and the heart to back it up.


I hear his voice on trams, trains, when jogging, or just needing inspiration. He’s put his arm around all my screenwriting heroes, and now he has put his arm around me.

If I thought high-fiving him after stalking him on the first day of this screenwriting expo was a high-light, imagine how I felt after a 20 minute conversation, when he tweeted the photo above, to his followers.

I told him, “I hope you can interview ME one day!” And he said “I already am.”

Rad.

L.A. Nerd

About two years ago I was lying on my mother’s couch, a bowl of nacho’s and a box of tissues in front of me.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was post-break-up sad. I missed having a partner, yet was rejoicing at being single at the same time.

I hated living with my mum, yet enjoyed the comfort of knowing someone who cared was around.

I had no idea of my next move. I wanted to get away. I wanted to start my life again doing something that was leading somewhere I actually wanted to be.

**

In an attempt to make myself feel better I was renting a romantic comedy movie every night. Listening to the DVD commentary of “Catch and Release,” I heard an interview by Kevin Smith with the lady below – writer / director, Susannah Grant.


She said she started screenwriting classes at 28. She said she had tried and failed in the past. She said she was feeling lost, before hand too. I related to her.

A little voice inside me said… "She started at my age! I can do this! I CAN DO THIS!" (or at least I want to do this, and as long as I try I won’t have any regrets.)

Susannah now has an oscar for writing Erin Brockovich and her other credits include: 28 Days, In Her Shoes, Charlotte’s Web and the Soloist. Wow.

This week at my latest nerd convention (LA Screen Writing Expo), I saw her speak. I shamefully waited around afterwards to thank her. I wanted to yell - “YOU’RE the reason why I’m here!!! – doing this!” But she didn’t get why people were treating her like a rock star, so I just mumbled something about 'DVD commentary - inspiring… what ever.’ And she graciously posed in a pic with me and my NY mate, Bee.


I will never wash my right shoulder again. I'm so happy.

Fears I Plan on Facing This Year:

- Karaoke! (eeek!)
- Changing subway carts, while train is moving. (Scary, only ever seen homeless people do it)
- Stop hiding behind my self consciousness.
- Stop apologizing. (That’s right. I’m no longer sorry. Fuck you all ☺)
- Going hungry occasionally. (What does that even feel like?)

Quick Trip

Flying back to Brisbane for a wedding, via LA... Yay! I wonder what adventures will come of this.

I hope to keep writing while I'm away.

Looking forward to catching up with Brisvegas peops! Cocktails anyone??

This Bar's What Dreams Are Made Of

Marie's Crisis Cafe (not a cafe at all)


“It is impossible to feel sad in this bar,” my NY friend told me, and she didn’t use these words lightly.

Through the door, and down the stairs, a tiny sunken room awaits you. Lit only by fairly lights, draped across the ceiling, and packed with gay men and broadway actors, it is a place where I imagine Kylie Minogue would like to hang.


In the middle of the room, is a piano with a bar around the edge. The pianist plays non-stop show tunes like: "I am sixteen, going on seventeen..." giving solos away to visiting celebrities or regular patrons.

When they started singing songs from the musical Annie, I almost cried! (I was so happy!!)

I didn’t know such a place existed. The closest I’ve ever experienced was on a mini-bus to Sydney, for a school choir camp. (I was very cool in school.)

Oh - for just one bar like this in Australia! Screw sports-bars. Why not celebrate musicals like we do our football?!

"Come on!!! Rain drops on roses and whisker's on kittens!!!"

The Homeless Man Outside My Office

There is a homeless man that sits outside my writer’s office, late at night.

I make it a habit to look him in the eye. All because I was watching Oprah one day, and a lady who had been homeless said - "The worst thing about living on the streets is, people don’t look you in the eye. It’s like they don’t want to acknowledge you exist.”

And so, in a bid to acknowledge these people exist… I constantly find myself looking into the eyes of the sad and crazy.

I hope my eyes say: “Hey dude, I see YOU. You exist.”

But they probably say: “I feel guilty about not giving you money, and now I’m off to buy stuff, for myself.”

Lately, this particular homeless man has started to recognize me, and now grins at me saying “How about tonight, Sweetheart!?” as he holds out his cup.

Fuck! I feel so obligated to give him something. It’s like we’re neighbors, and he’s asking me for a cup of sugar… every single night. But if I give him a dollar tonight… am I going to give him a dollar tomorrow night?

This question will hang over both our heads, every night, for the rest of the year.

***

Fuck it. After writing the above, I gave him a dollar. I planned on giving him a twenty, in hope to buy his silence for the next month or so, but I fumbled and ended up producing a mere dollar, which I stuffed guiltily into his cup.

He was grateful, but the capitalist-jew inside me felt like he didn’t really deserve it. Should I have bought him a mouth organ?... or some water pastels to help him break out of this begging cycle? There’s a fine line between being generous, and being a sucker.

I will give money to anyone who so much as bangs a pen on the side-walk, to a beat. As long as they’re doing something. (Condescending much?) Once, with my good friend Glenn Iris, I bought a drawing from a homeless man who was off his chops on smack. We decided $15 was an apt price for such an effort to be entrepreneurial, at 1am in the morning, and it would make the perfect gift for our beloved mate, T-bird!

Post purchase, and on closer inspection, we realized the drawing was a photocopy, that we could barely touch for fear of homeless germs.

Bless T-bird, who put it up on the fridge in a gesture of gratitude… or simply to remind us of what suckers we were.

I guess nothing has changed.

This homeless man will continue to exist. And I will continue to feel guilty, until I cave, and buy him a saxophone, or a new car.

I Want What They're Having

In the US Office, Jim and Pam have finally tied the knot, and I'm happier for them, than I have been for all the people I know, that have gotten married in real life. (What?!)

Together they are JAM.

Never have I seen such mutual respect between a couple portrayed on television.

Next time I order a man, I'll take him with a side of JAM, thanks.

Good Morning Ada

This morning, I awoke to the sounds of Ada’s cane moving swiftly across the floor. It is rare that she can walk on her own, and when she does, she is in another world. It’s like spirits are leading her around. “Wondering,” they call it. I closed my eyes, and listened to her wonder. I must have dozed off, because the next time I opened my eyes, she was sitting on the edge of the couch with me. She stared at me stoic faced, then said in her harsh Polish accent “I want to die.”

Brazilian Wax – to the left, to the left!

At the height of brazilin waxing popularity, in 2006, I had the glorious idea of getting creative at a particular session.

I wanted a shape, like a heart or a lightning bolt - just like in SATC, instead of the rectangular landing strip. I’d been waxing my bikini line for years, but only just started trying Brazillians. It was addictive! Especially in Brisbane’s summer, where you often find your self in a pair of bathers.

I asked my waxer, if she did any shapes.

“What kind of shapes?” she asked in a suspicious tone.

“Perhaps a lightning bolt?” I said, nonchalantly.

“Well, we don’t have any stencils, and I’ve never done shapes before, BUT - I can give it a try!”

Note: The words “I can give it a try” when using hot wax on your genetailia, should always, always, always raise a red flag.

So - off to work she went! Spreading wax strategically, at different angles, before tearing it off. She was taking her time, even surveying it from a distance, like an artist would, and I grew confident that she was doing a good job. In fact, I couldn’t wait to see it! My boyfriend, Ralph was going to love it - and be totally surprised!!

“There we go!” she finally said. “I’ve done my best here, considering.” She stood back, looking proud of herself.

I thanked her for putting in so much effort, and then I looked down.

A lightening bolt – it was not. But it was definitely in the shape of a curved arrow, going down and off to the left.

Like a road sign, directing penises away from the target.


Ralph’s brain is already confused enough, when the blood drains to his privates. He certainly didn’t need any more mixed signals from me.

I wanted her to fix it. To take it all off. Going bald eagle would be my only choice.

But she just stood there smiling happily in her art work, and all I could say was:

“Oh, that’s great! I love it! Totally love it!”

Fuck! I do this in hair salons too. I wasn’t about to shave, and have stubble in the shape of an arrow growing from me, so that night before getting naked, I warned Ralph:

“Babe - today I went in to get a lightening bolt fashioned in my pubic region, as a lovely surprise, and something a bit different… but the girl mustn’t have been very good at art in school, and, well – this happened…”

He took one look at the arrow, and was rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter.

Which was actually the best thing ever. A bit of humour is essential in the bedroom, and it was a welcome change!

Also, Beyonce wrote a song about it:
“To the left, to the left… everything you own, in a box to the left.” Ha ha ha.

Ada's Days

Days come and go so fast. But I often wonder how fast they go for Ada. She gave up her will to live long ago, and now, for reasons no one can explain, she is being held alive against her will.

She sits in her chair, like she’s on an airline, waiting for her next meal… and some kind of airline disaster that will result in her imminent death.

“It’s your birthday in a week, Ada,” I’ll say, trying to cheer her up.
She will shrug her shoulders and say, in her thick Polish accent “I don’t know if I’ll be alive.”

“Well, God must have plans for you here,” I’ll remind her.
“My life is over,” she will repeat and sigh. “There’s no use, anymore. I used to have everything, now I have nothing. And soon I will be dead.”

There is no convincing her, when she’s in one of these moods. Get Pollyanna with her, and she’s likely to smack you on the back of the head.

The only thing I can do, is something very distracting - like putting my hair in a pony tail. “A shvantz!” she calls it. Suddenly her mood will turn to anger and she’ll yell “WHY DO YOU HAVE YOUR HAIR IN A SHVANTZ! IT LOOKS STUPID!”

Never fails to amuse me, and I’d rather see her feisty than depressed.**

I have a feeling the baby boomers are going to save us all from getting dementia. There's no way they will want to go out like this. I hope they find a cure!


** I’ve since learned that talking about suicide is very common in people with dementia. And I’ve also learned that it’s important not to aggravate them. So no more pony tails for me.