Pimp-Daddy says "Buy my house!"

So the ex, Aschapelle, and I have decided to
sell the marital home. Its our little Redfern 2-bedroom dwelling that we bought just over 2
years ago and renovated. I’d forgotten how stressful it is selling a
house!  My osteopath will benefit
as much as I will. Leaving no stone unturned in the quest to sell so I’m here
today to pimp it out. Call me Pimp-Daddy. You just never know, I may
have a stalker follower who sits at home hoping and dreaming that one day they
can sleep in my former bedroom.

Or there could just be someone looking to
buy a gorgeous terrace. Whatever your motivation it works for me.

2 Rennie St, Redfern

Our terrace sits in a beautiful little
pocket of East Redfern and is surrounded by the coolest little community. In
the early days of St. Murphy I banged on about it quite a bit – the park, the
neighbours, the reno’s. I loved living here. It’s a fantastic mix of Surry
Hills and all it has to offer but at a safe, accessible distance. East Redfern
has all the benefits of inner city living without the Surry Hills price tag.

When Aschapelle and I bought it, it had
cement floors and a 70’s kitchen and bathroom. We always saw it as something
that would need work. We bit the bullet and reno’d the kitchen and bathroom at
the same time and also did floorboards throughout. It was an absolute pain in
the ass, we swore we’d never do it again. But we were so so happy (and proud)
with the result.

Kitchen is very cool now. Looks so smart f
I do say so myself. And we pumped up our chests over the bathroom cause we
thought for two ‘design-challenged’ gay-boys it came out very masculine. Not a
floral tile to be seen but rather grey slate with a powder blue, glittering recess
with rain shower. Heaven.

Upstairs we put in a new bedroom wall
closing off a previous open space and put in built-ins. For us it was our
dressing room. Between the two of us we had a lot of clothes and needed the
whole room to express ourselves. Master bedroom has a balcony and a Foxtel
connection. We never agreed on shows – Aschapelle anything reality, me anything
scripted drama – so we needed two Foxtel connections or we would have divorced
much earlier.

Gorgeous little courtyard with rear lane
access out the back. Now this was actually the reason we initially looked at
the house. We thought Jackson and Little Sammy needed the space. So we bought
the house for our dogs only to discover that they never went out there. And
Aschapelle and I, well we rarely left the television. But it is gorgeous and
‘outdoorsy’ people would love it.

Next door is an amazing park that is absolutely
central to everything that goes on in the neighbourhood. Seriously, I’ve never
seen anything like it. I became so obsessed with it and everything it
represents that I wrote a 6000 word paper on it for Uni (yes, a HD). Its full
of toys that are there ALL THE TIME! Never stole. Such a safe and secure
neighbourhood. There’s a bbq, a compost bin, man-made swings – all provided by
the neighbours. They have neighbourhood bbq’s and drinks each Friday night
during summer.

Who wouldn’t want to buy into that?

So if you are in the market for a new 2
bedroom home or a brilliant investment please take a look. Our too-cute-for-words
real estate agent is the lovely Will Phillips from Bresic Whitney (as a general rule Bresic Whitney has the best looking agents in town, just saying!). Give him a
call. But just to be upfront; boys he’s not on our team and girls he has a
girlfriend. Call him to buy our house, not to try and get a date.

A little bit sad that we are selling. We
obviously bought in happy times. But if there is one thing that can be said
about Aschapelle and I, we’ve always been real good about keeping decisions
like this emotion free.

So buy my house! Pimp-Daddy says so.

2 Rennie St, Redfern is being shown:

Wednesday's 5.30pm to 6.00pm

Saturday's 10.45am to 11.15am

Auction: Saturday, October 8

Domain listing here!

Bresic Whitney listing here!

Severe Identity Crisis!

Just a quick look  back over some of my blog posts lately and it’s a mix so turbulent it could make you sea sick– electrical appliances, poolside gossip, family stuff, a Bear party, boozey nights, food, gay marriage and Lady Boys. Now that’s an identity crisis.

I’m so confused as to what I’m doing here. I need your help!

There are Mummy Bloggers, Food Bloggers, Tech and Gadget Bloggers, TV Bloggers, Fashion Bloggers, Business Bloggers… all make me feel like the outcast kid sitting alone at the lunch table. I don’t fit in.

I’ve always thought that when I grow up I want to be a Mummy Blogger. They are so cool and have got their shit together. A real community. They have stories about the most random stuff but it all seems to make sense for their page. They are hilarious, insightful, brutally honest and direct. Me, while I do love a penis its clear I don’t have fallopian tubes. Therefore, me no can be a Mummy Blogger as I’m presuming one of the defining characteristics is being a Mummy.

While I certainly care for my Little Sammy like you would a child, he has four legs not two. Doesn’t quite cut it. Perhaps I could be a Dog Daddy Blogger?

Any excuse to include a pic of Little Sammy

Another key factor in my identity crisis is that most of my blogging buddies are Mummy Bloggers. Its bad enough I’m a minority in the real world without being one online as well. I go to Mummy Blogger functions and conferences and stuff, usually as a Mummy Bloggers Plus 1. My three best-blogging-bitches - Mrs Woog, StylingYou and Edenland - lead me through this world and I am their fabulous-gay-best-friend. Perhaps I should become a Hag Fag Blogger?

The stuff I write about most is gay stuff. Truth is, being as camp as Xmas leaves me very little room to move on this one. I lead a particularly homosexual lifestyle. Even my home is called Man Pit. In fact all the best homo stuff I can’t write about here cause it would put hairs on the chest of my Mummy Blogger mates. I’m sure the wider blogging community doesn’t want to hear about Grindr, gay porn, ManHunt, seedy bars, bad one nights stands, etc. Could possibly also paint me as somewhat immoral (coughs, chokes) which would hardly be true.

I wanna be a Gay Super Hero

But it is undeniable there is a very big gay theme running through this blog like a feather boa on the Mardi Gras dance floor. Its what I know best. It’s why I call myself a professional homosexual – I love the ambiguity of that tag! Professional could mean either ‘has a career’, ‘very good at’ or ‘slutty’. I’ll leave it up to you to define for yourself. So probably the most apt description is a Professional Homo Blogger.

I’m also deeply passionate about gay marriage equality. I write about it a lot and that is only going to increase over the coming months in the lead-up to the Labor Party National Conference and CAAH Rally on Dec 3. I’ll be flying the Rainbow flag high and proud between now and then. AND I’ll be expecting lots of support from the blogging community. So this subject leaves me thinking I should be a Gay Activist Blogger, at least for the next 3 months.

Strangely, when I first started this blog 6 months ago, I thought I’d be writing about television (my great love) and pop culture (my great weakness) a lot more than I have. These subjects have lost relevance just like Britney Spears. It seems they just don’t hold my attention like I thought they would. I got too much other shit to talk about. So sadly Television Addict and Pop Culture Victim should not be on my calling card anymore.

So where does that leave me?

Gay as hell, that’s where it leaves me.

So I think from now on I am going to define myself as a Professional Homo Blogger. I’m gonna rally the troops of other Gayers and start our own little community. We may not be as numerous as my dear friends the Mummy Bloggers but goddamn I bet we could match them in vodka consumption and shopping skills.

So my questions for you my lovely readers… 

Have I solved my identity crisis? 

And do you know any other Professional Homo Bloggers?

Such pleasure from an electrical appliance!

Two recent purchases have changed my life! I don’t think anything electrical has ever made me this happy.

Just when I thought I couldn’t rack up anymore debt I gave my credit card one final stab…

A vacuum cleaner and a bedroom TV. Such bliss!

I was ranting not long ago about the knee-deep filth at Man Pit. Cleaning is too daunting but I’m too cheap to pay someone. If I only I’d known that such contraptions as the Electrolux Ergorapido existed my pain would have ended many months ago. Its a genius combination of vacuum AND dust-buster. Did you know it only took me 10mins to whip around Man Pit and erase 6months worth of dog hair? It’s a wondrous thing. I just want to caress it. Its my new favourite upright, phallic electrical product in the world

How goddamn clean is that carpet!

So this was a very practical purchase, the TV not so much.

You may have seen the pics of Man Pit, it is literally the size of your average garage. I sacrifice space for location. And the truth is I really only need a bed and a couch, I don’t even go on my balcony. Or use the kitchen.  I’m one of those inner-city freaks who pays the GDP of New Zealand in rent. But goddamn I could walk to Martin Place in 7 mins if I wanted too. Or just catch a cheap cab which is much more probable.

My bedroom isn’t really a bedroom. It only has two walls. The other two are sliding doors. So if you are laying on my bed with the doors in the right place you can easily and comfortably watch my giant TV in the living room. Yes, that’s how small Man Pit is.

The red is my bed, shot takem from big TV

So you may think me an idiot for needing another TV. But here’s the thing, its all Foxtel’s fault. They called me up to see if I wanted a second box somewhere in the home. I explained that I only have a half-bedroom apartment so that would be quite ridiculous. But once I started thinking about it I could not stop. Is it really such a ridiculous idea? I became obsessed…

Imagine how much fun you could have with two TV’s going at once. I could literally double my viewing. To me it sounds genius. And the most brilliant thing is that at Good Guys you can get ANYTHING so for the bargain price of $180 I got myself a little TV.

I now have both going at all times.

I have never been happier.

My big TV, I love it like a brother.

But I do draw the line at getting a second Foxtel box, even to me that’s bordering on craziness. I actually think it would send me insane. I’d end up a nervous wreck just trying to keep up with my IQ programming. I’d end up watching 8 Law & Orders a night instead of just 4.

I mean of all people I know where to draw the line.

Man Pit is clean! And you can see two TV’s from my bed. Thank you Good Guys for making my world complete.

Last minute holiday and man-kini panic...

I’m in the throws of a last-minute holiday panic! While holidays are the most brilliant, amazing thing in the world – especially resort holidays! – I always find that there is a shitload of stuff to do in the final days so that you are holiday ready. And man-kini ready!

Resort 1

First of all there’s the longer-term prep. I’m just days away from 2 weeks of sunning myself poolside with a cocktail in hand on the islands of Thailand (I know, tough life!) so for a resort holiday like this I need atleast 3 downloaded TV series and 4 books. Finally my books arrived today and I’m just getting a start on iTunes. But how dumb is this, I bought the York crib notes of The Great Gatsby rather than the actual book. Guess it makes for easier reading.

Next up is the man-scaping. To be exposing your body in the briefest of Speedo’s like I’m about to requires significant self-maintenance. Yes, I’m gay. I really should have concentrated on weight-loss some months ago but I got distracted. Nothing I can do about my gut-overhang now. Instead I’m going to disguise it with a full-body clipper for easier tanning and a touch-up eyebrow wax.

Which reminds me… need to pack nail clippers.

Now I can be incredibly anal and I like to know where, when and how I am doing everything before I head off. Staying at 3 different resorts so bookmarked all their websites today for a thorough examination. My beautiful friend Miss Melbourne, who I am holidaying with, has expertly booked the whole trip. No one knows how to resort-holiday better than Miss M. So I have some catching up to do with insider knowledge.

Resort 2

I like to prioritise hotel restaurants and also beauty treatments at their day spas. I consider this critical. I’m not one for wasting time reading hotel room info packages when it can all be done beforehand. I also like to know something about the local nightlife cause you never know when a beautiful dinner followed by a Duty Free nightcap can turn into a night of disco-dancing. And it goes without saying I like to know when the gays hang.

Always my last minute panic will include the boring and mundane household shit. So much washing, cleaning and setting of the IQ. I have enough trouble taking care of Man Pit and Little Sammy when I’m here let alone when I’m not. Good thing I have Little Sammy’s step-dad on stand-by, he will take my little man. Bills are paid and up-to-date, and I’ve cancelled PT. Just have to remember to deoderise the carpet as I exit Man Pit so it doesn’t smell like a kennel when I get back.

Last, last, lucky last thing I do before a holiday is go shopping. Usually at one of my favourite stores in the world – PRICELINE! You need your sunscreen, your giant pack of Nurofen Plus, spare ventolin, Zantac, Nicobate Lozenges, deodorant, blah blah blah. This is a full shopping basket skip around Priceline. Nothing worse than being stuck in a foreign country and not having enough mouthwash.

Anyone feeling sorry for Miss M?

Luckily she knows me oh so well after many, many years of friendship. She is Inner Circle. Strangely we’ve never travelled together before but we know it is going to be the easiest thing in the world. Our benchmark is ‘hung-over days’ and we do them brilliantly together. So in-tune. We famously move the mattress from the bed to in front of the tv and always stock up on supplies the day before so we don’t have to move. We are going to travel BRILLIANTLY together.

Resort 3

So I will be telling many tales about Miss M over the coming weeks. I’ve decided, for no particular reason, to changer her name. A bit like Prince does. Miss M will now be known as Lady M, like an upgrade. Maybe one day she will become known as ‘artist formerly know as Miss M’ but from today she is Lady M.

I promise our adventures in Thailand will entertain. 

All this 'work' is so gonna be worth it even for just 5 mins poolside. It's been a looooooong year!

What do you hide on a one-night-stand?

Of course I would never have to worry about this because I am like the Virgin Mary and pure as the driven snow. It’s true, some even call me angelic. But if I was to have a ‘gentleman caller’, what is it in Man Pit that would cause me embarrassment? This is what I am thinking about today. And sadly not because there is any action on the horizon, more just about being a good boy scout.

If you had a 15min window before a new ‘special friend’ entered your home for some ‘adult cuddles’ what are the things that you would run around and hide? As I’m sure many of you would know, some of the best relationships can come out of a one-night-stand. You should always put your best foot forward on night one just incase. Here are the things I would make sure they never see if ever my morals lapsed.

Jackie Collins books

I went through a serious Jackie Collins phase in my late teens, in fact it was Jackie who taught me about sex. And drugs. And Hollywood. She has huge sentimental value for me. Subsequently I still have a few of her more infoamous titles on my otherwise esteemed bookshelf. Not sure what others would make of them...

My hair bands

My gorgeous long flowing locks are obvious to anyone. But what I’d like to hide is that my guilty pleasure when I am at home alone is to wear a fetching head band. Not very butch I know but it makes me feel very glamorous on couch-nights.

R M Williams boots

Not that I’m embarrassed by them but to try and explain how a boy from the bush and a wearer of R M Williams boots comes to be ‘seducing’ a manly man is terribly unromantic. It’s just best to avoid the telling of that story.

Medicine cabinet

I’m a pill-popper. There is no ailment I can’t cure with a few pills from my overstocked medicine cabinet. Any gentleman caller could momentarily think I’ve brought them home to St Vincents Hospital if they caught a glimpse of my medicine cabinet. Only drug I'm missing is Viagra which would probably be the one they are looking for.

Scarves

And when I say scarf think Jackie Onassis. Like the square, soft, feminine ‘sailing in the Mediterranean’ type scarf. It’s a recent thing. I love them, buy them, but can never find an occasion to wear them. Also, I now question if it’s ever appropriate for a man to wear such a scarf.

Ashtray

Its full. And disgusting. Even though I’m currently describing myself as a non-smoker. Surely a non-smoker is anything less than 20 a day??? No one likes a liar or a smoker.

Collection of recycling bags

Some may call it a fetish, whereas I call it environmentally friendly. Every time I go to the supermarket I buy another 1+ of those gorgeous green bags. I now have a whole shelf full. I should really learn to recycle my environmentally friendly shopping bags. Just plain weirdo.

Yoga dvd

Now this would just be false advertising. I did yoga for exactly two weeks and still giggled every time they asked me to do a downward-dog. I have absolutely no idea where this dvd came from even. Its never left its case. If they thought they were potentially up for some yoga moves from me they’d be sadly disappointed. Lucky to touch my toes.

More dog food than human food

Not sure why any one-night-stand would be in my pantry but I’m sure if they took a look they’d be mightily concerned. I have more dog food and snacks than I do human. I make no secret that I take better care of Little Sammy than I do of myself and there is no better demonstration of this than a quick glimpse in my pantry. Let me be clear... I don't eat dog food.

Rotted teeth

I’m a hoarder. Sad but true. I also have a box of particularly precious items. I have some extracted teeth in there. Say no more.

Puffer vest

Please god, no one tell Mrs Woog! My puffer vest is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my wardrobe, but exemplary of the issues it could cause me. I just can't be sexy 24/7, 52 weeks a year.

Ok, now I realize if that I was to have a one-night-stand I would need far longer than 15mins to clean up Man Pit. “Just wait in the hallway will you love, be back in 30.”









Now, most importantly, what is it that you would hide??? I'm aching to know!

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)

Strangely not lonely being alone.

Pretty dumb headline now I think about it. What I’m trying to say is that even though I am now alone and spend a lot of time on my own, I’m liking that I don’t feel lonely. A couple of months ago I really thought that I would.

But of course that is too long for a headline.

It’s one of those realisations that just crept up and SLAP. I’m quietly pleased. When I first moved in to Man Pit in March it was the first time since ’98 that I had lived on my own. Also, it was the end of a 6 year relationship so of course I was nervous about how I would handle it. Now a few months in its time to reflect and analyse, see how what’s gone on with the benefit of hindsight. And I think my apartment tells the story…

I think for the first few weeks I was obsessive about my new place, Man Pit. Obsessive! Every detail. I went to Moore Park Supa Centre about 12 times, as well as heaps of other furniture places, as I fitted it out in a finely tuned dance of seek-assess-plan-compare-purchase. So happy with everything I got that I treated my new home like a museum. And rarely left it. For those first few weeks I was very busy keeping it pristine and getting to know myself within it. Seems a little bit psychotic now, but I guess getting to know Man Pit and my new stuff was like therapeutically getting to know my new bachelor-self.

I got to know the local area a little bit but on the whole I stayed within these four walls. Subsequently I developed a pizza and oven-food addiction. Then the pendulum swung completely the other way, it was a full 180 degree turn-around. I started to show off Man Pit to anyone who’d come over and I madly filled my diary. I wanted to be out & about and fabulously single. Booked in dinners, drinks and catch-ups so many nights. I’d got my confidence up and wanted to be a part of everything and anything. Now I had my new home sorted I could explore.

This lasted a while as I reconnected with the outside world. I stopped treating my home like a museum and it started to feel lived in. Dirty clothes piled up and dust gathered. Then without even realizing I slipped into the third and current phase. It’s home now! Man Pit feels lived in. I am so unbelievably comfortable here, with my own little routines, that I am actually completely contented. It can have shit everywhere, or be as clean as a whistle. I know the lights so well I change their effect depending on my mood. It’s a place that I can change the function of with a simple sliding of a door and depending what time of day it is. I love it. It has everything I want.

So in this current phase I’ve become a lazy, boring home-body. Given a choice I’ll always stay on my couch with my laptop and Foxtel remote, Little Sammy beside me. I’m especially bad on weeknights. Just realized I’ve spent every night at home this week. Weekends I’m a little more active but having said that I’m going into the long weekend with very little planned. Actually need to fix that so will get on the bat-phone. Still haven’t quite got the balance right obviously, even in phase three. Finding the right balance will be the goal of the upcoming fourth and I think possibly final phase.

To quote all great reality shows, it’s been a ‘journey’. Slowly getting my shit together. But very happy with where I am. The good news is that I am contented and happy to be on my own and living on my own. It’s not as scary as I thought it would be to be stuck in my own head so much. It’s been kinda cool actually. I’ve always known that ‘home’ is important to me, that I need an anchor. I need my stuff around me. Now I realise I’ve come to think of Man Pit as home.

Now if I can only get the balance right between home-body and society princess…

Do not let appearances deceive you!

Now I have a devoted life-partner, the beautiful and delicate Little Sammy! He is the king of Man Pit and rules with an iron paw. He is the most gorgeous companion a single inner-city gay man could ask for. Just look at him…

This is how he spends most evenings, snoozing beside me while I obsess over television/Twitter/Facebook/blog. He sleeps beside me every night and when we first snuggle into bed we spoon. We go walking together atleast twice a day like any romantic couple would, sometimes three times.

He is flawless in almost every way!

Notice I said ‘almost’?

Now have a listen to this, the audio from the same moment this shot was taken…

LISTEN TO LITTLE SAMMY HERE!

He snores like a 180kg truck driver! So unbelievably loud!

And he can start snoring literally five seconds after resting his head. I have to turn the TV up to drown him out. On those rare sleepless nights it can drive you insane. Lets also not forget that he sleeps for atleast 70% of his day. Now that is a helluva lot of snoring.

So while he looks like the cutest little angel you’ve ever seen, appearances can be deceiving. Deep inside Little Sammy is a Russian weightlifter begging to be let out.

I've had me some Rogan Joshua at Man Pit!

What the hell is this???

Lucky Paulie said he was coming over to Man Pit to cook me dinner and he brought this! Now even I know you can’t put plastic in the oven. “Lucky Paulie what the hell were you thinking…” as I reached for my phone to dial the downstairs pizza place.

Turns out these are the ingredients in a Rogan Joshua. I thought Rogan Joshua just came in a bain marie at a cheap and easy Indian diner – Lucky Paulie assures you mix all of these in a pot and out comes some Joshua. Go figure!

You may know, I hate cooking. Hate it in the same way you hate planter warts. Since being at Man Pit and setting off the fire alarm in the first week I have relied solely on the generosity of friends, oven food and the pizza place downstairs. This is what has spurred Lucky Paulie into action – he saw my Sunday night Tweet of 5 empty pizza boxes. Now he wants to teach me to cook. He’s one of my oldest friends but I fear he may not know me at all.

“What do you know how to do?” Paulie asks. “Chop.” And that is literally all I know in the kitchen. I am subsequently in charge of onions. Paulie attends to the more delicate tasks of garlic and ginger.

Paulie asks “Do you have a garlic crusher?”

“No, why would I have one of those?

“Do you have a grater?”

“No. Again I ask, why would I need one of those?”

Seriously only the MasterChef Kitchen would have these surely? Why would an inner-city bachelor pad rented by someone who’s favourite chef is Colonel Sanders have them? I passed Paulie my only big knife and he improvised. He’s very clever Paulie, not just a pretty face who puts the news to air each night. Check it out – I think we did pretty darn good considering the ‘alleged’ limited resources of Man Pit.

Paulie looked very dashing in the Man Pit kitchen. He was throwing ingredients around like he was the Swedish chef on the Muppets. I was so confused as to what was what that I had to pour myself another vodka and check out Twitter. I was supporting him emotionally and spiritually. I did warn Paulie that I was considerably less interested in learning as he was in teaching.

Check out Little Sammy watching on... ADORABLE!

Man Pit hasn’t smelt this good since the first time I walked in the door just after the industrial cleaners had left. Little Sammy was beside himself, the smell of slow-cooked fresh food is completely foreign to him. Paulie didn’t even let me boil the rice. Told you he was clever! My contribution at this point was to set the timer on my iPhone so we knew when rice was ready. BINGO! Dinner is served!

You can see the joy on my face (and the jealousy on Sam's!).

And if you can look past the beautiful Rogan Joshua, yes I am wearing a headband, as I often do once I slip into my After-5’s at Man Pit.

Thank you Lucky Paulie for giving it your very best attempt to teach me a new skill. Thank you Lucky Paulie for recognizing that I possibly wasn’t eating a very balanced diet. But most of all thank you Lucky Paulie for serving up a Rogan Joshua that tasted even better than any take-away Indian Diner on Oxford St.

Love you!

Lucky Paulie

There's a new Boss at Man Pit

Little Sammy has made the big move and now lives at Man Pit! And already he is the BOSS!

Man Sam in Man Chair

A child of divorced parents, Sam is handling the transition with his usual style. Now you may know I am the proud parent of Sam and his stepbrother Jackson. Jackson has been raised since a pup by Aschapelle (artist formerly known as exBoyfriend) so he stayed in Redfern. We ‘rescued’ Sam just over 2 years ago so he came with me to the city.

It’s a joint custody arrangement. Perfect for everyone. But thank god I now have some company cause talking to myself is just plain boring – I always know the answers and I've heard all the jokes before. So I am unbelievably excited and happy to finally have Sam living with me at Man Pit.

He’s slowly finding his way around, sniffing and poking at everything. For such a smart little man he seems very unsure of himself. I can confidently say though he is very happy with the new lounge. He’s sitting beside me now as I type. He’s the best lap dog in the world Sam, just follows you wherever you go. And matches the colour scheme of Man Pit perfectly.

He loves his new lounge

We went to our little neighbourhood dog park today, or as it will now be known, Sam’s Toilet. We didn’t get to play with any other dogs though so he hasn’t made any new friends or boyfriends yet. I’m hoping he’ll meet the man-dog of his dreams and fall in love. My little Sam deserves some gay-doggy-happiness.

Sam's Toilet

Now Sam’s not used to living on carpet, he thinks the floor is a giant lounge. And he’s not used to wood decking. Possibly he’s nervous about falling through the cracks. I have put his food and water out there so he’ll be used to it in no time. He LOVES his food our little Sammy, who ain’t so little anymore. He’s 50% heavier than when we first picked him up 2 years ago. We are discussing a diet and some calorie control.

Such a little Piggy

He’s also very excited to be back watching crime drama’s. When he’s with Daddy Aschapelle its nothing but mind-numbingly bad American reality shows so he’s very grateful to now have a more mature, intellectual selection. He loves the Law & Order’s just like Daddy St. Murphy, Lt. Van Buren is his favourite.

Best part about having Sam at Man Pit is the affection he gives you in the morning. It is so adorable. Breath is a little stinky but aren’t we all of a morning. And he does have a tendency to snore which can be annoying, but not for the moment. I’m just ecstatic that I now have Sam living with his Daddy St. Murphy.

Sam says Goodnight