When it comes to corporate dressing we all know the drill; conservative, well-tailored clothes in colors black, white and grays. But it doesn't have to be that boring. I've always love to incorporate bright colors and printed patterns in my daily outfits. It just makes me feel extra special when everyone wears the same dull look. Here are some ideas for you to explore your wardrobe options.
Yes, this is how I was described after Blogopolis, the blogging conference I was at on the weekend. While it may sound harsh, it is 100% correct and I’m actually incredibly flattered.
The deliverer of this pithy line is an old friend of mine, SawHole, who was also at the conference. Sawhole has a blog Madam Bipolar; a very personal, moving and insightful look at mental health issues. SawHole and I are old Uni friends, and friends of Mrs Woog, which is how we both got into blogging. It’s all Mrs Woog’s fault!
Now the reason why SawHole called me a "groupie blogger whore" was because I was pimping myself out like a dirty old hooker at Blogopolis! I guess the professional term would be networking, SawHole accurately saw it more as prostitution. The other reason is that we both realised we’d ridden on the coattails of Mrs Woog and her friends and now found ourselves friends with the blogging elite.
Blogopolis
The first people I’d met in the blogosphere were Mrs Woog’s friends StylingYou and Edenland. Both absolute top chicks, funny, smart and hot – everything I like in a friend! Turns out they are iconic in the blogging world. Both were speakers at the conference, are considered leaders in the field and much-loved. StylingYou was recently named Blogger of the Year and Edenland is this week presenting at an international blogging conference in the US, it’s the blogging equivalent of representing your country at the Olympics.
StylingYou presenting. Sorry such a bod shot...
So riding on their coat-tails I went. Truth is I feel like an absolute fraud! I am such an amateur at this stuff compared to my friends and then to be in a room filled with amazing people who eat, live and breathe this new-world was humbling. I feel like I’m just playing here, having some fun, making fun of myself and my world. For a lot of people they have turned blogging into their career, their life’s work, and that is just phenomenal. So much respect.
But back to the networking…
As you know I live my life online. So Blogoplis was this brilliant chance to meet so many blogging and Twitter friends that I’d never met before. I dressed to impress, even brushed my teeth. Thank god I was having a good hair day! Now I don’t even know where to start with my new peeps???
Pre-conference drinks on Friday I met two absolute hotties… KatePiasecka and VeggieMama. So so funny, I talked them through how Grindr worked and they told me breast-pump stories. Kate particularly disturbed me with her tale, there is a reason I’m gay after-all. She then redeemed herself by trying to set me up with her friend. Loves it.
KatePiasecka and St. Murphy
My little conference buddy was Sociallysorted, we’d shared a cab from the airport and then was very pleased to discover we were at the same table for Blogopolis. Sociallysorted was also friends with StylingYou which is how we met. We had a very romantic Italian lunch together with just a dash of alcohol mid-conference. And again a tipple at Qantas Club on the way home.
So socially sorted...
Funniest woman (besides Edenland, which is a given) has to be Glowless! I have such a crush on her. Now Glowless is one of those people that it wouldn’t matter where, how or why we met I’d be instantly drawn to her. And not just because of her fabulous boobs. My male-crush was the heavenly ReservoirDad who was so hot that I actually couldn’t bring myself to speak with him. Such manly shoulders, mmmmmmm….
I got a bit tired in the middle of the day so tucked myself up in the corner to play on Twitter. Parked myself next to PurpleCath, also playing on the floor. Now PurpleCath’s blog was one of the very first I ever went to and we’d been Twitter mates since my early days. We have a mutual love of crime shows so in the middle of a very serious presentation we were moaning about how beautiful Shemar Moore is in Criminal Minds. Loves you PC.
Now I have to make a very public apology to the very fabulous TwitchyCorner. After an intense love affair online I failed to recall that we’d met before. I’m not a very smart man and there were Sambucca shots involved at the time. Can you forgive me Twitchy? I will never ever forget your glamorous self again! And THANK YOU SO MUCH for sending me some photos.
I adore you Twitchy! (photo courtesy of Twitchy)
So many cool people! EasyPeasyKids, ToushkaLee, TinaGray, PlanningQueen and MagnetoBoldToo are heaven! So good to finally meet you all. And Magneto, thank you so much for the tramp stamp you branded me with at the party. Mummycino thank god you didn’t drop your load at the conference, if you had of gone into labour I would have run like the wind. But best of luck now I am a safe distance away.
xoxoxoxo (pic courtesy of the gorgeous TwitchyCorner)
Bern. Morley. Is. A. Goddess! No further words required.
And just finally, StylingYou and Edenland, I am in awe of you! Not only because of your amazing blogging work but also because I now have two new friends that I am so incredibly proud of. Thanks for looking after me.
So all up it was a pretty darn cool event and I’m so happy that I went. Learnt a shitload, and now understand so much better what this blogging shit is about. One of the pieces of advice I am choosing to ignore though is not to swear on your blog…
It's better this way, to walk away and forget everything that had happened, to clear my thoughts and forgive myself for the mistakes I've done.
There are things I wish I didn't do but I want to think the experience that went a long with it is life's way of teaching me a lesson, to become a stronger and a better version of me.
Just having a bit of a reflective moment with this blog today. Been bashing away here for just on six months; some of it cool, some of it sad, some of it just plain boring and stupid.Got me thinking about what my five favourite posts have been. Here’s what I think they are! How I’ve judged it is a mix of what I’ve loved writing, what has meant the most to me to post and also what have been the most shared.
This is the one I’m most proud of wirting cause it’s a subject that means a hell of a lot to me. Took me ages to pull this one together. Some posts can be knocked out in no time, this one required a lot of work. I hope the mes
This one was amazingly easy to write but the absolute hardest to share. By far the most read thing ever on this page. This one taught me a lot about blogging, most importantly that genuine, authentic words are what people want to read.
Once upon a time there was a little boy who felt he had a lot to say. He talked a lot, he tweeted a lot, he was an opinionated little son-of-a-bitch and forced his stories on anyone who would listen.
But still he felt there was more he could say.
He knew of two magnificent princesses (or two ugly step-sisters depending on the day of the week) who called themselves Bloggers. They typed and typed and said even more than you could in a Tweet. The little boy thought they were amazing and that they were really cool. He decided that when he grew up he wanted to be just like his princesses Woogsworld and JoThornely.
“How do I become a Blogger? How do I become a Blogger?” squeaked the little boy at the princesses.
“Easy you dumb little shit, you just write it you fool! Now never interrupt us again when we are drinking!” said the now ugly step-sisters.
Woogsworld and JoThornely
Off the little boy went and started a blog. He decided to call it St. Murphy. This was kind of like his name but what he really liked about it was that it suggestested he was a Saint. Just like Mary McKillop. The irony is that nothing could be further from the truth. He’s a dirty, naughty, horny little boy who gets himself into trouble all the time, he just pretends he’s a Saint.
So type the little boy did. He typed some dumb stuff, some funny stuff, lots of gay-boy stuff, and he told the never-ending story of when he broke-up with his little-boy-boyfriend. The little boy found that he had more stories to tell then even he thought. He could write about anything he wanted it, anything at all, and he loved it! Before he knew it was hooked liked a gremlin-drug-addict and spending most of his nights on his couch in his little home, Man Pit, bashing out some stories for St. Murphy.
Then something strange started to happen to the little boy. And no, we are not talking about how his bush grew. He started to meet some other Bloggers. Bloggers are like these weird wonderful creatures who live deep in the forest in a magical online world. It turns out Bloggers are incredibly funny, warm, generous, giving, authentic, genuine people (and not at all like the two princess/ugly step-sisters) who the little boy loved, loved, loved to meet.
Suddenly there was exciting news! All the Bloggers were getting together for a giant, fabulous, exciting Ball where everyone could play together all weekend; it was called Blogopolis. The little boy got so excited that he bought his ticket and booked his fairy-flight straight away. He even had some business cards made cause thats what the cool-kid Bloggers all do. He counted down the days with his new Blogger friends and before he knew it the big weekend had arrived.
But right at the last minute the little boy had a panic attack!
“I’m not a blogger? Why do I think I’m a Blogger? I’ve been doing this for a minute, I’m not going to fit in at all!” See, the little boy was not used to having a crisis-of-confidence, he was normally a very arrogant little fucker. But this was a whole new, exciting world filled with gorgeous, smart people.
“Damn it,” the little boy said, “I’m going to have to fake it! Just like I do with the two princess/ugly step-sisters!”
So faking it he is. Today the little boy is off to the fabulous Blogger Ball called Blogopolis and he will be faking it every step of the way. All the little boy hopes for is that at the end of the night the beautiful Queen Fairies, StylingYou and Edenland, pop him in a fairy-cab before he turns into a cucumber.
And that he finally learns what it means to be a Blogger!
Now read their blogs, you will love them like I do...
As long as there is a Forever 21 near by, I will always be able to put a look together for a night out on the town. I ran across this dress on a recent visit to Forever 21, didn't think it would work, but when I tried it on, it fit amazing. In fact the last few dresses I got from Asos and American Apparel didn't fit as good.
Here I am, just finished my makeup and hair. Oh yeah the hair was the best I could do, my hair wasn't acting right. So I added a few pieces of hair for this last minute pony tail.
Drop to your knees and praise the Lord. And by ‘the Lord’ I mean…
Lord St. Murphy
Yes, that is correct. I am now a Lord and I have the paperwork to prove it.
Oh the power! Oh the prestige! I am now officially an Aristocrat and I expect to be treated accordingly.
I will not be answering to any commoner who does not use my correct title, Lord.
I will not be dressing myself anymore as I will have a Valet.
I now change into a dinner suit for my evening meal.
I have a driver.
These are all things that automatically come with being a Lord.
It feels like only yesterday that I was a commoner-bogan like you, but now I live amongst the dizzying heights of the social elite – and it feels GOOOOOOOOD!!
How did this happen I hear you ask, how did you jump so many social classes in one giant leap St. Murphy? Cause I am clever and I have a clever friend. His name is Lord Sleemol.
Even has a big red wax stamp so it must be official!
See, I too dreamt of being a Lord while watching the divine series Downton Abbey. In a previous life I 100% guarantee you that I was the Lord of Downton (or some other equally grand estate). I feel it in my bones that this was ‘my time’, my spiritual home! But I needed more than this feeling to validate my existence as a Lord – I needed a piece of paper.
Lord Sleemol understood exactly how I felt, and he was on exactly the same page. If you ever meet Lord Sleemol you would immediately understand that he too was born to be a Lord. Lord Sleemol, being the clever little fella he is, found a website where for the bargain price of $50 you can buy yourself the title!
Voila!
A quick swipe of our credit cards and now we are Lord St. Murphy and Lord Sleemol.
Our Lord packs arrived in the mail this week, and look, here is the plot of land that I now own in Scotland that makes me a Lord. Who can argue with that? I have it on a piece of paper for god’s sake!
Now Lord Sleemol and I often travel interstate so that we can hang out together and be ‘Lordy’; his empire is in Queensland, mine is in NSW. Be sure to stay tuned for ‘The Adventures of the Lords’ as they will be tales you will want to tell your grandchildren. We are the stuff of legends! And so Aristocratic!
Now be sure to address us correctly and drop to your knees, its Lord St. Murphy and Lord Sleemol.
This one is very close to my heart. See, it is my grand dream that no child should ever have to grow up feeling bad about being gay. It should just be. With each generation there have been massive shifts in perception and acceptance of homosexuals, just look at the difference in attitudes even between Gen X and Y, but there is still along way to go before being born gay is ‘normal’.
Today I am re-posting a story by the beautiful Edenland. While some of you may have already read it, it’s also really important to me that these words sit here on St. Murphy as well. For any of you who have spent time on Edenland’s blog you will already know she is a very special woman. The messages I take from this post are that with each generation acceptance will continue to improve and with people and parents like Edenland than equality is on the horizon, maybe even marriage. Over to Edenland...
Edenland
My nine-year old son was sitting at the table one day, looked up at me and said completely out of the blue, "Mum, I would HATE to be gay."
I was furious. I sat down with him, ready for a long discussion about equal rights and injustice and tolerance and ignorance. No child of mine was going to be homophobic goddamit. I don't know if it's right or wrong to enforce your own personal beliefs on to your children. I try to let them have their own views, give them space to make up their own assumptions about things.
But I was not letting him get up from that table until he got a crash course in respect and kindness. Until I had full assurance that he was not growing up homophobic. No kid of mine is going to be a homophobe. GODDAMIT.
Calmly, but with my head racing, I asked him why he said that. Was it because his dad and older brother are such macho manly men? Did he see something on TV? Goddamit.
He stopped his drawing, looked at me and said, "Well, because, if I was gay .... I would have to hide it."
My heart. Oh.
We sat there for a while in silence. Wrapping my head around the fact that not only was my son not being homophobic at all, he was coming from a place of empathy. He already knows that to be gay would be problematic. I thought of all of the children in his school ... there would be a percentage of them that ARE gay. And know that they are gay, and they would feel ashamed. Struggling to hide their Truth.
That's just so bloody sad.
I love gay people - specifically "out" gay people. I think it's because, they have struggled a lot to get where they are. People who go through struggles in their life, are often remarkable. They know themselves. They're battle-weary. They're deeper.
I told Max that yes, it would be hard to be gay, wouldn't it? But if he ever finds out that somebody is gay, to understand and never tease or judge them. He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Pfft! Of course I wouldn't do that, mum!"
And then I thought some more. "And, sweetheart ... if you were to ever tell me that you were gay? I would not care one bit. I love you so much, and ..."
"MUM. I'm not gay, I was just telling you something."
"Ok mate."
"Mum?"
"Yes mate?"
"Imagine if Rocco was gay! He would be the toughest gay guy in the world."
And we both laughed, because Rocco WOULD be the toughest gay guy around. Totes butch.
If any of my sons were gay, I would wave the rainbow flag from the highest rafter. I would beg to be in their float at mardi gras, I would hold dinner parties for all of their friends, and I would embrace them all with my whole heart. I would want to walk them down the aisle at their wedding. I would want them to be allowed to have a wedding.
This is my favourite "It gets better" video, from the wonder people at Pixar. The guy at 5 minutes and 35 seconds? Oh my god. I wonder how his mum reacted when he came out. I hope she loved him as fiercely as the love I felt for him when I first watched this.
I think most of all, if one of my kids came home and told me he was gay, I would feel instant sorrow. For the stupid straight world is hard to live in ... they'd be facing a lot of real-life ignorance and hate from stupid people. Life's hard enough, man.
Read Eden's original post here and spend some time in Edenland!
NSFW Language, which is a shame cause this is totally awesome. YouTube - My Vajay Ain't Handicapped "Not only do I offer great s*x but great spots at parking lots."
Well I’m not sure if he actually touched me but he did hand my credit card back to me so that’s pretty close. Ahhh, it was a beautiful moment.
Christian (pre his new honey highlights)
Let me paint the picture...
Saturday morning I was revolting and foul. Snot and phlegm from head to toe, still wearing my tracksuit pants and baseball cap. I was sick as a dog with the Man-Flu and feeling very sorry for myself.
My houseguest, The Sculptor, and I both needed food and I also needed an armoury of vitamins so we dragged ourselves up to Kings Cross. I have an addiction to supplements so for all my supplementary needs I am a Gold Member of GNC. So in we walked to...
“Holy Shit, he is beautiful!”, I muttered to The Sculptor at a volume I deemed subtle. The boy behind the counter literally lit up the store. We made our way over to the walls of glorious pills and I got all flustered when he came over to help. For the life of me I couldn’t remember if I’d come to pick up some Vitamin C or a Toyota. I think I pointed to my dripping nose to explain my needs. Way to make a great impression St. Murphy!
Christian was using words that even I as a professional bullshit artist couldn’t fake an understanding of. I vaguely remember something about 'eating the leaves of your greens', but seriously who would eat anything green??? I just looked at him blankly. By this stage we were back at the counter when I noticed this mag in front of me…
Mag cover with Christian
“Is that you?”, I asked. Best sentence I’d put together since entering the store. He confirmed nonchalantly that yes, it was! I just stood there and bathed in the warm glow that is Christian. But before you think I’m a weird stalker... the thing about this boy was not necessarily that he was good-looking, which of course he was, but hot boys are a dime a dozen in the Eastern Suburbs. It was more that he RADIATED good-health. He literally glowed! His skin had a sheen to it for gods sake. I have never seen health personified like this before. It was startling, magnetic and disturbing all at the same time.
You too can have a body like Christian if you do his Kettle Ball Workout, but ask you,
what the hell is a kettle ball???
Now The Sculptor is a cynical man who pleasures in the darker side of life. He likes his men rough around the edges and with a beard. He had taken a quiet, silent step back so he didn’t suffer any sunburn from Christian. As soon as we stepped out of the store the conversation went something like this…
TS: Holy shit! What was that?
StM: Oh my god, it was like he was glowing.
TS: It was like looking into the sun.
StM: I didn’t hear a word he said.
The Sculptors theory was that Christian had never done a bad thing to his body in his life. He went as far as to suggest that he wouldn’t know what a carb tasted like. Fuck we amused ourselves with this for ages.
To celebrate Christian’s good health and prosperity, The Sculptor and I went to Pie Face to enjoy the things that we knew Christian didn’t. I love a good pie. I then doubled my supplement dose so that one day I can look like Christian without having to go to the gym, or stop drinking, or limit fried food.
Surely the GNC Gold Member card can get me that!
My magic wand!
UPDATE: In research for this insightful article (and not because I’m a dirty old perv!) I think I’ve found Christian’s website. It seems he’s a published author. He has since had some frosted tips. Shot it through to The Sculptor to get his feedback and this was his response…
“I was thinking this morning that if you had the chance to touch him you would see a vision of the future where he would be fighting off the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse wearing ivory armour brandishing a sword of celery and a shield of isotopes.”
Sums it up perfectly! Sculptor, you are fucking hilarious!
As long as there is a Forever 21 near by, I will always be able to put a look together for a night out on the town. I ran across this dress on a recent visit to Forever 21, didn't think it would work, but when I tried it on, it fit amazing. In fact the last few dresses I got from Asos and American Apparel didn't fit as good.
Here I am, just finished my makeup and hair. Oh yeah the hair was the best I could do, my hair wasn't acting right. So I added a few pieces of hair for this last minute pony tail.
My $14.80 dress
