Anniversary.

I’m just writing for me today. Please don’t feel I need a reaction or sympathy, or anything like that. I’m actually laying on a beach on Koh Samui wearing a moo moo and having a great time so I’m in a really good place – geographically and emotionally.

But I can’t let today go by without writing about the anniversary of my Dad’s death. 11 years ago today, he was only 56. 11 years is a long time though and it’s a long time to heal. But anniversaries are shit in the sense that they are very specific. They force you to remember the events of a certain day in time. If it’s a wedding, great, lots of good memories. If it’s a death or tragedy than an anniversary is pure shit.

My poor Mum had to call both my Bro and I to tell us the news 11 years ago today. How she did that I’ll never know. I was sitting at my desk at Channel Ten. I very clearly remember that absolute complete loss of control when Mum first called. Its emotional, its physical, it’s everything. It just breaks you in two. You just loose all control of yourself in every sense. After that your head and heart are not in the same place together again for some time to come.

I know my workmates got me home that day and my friends got me on a plane. I know mum and Cousin Trude met me at the airport. I know all our family was together.  I remember things more as ‘situations’ after that. Mum, Bro and I with the funeral director, my amazing family. Sonia and Alana making tea and sandwiches all weekend, sitting in Cass’s spare room to write the eulogy. Massive breakdown getting out of the car at the funeral, giving the eulogy but not what I said. At the wake I fell in a heap, my body packed it in, and I curled up in my childhood bedroom.

See this is the sort of stuff that anniversaries make you remember. Cause it’s all about a date and what happened on that day. It’s tough on the anniversary of a tragedy in your life to remember the healing, the progress, and the good memories which over time you’ve come to do for the other 355 days a year. I resent that the anniversary drags me back to that dark place and makes me forget everything else.

There is absolutely nothing you can do to prepare for the sudden loss of a parent. In hindsight it took me much longer to get my life back on track than I thought at the time. And I think the sooner you accept you will never be the same again the easier it becomes. I also learnt how to accept that there are times that you are gonna be emotional, angry or really sad and that there is nothing you can do about it. My advice to anyone who loses someone now is ‘just take care of yourself, do what you need to do’.

But I’m not gonna dwell on that tough time or on the life I shared with my Dad. That’s probably a little too personal, even for me. Instead…

I think I share a very special bond with Dad in death. I’m not sure when it started but I’m pretty sure it was not long after that initial trauma. There are times when I know that Dad is with me. I can sense him with me. It’s always fleeting but he just pops up every now and then, sometimes stronger than others, but always in a good way. He has a presence and I feel him with me at the most random times you can imagine. I love that he checks in. I shared this with Aschapelle and over the years it was great to have him there with me when I could say “Dad’s here”.

Now I’m not Christian and I could hardly be described as spiritual but I believe in this. I was concerned in the early years cause you don’t want your parents seeing everything you do – especially 2004 - but I also believe there is no judgement. He’s just there with me.

I’ve also learnt to call on him for support. Whenever I’m going through a tough time, am really stressed or have a high-pressured situation to get through I call on him to support me through it, to prop me up. And if it’s a really big problem for me I call on my Aunty Bub as well. I’m very lucky cause I have two guardian angels. And considering the luck I’ve had in my life despite my own stupidity and foolishness they are obviously the two best guardian angels ever!

The other bond with Dad ‘in death’ is seeing more of him in me. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone on this, but the older you get the more you realise and understand how much you are like your parents. I’ve always been a Mummy’s boy and take after her a lot. Since we lost Dad I’ve come to understand the similarities between us a lot more, especially in the last few years. There is more of Dad in me than I ever thought. Some of it good, some of it bad, a lot to learn from. It’s very comforting to feel that part of your father lives on in you. It will make me a better person.

So yes, it’s a sad day. But I’m determined not to get lost in thinking about the details of this date, the sense of loss or the life not lived. It’s taken a long time but I can draw strength from the bond that Dad and I have now. It’s so different to before, and I don’t really expect anyone to understand, but it’s a bond I treasure.

It doesn’t matter how many years have passed since we lost him, I will always be my father's son.

Love you Dad. Xoxoxo

Steven

Tough love for a 17yo St. Murphy

Melbourne hottie Simieboy said to me ages ago that I should do a post as a letter to my 17 year old self. I thought it was a brilliant idea but it’s taken me some time to get to it. I’ve often thought it could be a lovely, inspiring, insightful piece of writing but now that I’ve actually come to tap away on the keyboard I’ve done a backflip.

I was a little self-centred bitch at 17. No way would I have listened to a thoughtful, meaningful letter from a dirty old man like me. What I needed at 17 was some tough love, a bit of a reality-slap across the face. So that’s what I’ve decided to go with instead…

Thats me on the left, at 17yo.

Dear 17yo St. Murphy,

Now listen here you little shit, chances are you will not listen to a word I say, but trust me that I know what is best for you! The past 22 years have taught me A LOT and if you listen to me now you can save yourself monumental grief down the track. Yes, yes I understand that at 17 some of these subjects will be disturbing and completely foreign but I really don’t care. This is stuff you need to know.

First off, and I think most importantly… YOU ARE GAY!!! That's why naked men keep popping into your mind. I know you don’t really know what gay is at the moment or what it means but save yourself 7 years of turmoil and COME OUT NOW!! The reality is that everyone already thinks that you are, you are as camp as Xmas for godsake, and no one will be surprised when you do eventually come out. I do not want you to have any regrets, if you came out now you could probably make a difference for others who come after you. You will be a very proud gay man, and a very very happy gay man. Embrace it now!

While you may have a 6-pack now with the lungs of a marathon runner DO NOT TAKE THESE FOR GRANTED. If you don’t keep working on them one day you’ll wake up in your mid-30’s with a gut and a smokers cough. Which reminds me, and this is critical, you should never ever put a cigerette in your mouth. You will soon find that you become addicted to anything and everything very quickly so lets nip that one in the bud now. You could have travelled the world twice by 40 on the money you waste on cigerettes.

Yes, you are gay!

Look around your classroom, your 3 best friends now will be friends for life. Go give Cass, Sonia and Alana a big hug and be nice to them every day. They will be with you for life. They will be the ones wiping the dribble from your mouth when you are in the old-mans home.

Already you have too much fun. Now this isn’t always a bad thing but one of the toughest lessons you can learn is that fun should not come at the cost of everything else in your life. Be particularly careful in your late-20's and early 30's, we call 2004 'the Dark Year' for a very good reason. Thank god you fall into a career that is fun otherwise I would have grave fears for you.  On that front, just forget right now that you are destined for a life in business or finance and start looking up courses in Communications. That’s where your skills are, and that’s a job that will get you out of bed each day and out of bars each night.

Ok, brace yourself 17yo St. Murphy, this is a tough one. You will lose your father far too young. Not what you want to hear I know. Sorry. But I think its really crucial that you know this as it will change how you behave in the lead-up. The loss is bad enough without also having regrets. You will go crazy for a while after, and that’s ok, its to be expected. Also, I beg of you, please recognize that you are not coping and give yourself time to heal. No one bounces back quickly from the loss of a parent! Thank god you have your mum with you for a very long time cause still at 40 you will be a complete and utter mummy’s boy.

On the upside… you do not die young! I know this is already something you are thinking and feeling, you weirdo. Get over it, put it to the back of your mind. And stop using it as an excuse to do whatever and whenever you want. Start planning for a long life and treat yourself better. That body is gonna have to last you a LONG time.

try and maintain those lungs love!

Stop being so superficial now! Cliched I know, but stop judging a book by its cover. This will shoot you in the foot over and over and means you miss out on a lot of good stuff and a lot of good people. Whenever you come across someone who is happy in themselves and treats others with respect just grab hold of them. They are the ones you need to keep. Not the pretty ones. Not the ones with the nice clothes or ‘cool’ friends. You eventually learn this but only after some frightful experiences, especially in Sydney.

Stay away from straight boys. Just be warned, thinking you are best friends with a straight guy means you have actually fallen in love with him and it will be torment and heartbreak for years. Stick with the gayers and all the fabulous women in your life as your closest friends. Much less risk of embarrassing yourself.

Just be nicer to people. I know you think your funny but you are actually cruel and offensive, especially when you are drunk. Nice people go further in life, and good things happen to nice people. So stop being a little bitch, you can be funny without having to make fun of others. There’s more than enough material in just making fun of yourself.

Finally, you are one lucky little fucker! You have many flaws and make so many mistakes its almost comedic but still you manage to have an incredibly lucky life. Do not ever take this for granted. Your friends, your partners, your workmates; all have incredible patience with you but you need to pay them back ten-fold with respect and appreciation. You will have some of the most phenomenal life-experiences that introduce you to people and places that will continually change your life and make you a better person. Always remember that is it the people around you who make your life so exciting and fulfilling. Nothing is more important than the people you share your life with.

Brace yourself 17yo St. Murphy, you are in for one helluva ride! Your life is going to be an incredibly exciting adventure of both great highs and a few lows. Enjoy every second as much as you can.

Lots of love, xoxoxo

39yo St. Murphy

At 39, very happy.

P.S: Now that I've started this I realise there is a shitload I still want to tell you young St. Murphy. Might have another letter coming your way again soon. x

10 Things You Wish You Didn’t Know About Me!

This post is the fault of Smudgerella! Smudge tagged me in a post of hers on Grenglish which means I am morally responsible to share my list, as are the people I tag below! I plan to make this disturbing rather than insightful, so much more fun. It’s actually much harder than you think cause I overshare here as it is. But here goes, the 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Me or as I am calling it, the…

St. Murphy's 10 Things You Wish You Didn’t Know About Me!

1. Between the ages of 18 and 26 I drank nothing but Jim Beam.

Please lets not forget I am a country boy and a bogan to the core, from when I first tasted alcohol at 18 and a half years of age (do not judge!) I only ever drank bourbon, or Mothers Milk as I called it. Only years later after I’d had my Oxford St make-over did vodka become my drink of choice. And now only as an elderly statesman of the community has Belvedere become my exclusive beverage.

2. I can pick my nose with my tongue!

Not just touch my nose but actually fill the nasal cavity with my giant fat tongue.

This is my favourite photo I've ever put on this blog!

3. I have a menstrual cycle.

Perhaps I should call this a ‘hormonal’ cycle rather than menstrual, I’d hate to disrespect my female friends. But I do genuinely believe that approx every 3 weeks my hormones go crazy and I am a psycho bitch for 1-2 days. Initially I thought it was something to do with a full moon but over time I’ve realized it’s a pattern close to 3 weeks. Just sayin’. Think me weird but I believe in its truth.

  

4. My first car was a Datsun 180B.

With a black vinyl interior. It was heaven! And I used to loved nothing more than doing laps of Banna Ave, Griffith with the windows down. Of course the windows were down, it had no air-conditioning. I do vaguely remember it having heating. Ahhh…. good times! Especially when Cheap Trick’s The Flame was playing on 2RG.

Mine wasn't this posh!

5. I have never been to a church service in my life.

Maybe this is why I’m gay, Christianity could have saved me if only I’d been a church-goer??? By church service I mean your regular Sunday thing where my understanding is you make excuses for your bad behaviour; not your weddings, funerals, christenings. Of course I’ve been to those. Cause that’s about people I love, not Jesus.

6. I never owned a pet until I was 32.

Kinda weird don’t you think. Even then he wasn’t really my pet. That’s when I first became a step-dad to Jackson. Before that I’d never owned a pet in my life. My parents had enough trouble with my Bro and I, we were very demanding. (ok, it was just me who was demanding, I lied about Bro)

7. I’m a folder.

Meticulously.

8. I still fantasise about starring in my own film clip.

I can’t sing a note but I have been dreaming of my debut film clip since my teens. I practice in the mirror all the time. I’ve always thought it would start with a provocative shower scene and evolve into a nightclub/podium finish. Along the way I would be necking with a stream of hot boys. Shame Video Hits is cancelled.

9. I’ve never, ever been in a fight.

This will shock you but I’ve never been punched. Or thrown a punch! I’ve thrown many a bitchy comment, scathing remark, verbal attack, but never physical. I’ve done ‘no talkies’ like a pouting 12 year old but never lashed out. Even all those times I’ve become ‘alcohol-offensive’ it’s a miracle I’ve never been hit. Touch wood.

10. The reason I’ve been in the same job for the last 13 years is to stockpile stories for my memoirs!

And its gonna be a BLOCKBUSTER!!! Can’t release it until I’ve retired cause I’ll never be able to work again. I have a secret tape-recorder in my shoes just for this book.

Honourable mentions... The dagwood dog is my favourite food EVER and I never go swimming in anything but Speedo's. 

Now who do I want to tag??? No pressure, but if you don't follow through with a '10 Things You Didn't Know About Me' well then you are dead to me. Gonna focus on some new blogging-friends, cause I know them a little but ache to know more (warts & all!)...

TwitchyCorner

KatesInMelbourne

VeggieMama

Glowless

MagnetoBoldToo

Reunions are a funny thing.

I’ve never understood why some people dread and fear the ‘reunion’. Be it a school reunion, a family reunion or as was the case for me on the weekend, the State Bank Griffith reunion; why would you not want to be a part of it?

On my last day at the State Bank, Jan '93

See I love a reunion. I have sentimentality running through my veins, along with a fare dose of nostalgia. I love this sort of shit. Any chance to remember the past or take a trip down memory lane and I am all over it like a rash (as you may have noticed from this blog!). If I wasn’t so disorganised and have such a short attention span I’d be organising all sorts of reunions for every other week.

State Bank circa '92

Reunions are this confusing mix of reliving stories from the past while trying to describe the present. You can literally jump from one time-zone to another in the space of a question. Reunions are like a time machine that zips back and forth. Stories from 1992 are mixed in with stories from 2011 and everything in between. “Do you remember…” “What do you do now…” “Whatever happened to…” “Didn’t you shag…” “You haven’t changed at all, have you had work done…”

When I first heard of the State Bank Griffith reunion I literally jumped with glee. I have such fond memories of near 20 years ago when I was Griffith’s worst, and possibly rudest, bank teller. I was instantly desperate, aching to catch up with all my old work buddies, or as I call them my Italian beauties. Jumped online and booked my little Rex flights home so I could be a part of it. Mum had found my old bank ties and name badge and I was all set to go.

Was frocking up for the big night when I suddenly got all nervous! This is very un-me. It had been 18 long years since I left the bank and a lot had changed for me in that time. Girls became boys, banking became publicity, Griffith had become Sydney. But that in a nutshell is the really cool thing about reunions - a lot has changed for EVERYONE! It’s the catching up that is important, the reconnecting and the reliving of a shared experience. Saturday night was truly joyous…

And there was cake!

The night went by unbelievably quickly and I kinda feel like I didn’t catch-up with anyone nearly enough. Crammed in a whole series of power-conversations where all involved had to summarise their life in under 2 mins. So much fun. And fuck it was funny! And the story-telling was brilliant. Now I was only with the bank for two short years in the early 90’s and the guests covered the 70’s through to 2001. I was a mere snapshot in a whole gallery of memories. For me, it was about two things… First, my Italian beauties!

Yes, I have a ponytail. '92

Now my ladies and I were all tellers at about the same time. Imagine walking into a bank and being greeted by us! Needless to say I never had to serve many men, they made a beeline for my beauties. Now in 2011 they are all happily married and slowly re-populating Griffith. It’s only a few years off before I can take their eldest children to their first nightclub. 18 years felt like a matter of months once I was back with my Italian beauties.

2011

Secondly, the night was all about White Oprah and Wyalong. Now there was a subtle shift here. 18 years ago they were my bosses and seemed older and much more mature. Now they are my friends, of the same generation, equals in every way. I love them and they made me laugh hysterically. HYS-terically! I kinda think that if we were strangers but in the same room anytime, anywhere we would naturally be drawn to each other. Possibly because we would be the loudest. When next we meet, we will be ‘ferretting’ (although still not sure what that means???), Wyalong is the events co-ordinator.

So to my fine colleagues who did such a fabulous job of organising, I sincerely thank you. I had an absolute ball. So good to take this stroll down memory lane, but even better to reconnect with old friends. Just goes to show that we all haven’t changed that much really. Circumstances may have, but not the reasons why we were friends in the first place.

I love reunions!

Carmella is and will always be one of the most special people I have ever met!

"How would you like that?" My days as a Bank Teller

“Good morning State Bank Griffith, St. Murphy speaking…”

I used to be a Bank Teller! Oh the irony! Many who know me now will be in fits of laughter cause I am possibly the most un-Bank Tellerish person ever now.

For one, Bank Tellers are polite and focused on customer service. Me, I’m a rude bitch who’s lucky to remember a simple please or thank you. Bank Tellers are efficient, organised and good with numbers. Well I’m the polar opposite.

“How would you like that?”

But just over 20 years ago I was a very different man. I had just finished Yr 12, I was completely obsessed with swimming and triathlons and I had only just tasted alcohol for the first time. I was a non-smoker AND I was sleeping with women (well, a few anyway). I was on the cusp of manhood and had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I had deferred a Business degree while I worked out if this was for me. And kept swimming, cycling, running.

“Would you like me to order you another cheque book?”

I’d always loved the idea of having a job where I got to wear a tie each day, so when the State Bank of NSW Griffith Branch junior-junior-junior job came up I knew it was for me (plus the manager was a friend of the family hehehehe). I remember being so excited on my first day when they gave me two free ties, each in their own box, that I was to wear with my new white dress shirts and navy slacks. They even gave me a belt with a beautiful silver buckle. The State Bank seemed so POSH to this 18 year old.

“Bags not counting the coin.”

Now I can’t really remember much about the job, or what it really involved. I remember I sat in front of a big machine for ages when I first started and fed in cheques, withdrawals and deposit slips. I also remember that there were lots of checklists and reports. I was beside myself with excitement when I finished Teller training and finally got to stand up at the counter. Jeez I remember it being so much fun. But as is always the way during important times in your life, it’s not about what you are doing but the people you are doing it with.

“Boss, I seem to be out $900?”

My fellow Tellers where the hottest Italian beauties in town! Leader of the pack was Carmel, gorgeous, and my lovelies Venera, Lynette, Joanna and Lisa, plus ‘part-timers’ Linda and Sharon (although Sharon is not Italian). Went to all their weddings and 21^st’s during this time. Had fantastic, fun bosses Ninetta, Loretta and Jacqui. Had a ball! Being a Bank Teller was brilliant fun. My two favourite customers were Dimity Parr who I thought was unbelievably glamorous cause she’d just won Miss Showgirl at the Royal Easter Show and Jane McCarthy cause she flirted outrageously and gave me a leopard skin g-string.

“I hate Fridays. I hate stying open an extra hour till 5pm.”

Ahhhh, good times! One year turned into two but I finally had worked out I wanted to do something in media and had been accepted into Uni. I sobbed like a baby on my last day, an absolute baby. I still have my farewell gift from the staff which was a gold fish to hang on the gold chain I got for my 18th, and the beautiful Carmella bought me a diamond ear-ring. Yep, still have them. (I had just got my ear pierced on my first ever trip to Sydney on my own to accept the State Bank Country Sportsperson of the Year Award!!!) Everyone wears gold in Griffith.

“Carmel, I can’t find my keys to the safe!”

So why am I taking this trip down memory lane today? Well, I’ve just arrived home in Griffith for the State Bank Reunion! So excited! We’ve all kinda sorta kept in contact over the years but have not all been together since 1993. Venera has organised, champion effort, and now it looks like there’s gonna be about 50 people. Mum still had in storage my ties and name badge which I will be wearing very proudly on Saturday night – one tie around my neck, one as a belt and I’m thinking one as a head band. What a night it’s going to be!

I only wish that being a Bank Teller had of taught me to be better with money. Or how to steal it.

“I hate pension day”

10,000 Tweets! But what has it got me?

I’ll tell you EXACTLY what it has got me!

SimieBoy and St. Murphy

Some of the most fantastic new friends that a dirty middle-aged poof could ask for.

And a Tweet from the Premier! I kid you not. Last night I got a very eloquent but full of sexual innuendo Tweet from Barry O’Farrell after my 10,000^th… “congrats!” he said to me, simply “congrats!”. He recognises my 10’000^th tweet but not the equality of my relationships. But now’s not the day to bang on about that. Today I’m just happy for the Tweet.

So what was my 10,000^th tweet I hear you beg, after much thought and many drafts it was this…

“10000th: Have met the coolest, funniest, most gorgeous people on Twitter, & now they're my dear friends! Will be forever grateful to Twitter”

If you had said to me 12 months ago that I would be meeting people over the internet I would have laughed in your face. I’m a nanna at heart, can be strangely conservative and I’ve been too lazy to make new friends the last few years. And besides, I loved my friends to death and didn’t feel I needed anymore.

Damn I was wrong being lazy. And narrow-minded! Another one of my judgemental characteristics I am ridding myself of.

Yesterday was a very opportune time to hit the milestone of 10,000 tweets as it comes after a weekend where I spent all my time socializing with people I’d met on Twitter. And it was a weekend chockers full of booze and crazy laughs, all with my Tweeps.

ShaunHeron, Arrjaydub, McCraigyDimples, St. Murphy, MatthewJFraser, Lucky Paulie, Mikey & Josh10Murphy

There’s a reason we all look like we are possessed by the Devil…

Lets talk about Friday night. Lucky Paulie (long-time Inner Circle) and I decided to organise a Power Gay gathering on Twitter – a mix of old friends, people we’d recently met and people we wanted to meet. All up, there was a lot of meeting for the first time going on. We quickly changed our moniker from the Power Gays to the Gay-stapo – I think because we were so militant in our homosexuality. The Gay-stapo took over the Inner West.

We even hashtagged it in true Twitter style, #Impie0107. Within 5 mins we were telling dirty stories (or maybe that was just ShaunHeron and I?) and within an hour we were being debaucherous (or maybe that was just ShaunHeron and I?). Arrjaydub, McCraigyDimples and Uueaver are three retiring wall-flowers who shyly join a party… and I’m Pinocchio!

Lucky Paulie, McCraigyDimples and Arrjaydub

MatthewJFraser, or as I like to call him The HYS-terical Matt Fraser, is the best thing to come out of Newcastle since coal. Josh10Murphy is not one to let a brain tumour stand in the way of a good time, and that is with not an ounce of exaggeration. Mikey Morrow was allowed to play with us even though he’s not on Twitter, we talked slower for him. We had an absolute ball! Next outing is #Impie1507 or #Impie1607, still to decide. All are more than welcome to join us.

Lucky Paulie and Arrjaydub

Then I squeezed three costume changes into an over-nighter for a few days in Melbs. It was a work trip but managed to schedule some Twitter-vodka’s cause I’m nothing if not professional. My first ever Twitter-date was with Melbourne’s hottest gay-royalty couple from the ‘burbs, SimieBoy and Milney01. Milney01 ditched me for his offspring – go figure! - while SimieBoy ‘forced’ me to go to The Greyhound for some disco-dancing. I wore black cause I was in Melbourne.

The Greyhound

It was with great pleasure, and some pain, that I met 3GreggyD for the first time. Classic example of when you find someone with the same warped sense of humour on Twitter it translates beautifully to real-life. I loved him like you do the straw in your first vodka, lime and soda. We all met for brunch the next day and the divine Milney01 joined us, but the absolute highlight was the Parisian French toast served with a delicious side of LoveMissLee. LoveMissLee is adored in Melbs like Barbra, Bette or Kylie. I fell under her spell too.

Goddamn I love Twitter and the people it has brought into my life!

And there is no way I can write a commemorative 10,000^th Tweet post without mention of the four legs of my Twitter table… The sublime Woogsworld, the beautiful StylingYou (Twitter-Date No. 2), the fit-inducing JoThornely and the Junior St. Murphy, En_Gy (Twitter-Date No. 3). Life without the allegedly-witty banter of you guys would be like life without television – POINTLESS!!! I also have a big old Twitter-crush on LaurenMC and JoshCilento, a big old crush (and just a little gay one on CuriousSpecimen).

Woogsworld & JoThornely

En_Gy

StylingYou & moi

JoshCilento & LaurenMC

St. Murphy & CuriousSpecimen

Ahhhh.... Twitter is a beautiful place.

And you know what, now that I’ve hit 10,000 I am aching, yearning to hit 100,000.

Game on Twitter!

***If you wanted to follow me I'm at StMurphy!

I used to push gherkins in a gherkin factory.

I’ve had some weird jobs in my time! No idea why I started thinking about this yesterday, normally this topic is reserved for drunken story-telling. Everyone has weird job stories to tell after a few voddies. I need to come clean and share some of mine. This may come as a surprise but I didn’t start out as the uber-glamorous PR type I am today.

McDonalds Gherkin Factory.

You may not know this but all McDonalds gherkin’s used to come from my home-town, Griffith. I had a job there one summer where I stood at the end of this massive pit filled with dirty gherkins. I had a 6 foot pole and with that pole I had to push the gherkins down a shoot and into the factory. As the pit emptied the next truck would pull in and unload. It was dirty gherkins for days. And the stink! Awful. Gherkins in brine is truly revolting. I was practically paid as slave labour. I still can not bare to eat a McDonalds gherkin, I’ve seen what goes in that pit!

...revolting...

Brick Stacker.

This was hard, heavy work. While wearing thick leather gloves I had to stack the bricks after they’d come out of the kiln on to the pallets. Can you imagine anything more mind-numbing or exhausting? I learnt the stacking technique from an old-timer who I’d bludge a sneaky Horizon off at afternoon tea. No one spoke to anyone. And it was winter and freezing. I shudder still thinking about it. It was during that winter of brick-stacking that I resolutely decided I was not built for manual labour.

They looked EXACTLY like this, haunted!

Safety Bus Driver.

Who the hell gave me the keys to the safety bus? Now that’s just negligent! I had a licence to drive a 32 seater cause I was a Residential Tutor and to earn extra money I’d drive the safetly bus. The worst night to be rostered on would be a Thursday which was bar night. You’d end up with a bus full of pissed idiots singing Zombie at the top their lungs. What made it more infuriating was that the Thursday nights I wasn’t rostered on I’d be the one leading the pissed-idiot singing.

Country Music Festival.

Now this is one of the best fortnights of my professional life. The Divine Ms M got me a job as a journo at the “Foster’s Australasian Country Music Festival” – I remember that cause I had to say it at the start and the end of each voice report that I’d send through to metro radio stations. Why this job was weird was because I knew absolutely nothing about country music. Took a mad crash course over that fortnight so by the time we got to the big finale – the Golden Guitars – I was besties with all the big stars. I still so clearly remember doing a story on learning how to line-dance. I reckon I could still bust out those moves if the tune was right.

Tamworth Rocks, my mate Lee

Cocktail Waitress.

I had a one-night-only gig serving cocktails at a Mens Only event at the Botanical Gardens. Hold up, that story can’t be told here.

Pool Cleaner.

Let go of all those stereotypical ‘pool boy’ fantasies. It was an indoor pool and they had me in to clean it when it was shut. The irony of me having any sort of cleaning job is not lost on me. I’m a filthy bitch. The only reason I took the job was cause it was a stepping stone to earning a highly-prized lifeguard position. The best part about the job was that they would leave the pool kiosk open while I’d be cleaning and I used to gorge myself on Freckles and Red Frogs. I stunk of bleach all that summer.

I could go on for days on this topic. In fact there is a whole post on my days as a Bank Teller! Now that was a very special two years. Weird they let near the money of the safe, but ahhh, such good times at the State Bank Griffith. Will post that one soon.

Over and out, 10-4 Big Daddy, keep on truckin’!

Slap! Reality Check.

Firstly, who said Australia was homophobic? Gays may not be able to marry but there’s a long weekend to celebrate the Queens. I love Kate and Will as much as anyone but I’m a Republican at heart so I’m ignoring any Queen other than my people. Thanks for the long weekend to celebrate us!

It may seem like three random stories today but I promise it will all make sense in the end. Stick with me, have faith...

Couch.

I sat down on my beloved couch at approx 9pm on Friday night and got off again at approx 12noon on Sunday. Yes, I rolled myself into bed both nights but that was at the very last moment before my eyes shut only to quickly return upon waking. Had a fridge full of gourmet snacks, Belvedere vodka and some B&H on the outdoor table. There is nothing either Little Sammy or I could want for. Had both heaters going all weekend creating a very cozy Man Pit. Jeez I watched some brilliant television and ate myself up two sizes.

First night/day/night was all Law & Order, no shock there. Then the absolute highlight! My new friend Arrjaydub brought over the entire first series of Downton Abbey. Heaven, so brilliant, this is one of the best TV series ever made. I can not recommend enough. Shame my allegedly gourmet quiche and pork pies were shit otherwise it was a perfect sensory experience. Then I introduced Arrjaydub to another of the all-time greats - West Wing! So much television, so much food. Completely self-indulgent, lazy, luxurious few days.

Third all-time greatest television series.

Potts Point.

I am so confused by Potts Point! I like neat little descriptions for things so that I can easily sort in my head. Potts Point confuses the hell out of me. It is such a weird mix of just about everything. Gorgeous gourmet deli’s next door to a shop where you can buy a 12 inch dildo. Beautiful homewares stores half a block down from a sordid strip bar. And the people on the streets reflect this. Mostly it’s your standard Eastern Suburbs glamour-set with their fur collars, designer denim and giant sunglasses. But then around the corner you have the complete contrast of anorexic strippers and giant scary bouncers. I also smell the whiff of a methadone clinic. So confused.

Mark David Jones took me exploring yesterday, and of course we were exploring for food and drinks – it’s what we do best. Mr MDJ took me for my first experience of Fratelli Paradiso. I whinged my way through a 15minute wait for a table before we had a gorgeous, generous lunch of calamari, pasta and steak. The food was divine, so were our vodka’s and wine. We didn’t bat an eyelid at our Monday lunch bill before heading to Green Park Hotel for a quiet afternoon drink. Just a lovely, lovely afternoon. Thanks Mr MDJ.

Fratelli Paradiso

Monday Night.

Reality check. Some nights when Little Sammy and I go for our evening walk we pass the line-up of disadvantaged men and women who are waiting for the kind and compassionate people who deliver their evening meal. This is embarrassing to admit but I always have a brief moment where I check where my phone and wallet are. Normally there are about 30+ people lining up. Last night there were about 60-70, possibly more. We can walk around with blinkers on sometimes, claim ignorance and pretend not to see what un-nerves us; last night was different. It was a sobering wake-up call. At the risk of sounding patronising, it really broke my heart.

It has been so cold and so wet all weekend. Where have these guys been, how have they stayed warm? You can imagine after a weekend like that they would be aching for a hot meal. No wonder numbers were so high last night. No wonder there were so many men and women politely lined up with their possessions - first in, first served – for the chance at some comfort. I was feeling like a fat, lazy pig after a weekend of pure indulgence, excess and comfort. All while there were at least 70 men and women in my neighbourhood who were struggling to find any sort of comfort. Slap, huge reality check.

For all my whinging and moaning here at St. Murphy I am one of the incredibly lucky and fortunate ones who really has not a care in the world.

Signing up for volunteer work with Father Chris Riley's first thing today.

Father Chris Riley's Youth Off The Streets food van (Google Image pic)

The '90's are now Retro, but I do not want to relive them.

This post is inspired by and dedicated to the fabulous Edenland. She is a new blogging/Twitter friend of mine who I’ve actually met in the flesh. We were chatting away on Twitter and we think we may have also met at some dirty, seedy night club in the debaucherous 90’s. I set Edenland the task of choosing this posts subject matter; she went with how the 90’s are now retro even though they only seem like yesterday. Lets hope I do it justice!

It’s weird to think about the 90’s cause I really can’t put my finger on any distinct trends – in music or fashion. I know I had a ball but what I was wearing or listening to is beyond me. The 80’s is a walk in the park with all that brightly coloured shit, should pads, power dressing and pop music. They stick very clear in my memory. The 90’s I’m not so sure. It’s a mixed bag. This could be because it was a decade of excess and I remember very little. There were two very distinct periods for me in the 90’s which says much more about my ‘personal journey’ than what the 90’s were about. They were the Uni days and the Sydney days.

University: ’92 - ‘96

I went to Uni in Bathurst, had no money, and was slowly working out if I had any personal style at all. I certainly had none when I started there. Country Road was exotic, cutting edge fashion for me before I went to Uni. I got in touch with my care-free hippie side and used to wear my pyjama pants to class with RM Williams boots. I’d buy hemp jackets at the markets and team it with a dress shirt from Vinnies. We all did! Uni at Bathurst was this weird mix of country style, city chic and a wannabe-bohemian alternative style. Not having a clue what or who I was I dipped my toe in everywhere. I was from the country, destined for Sydney and living the classic student life so I had to cover all my bases. Also, living on Austudy means you really don’t have much choice to follow fashion. A shirt at Vinnies for $2 lasted me about 5 years, I was still wearing it out on Oxford St many years later.

There were two albums that were released while I was at Uni that if you didn’t know all the words to than you may as well kill yourself. Alanis Morrisette’s Jagged Little Pill and Oasis’ WonderWall. They, along with Peter Andre, are the only music releases that stick in my mind from that time. Having said that, my whole life I’ve never been very good with music. The only constant has been the beautiful Madonna who had a number of key releases during this period. I still adore her today. We used to dress up in our Saturday night best to dance at a League’s Club. That about says it all of my musical awareness in the early 90’s.

So now that the 90’s are considered Retro there is very little I want to drag into 2011 with me from this time of my life. Except of course Madonna.

Syd-er-ney! ’96 - ‘00

When I first arrived in Sydney I was still wearing this weird mix of styles from my Uni days. I reckon within 2 months of my first pay check I’d had the complete Oxford St make-over! Out went the hemp jackets and in came lycra. By ’97 I swear there was not one natural fibre in my entire wardrobe. The late ‘90’s on Oxford St were heaven to me. I used to go out on my own and come home with 100 friends all while wearing my cutting edge lime green satin pants with a skin-tight royal purple lycra T. I had started work in PR and to think back now what my bosses must have thought of my ‘business’ clothes makes me cringe. Shiney black shoes with big buckles. An olive synthetic Morrissey suit with zippers worn over a shoe-string singlet to an Awards night. Flourescent shirts with a skinny-legged powder blue pant. I can not tell you how hot I thought I was.

The only music I remember was the bubble-gum dance music of The Flinders and The Albury. By the late-late ‘90’s I’d started to go a bit more hardcore with big weekend at DCM’s, or as we called it Gorilla’s In The Mist, and the downright dangerous BlackMarket (and this is where Edenland and I think we may have met). For these nights of craziness it was head-to-toe black synthetic teamed with chunky silver jewellery. Today this jewellery would not pass through a metal detector, back then guns would get by. My favourite album without a doubt was Sash!’s It’s My Life with the epic track Ecuador. That song could raise the dead.

The late 90’s were a special time for me, still such a big part of who I am today. But even with that sentimental attachment I do not ever want a synthetic wardrobe again. My skin would revolt. And for me to hit Oxford street now in anything as tight-fitting as lycra would have me stoned. Love-handles are difficult to squeeze into a Small women’s disco top like I could in ‘97. The 90’s may now be retro but there is no trend from that time that I want to have make a fashionable comeback. I remember them fondly but do not want to relive. That’s how I think of the ‘90’s.

**Now my dear Edenland has one of the best bloggers you will ever read. It's impossible to do her justice by trying to describe why. It's her life laid bare and it's a truly beautiful thing. Please take a look...

Edenland

**Sorry about the boring pics -  besides Edenland - computer download issues over weekend.