Woulda… Shoulda… Coulda…

WARNING: I realise a lot of my posts have warnings lately, but I have just been informed by my husband that this post makes me sound like a nut, and that my blog should be called Psycho Cindy. So – please (as per my about page) take these comments as entertainment…  a grain of salt and all that. I’m sure there are plenty of people who’ll agree with my husband, but there you go. It is what it is. My happy pregnant hormones have gone out the with the rubbish and I’m not getting much sleep so Miss Snarkety Snark is back bitchez. 

‘Che Dovrei Aver Detto’ is Italian for ‘What I Should’ve Said.’ Not that I speak fluent Italian, but I dated a Sicilian once and ever since then I pretend to know a lot about Italian things that I know nothing about at all.

This phrase, if pronounced correctly; sounds like something you’d hear some husky woman voice-over saying while watching the latest Armani collection on FTV. But it also happens to be the plight of Meg Ryan’s character in the movie You’ve Got Mail.

And – I do it all the time.

Some massive piece of useless $2 gutter scum will say or do something to me, and my response is ALWAYS so feeble, damn it!

Then, I drive/walk/run/shrink away and think to myself…. CRAP! You SHOULD have said…..

Actually, sometimes I spend hours having pretend conversations with somebody nasty – thinking of all the awesome, cutting things I could have come back with. The Last Word. The final phrase that would have left them devastated.

I guess it’s apparent to all now, that I am not one of those ‘turn the other cheek’ kind of girls. I am fully ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, revenge will be mine, I hope you choke’  kind of girl.

So you know how every now and then you come across people that are just so lovely, they couldn’t be nasty if they tried?  Those people that don’t have a mean bone in their body?

I am not one of those people.

I suspect that several of my bones are fully fledged bitches. I’m guessing my finger bones, (metacarpals), because they’re the ones that type insults and sarcasm right here on this blog. But, they’re also the ones that shake the most when I attempt to verbalise fury in the moment.

The thing with writing is – it gives you time to think of all the fierce come-backs that essentially leave you on top. But when somebody has been a major jerk to me, right at that moment – I’m usually so flabbergasted that someone can be so appallingly rude, that I just go, “Uh, ahh, pfft. Whatever.”

I wish I could be more like Sue Sylvester from Glee. She’s FANTASTIC in the moment. Cool, calm and BOOM! Insult.  Except that it’s people like her that I have trouble responding to.  It’s the Sue Sylvesters of the world I have no comeback for.  Instead, I leave the scene – shaking in rage, annoyed at my own impotence. I’m like Emma. I run away and hide in my office and cry, until I think to myself; I SHOULD have said….

That’s usually when the cyclone starts brewing. I become, unpredictable and erratic, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with an abundance of terrific comebacks. DAMN!

Why do assholes always leave us speechless?

Look, whatever the reason I know I’m not alone. Because my inspiration for this subject came when one of my Facebook friends asked this very question.

So. Cyclone Cindy is here to lend a hand to those of you who – like me, are powerless mutes at a time when you most need NOT to be.  Here are some phrases to memorise next time some colossal jerk pisses you off or upsets you, or makes you want to cry or want to punch something.

The jerk on the plane: I know that I said sorry when I accidentally bumped the back of your seat, but it was an instinct and I didn’t mean it. Obviously you can’t afford business class so stop pretending you belong there. Please stow away your tray table and your pretentious attitude, or I will take that oversized newspaper and shove it so far down your throat you’ll be reading it with your brown eye.

The jerk friend:  I know you keep Vagisil in your top drawer, eat sweetened condensed milk with a spoon direct from the can, once had a sex dream about Justin Bieber, and have Shania Twain and Celine Dion on your iPod. Even though I’m not as bitchy as you are being right now; doesn’t mean I won’t tell our other friends these things. You’re still my bestie but seriously – let’s eat Sara Lee and watch The Notebook and we can talk about it.

The slow jerk in front of you in a line:  Just so you know, I was tapping my foot, rolling my eyes and sighing angrily because I had to wait for YOU. I had to physically refrain myself from tapping the back of your knee so you jolt forward, but then I concluded you’re either foreign or slow, and I don’t want to discriminate. Instead, I texted ‘kill me now’ to three of my friends.

The jerk roommate: I use your expensive shampoo. I pluck my ingrown hairs with your tweezers and don’t wash them. I use your milk and top it up with water so you don’t notice. I use your detergent, which reminds me… Asshole, clean your dishes!

The jerk kid: Santa isn’t real. Neither are fairies or the Easter bunny. Not even Bob The Builder can fix your stinky behaviour. Now go and find your mother and ask her what a Mongrel is. Can you say that? Mongrel?  Off you go!

Your jerk landlord: Fix my fricken’ plumbing TODAY please, damn it! Or I’ll… I’ll… I’ll find a hiding spot somewhere in the permanent fixtures for all my off cheese, and leave it there when I terminate my lease.

Your jerk boss: You are so unfair! Then again, so is your cottage cheese ass. Incidentally, you have a little crazy on your face. And yes, it’s been there all morning, and … was there during your meeting with ‘the big clients.’ But don’t worry, I overheard them in the lift saying how you can always count on demented circus monkeys to do what you tell them.  

The jerk that tried to steal your lover: Bitch please. Your thighs are the poster girls for Krispy Kremes. Okay so you’re a bikini model and your body is flawless.  So good in fact that I’d like to dip it in garlic aioli and take a bite. Because that’s what I like to do with prawns. Mmmmm…. Delicious bodies. Just a wasted shame about the head. I guess that’s what they were saying over at the airbrushing department of Ralph. Because your face looks like an extra from Toy Story 3. Weren’t you Mrs Potato Head? Now please move along before you vomit celebrity perfume all over me.

 

The jerk that broke your heart: If I could start fires with my mind, which I believe would be a useful skill to have; I would use it to set fire to a small part of your body so you could feel enough pain to know how I felt and to make you sorry. Actually, that was before. Now I just like to think about you contracting some nasty disease that makes your disco stick lose all power.

The jerk who cut you off in traffic then stuck his middle finger up at you: This one is hard because if you’re windows up and you’re far away then there’s not a lot you can say. Other than to blow a kiss, which aggravates them every time. Well you could blow a kiss, or if it’s a man – do what I do: Lick your lips all sexual like, and run your fingers down your chest. If it’s a man then you’ll absolutely kill him with confusion. Seriously. He’ll hate you but he’ll want to turn around and check you out in his rear view mirror until someone else on the road abuses him. And don’t worry! If he’s gay it still works because he’ll be fascinated. The same way we are fascinated by people with Tourettes Syndrome.

The jerk that is so pig-faced, so horrid so cruel, that ‘jerk’ is a compliment for them: Miiiiinchia! Che cazzo stai dicendo? Non mi rompere le palle. Vaffanculo a Lei, la sua moglie, e’ la sua madre. Lei e’ un cafone stronzo. Vada via in culo!

See? See there’s some Italian stuff I actually DO know!

Can anyone else think of any good ones? Or am I alone in my quest for vengeance?

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A sneak peak – because you’re GAGGING for it.

It’s here. It’s finally, pant-wettingly, split-endingly, who-is-that-in-the-cameo roll-ingly, here. And now we’re gagging like a vegetarian at an abattoir for Season 2 of the best show ever to race unsteadily onto our televisions.

So goodbye, Wednesday nights. Hello, class of misfits that sing like superstars. (Sigh)

For newcomers… you can read about my mild obsession with Glee here and here and here and here.

Collingwood choking on their own sweaty socks this Saturday…. Lindsay Lohan failing her drug test days after being released from rehab…. Sara Lee Sticky Date Pudding ice-cream….  A hung parliament….  It ALL excites me. But NOTHING in this world gets me to sit up and take notice more effectively than freeze-dried, pure unadulterated song and dance.


So let’s not pretend that tonight’s season premiere is about teenage angst, high school hierarchy or teacher tantrums.  Tonight is about tunes that can be heard from outer space.

Here’s a preview:

So put your feet up and loosen your straight jacket – NOT LONG NOW…. (Squeeeling)

Questions I have… ones that I’m hoping will be answered over the coming weeks.

  1. Will Finn’s testicles finally drop?
  2. Will Schuster find someone else to whore around with now that he’s divorced and Emma is in love with her dentist, Dr Stamos?
  3. Will Emma’s cherry pop with said dentist?
  4. Will Quinn get a tummy tuck, financed by the Cheerios? (Now that she’s back on the sqaud?)
  5. Will Britney Spears have her hair extensions fixed before her cameo?
  6. Will Sue get a lavender tracksuit?
  7. Will Mercedes try out for American Idol, come second, leave school and score a part in a Hollywood blockbuster – which she will go on to win an Oscar for?
  8. Will Puck get any hotter? (Actually not sure I could handle that)
  9. Will the new school canteen lady out-sing them all?
  10. Will George Michael, on release from prison, finally get the cameo/tribute he deserves?

When the dog barks, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad…

I’ve already done a post on a few of my favourite things, and in it I was referring to actual tangible things. I’ve decided to write today about some other pleasantries in my life, because truthfully I’m feeling annoyed and need to remember there’s plenty of good stuff in life.

Why am I snarky? Could be that I’m in the process of doing my tax, which includes deciphering between paid monies and expenses from 3 different areas of employment.

Could be that I’m craving all sorts of soft cheese and sorry; pregnancy rule book says a big fat NO to that one. (Yes I’m pregnant – Miranda Kerr, Isla Fisher and I just have SOOO much in common.)

Could be that in Darwin, the dry is over and the sweaty sticky months are close at hand.

Could be that my husband is going to Melbourne Cup INSIDE THE BIRDCAGE without me!

Could just be that I’m frustrated by our government (or lack thereof). It’s like our system of government is impotent. It exists, but it’s good for nothing right now.

So here are my 5 current favourite things that are not necessarily tangible. Hopefully as I refelct on them, I won’t feel so bad.

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1. Microdermabrasions:
I never realised how essential these were. Okay it’s a bit like sticking the end of your vacuum cleaner on your face, but the after effects are life changing for at least 2 days. Plus you get the added bonus of a mini facial every time you have one, and there’s nothing better than looking over at the machine and seeing all the dead white dull skin that has been removed. Yuk, I know but it’s the same satisfaction you get from seeing the wax strip covered in hair follicles, or pouring dirty water down the sink after you’ve mopped your floor.  You say out loud, “Eeeuw,” but you’re secretly thrilled and think to yourself, “Gotcha!”

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2. Earrings:
Not something I change on a daily basis, especially lately, but it was Elizabeth Taylor who said “Life without earrings is empty.” Before you go calling the Great Dame shallow, think for a moment about times when you’ve put on the perfect pair and realised you’ve totally changed your look from blah to brilliant. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about – here are some pics of celebs who knew how to work their ear bling. Imagine their ensembles without the earrings. See?

   

    

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3.       Sunday morning pancakes:
What can I say about a 3 stack of pancakes drenched in maple syrup on a Sunday morning. Perhaps just this: They remind me to stop, enjoy, indulge, relax, and forget. Incidentally they’re better when someone else made them. Like a café that overlooks boats floating peacefully on the water.

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4.       Dancing with my daughter to the Glee soundtrack
As if listening to the Glee soundtrack wasn’t awesome enough already… when I realised my 2 year old daughter was a total willing participant in singing and dancing around the lounge room with me (she tends to high-pitch squeal) I had one of those moments. An epiphany. I thought how at that moment there was nothing else in the world I should be doing, (yeah to hell with the laundry), and that this is what all those years growing up spent dancing and singing were for. All those childhood days spent in leotards and ringlets. All those teenage and early adulthood nights spent perfecting my craft on club dance floors. All of it – was just for this – with my girl.

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5.       New book smell:
I love getting a new book. I love reading when they were 1st published. I love the bit where the author thanks everyone… but mostly I love taking the open book up to my nose and having a good long whiff. Mmmm… Is that what “hot off the press” smells like?

If so, then maybe I should speak to someone and bottle that smell as a fragrance. Obviously it would be called “Hot Off The Press” and I would have to get Jen Aniston to be the model for the fragrance.

Only she can rock the mature book reading, glasses wearing but not too cliché to be ridiculous look.  I realise she already has a fragrance but I think given her constant presence in gossip mags, she knows all about being hot off the press. Anyway I digress.  The problem with new book smell is that after you’ve read the book, the smell disappears. So you have to keep buying new books, which is fine by me.

So I wonder if anyone else is feeling crappy. If you are then feel free to share your current favourite things here.

Welcome to the world…. Reginald?

Prologue: I apologise now if your name happens to be one of those I’ve listed as ridiculous. It doesn’t mean YOU are ridiculous… or does it?

Naming my child is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I liken it to naming a company or a business, because when naming a child – you are essentially labelling the person with an identity that they will live with for the rest of their lives. A brand name they will live by.

Which may explain why so many couples disagree. 

My husband and I did plenty of disagreeing before naming our daughter… and all I can say is thank goodness it was a daughter and not a son. Because I have never really been a fan of the name REGINALD. No. Not even for a middle name, sorry!

Even Elton John decided that Reginald wasn’t cool enough.  You can’t rock those sunglasses with that name.

Yes naming babies is a big responsibility, which is why concerned parents think not only about their little bundle of joy, but the adult they’ll eventually become.

Before naming my child, I had to shout the name out, as if I was calling her. Then say it angrily as if I was mad at her. Then I had to imagine all manner of versions her name may get shortened to… because we’re Aussies after all. We don’t call people by their actual names.  

In fact, there are HEAPS of names I LOVE, for girls, but not so much what they become when shortened. Basically, names that become genderless like Jess, Sam, Nic or Dan from beautiful feminine names like Jessica, Samantha, Nicole and Danielle. (To those friends and family members who have those names – please be flattered that I considered naming my daughter after you, but not offended that I’m not a fan of the short version).

And as an adult, I often wonder if I could change my name to anything – what  would I change it to? (Without the obvious ramifications to your personal identity.)

I wonder if there’s a name that better describes the adult woman I now am.  As I’ve mentioned before, Cindy is not my real name, but a shortened version of a different name. (No, not Cynthia).However Cindy is how I identify myself, and who I feel like I am.

When I was young, I wished my name was LISA, because Lisa from The Mickey Mouse Club was my idol.  Then when I became a teenager, I wanted to be VERONICA. Not only because it was one of Madonna’s middle names, but also because of the Archie comic and cartoon because Veronica was the one that all the boys loved. (Shallow much?)

NOW – I recognise that I am my name. Changing my sir name after marriage took me nearly 2 years. I didn’t want to.

My full name – the name that had appeared on business cards, on websites, on certificates, resumes, email accounts, drivers licenses etc…. That name in people’s minds – went with my face.

Watching  Glee on-line recently, I was surprised when Puck chose the Kiss song ‘BETH’ to sing to Quinn, telling her that he hoped she’d choose that name for their baby. (It’s not a name you hear much of these days). It was a heartfelt moment that will go to air soon on one of TV’s biggest shows… meaning there’s a good chance that soon there will be a whole new generation of Beth’s running around.

I also know how frustrating it must be to have chosen a name you love, only to discover that some show has that name as the main character…. Just ask my sister who loved the name QUINN and was pregnant long before Glee started. Now her adorable little girl will always be “Quinn, as in the pregnant cheerleader?”

Although some people purposefully copy a name they’ve seen or heard from shows, movies or even celebrities. Ever since the birth of Reese Witherspoon’s daughter AVA, the name has been in the top 5 names in the US, UK and Australia.

Meanwhile, whatever happened to names like Michelle, Rebecca, Lisa, Kylie, Sharon, Sarah, Jodie, and Louise??? They were the names of all my friends in class.  You don’t see many birth announcements with those names these days. 

And what about Diana? Did the name die sadly with her? According to my husband – no. This was his favourite ‘girl’ name. I found myself repeating to him that I was NOT giving birth to a 48 year old).

Pop culture has a big impact on baby names. “Twilight”-inspired names ISABELLA and JACOB were the number one baby names in 2009, and CULLEN (as in Edward) was on the rise. LINDSAY, on the other hand, finds itself falling fast — perhaps in reaction to Lindsay Lohan’s sad and public problems. In 2002, when “Friends” character Rachel Green named her baby EMMA, the name skyrocketed in the popularity stakes and is still at number two on the popular baby names list.

But as a recent CNN article pointed out, even today’s popular baby names aren’t nearly as common as they were in the past. There are a lot fewer ISABELLA’s in 2010 than there were MARY’s in 1960, despite Isabella being in the top 5 girl names.

 That’s because parents today often look to unique names that will make their kids stand out, possibly due to another pop culture trend started by celebrities. Celebrities who have clearly been smoking crack.   

Why else would you call your child a name like Apples, Maddox, Sparrow, Banjo, Zuma Nesta Rock, Bronx Mowgli, Tu Morrow, Audio Science, Pilot Inspektor, Sage Moonblood, or Moxie Crimefighter.  

I think Frank Zappa wins the Award for Cruellest Parent ever by naming his 4 children the following: Moon Unit; Diva Thin Muffin Pigeen; Dweezil; and Ahmet Emuukha Rodan.

I’ll never forget about 9 years ago when a friend of mine told me he named his daughter ARABELLA.
Ara-what?
Sounded to me like the name of a biscuit, or a light bulb.

But these days the name would barely raise an eye. Names are becoming almost annoyingly unique. Oh, we will call him Nathan – but spell it NAY-than.  Or… We will call her Christy but spell it Cristie, or Krysti, or Cristee.
Or names like this: Oh we liked the name Lauren and Heather so we called her Leather….

Of course most parents do worry that too-unique names will mean bullying at recess, but a quick poll of Facebook friends (all who responded were women) found that it was their more uniquely named friends who really grew up to love their names. There are parents who seem to choose peculiar names, but usually they mean something, and I think that’s more important.. (having a name with meaning) than choosing a name because it’s cool or popular.

Sometimes women name their child because of experiences they had during pregnancy. I read Audrey Hepburn’s biography while pregnant and desperately wanted to call her AUDREY but that was bluntly refused.  Then after watching The Sound of Music one night I thought BRIGEETA was IT. But then a gay friend said to me, “No, Cindy… fat German girl!”

I also found that during my pregnancy I ate bucket loads of Apples and Ginger. NO – was not planning on pulling a Gwyneth, but did consider the name GINGER. My husband said no – that’s a red head’s name. Guess what colour my child’s head of hair is?

Another common practise is to name the child based on places you live (or have visited) during the conception or birth – or circumstances surrounding the conception or birth. 

My daughter was conceived during a cyclone. Cyclone HELEN. Not really a fan of the name Helen. However, the name BRONTE means Thunder, a daily weather occurance in Darwin’s wet season. This plus the fact that I am related to the Bronte sisters was to me – the perfect name. My husband said no. He knew a Bronte who was a pain in the arse. 

Yes, we don’t name our children after people we don’t like. Or people that didn’t like us…

CNN also reprted that several studies have linked a child’s name with their future success.  One study found that kids whose names start with a C or a D are more likely to earn those grades on their report card.  (Cleetus, is that you? What happened to your 2 front teeth?)

Sheesh. Thank goodness my daughter’s name starts with an A, because I was also fond of Zoe.

In the end, I did do the pop culture thing, and named my daughter after a delightful French film, starring Audrey Tatou – which was a small homage to the original Audrey.

Do you think my daughter will grow up to be demure, petite, and speak french? Hmmm…

Australia’s Got Talent, and other lies on TV.

A few weeks back after a crappy Tuesday, I decided to foot-up it on my couch and watch some telly. I know, you’re riveted at this point. Just keep reading….

So after a few flicks of the remote, I decided to watch Australia’s Got Talent. What I can’t understand is why the title of this show doesn’t end with a question mark. Because the way it currently reads is extremely misleading. Also, there should be a sub-title for the show that says: Because our judges certainly don’t.

Actually as far as I could tell, the only one with any talent was Dannii Minogue’s makeup artist. Admittedly I only started watching mid way through. But still. It was enough to turn me off for good. Not only did I have to tolerate the smug ramblings of Kyle Sandilands through facial hair that needed removing about 5 years ago, I then had to watch him attempt hoola hooping.

One of the contestants had been hoola hooping as a ‘talent.’ Unfortunately for her, once you’ve witnessed the contortionists at Cirque De Soleil do that, no other attempts to hoola hoop really falls into the talent basket. Yes her attempt was disappointing enough, so I’m not sure why Kyle felt the need to get up on the stage and give it a go. It was kind of like watching a sad pig roll its way out of a gutter.

It was also screaming evidence that people who are good at radio should stay on radio. And only on radio.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, it was followed by a guy in raver pants who was dancing like he’d downed a few eccys before getting on stage.  So although he couldn’t actually dance, the enormous amount of serotonin racing through his veins made him believe he could. Hard to watch?

It got worse! Because we then saw Brian Mc-I-Love-To-Wear-Necklaces get up on stage to show that “he could do better.”  Wow! Memo to Brian: I’m not sure what the rules are in Ireland, but here in Australia, Moonwalking should not be attempted on National television unless you actually can.

So I began wondering if this was a new format for the show; whereby the judges follow the contestants on stage to show how “they can too.”

You can imagine my dismay when next up was a pole dancer. Good grief. Please Dannii, you’re 7 months pregnant, stay in your seat when this is over. I should thank the pole dancer by the way… for showing me the entrance to her uterus.

The compelling viewing closed with a man who boasted to have 3 ex-wives, and 3 children. He sang a song, his own material. Interestingly the song had just 3 notes.

So did I watch again to see who made the finals? Mmmm. No I thought it would be much more pleasant to stick bamboo into my fingernails.

Speaking of TV shows that are misleading…. Here is one I would call a big fat lie. Hey Hey It’s Saturday!!!!!  

Can anyone in Australia explain this? Apart from the fact that it goes to air on Wednesday nights, it makes me want to take to my television with a chain saw. I am unable to sit through Daryl’s forced humour or tolerate his cheesy grin any more than I can take the high pitched verbosity of Ossie the Ostrich.

Okay, so part of my beef might be with the nine network, the writers, the producers and directors, but they don’t make me want to take a hot iron to their faces the way I do with the pink bird.

As Kamahl said, “It’s desperate. It’s toilet humour and it should be flushed.”  But Daryl Sommers keeps ignoring the numerous calls and messages from 1989. They just want their show back … is that too much to ask?

It’s not that I mind a bit of old school telly. I’ll happily slip on my déjà vu jumpsuit for a classic Happy Days or Family Ties episode. But Hey Hey It’s Wednesday? No. I’m done with that show for good.

And what about Master Chef? I realise it’s a ratings dream come true, but I think a more fitting title would be: Master Multi-Cultural Cry Babies.  Could the contestants whose parents were all mostly born outside Australia stop crying please?  You know what else? Meatballs gone bad does not make a “journey!!” 

Perhaps their tears are a result of week’s worth of holding in total disgust as judge, George eats and chews with his mouth open. Yeah, that would make me cry if I saw it in the flesh.

Not wanting to pick on only Australian Television…

What has become of Two and a Half Men? The show’s title no longer resembles the truth.  The show may actually be over, (Charlie Sheen is currently trying to squeeze $2 million per episode out of producers), but you can’t refer to that kid Jake as a half man anymore. He’ll be 17 this year, and he’s huge! In fact if the show does continue, his height and weight alone should warrant the re-titling of the show to be “2 Men and a Giant.”

And finally, what about that good old day time soap, The Bold and the Beautiful.  Granted, I have had my addictions to this half hour of drama in the past. There’s something comforting about watching a show you haven’t seen for 7 years, only to discover the story line hasn’t changed. Brooke and Taylor are still fighting over Ridge and their children.

The title no longer holds true either, and should be called The Weird and the Whacky, because on what other show are there that many near incestuous relationships? Like the romantic attraction shared by Rick and his former half-nieces Phoebe and later Steffy, and their mother Taylor. Eeeuw! There’s nothing bold or beautiful about that.

Well there’s that, and the other title idea I have called The Botoxed and the Bizarre. You can’t tell me Dr Taylor Hayes hasn’t had any work!

                                         

Thankfully, there ARE some TV shows that don’t lie to us or try to fool us with fancy titles. They simply tell you exactly what to expect.

Shows like LOST. Never before has a story line been so dreadfully misplaced. Never before have I actually felt so lost watching tv. I’m not alone either. This week the last episode ever went to air, and never have I read so many confused or disappointed references to a show in facebook status updates.

And of course, it would be remiss of me to not mention another great show with a simple title that clearly explains the concept, the emotion, the entire experience from 8pm through until 9pm. Thank you channel ten. Thank you FOX.

 

Because by definition of the word alone, Glee means delight, pleasure, joy, exaltation.

Olivia did it first… and I’m utterly addicted.

I know its old news that I LOVE Glee. I also realise a lot of you that read my blogs are fellow Gleeks. But sometimes you just can’t get enough of a good thing. So for those of you that saw it and LOVED it – here it is again. For those of you that didn’t watch… get with the frickin program – starting with this. And for those of you who hate Glee, or watched and hated this…. You are off my radar. Please log off now.

Confession # 1:

When I was 10 years old, I saved up all my pocket money and purchased a cassette of Olivia Newton John’s greatest hits Vol 2. I was dancing a lot back then and competed in a competition every year in a town 8 hrs from Perth called Kalgoorlie.

We caught the train every year, but 1983 was the best train ride of all. I had my cassette walkman, head phones, and my new Olivia tape. I closed my eyes, shut out the surrounding passengers, and pretended I was Olivia – rock star extraordinaire.

 

Confession # 2:

In year 5 at school, I told all my friends I was the love child of Olivia Newton John and John Travolta. I explained it that I came to Australia with my “mum” when she was touring with Xanadu, and that they had decided to keep me here for a better life away from crime. The people I lived with were actually my aunt and uncle and cousins. I told them I go and visit all the time (I had never been on a plane in my life at this stage) and that LA is cool but really dangerous. I think some of my friends actually bought it for a while. Sad.

Anyway, back to my first ever music purchase…. This was the opening track on the tape

So after I revisited that clip late on Thursday evening, I had some observations.

  • Who was the first one to make a film clip in a bed all in white? Brittany Spears in My Prerogative?
    NO. Olivia.
  • Who was the first one to make a film clip with a small child? Madonna in Open Your Heart?
    NO. Olivia.
  • Who was the first one to incorporate animation into film clips? Aha in Take On Me?
    NO. Olivia.
  • Who was the first one to have doves in their film clip? Britney Spears in Circus? NO. Prince in Doves Cry?
    NO. Olivia
  • Who was the first one to sing in a cage in a film clip? Miley Cyrus in Can’t Be Tamed? Absolutely NOT. Shakira in She Wolf? NO. Lady Gaga in Telephone?
    NO. Olivia.

      

  • Who was the first one to sport a killer mullet? Warwick Capper?
    NO. Olivia

I don’t feel that she is getting enough credit. She was a pop music warrior, leading the way for others who would eventually skankify her original concepts. I mean we’re talking about a woman who starred in a movie with (and kissed) legend, Gene Kelly.

Anyway, Olivia really did it first.

And after Thursday night’s Glee episode guest starring Olivia, I’ve decided that if there was a way I could inject the the show reel into the back of my retinas so it played over and over all day, I totally would.

Oh, and before I forget, check out these pictures from Vogue of Glee’s Mathew Morris. Who knew Will was such a spunk?

 

Just another reason to watch!

I’m such a gLeek!

 

I wasn’t going to blog today. Last week I was busier than a one-armed ukulele player tiptoeing through the tulips, and so today I planned on doing nothing much. Except maybe a little site surfing. And a couple of loads of washing. But that’s it.

 Then I saw this and I had to share just in case there are any other gLeeks out there.

Are you as excited as I am?

If you are one of those random people that don’t watch this show – here are my 15 reasons you should catch up and tune in. (You can catch up on all of season one on network ten’s website)

  • Crime shows that start with letters of the alphabet, and end in a US city are so last decade!
  • Puck is hot
  • Sometime’s their version of the song is better than the original.
  • It’s the happiest hour on televeison.
  • Because Will Schuster is like the love child of Ellen DeGeneres and Justin Timberlake!
  • She’s ruthless, she’s diabolical and she’s completely nuts – but that’s the way Sue C’s it.
  • Slushie facials.
  • Emma’s outfits.
  • It takes reality tv and slaps it in the face and says, And stay out!
  • It’s like Gossip Girl, but not as slutty.
  • Watching bad guys smuggling drugs and food into Australian airports is about as predictable as watching an Eddie Murphy action film…
  • It’s like High School Musical – for grown-ups.
  • Because watching ex-models with big jugs and bleach-white teeth host travel shows is getting boring. I know, the view from your villa in Costa Rica is almost as amazing as your smile and your rack. (yawn!)
  • Most broadway productions cost at least $100. Glee is just as good, but free, plus you can watch in your trackies.
  • In comparison, it will make you realise your teenage years weren’t so excruciating after all.

 That said, I think this is also a cult show for today’s generation and if I was famous, I’d be gagging for a cameo.