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Showing posts from January, 2013

Day 31: Rain Ends the Month

It is a blessing to have rain right here where I am, but not in much of the state or the country. This part of the year seems increasingly to be bringing disaster. I don't know if it is 'cyclic' but it certainly does appear to be getting worse. We're in cuckoo-land if we deny that human involvement isn't a factor. But I get a little tired of it always falling to the individual to make a difference. We are barraged with guilt-inducing ways in which our daily habits debilitate the planet. Yes, they do. We use too much energy and fuel and non-renewable resources, we purchase things that are over-produced and over-packaged and cheap. But it seems to me that no-one ever holds big-business as accountable in all this. We are enticed to be consumers because consuming keeps big-business in business. In a way the solution is for things to be more expensive. People would buy less. Companies would produce less and therefore emissions would be lower. But then they would need fe…

Day 30: Do You Wonder If You're On Google Maps

An odd vehicle drove past on the sidewalk this afternoon as we were having an incredibly late lunch (five-thirty). It was dune-buggy-esque. With a man in full working-man fluro attire, including hooded type arrangement, aboard. On the front and back of the odd vehicle were CCTV-like cameras, two to an end. I really hope it wasn't the Google Maps man, because the street-view of Dundas Place, Albert Part, will include a still of V—— and I; with me stuffing my face with a very strange Thai flavoured* fish as I worked out how I so horribly miscalculated the cost of the upcoming Vietnam holiday, while simultaneously wondering WTF this crazy looking lawnmower-with-cameras was doing! The late lunch and the recalculating of miscalculations were the result of spending two and a half hours in a travel agency, with the company's newest employee, trying to see if they could do us a deal as good as the one I had worked out. My deal was so awesome! They just couldn't get near it, which …

Day 29: Home

I have a theory regarding relationships that goes like this: the best way to 'eff' them up is to live together. I held it mainly in regards to romantic relations. But I think it refers to all the relationships we have—lovers, family, friends, room-mates. It would be an environmental nightmare, but socially I think we would all get on better if we lived alone. You're too close to things when you have no way of stepping out of them. You forget that total exposure means seeing the good and the bad of people. And people need a space where they can have their bad: the blue, the tired, the slovenly, the fed-up. Human nature kicks in, then, with its selective memory, and the bad seems so much to outweigh the good. We forget moments where home is enjoyable. Early morning conversations, walks, cups of tea, caustic (but always constructive, of course) criticism of dance, singing, cooking, modelling or english teeth. The lack or scarcity of external, organised events tends to negate …

Day 28: These Shoes Were Made For Walking

Of all the shoes I have, believe it or not, these are one of the best pairs for actually walking in. I know that is the point of shoes, but shoes usually have two points. A left point and a right point. Or the walking point and the looking good point. How does Sarah Jessica manage to do both? Run around, literally, in towering and beautiful shoes. She is my hero.

List_Addict               Irene
It's Visible Monday. What it means to Patti, the hostess, is a place for people to post themselves wearing things that make them feel confident and visible. This dress is one of my favourites because it is a story. You can't really see them but there are 401 sequins sewn onto 401 of the dots on the dress—one for each kilometer I walked on the second leg of my Land's End to John O'Groats walk (ongoing). The dress has been well-worn but is hard to give up on, as are, I think, a lot of the clothes we take on important trips. They are holders of memory and happiness. The exception …

Day 27: Have You Met Lollii?

In the absence of exciting outfit details or a clear picture of my shoes (both due to my deciding to wear slightly sensible clothing for once, and no, I am not trying to one-up Irene, she said she was too warm for a cardi, honest!), I have, crazy-dog-lady-like, added lots of photos of Lollii. Other bloggers do it. Often they have cats. It seems a prerequisite to me. Except for the Sartorialist. But he is too often jet-setting to be a pet-carer perhaps.

List_Addict               Irene
Lolli found her way to the RSPCA via Clayton Road. She had a good sense of stopping and sitting at road sides, and the softest feet in the universe (like she never walked on concrete, or never without some sort of shoe), but she doesn't have any idea about what actually happens on roads so it's a small miracle she survived. The owners turned up at the RSPCA and were promptly given a bill for losing her femaleness and gaining a microchip, as well as a fine for her not already having those. They sa…

Day 26: Oz Day

Blue, white and red for Oz Day. Red, black and yellow earrings for Not-Oz Day. No politics here. The steak and tongs came out only for the shoot. And it is actually Lollii's steak. Had no stubbies and a Stoly pre-mix didn't seem right, although it is an okay 'sheila' type drink. I was actually going to have bolognese but got waylaid planning a trip to Vietnam and now it's too late to bustle around in the kitchen making pasta (one am), so it'll be toast and chocolate biscuits for dinner. I am so consistantly bad at shopping that I almost don't know if I can eat any more chocolate biscuits. It is a miracle!

Irene               List_Addict
I am not sure how I am going to do this blog while I am in Vietnam. I certainly am not taking Irene (I'd have to buy her a seat on the plane being the main reason for that). I will either have to go solo, dress my travelling partner in the same clothes as a stand-in Irene, or pre-plan every outfit and take the photos pr…

Day 25: The Dude Who Read

I finished the first book for 2013 today. Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons. Ninety-nine to go. At my current pace, according to Goodreads, I am five books behind my goal of a hundred books. Mmm. This may surprise some of you, but I keep an anal, oops, I mean annual account of the books I read, with little reviews, and at the end of the year I work out how my reading year compares with other years (best was 2011: 61 books; worst was 2012: 30!), and what the best and worst books of the year were (for the year just gone the best were The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and The Hunger Games trilogy; worst, for obvious reasons, Fifty Shades of Grey, and because the author is an egomaniac, The Fell Walker). I do this on my Goodreads account, and just in case the digital world melts all its memory somewhere in a massive storage system in New Mexico, I also have a hard copy. You're right, anal is the correct word.

Irene               List_Addict
Why stop there? I'll explain the 'pile&…

Day 24: Call Out to Builders, Lawyers or Just Decent Humans

I was going to rant and ask your advice about the scumbag outfit that call themselves building professionals who are working next door, especially if you, yourself, are a builder, a lawyer or just a decent human being. Today it's spurting concrete over our walls and pipes. Also, lying. When asked why they hadn't got back to us about a meeting with the arborist they wanted to organise, they stated that they had already had it, effectively before they asked if we wanted to be involved? Maybe the back-pedal was because I dropped the clause 'From the legal advice I have received ...' into the email I sent in response. Was it wrong to let them know they weren't going to walk all over me with their 'We won't be paying for anything further regarding the tree we caused to fall down' (I paraphrase of course). And why do I have to start every email to them with 'I hate to have to nag, but ...'. Do you think that if there was a 'man' in this househ…

Day 23: Eight-Teddy-Bear-Biscuits Blue

A couple of nights ago I announced I was at least eight-chocolate-teddy-bear-biscuits blue. My sweet man has been stocking me up. If I eat them all then I will have a real reason to be depressed. A more concrete one at any rate. It is human nature, but people don't like it when other people are sad. Unless it's the kind of human who gets off on misery. I think we all hold the colour spectrum in us and sometimes it is the blue that is strongest. And it doesn't really matter what causes it. At the moment I feel incapable of speaking and incapable of listening. I wish, so much, to be in the middle of the Scottish Highlands with a pack and a map and not a single human voice. Next best is my bed with books and doonas in mountain shapes and teddy-bear biscuits—at least eight of them.

List_Addict               Irene
This blog is a funk breaker. Well, it's chipping away like beaver teeth on a redwood at any rate. It is an island: like the one in the cave in Harry Potter and th…

Day 22: Brevity

Shakespeare was on it! Clued in. About so much. Today about this: All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts ...

List_Addict               Irene
Head space messy. Parts need re-scripting. Silence is better. And hopefully normal transmissions will resume when the system is re-booted.

The OutfitTop: Beachport General Store on a colder than expected dayLeggings: Target, absolutely indispensable merinoShoes: Converse (possibly dodgy)

Who wore it better?

Day 21: She Wore Blue Velvet. Or Denim.

If I had more time I might hang out in forums online. People really are quite odd. It is 1:52 am and I am once again trying to find a topic to write about so I enter 'What can I write about' into Google. It gives me a list of Yahoo forums. One is 'What can I write on my boss' farewell card?'. Answer 3 is 'Good luck with the sex change'. Answer 4 is someone who needs some serious counselling and a spellchecker, hell, even a grammarchecker. No answers yet to another forum where a Leo girl is wondering how to make a Libran man commit to a relationship. She has recently discovered he is a Lord. As you do. That is not the reason she is in love with him, but she thinks may be why he is commitment-phobic. Being a Lord makes you behave differently from other Libran non-Lords apparently. And I am hanging to see the answer to the very sensible question: If dolphins are mammals, why are they fish shaped and in the sea. My answer: They just didn't bother to get out…

Day 20: High Tea

When I look back at this blog next year, it will be like a very selective diary. From the title it would seem like I went to High Tea today. I didn't. The last High Tea I went to, which was also the first, was in Edinburgh Castle. Not bad for a first. I don't think you are supposed to eat that whole tower of stuff by yourself, but I managed. Instead, today, High Tea was the suggestion I received for what I could write about on a day when, obviously, nothing much happened.

List_Addict               Irene
Today's outfit—especially on the lovely Irene—is something I have seen four thousand times on Pinterest. Truer to the formula, I should have taken the photo in a mirror rather than the usual high level production that is the daily photoshoot. I am going to have to spice up my shoots somehow or the mirror will be all I have. My photographers are choosing to have their own life (on one side) or unhappy about the lack of location variety (on the other). Ideas taken gladly.

The …

Day 19: With a Little Understanding, You Can Find the Perfect Blend

That growl is in the direction of the neighbours. In the direction of our tree that their build has destroyed and they refuse to pay for. In the direction of the blocked rear access that, if something terrible happened and we couldn't get out the front, would mean that we were trapped, but that they don't care about. In the direction of the three story wall going up where we had blue sky (but which is also a relief, in a way, because now the world can't look into our privacy from the lanes, and the yelling of contractors and the buzz of their radio is slightly muffled at their six-forty five starts). What we want to say to all the people involved with that site is this: If the people living in our house were your sisters or mothers or girlfriends, would you be acting this same disrespectful way? Or how would you feel about tradesmen who did the same? Stay tuned to this situation because I figure if it gets too bad then I will have to start naming names and shaming shames. …

Day 18: Schweppervescence ... ppsshhhhhhhh!

Alright. Let's have the Jack Reacher conversation. I'm going to have to admit that, beside my reservations ... Goddamn, this is hard to say. Okay. Here it is: I think Tom did an okay job. We played the game where you work out who else could have played the part. I said Ralph Fiennes; V—— said Ray Ramano. Maybe I haven't read enough books to be eligible to make the call (one). You may have a different opinion. But it mainly gets down to height, doesn't it. When you have seen the movie let me know one thing. Is it me, or during the scene where he first walks into a bar, the one where the girl with the red lips and the curly hair talks to him, have they done something to the angle, to the other actors, to his shoes? Does he or does he not look taller than everyone there—until he gets outside again! Tell me if I am wrong.

List_Addict               Irene
The Schweppes ad at the movies is arguably one of the most beautiful things on the planet. I bought a pair of shoes beca…

Day 17: Arriba, Abajo, Al Centro, Adentro

My Theory: Tennis makes the weather unbearable. If there was no Melbourne Open, then we would have a lovely mild summer rather than this thirty degrees (eighty-six for the old schoolers) of temperature at one am!! Think back to every Melbourne Open ever and what do you recall? Hot, arrogant tennis players sweating. A lot. I think it is the blueness of the court. It mucks with the stratosphere and the hot air gathered in the middle of Australia. Ban the tennis! Lets start a petition. We the undersigned ...

Irene in her hall. She's a little like Harry but she doesnt even get a cupboard under the stairs. The sign says 'The groove is the hall'. The commonly misconstrued Deee-Lite lyrics are memories of a trip to Spain. As they would be, of course.

No, I am holding the chair up. Above is what a flat-out twelve hour shift undertaken on a handful of nuts, a small piece of fruit cake and three coffees (two of which were simultaneous), followed by nachos, two marg…

Day 16: A Cautionary Tail

How amazing does Australia's newest animation look! A Cautionary Tail. With my favourite, favourite Cate Blanchett and the stunningly red-headed David Wenham. It's the classic exploration of whether you should change to fit in or keep what makes you unique. I haven't seen it, but I am hoping the end is all about the latter. And not only is it a good story, but it is a good story about a good story. The film was largely what their PR are cutely calling 'crowdfunded'. They raised money from the average viewer-in-advance in order to make the film. People-paying-power. They also had a pop-up Art show with videos, artwork and some of the incredibly beautiful little sets used in the making of the movie. Fund-raising websites and pop-up shops—an alternative methodology to monopolised big-business creation of Cinematic Art. Like.

Irene               List_Addict
But the reason I started talking about tails is much cruder. I have a painful coccyx and an aversion to doctors.…

Day 15: Call 911: I've Broken a Nail!

Calling an emergency line for a broken nail is beyond silly. It demonstrates a real lack of understanding about what an emergency actually is. But what about when it is your puppy's nail. When the stoic little braveheart is humbly and gently administering soothing licks to the soft quick from which her nail has been torn and which hangs painfully on like a reminder of HELL! I still didn't call the emergency line, but I should have for the three to four broken hearts that were watching her. Instead she is booked in for surgery in the morning. I don't think she knows, but she was very reluctant to enter the Vet's today when usually she clambers to get in, with thoughts of liver treats running through her mind, whenever we go past.

List_Addict               Irene
Kudos to Port Melbourne Veterinary Clinic and Hospital (that's our vet in the purple). They didn't tell me off for being late with her injections. They called her a great patient. And they will get her …

Day 14: How To Plan Everything You Do Ever!

I may have told you, sometime in the two weeks since we have known each other, that I am a bit of a fan of Pinterest. Or maybe that was in my other blog. And maybe fan is not so accurate as, say, addict. But there is one thing about it that does worry me some. It offers a rather forulaic way to do everything that is a tad important in your life, and then it tries to make sure you are going to want to do that important thing in the first place so you make sure to do it exactly one of the three trillion ways Pinterest wants you to. I have a nervous suspicion that Pinterest has been put here on Earth to make us into brainless conformers. That is the little issue I have with Pinterest.

Irene               List_Addict
Don't think I am saying Pinterest has content that sets the Feminist movement back, tons. But I am only not saying it because I would feel bad if I kept looking at it. And because you would think I was a Germaine-Greer-ranting-about-everything ranter. But! This is the c…

Wear 13: Raisins are Not Right - Especially When You Cook Them

Is food too fancy now? For lunch I had duck confit (had to ask what 'confit' meant; obviously not concentrating properly during episodes of Masterchef) with a tomato, pear, mint and Persian feta salad. Erh? How long has Persia been out of action? Like, seventy-seven years? How can they still be making feta? Just call it Iranian for goodness sake. It also came with a tangine sauce. Urm? A tangine is what you make the sauce in. Its like making a white sauce, as I sometimes do, and calling it 'the little pot with the too-thin bottom sauce'. And it doesn't tell you what ingredients are used. It had raisins. Raisins are all wrong (as Benny and Joon say: 'They had their lives stolen ... really, they're just humiliated grapes'), just like peanut butter is all wrong. The tomatoes and the pears were extemely finely sliced and piled up with a couple of sprigs of mint, some Iranian feta and a slow cooked duck leg with some raisin-and-purple-stuff sauce, cooked in …

Wear 12: Riding Along on my Bicycle Honey

I rode to work on a blue bike with my skirt blowing in the wind. Old fashioned style. Skirt guards and three gears like proper non-I-want-to-be-on-the-Tour-de-France-and-wear-lycra bicycles should be. The only down side (beside being late-ish and having to rush and end up scarlet in the face for at least an hour) is that it was blue blue bike. Again! Because even though I don't want to ride like I am in the Tour de France (that is, fast, competitively or within cooee of any other cyclist), I still want the jerseys. On the way home this morning I lucked a green blue bike. Happy. It made me not even care that it was a head wind all the way home. There is one coloured blue bike for each of the Tour jerseys: yellow, white, green, and white with dots. So this morning I was the winner of the sprint category for 17.9 minutes There is also, allegedly, a red bike. Just because you have to have a red one I suppose. It is probably fast.

Irene               List_Addict
That swing of the ear…

Wear 11: In Honour of Alexander McQueen

Night shift. Friday night. One day short of a full moon. I, possibly to your great joy, have not got time for many words today and so pictures are all you are getting!Phew.

List_Addict               Irene
A homage to Alexander McQueen and his red tartan periods—1995-6 and 2006-7. A little bit of steampunk mixed in. The Belt is B——'s. She stated she felt like a handmaiden helping to get it on. It was corsetry. Had to take it off to reach my shoes. Once I had re-applied its restrictive girth she then told me it wasn't centred. I think I have permanently moved one of my lungs in trying to centre it. Wow! For saying nothing I sure get a few words in. It was a puppy filled shoot today. I think she was wandering what the hell I was doing with my manga/super hero modelling inspiration. Me out.

The OutfitDress: op-shopped personal favouriteTutu: Sock DreamsTights: Around foreverCuff, Collar and Belt: Borrowed, bought and giftedBoots: Dr Martens

Who wore it better?

Wear 10: Then You Must Cut Down the Mightiest Tree in the Forest ... with a Herring!

There is an island in the middle of the broad, wide, muddy Yarra near Richmond. I didn't know. Not until my bestie (and co-iphonographer and other assorted role-keeper for this blog—all taken very seriously) signed up to be a voluntary curator of the Ceramics Victoria exhibition as part of the Herring Island Summer Arts Festival. The show is called Haven. You should go see. Selected dates from the twenty-third of March until the seventh of April. You can go in a boat. Or bring your own and row out. They don't recommend swimming. No-one does. It is the Yarra. Did I ever tell you about my dislike of the bottoms of rivers? It was a bad Rangers experience. But I digress. Mrwwrm mrrfg ma rrwfgs mfgrrs, and then msggdrt sdfd frrdwwea msrta pfreww. Wrrefs mnsj vfsr awrrsea nsmmslk ghphsfrw mns. Aswas mmnshgs sf sgttey nrwpfhf mmsa nm. And so she has to try to get some sponsorship. Oh. Oops. Looks like a hand came out and muffled my speech, effectively sensoring me as if I was saying …

Wear 9: So You Think You Can Dance, Dance, Dance

Ours is the cult of Personality. In the lift my friend told me he had voted for Irene. Indignantly I asked why‽(Note the interrobang (the symbol not showing up at the end of that question on most appliances)—a mix of question mark and exclamation mark that denotes a question asked in an excited or disbelieving way: I Wikipedia'd that explanation) Every day I think Irene looks much nicer. And her beauty and the way clothes look amazing on her does not translate adequately in film. But I get to thinking that quirkiness and story and enthusiasm—a strange, but nevertheless, existent form of 'personality'—will help me stay on top of the leaderboard. My friend essentially explained that Irene looked like a person modelling clothes should. If So You Think You Can Dance, Dance, Dance teaches us anything, apart from the inadequecies we hold in the ability to do a Grand Jeté (personally speaking that is), it is that ability doesn't matter, but personality does. Look at Cyrus. Wh…

Wear 8: 'Cor, Blimey!

Slightly temperamental weather out there, what? Very un-English. But a model has to do what a model's location consultant tells her to and so my Union Jack inspired outfit wandered itself out to the pier for its iphonography shoot.I lost the Union Jack pumps in favour of equally English Hunters, and the umbrella (which would have surely become inverted) to a cape (as you do). That cape has seen some fine dress-up days in its long and illustrious life in my Wardrobe. Can you wear capes too often? Reliable sources say no.

List_Addict               Irene
I think my photo is reminiscent of Edvard Munch's Scream, except in blue. Today's portfolio of photos is a montage of either brilliant modeling, or complete ridiculousness. It is a fine line. It is also a very fine belly laugh. I'm saving some of the more absurd photos for you. It'll be like when someone is voted off a reality show. I'll be crying. A beautiful and tall hostess will say nice things about me, and t…

Wear 7: Big, Bad Monsters and Voices

Because it was hot again, Medium-to-arguably-large Red Hiding Hood decided she would swim out to see Grandma on the pontoon in the middle of the bay. She put on her bathers, and then, because her mind is full of popular culture references, she put on a woolly jumper so she could have a photo shoot just like Marilyn Monroe did. The ground between Medium-to-arguably-large Red Hiding Hood's house and the beach is spiky and thorny and sharp, boom, boom, pokey and bristley and hot, boom, boom. So shoes were also very important. Walking outside she could see all the big, bad wolves at the building site next door. They weren't paying the least amount of attention to the oddly clad Medium-to-arguably-large Red Hiding Hood though, because they were busy ranting and yelling about the foundations being badly meshed and not level, and having to be done again. Sometimes when your enemies, like big, bad construction wolves, are upset, it is hard to not feel a little bit happy. But that'…