I'm terribly sorry, I know we're all supposed to be sobering up and getting on with the process of holding K07 accountable, but really....
Also:
1. The Wanker from Wentworth waits at least two seconds after Costello bows out to stroll in and put his hand up,
'Did somebody say 'poisoned chalice'? LOL'
2. Ol' Jughead's
throwing his hat into the ring,
'Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, etc.'And 3. A very nice young lady just raced into the room and announced somewhat breathlessly 'MAXINE GOT BENNELONG, IT'S OFFICIAL'.
Look, I'm awfully apologetic to those of you requiring some serious political dissertation. But I simply must continue riding the celebrations train for another day or so.
Champagne, anyone?
*pops cork*
41 comments.
Yesterday my mother insisted my Ginger-haired beau and I meet her in the city for a mysterious date. No matter how hard I pressed her, she wouldn't tell me what it was about or what she had planned for us.
Me: Is it something to do with group singing? It is, isn't it?
Her: I'm not saying anything.
Me: Are we having a dance jam?
Her: Shhhh.
Me: If there's audience participation involved, I'm not sure I'm interested.
Her: God you're a pain in the arse.
Me: I just like to be prepared, that's all.
Her: Hush up and meet me at the State Library at 5:15.
******************************
It's not so far fetched of me to imagine a singing or dancing activity of some description, since my mama tends to get herself involved with all kinds of creative 'outlets' and likes others members of the family to join in at random. I love her to bits and am an only child so for the most part grudgingly wrap myself in grass skirts or bang on log drums or whatever it is she wants me to do.
I couldn't, however, have foreseen what she had in store for yesterday evening.
My mother's gospel choir - plus other songstrel folk - participated in guerilla group singing in the middle of Melbourne. They took their message from the steps of the State Library, to the GPO, to Federation Square, and Flinders Street Station. Uninvited.
Everywhere they went, they stood as one and sang with one voice: Vote the bastards out. Vote them out. Vote the bastards out.
People stopped and stared. Some joined in. Others hollered support. There was electricity in the air.
Electricity and change.
I cried at one point. Proud of my revolutionary mama, overwhelmed by the possibility of change and movement, and terrified by the prospect that it may all fall over within the next twenty-four hours.
Vote well, comrades. See you on the other side.
Twenty-four hours til the next election.
75 comments.
1. Hel-
lo, Bracks Jnr...
You've been a
naughty boy, go to my room etc.
2.
'Despite vowing at age 12 never to marry a politician, Mrs. Costello met the future Treasurer at university and was attracted to the man she's described as "very fit, slinky, supple".'
'Very fit, slinky, supple.'
'Slinky, supple.'
'Slinky.'
*pukes blood*
Two more days, my friends. TWO DAYS.
56 comments.
4 FREAKING DAYS TIL THE NEXT ELECTION.
33 comments.
I was initially a little nervous about ol' K07 appearing on youth television as the adage
was never more appropriate than now with FIVE DAYS TO GO, though I needn't have worried.
My highlights package, for your perusal:
1. Rove: So, election on Saturday. Are you shitting yourself?
K07: (with unbridled child-like nervous glee) Six more sleeps!
2. Rove: Could you beat John Howard in a fight?
K07: If I couldn't, wouldn't there be a real problem? The guy's 20 years older than me.
3. Rove: Kevin Rudd, Leader of the Opposition, possible future Prime Minister...who would you turn gay for?
K07: Look, there's only one person for me...and that's my wife, Therese.
Audience: Awwwwww.
Rove: Is she a man?
K07: If she heard you say that she'd biff you.
***********************
KR was reasonably relaxed (very sweetly using the word 'cool' twice to reveal how 'down' he was with the 'kids'), dryly amusing, and pleasingly off-the-cuff. He also had an entire living room full of people in Collingwood shrieking with delight every time he dropped a zinger.
It felt as though everything came together for a brief, exhilarating moment. It felt good.
If he loses after such a lovely, fresh-faced display, I'm seriously considering killing myself/others.
5 days til the next election. OMG FIVE FIVE FIVE FIVE FIVE HALP MEH HALP MEH
*collapses*
63 comments.
Last night I went out to dinner with a few handsome and upstanding friends, and was entertaining them with a story about the time I tried to convince
Gabi that during a couple of idle moments lazing about at home I had inserted my finger into my dog's vagina.
The whole point of this story was pretty much to highlight a) how gullible Gabi was, and b) how repulsive and horrifying it is to me that my best friend in the whole world could believe I'd be crass enough to jam a digit into Bob Ellis' most private of places.
Gabi: (looking stunned) But did you...you know...move it around when it was in there?
Me: God no. I just left it there for a bit then took it out. I'm not
weird.
Gabi: And what did Bob Ellis do?
Me: Just looked vaguely bemused.
Gabi: Good lord.
Me: I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY THINK THIS IS TRUE LOL I AM FULL OF OFFENSE.
Gabi: YOU GOT ME GOOD THERE ROFLCOPTR etc.
*******
So you can imagine how delighted I was to discover that for the better part of the tale's re-telling I was stared at by three slack-jawed beloveds who ALSO PRESUMED I WAS CAPABLE OF SUCH AN ACT.
Campbell: So let me get this straight...you
didn't stick your finger in Bob Ellis' vagina?
Me: Of course I didn't! That's the whole point of the story. Why would anyone think I might do such a thing?
Tim: Because you were bored?
Mitch: Actually, I can kind of picture what your face would look like when you were doing it.
Campbell: Yeah, me too. Sort of...
Tim: Detached. But curious.
Campbell: Exactly.
Me: What do you mean, 'when'? I DIDN'T DO IT!
********
Sometimes it's better not knowing what your friends really think of you.
p.s. That's right, I haven't been blogging much lately. Oh, you noticed? Thanks. Instead I've been out in the sunshine, basking in the love of a good man, and working like a trojan. Regular transmission will resume when I'm darn well ready. I thank you for your patience/postcards.
8 days til the next election.
50 comments.
