Tonight I premièred my vintage Stan Smiths in Wollongong, I’m still not sure this place deserves fashion of this calibre, but it seems to be making an effort, so I extended the fashion hand of friendship.
There is a cat outside my window, it’s one of those creepy bastard talking ones, it’s not meowing, but totally sounds like it’s trying to speak to me.
That weird noise cats make when they want ‘relations’ . . ‘Ullooooooooo, myoooooooo oooooooow ulloooooooooooo nyoooooooow!!!!!!’.
It sounds confused, like it’s had a stroke. I’m helping it all I can by leaning out the window and trying to interpret it’s frustrated messages, “Yes, you want a root, I’m familiar with your tone, but there are no presenting pussycats here, try over the back fence where the crazy cat lady lives“.
Update:It didn’t go to the crazy cat ladies place, her sons had taken a gut full of pingers and were dancing dementedly around the back yard, the cat did however shut up after we ‘shooshed’ it, we were straining to hear what the hot, drug crazed guys were saying, without the added distraction of cacophonous wailing from a root crazed cat!.
If i could find anyone willing to admit going to see Farnham on one of his farewell tours i’d organise a class action for a mass refund for false advertising 🙂
RIP Joan Rivers, she was one of my political correctness safety valves. When something awful would happen, and it felt like I couldn’t even smile, along would come Joan with something so crass, so offensive and jarring, it would give me a jolt, and i would have a sense that I would laugh again.
So glad I got to see Joan with my filth sister Beryl, it was fantastic to pay homage, and squirm in my seat before the wonderful Joan.
Some of the first words my little nieces and nephews spoke (as taught by me) were, ‘Oh grow up!, just grow up!!’ and my favorite ‘Oh Arf Arf!!’. They could have had an uncle that taught them the ABC’s, but where would they be now?.
“I’ve had so much plastic surgery when I die they will donate my body to Tupperware”.
No grey area with me, I’ve always been gay, from day one. I may not have known what it was called, but gay it was. From almost as young as I can remember, I had THE biggest crush on Australian Tv star Eric Oldfield. ‘If’ there was ever any questioning on my part, the day I saw Eric Oldfield in the nude, stapled across CLEO magazines centrefold, all questions were rendered null and void.
Working on some Kennedy pics in photoshop recently, i had a photo of a young Caroline Kennedy open on one screen, and a more recent photo of her in another screen. I had to pull one photo down, and when i did the old and the young Carolines met, and weirdly matched. I love bizarro mistakes 🙂
For all things Number 96 click “Here“.
I always wanted to be ‘Flo’, at a pinch maybe ‘Alice’, but the older i get i realize all along i’ve been ‘Vera’.
