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Tuesday, December 20, 2011

You're doing better than you thought..



I get a shit load of joy out of my kids doing well.


I'm a borderline helicopter Mum. If things are running smoothly I hover above at a respectable distance letting both the girls make safe mistakes. I'm pretty liberal with the discipline and they seem to have a lot more freedom than some of  their friends. 


The same can't be said for when I think someone is messing with them.. I kinda turn into a blackhawk, special forces, black ops, navy seal, ghost protocol, FBI Mum. 


I'm slack enough to not be placed on some sort of "trouble making parents" school watch list but I think people still keep a healthy distance from me at events. The thought of joining the PTA makes me want to cut someone however my kids always have fabulous costumes and rad lunches.


The thing is, I am constantly worried that I'm doing irreversible damage to my children. 
The number of times they have seen me leave the house sans pants is probably not ideal. I also have a habit of calling them "slack moles" when they don't clean up their mess and on more than *one (*read 30+) occasion (s) they have had breakfast for dinner. 


I am also a massive fan of the hard core lecture. I own that shit. I get on a roll and usually find myself sucked into some sort of vocal, mythical vortex. I can sustain a rant for up to 30 minutes! They are more performances than lectures.. I once made them sit through Mozart's "Requiem" to set the mood before I launched them about not putting their clothes in the dirty clothes basket. If you are unfamiliar with this piece here it is: Em's lecture fire up song. 
These lectures achieve nothing as their little eyes usually glaze over at the 5 minute mark, they are mostly to make me feel better which isn't ideal.


The problem with the ongoing war with my children over the "putting away of clothes" is that my bedroom looks like a drag queen and a show girl had a clothes baby and that baby exploded. Feathers, sequins, animal print over 200 pairs of shoes. hats, wigs and make-up strewn  across every available surface. 


Niether of them have thought to challenge me yet but that day will come and I won't have a leg to stand on.


If you're a parent and never feel like a failure then hats off to you hats fecking off.


I lay awake at night feeling guilty, I'm sure a lot of you can relate. You can right? Oh say you can..


Every time I swear in front of them or yell or find myself away for work I resolve to make organic meals, use tupperware and keep the washing pile to a height of 1m instead of the 2m it now towers at. I of course never stick to these resolutions but I have really excellent intentions!


Why am I rambling about my inadequate parenting skills? Well my friends, today I had a win. A big dick off win!


Marchella my eldest got her end of year report card and against all odds she is a rad kid. I mean excellent in everything. I burst into tears after reading it I was so proud.  She had a tough time this year with another girl bullying her but it seems coped pretty well and achieved brilliance. I know I am going on but I need this. LET ME HAVE THIS!


 The opening paragraph reads:


"Chella has completed a fabulous year. Chella's approach, enthusiasm, strong work ethic and
 genuine interest in learning is INSPIRING and she is a positive role model for the other 
 students."


I won't bore you with the rest but she received "excellent" in every subject and MY GOD I am so relieved I haven't completely stuffed her up. Yet.


The reason I am telling you this; besides gloating and being a massive wanker, is that I wanted to reassure you that you are probably doing a better job at this parenting caper than you give yourself credit for. 


I don't think parents take enough time to look at their kids and see all the positive things they have passed on and achieved. I know I am prone to focussing on what I have stuffed up rather than got right. 


I will acknowledge my good work as a Mother in that both my kids know Nickleback's music is a blight on humanity that should be wiped out in irreversible circumstances. They both know all the chorrie to Gaga's "Bad Romance" and that it's never ok to wear white pants. They both also know never to start a sentence with "No offence but..." 


Job well done right? RIGHT!


So, I encourage you all to go and look at your cherubs. Do it when they're asleep, you always love them 15% more then and give yourself a pat on the back. You've earned it.


E x













Monday, December 19, 2011

Old people die and other stories..

Hi my name is Emelia but you can call me Em.

You may remember me from previous blogs however it's been so long you will be forgiven for thinking: "Who is this uppity slack mole and why is she here?"

Look, I'll admit it. When my Grandfather died I went into survival mode.

Writing causes me to open my veins and go to that place in my brain where I lock away emotionally challenging things.

Obviously losing a loved family member caused that area to implode so the writing of meaningful words became a little too painful.

I'm back bitches and ready to go.

For those of you experiencing this blog for the first time, welcome!

WARNING: My spelling and grammar are both appalling as I suffer from a glamorous case of dyslexia.

I try to get others to proof read for me however my ten year old insists on going to school during the day, so sometimes blogs go up without the benefit of someone who has a mediocre grip on the English language and all her rules having seen them.

If you think you can handle the occasional mistake and a little bit of swearing then press on. If you think It'll be too much then I suggest you turn back now.

For those of you who stuck around let us press on. I'm glad those other bitches went, they were all so judgemental!

Oh one more thing. I use the word BITCH, a lot. I have reclaimed it and in the context of this blog it is a term of powerful endearment.

I thought I'd write a bit about how people shat their nests when they were faced with me, after finding out my beloved Ted (Grandfather) had died.

I thought I could give you a little guide to dealing with people who have just experienced loss. It's not the bible and it may just apply to people like me (emotionally charged nut cases barely hanging onto sanity) but I thought it may help a few of you out.

The morning I found out Ted has passed away I was in Canberra covering the Queen's visit for "The Project."

I woke up at 4am as I was also filling in on breakfast radio for SAFM. I look at my phone and saw that I had 7 missed calls from my Mother at around 12:30am.

I knew straight away it was Granddad. He had been very unwell for a few months and the family had been keeping a bedside vigil (it's true theses things really do happen) so that he would't be alone when he finally went.

I called her straight away and said "When did it happen?"

Mum replied "Midnight."

I told her I'd get the first plane back to Melbourne.

I called "Showtravel" who; as their name suggests, arrange all the travel stuff for "The Project."

I have to say their level of service was exceptional.

I woke up their on call lady, who's name I cannot recall and I am sorry for that as she was a bloody gem.

I explained what had happened and as soon as she said "I'm very sorry Em, what can I do to help?"
I broke down.

I mean snot coming out of my eyes the whole bit. The truck of sadness that smashed into me was almost unbearable, the lovely woman told me if I could get to Canberra airport in 20 minutes I could get the first flight out.

I packed very quickly and had the hotel arrange a cab.

The whole way I was sobbing, the cab driver must have thought me crazy.

I arrived at the airport in 19 minutes and sprinted to the gate.

They were closing the flight as I approached I explained/yelled hysterically: "I HAVE TO GET ON THAT PLANE!"

This now brings us to lesson one in the "How to deal with someone who has experienced loss" class.

As the lady on the gate scanned my ticket she looked at me and said: "Someone's had a big night. Perhaps you should have got to bed earlier knowing you had an early flight."

Friends, I had a choice here. I could keep my mouth shut and take her light scolding on the chin or make her feel like a right mole and explain why my face looked puffy and snotty.

I think we all know the road I chose to drive down.

I looked her in the eye, squared my shoulders, wiped my snotty nose with the sleeve of my coat and said: "I've just found out my Grandfather has died and I am trying to get home. I was only made aware of this flight 20 minutes ago."

As the realisation of her mistake dawned on her and as I saw her go to atone I held my hand up and said: "Just let me on the plane please." (Someone hand me my Oscar now.)

I know it was petty but I wanted to cause someone a little pain in a feeble attempt to take away some of mine. A ridiculous concept I know but at the time, I was not thinking straight.

During the flight she approached me and apologised profusely. I even got an extra bottle of midget water out of her so you know... Every cloud and all that.

Your lesson here kids is if you come across a person who looks as though someone has died.. Chances are, they have. Tread with care.

The next lesson comes coutsey of my dear friend Tommy Little. I adore this man, he is lovely, funny and usually caring. Upon hearing what had happened with Ted he responded: "Oh Em... (awkward pause 5, 4,3,2,1) I... (More awkward silence) Old people die yeah?"

JESUS H CHRIST! Yes Captain Obvious they do but it's different this time. It was MY OLD PERSON.

He didn't mean anything by it and has been an incredible support to me during this time, I guess he just said EXACTLY WHAT CAME INTO HIS HEAD at that EXACT MOMENT.

Another friend said: "I guess your parents will be able to save some money now they don't have the nursing home fees to pay."

Well, yes. I guess they will but for CHRIST SAKE! You know.. OUCH.

If your friend loses someone the following responses are acceptable:

1. Would you like some brainless gossip? I can distract you with filth for 5 minutes.

2. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I love you very much.

3. That is shit house. Nothing I can say will take your pain away but I'm here should you need to talk, drink, punch or cry.

That's it. Simple enough huh? Honest, real emotion works in this situation.

My "favourite" reaction to the death of my Grandfather came via the boys I was doing the breakfast show with. It wasn't so much a reaction as it was an inappropriate suggestion for a stunt that hadn't really been thought through before they emailed it to me.

All the big things were happening in the world that week. The Queen was in town, my Grandfather died and Lindsay Lohan was doing her community service.

The boys thought it would be a good idea for us to replicate her community service. That the 3 of us should have to do the exact same things as her. I'm not sure how good your pop culture knowledge is but she was doing her time in a FUCKING MORGUE.

I only had one day off during this time (the day he passed) and when I went to check my emails after I'd visited the nursing home I saw the subject line "We should hang out in a morgue."

YEP. The boys had suggested, on the day he had died, without really thinking it through, that we should all hang out with a bunch of dead bodies.

Again, I had a choice. I could have just gone along with the idea OR point out why I may be a little sensitive to this suggestion.

For a second time, I chose to take the low road.

I sent back an email that said the following:

"Boys,


Forgive me but I just don't think I could endure a day in a morgue considering my Grandfather passed away last night. It's just a little too close to home. 


Thanks for the suggestion though.


Em."

They were both horrified and were just being stupid boys but still. BLOODY HELL!

It's now been about 9 weeks since he left me. I can honestly say he would have found all the above reactions hilarious as he had a sick sense of humour like me. I think everything has it's funny side and I am a big fan of real, awkward situations. You know, as long as they are not happening to me!

I miss you Ted. You were a good egg, never to be forgotten. (I'm sobbing now. Right now, shit it's hard.)

See you all tomorrow.

E xx



















Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Slack Bitch

Hello lovely darlings..

I know I've been a slack bitch with the blogs but I've just had so much going on. No excuse I know..
I swear to you I will get back on this horse once my stint on Breakfast radio is over.
I may even mount it before then.
My Grandfather dying took away my ability to write with any joy but I feel like I'm thawing out a bit and soon I will be able to quip in a semi intelligent fashion..

Until then, be kind to everyone except the arse clowns.

Em xxx (Too many kisses? I'm over reaching now aren't I?)

P.S. If you wish to hear me watered down to about 85% (I'm not allowed to swear on air) you can podcast us:  Hear Em on the radio here!


Monday, September 19, 2011

Not ALL stories involving nipple exposure end well..

The following story literally made me gag.

Then want to take a shower.

Then want to hold my children close.

Am I over reacting? Probably, but you're all fairly accustomed to that by now right?

My sister- in-law related this story to me and it has haunted me ever since.. It is in regards to a "friend" of hers.. (You will come to see why the inverted commas are now around the word FRIEND when before this incident they would not have been required.)

*Jill (my sister-in-law) had a couple of the girls from her Mothers group around to her house last week. Let us call them Mother number 2 and Mother number 3. They no longer attended the main Mothers group as they had broken off into a smaller, younger renegade group.

As lunch time rolled around it became apparent that there would not be enough food in the house to feed everyone so *Jill and Mother number 2 said they'd go and get lunch if the Mother number 3 didn't mind staying with the kids.

Of course she didn't mind, so off *Jill and Mother number 2 went.

While they were shopping for cheese rolls, sushi and apple slice unspeakable events were unfolding back at the house.

*Jill and Mother number 2 were gone for a total of 30 minutes. In those 30 minutes that Mothers group would be CHANGED FOREVER.. (Forever, forever, forever.........  - FYI this is a dramatic echo)

Am I building the suspense enough? I still bet you can't guess what happened..

*Jill and Mother number 2 arrived back at the house to find all three children having a nap.

Well done Mother number 3 they exclaimed! Mother number 2 was especially surprised as her child hadn't been fed yet and was hard to get to sleep when she hadn't been fed. No milk = no sleep for Mother number 2's child.

"I'm surprised you could get *Misty to sleep, she hasn't been fed yet. I always have to give her a feed before she goes down at lunch time. I don't know what I'll do when I stop BREAST FEEDING HER."

Have I dropped enough clues yet? Need I go on?

Oh alright.

Mother number 3 replied:

"Oh, *Timmy skipped his feed and I had a full boob so I popped *Misty on it. She guzzled it down and went straight to sleep!"

OH YES. YES SHE DID. YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY SHE DID!

MOTHER NUMBER 3 BREAST FED MOTHER NUMBER 2's CHILD!

Let us pause here.

This is an act that can NEVER BE UNDONE. Never, ever not once ever can it be undone..

It's like finding out your flatmate has been cleaning the toilet with your toothbrush. You can't take back all those times you had the brush in your mouth after it had cleaned poo from the crevices of your toilet.

The image of Mother number 3's nipple in her child's mouth can NEVER be erased form Mother number 2's mind. That milk can never be un-drunk.

Yessssss, I know there were wet nurses back in the day and I know some women today use them but for me it's JUST NOT RIGHT. I'm not saying you are a bad person if you allow some other womans boob to go into your babies mouth for nourishment, I'm just saying don't ever let it be my baby.

Breast feeding is an intensely personal thing. It is bonding time, it is boobs and nipples and babies and family and well it's breast feeding for christsake! Who shoves their tit in a random kid's mouth without at least asking said kid's Mother first? (Wow that sentance would be SO wrong if taken out of context.)

Mother number 2 apparently lost her shit.

Mother number 3 was ushered out of the house at a rapid pace. It was excruciatingly awkward and none of the girls have been able to speak since.

I don't think I would recover from that type of thing either.

Am I being a weirdo? I totally accept it if you think I am.. Perhaps I am not as open minded as I thought I was..

How would you react if this was your child?

*Jill, Misty and Timmy's names have been changed to protect their dignity and identity.


In totally unrelated news I have a new facebook page here:"Like" Em here (I know what a wank huh?)

I also have a live show in Melbourne this Saturday night, it involves stories like this one and some singing. Come along if you can. Info here:  Em's live show info

I'm of course worried the room will be empty so tell your friends!

E x

Monday, September 12, 2011

Darlings,

I have a new facebook page. Please come across and "like" me.. God I feel like a massive wanker typing that.

It will at least allow us to communicate is a more meaningful way!

Em's facebook page.

Thanks.

Em x

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

PERTH SHOWS HOORAY!

Darling Perth,

Oh how I've missed you. I am coming back for a weekend fling, we need to spend some time together. I have 2 shows happening at the amazing Bamboo. Please come along, we shall sing, dance and drink under the stars.

Ticket info here:

http://www.luxebar.com/bamboo/tickets/

I am very excited to see you all once more.

Em x

I'm sorry. This won't take long..

Please forgive me for what I am about to tell you.

Try not to let your eyes roll out of your head when you read what I have done.

We can get through this you and I, I promise.

I have broken up with friends for less so I understand what you are about to feel towards me.

Here goes.

I am on a health kick.

I have been exercising, a lot.

It's been about 8 weeks now and God help me I feel good.

It gets worse, I look forward to my daily run and my twice weekly "strength" session with my *trainer Dean - aka the dark lord.. (*I know I used the "T" word.)

If it makes any difference he is an ex stripper! He once belonged to a "dance troupe" called "Bad Boyz" so at least he's got pizazz. Picture a huge chunk of a man with brown hair and deeply tanned skin. He's in his mid forties and gets around in high waisted, tight, black silky tracksuit pants. He minces about the gym in a manly fashion (it's possible picture Paul Mecurio in Strictly ballroom.)
You can tell Dean knows how to do a decent pelvic thrust.

I am attributing my newly acquired fitness to my ability to deal with the challenging time I have been going through mentally. If it weren't for the endorphins produced by the exercise I think I would have tattooed something by now or spent thousands of dollars I don't have on an antique "saddle leather" chesterfield couch. (I still may, just checking the dimensions of the space I wish it to fill..)

Usually I switch off and wish death upon someone when they start taking about their "amazing new diet" or how many "pump" classes they've done that week. Exercise braggers do my head in, you know the ones - they check into their gym on Facebook. When you ask them how they are they complain about how sore their calves are from Zumba (vomit).

I haven't become one of them but I have joined their cult, I pledge to remain a silent member.

I purchased a running "app" on my iphone and this lovely lady with an English accent coaches me through my walk/jog/sprint program. It really does help, having that polite voice say to me "keep going you've only got 15 seconds more to run and then we're half way" makes all the difference. I also like how she refers to it as "us" like her and I are in this thing together.

I am deliberately making this a very short post as I wish to limit the amount of damage I am doing to your opinion of me.

I just wanted to say if you've been feeling a little flat recently or out of control it could be as simple as strapping on your runners and working a sweat up. Those lunatics who preach the exercise gospel are unfortunately onto something. Disappointing isn't it..

 Sorry.

 Let us never speak of this again.

 Em x

P.S.

If you're in Melbourne town this Sunday night I am singing a couple songs at The Toff, it's a nice early one so you'll be home tucked up at a reasonable hour as it is a school night.

Details here: Em's Toff gig.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

The picnic birthday thing. A story by Odette (Em's 4yr old)

My 4 yr old daughter asked me "Can you type a story on your Puter that I have in my brained?"
"Of course I can!" I exclaimed, so I grabbed my laptop and the following is EXACTLY what she said. Word for glorious word..

Once upon a time there was a dog named Toby.
He lived in a family and Odette wasn't strangling Toby.

One day Mummy comed along and she said we can have a picnic outside and then Daddy comed along and he wanted to come to the picnic too and then Sienna comed along and then Paige camed. They started the picnic together then Toby comed along..

Well, then this um... Big sparkly unicorn called Harry Potter comed along and he was a very nice horse he wanted to share the picnic with us.

At the picnic there was fireworks, then an owl camed along and took Mum's apple because he didn't have any food at his house. The apple he took was poisoned like in Snow White. A werewolf had poisoned Mum's apple but lucky the owl tooked it so Mummy couldn't get dead.


The owl got dead. Then his brothers and sisters and his Mum comed along and took him to the doctors and then the doctors fixed him so he is all better and not dead anymore.


Back at the picnic we were playing hide and seek, tiggy and Hyackie home. We saw lots of flowers in the land and then the Daddy unicorn comed along with the brother and sister unicorns. Then it started to rain so we went inside the end.














Monday, August 22, 2011

Up coming gigs!

I'd very much like to see some of you at a couple gigs I have coming up.

I don't do them all that often due to the children and my other work so it's always a treat to get out of the house, don a leotard and sing my heart out. I also throw in a few interesting stories along the way.

The first one is on the 11th of September at The Toff in the city. It's a preview show of my "The Saintly Bitch Sings" show (info below). I am there to support a friend of mine, the fabulous Hans and his backing dancers the "lucky bitches". Here is the link for the ticket info..

Em's Toff gig info


The second gig is the big one. I'm doing my own show for a whole hour for "Butterfly at trades."
It is a 150 seat venue so first in best dressed I'm afraid. I shall have glitter cannons a wind machine and the worlds most temperamental fog machine. I would love to have you all there, well 150 of you at the very least! Trades hall is in Carlton and I am playing in the new ball room.
show and ticket info here:

Em's Butterfly at Trades gig info

Thanks very much you wonderful people.

E x

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Taylor Lautner and the screaming girls.

Two security guards, thousands of screaming fans, waving, smiling, witty banter, a chat with a world class celebrity and NOW LOOK AT ME! Home, surrounded by bloody washing and school lunches to make with no bread in sight.

Tonight, briefly I lived both sides of the coin and I have to admit I don't mind my side so much now.

Let me take you back a few steps.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Taylor Lautner:



For the uninitiated, ugh. I can't believe I have to explain this to you. Taylor Lautner plays Jacob Black in the HUGELY successful Twilight Saga. He is a Werewolf, who am I kidding?! He is THE Werewolf. If you haven't heard of him chances are you are a straight male or too highbrow. 

Basically, Twilight fans are either team Jacob or team Edward (who is a vampire). That's all I'm giving you, go and google it if you're desperate to know more. You get the gist, he's hot. The late Gen Y/ early Gen Z's Tom Cruise (pre-couch jumping days.)

I am a huge fan of the Twilight series, so when offered the gig to host the red carpet for Taylor's new movie "Abduction" I obviously fell over myself at the chance. Then let me take you to the moment I found out I was going to interview him on the red carpet - more falling over followed by a lot of sweating, gushing, phone calls to my gays and so on and so forth. 

Tonight was the night. I was worried on a few levels. First of all big hollywood stars usually go one of two ways. They're either super dooper nice, generous and friendly or massive wankers. Usually the really established actors are the most delightful and the young up and comers give you grief. I know right? It should be the other way around. Taylor is a young up and comer so I was worried. 

Secondly "Twilight" offers me intense, free, escapist therapy. I was concerned that if he disappointed me in any way I would no longer be able to loose myself in "Forks" and hang out at the "Res" with the "pack." (None of that will make sense if you haven't read Twilight, if you have you are right there with me aren't you?!)

When I arrived at the Cinema where the event was to be held there were already hundreds of tween and teenage girls milling around. Supre must have been cleaned out this week 'cause all the girls looked shiny and new. As I walked up the red carpet wafts of impulse body spray assaulted my nostrils."Merry musk" and "Honey due" mixed incompatibly together. Their mouths full of hardware and their eyes full of hope that maybe, just maybe, Taylor will pick them out of the crowd and want to marry them. 

Any time anyone remotely resembling the male species went within a one meter radius of the red carpet the screaming began. Oh the screaming, let us talk about the screaming. If a hundred monkeys rang a hundred bells and inside each of those hundred bells were a thousand tiny microphones - so we're talking 100,000 microphones amplifying the hundred monkeys ringing those bells ( I chose Monkeys because they too screech like teenage girls. So whack that into the symphony of terrror that was going on.) You wouldn't even come close to the high pitched ear bombs being dropped. Jesus H Christ I thought I may die from it. 

I had to entertain these ladies, odd gay man and supportive Father for an hour; it was like being sent into battle. The enemy wore shit loads of lip smackers and were wielding "Australis" painted talons and rainbow coloured sharpies. I've had some tough gigs in my time but this had to be up there with the time I sung the national anthem at a Danny Green fight after half the crowd had been evicted by the riot police for wearing their gang colours.

I took it head on. I skipped up and down that carpet like I'd never skipped before friends. I gave them jelly beans, movie passes, impersonations and unconditional love. I dare not judge the Mothers grasping their daughters crying and the prospect of meeting someone 20 yrs their junior. No! I celebrated those creepy Mums because I too am a creepy Mum!

Finally after I could pad no more, he arrived! I braced myself for the screaming, I knew it would come like a tidal wave. I held on to my security man and waited.. Then, ABSOLUTE SILENCE! The girls were so beside themselves they forgot to scream. I couldn't believe it, they were so well behaved bless them all.

To his credit Taylor posed with pretty much everyone. It took him 35mins to walk the 80m red carpet. He signed autographs. he embraced Mothers and daughters alike, he behaved in such an impressive manor I was able to relax and take in the fact that I WAS ABOUT TO MEET HIM!

His publicist lead him over to me and I introduced myself: "Hi I'm Em" (brilliant huh?).  He took my hand and said "Hi, it's really nice to meet you." I then said "Are you alright, you must be tired and perhaps a little deaf by now?!" (Good Em, really slay him with your wit..) "I'm great, I'm so glad they're all here."




Then we took to the stage. 

It was a blur of screaming, laughing, sweating and shouting and that was just me... He was gracious, generous and very giving. We'd call him "good talent" in the biz.

It was all over very quickly and then I was escorted back up to the green room to gather my things. 

I saw him again on my way out and he put his hand on my arm, rubbed my back and said "That was awesome, you were awesome, thank you so much. It was really easy." With that he was whisked out a back entrance into a waiting limo and I walked myself to the train station... 

So here I sit in my PJ's, make-up scrubbed off eating a block of pecorino cheese on its own and I feel happy. I don't know how he copes with all that SCREAMING and the publicists and the constant scheduling of his young life. He can have it,  I'm happy just to dip in and out and then walk to the train station after.

My Twilight fantasies are well intact as he is ridiculously good looking, kind, open and taller than I expected. Well played Taylor, well played. 















Monday, July 18, 2011

Ever sent an email you'd sell your first born to get back?

I rarely get embarrassed. It's not because I have some sort of herculean self esteem barrier that protects me, oh no. It's because I am a control freak of ulcer producing proportions..


Everything I do is agonized over and well thought out. Except perhaps this blog. This is my one place of opening up the veins and letting it all pour out. That's why it's appropriate that I am here gearing up to tell you of an embarrassing event. One that involves an old blog, my high school sweetheart and an email.


Intrigued? Oh you should be.. Be prepared to laugh like a little girl at my expense.


A while back I wrote this blog "You've all experienced this." I'm sorry but you are going to have to go and familiarize yourself with this blog to get MAXIMUM enjoyment out of this one..


When one of you leaves a comment on the blog I get an email so that I can moderate the crazies. I received an email on Friday that told me "MatChap34" had left a comment on the above blog.


My heart kinda raced a bit, then it stopped, then it started again, then it raced again and THEN the sweating began. If you recall the last line of my blog "I dated his best friend on and off for most of high school- but let's not look too deeply into that." things may start to fall into place. If I now tell you that Chris's best friend's name, the one I dated for most of high school, is Matt Chapman, you should be right where you need to be.


Oh yes my friends, the one person I never really thought would read this confession of secret love actually read it AND commented.. The boy I did love in high school, the one who's friend I admitted to lusting after HAD READ MY BLOG.  I'll save you the trouble of clicking on the link again. The comment said:


Match34 said...






"I believe his best friend @ high school just read your blog....he is literally shattered."

Oh dear me. Dear baby Jesus in heaven.. Was he serious? I hadn't seen or spoken to this person in nearly 16 years. I bumped into him once 8 yrs ago but it was awkward and we were both in a rush. No meaningful contact since 1995. Had I poisoned all his fond memories of us? We were off and on for the better part of 4 years which is a pretty big deal in high school. He truly was my 1st love, his friend Chris (the subject of the offending blog) had just been beautiful eye candy. All my real teenage angst went into Matt.

Well, I did what any self respecting internet stalker would do. I set about finding Matt. I just had to set things right with him. I got his email address easily enough and composed the following email:

"Matthew,



Sometimes us writer/comedian/performer types pump things up in stories to make them more interesting. While I did think Chris was breathtakingly beautiful, my heart well and truly belonged to you. There is an entire segment devoted to you in my stage show and you will always be my first love. 

I literally had to google you to find this email address. I truly feel like a stalker. 

Your comment near broke my heart and I felt an intense need to set the record straight. 

I hope this finds you well.

Em Rusciano." 


I thought that was Ok. It hopefully explained things and made him feel better about our time together. 

With my guilt alleviated I went off to have a shower, upon returning to my computer I saw that Matt had responded. What I read caused me much anxiety/embarrassment/shock/ (did I mention embarrassment?) 

"Em, 

I think someone else must have posted the comment... But thank you for following up!

Regards,

Matthew Chapman"

JESUS H CHRIST!

He had never read the blog.

Someone pretending to be him had posted the comment.

HE HAD NEVER READ THE BLOG! I HAD EMAILED HIM FOR NO REASON.

I had emailed him like some sort of lunatic thinking I was such a good person but really coming across like a woman who lives on a hill with 13 cats. 

I didn't know how to proceed so I did what I always do in times of crisis, phoned my bestie Michael. 
You see, Michael is well aware of the whole "Chris Cornell/Matt Chapman" phenominum as he attended the same high school I did. After laughing so hard he dropped his phone, he advised a "cap in hand" follow up email be sent. So I emailed this:

"That's not at all embarrassing, not one bit..


Maybe don't read the blog in question, best for both of us!


Em." 



Well, of course he went and read it and sent the following in response:

"Em,


I've read it, but don't fret - I was only slightly offended and only considered retribution for ten minutes or so... I did think about calling Carrie (Bickmore) and asking her to embarrass you on camera but thought better of it.

How are your lovely parents? 

Matt." 



Well, it was done and he had handled it with such grace and aplomb I actually felt OK about my wanky email.


So, this one is dedicated to you Matthew. Thanks for being so fond of me when I was 12-15: a short haired, freckle faced, flat chested, sport loving, drama nerd. Also, thanks for being so understanding of me now: a 32 year old short haired, freckle faced, flat chested, gay loving, drama queen.


E x

Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Great Australian Racist (Title stolen from Twitter)

If you've not been watching SBS's powerful doco/reality event "Go back to where you came from" then stop right now and give yourself a slap. It's OK, I'll wait. If you have been watching - well done you.

Right, let's move on from your embarrassment. So you can play along I have kindly cut and pasted the SBS website's show synopsis below.

"Six ordinary Australians agree to challenge their preconceived notions about refugees and asylum seekers by embarking on a confronting 25-day journey. Tracing in reverse the journeys that refugees have taken to reach Australia, they travel to some of the most dangerous and desperate corners of the world, with no idea what is in store for them along the way. 



"Go back to where you came from" has been utterly mind blowing to say the least, however I wish to focus on one of the 6 participants who has become quite the "star." 
Twenty one year old year old Raquel.






Raquel lives with her bikie boyfriend Levi (who has an immaculately platted ratstail) and their 12 staffordshire terriers in Sydney's Blacktown. 

Her acrylic nails have southern cross tips and she pronounces Australia: "Straya." 
Two minutes into the introductory package Raquel admits she's racist and that:
"Blacktown really has become black town." 

After hearing that little gem I turned to my husband and said: "Hello, what do we have here? This one's going to challenge a few people." Too right she did, she almost broke twitter.

Raquel is a television producer's wet dream- she's a walking sound bite. I was quoting her after a couple of minutes. My friends and I are already planning our Raquel halloween costumes. 
I dare say there will be a Raquel drag show coming to a gay bar near you. She's THAT GOOD and by good I mean fearless. It's as though Chris Lilley dreamed her up or if Kath and Kim had a politically incorrect cousin. 

So far she has threatened to knock one of the other participants (63 yr old Raye) "fucking head off her fucking shoulders" and proved that you can construct an entire sentence using just the word "fuck." 

Upon arriving at the Refugee process centre in Kenya she told the registration officer who asked her what she did in her country of origin: "Nothin, I do nothin'. I just stay home and do nothin'."

Oh yes, she's quite the peach.


Raquel is an easy target for those of us who, well, aren't racist. She challenged me very early on and I went to write several scathing tweets but managed to catch myself and relax. 
Her frank admissions to growing up in a racist family and hating Africans were confronting and not something we would normally see or hear in an open forum. 

I wondered why she put me on edge? Did I have a little bit of "Raquel" in me? Her intolerance is on the surface but perhaps mine was deeper down and she was evoking it and causing some discomfort. A bit of psychological projection perhaps? After the Cronulla riots it was suggested that there was an underlying racist culture in Australia. I believe that to be true.

Well after some reflection I decided Raquel wasn't unearthing some deep dark feelings because I'm not racist. In fact, my Dad came here with my Grandparents on a boat in 1954 searching for a better life as things had become so bad in Italy. I feel nothing but compassion for asylum seekers, but I digress. 

I admire her for taking part in this experiment which I think would be challenging for the average person let alone a self confessed racist who has no tolerance for refugees or asylum seekers. I have found her entertaining, offensive and honest. I think this experiment would have been less compelling without her.

There has been some significant personal growth in the other six participants but Raquel has stood strong in her intolerance. I very much doubt we're going to see a fairytale ending here. 

We'd probably all like to see her skip off into the sunset holding hands with an African child but I think her beliefs are so deeply intrenched and the environment in which she lives in will hamper any potential attitude shift. 

The final installment is on tonight and I encourage you all to tell a friend. Preferable a racist friend... Ok that sounds wrong but you get the idea. 

8:30pm SBS.


Monday, June 20, 2011

BIG FAT TRY HARD.

Hello my name is Em Rusciano and I am a try hard. I've been a try hard since the age of 2, I tried to give up being a try hard during the 90's when it was cool to look homeless, I relapsed at the age of 17 upon meeting the head of my gay mafia Lyndon..

As you can clearly see everything about us screams effort.
At high school I was constantly called a try hard. At the time it was devastating. I enjoyed French, sport, dancing, art and English. So; of course, I felt the need to captain the debating team, hold arts and craft fairs, read French poems at assembly, perform dance routines at assembly and get trophies at assembly.

Because I crossed social group boundaries (Language nerd, jock, drama queen, art loser)The other kids didn't really know where to place me so I just got called a try hard, a lot.

I was pretty much left alone. Alone, by myself.  TO ACHIEVE. (Sorry that just burst out, obviously I'm still repressing a few things.)


It should be noted that only in Australia is "trying hard" considered a derogatory thing. In America they have parades for people who try hard. They give out medals and have public holidays. Here it makes you a loser; a tall poppy, someone that must be cut back down to mediocrity. 

Remember the inspiration story of Kurt Fearnly? The Australian para olympian who CRAWLED the treacherous 96km Kakoda trail. I bet; sitting in a a pub somewhere in Australia, a group of blokes caught that story on the news and one of them probably shouted "bloody try hard." Yes he did fictional group of blokes.YES HE DID! What a champion.

Why does the act of putting in effort make people nervous? Just because I like to hand sew sequins onto my bonds singlet and buy matching sets doesn't mean I think I'm better than you. 

Of course there are two types of try hards. One puts in contrived effort in an attempt to be something they're not and the other just tries hard. I'm only dealing with the latter.

In my adult life the trying hard has not lessened. If anything it has increased, so I have decided to reclaim that term and make it a positive thing.

Here are some more examples of me being a try hard (smiles- positive reinforcement people)

This is what my lounge room looks like. ALL THE TIME.
I hand made everything you see here for my cabaret show. HAND MADE IT bitches.

Christmas is a colour coded affair.

My husband says I am not a try hard he says I am anally retentive and should seek professional help. He's one of those effortlessly cool people. WE hate people like him. Hater. 

If you; like me, put loads of effort into everything you do. Stand proud my friend, stand proud. Just like Justin Bieber says: "Never stop trying." (I may have tweaked what JB actually says so that I could "tag" his name and get 1 million new hits. Having said that, look at HIS fringe - what a try hard.)

Em x




Sunday, June 12, 2011

Calling all ethicists!

Hello darlings.

I read an article today I want your genuine opinions on. I expect the comments section to be overflowing with intelligent and respectful arguments.

The article was entitled: "Bligh's backflip sees rapist go from zero to hero to zero."

We'll address the "reporters" choice of headline later.

Basically, a man who was convicted of rape and armed robbery 12 years ago was to be honored for his outstanding contribution to the volunteer clean up efforts in the flood effected areas of Queensland. This man went above and beyond driving thousands of kms over the past few months cleaning up houses and helping when needed. When the government sent out his invitation to an awards ceremony where he was to be honored, they were not aware of his criminal past.

Upon learning of his crimes the Premier's department director wrote to him and said: "It has now come to my attention that you have a serious criminal history. After discussing the matter with the Premier, I have decided that it would be inappropriate for you to accept this award and to attend the ceremony. I trust you can appreciate the reasons for this decision."

Well it seems he could not. This man went to the local press such was his distress at being snubbed by Anna Bligh.

After reading this article I was genuinely in two minds over what the "right" thing to do here was?
On one hand this man is a convicted rapist and I'm pretty sure his victim/s wouldn't feel he deserved to be honored in any kind of fashion. On the other hand he served 12 years in jail and claims to have turned his life around. He feels he deserves a second change and has paid for his mistakes. By all accounts his contribution during the floods and after was huge and selfless.

Then I go back to his victim/s and think they will never get a second chance. Being raped is something that I imagine would leave a permanent mark on your life forever.

I will now turn the discussion over to you lot. I'll moderate so try to keep it nice.

Does this man deserve a second chance? Should he be honored for the volunteer work he did? Did Anna Bligh do the right thing in rescinding the award and ceremony invitation?

Go forth and debate.

Em.



Friday, June 3, 2011

In Neeeeeeeew Yoooooork.

Man. I owe you all BIG. What a slack whore I've been.. Yes, WHORE. I deserve it.

Right now I'm sitting in my hotel room in Soho; looking out over a busy NY street, tapping away on my macbook.. "Big" should be pulling up any moment (although I always preferred Aiden) and I'm still a bit drunk from my boozy lunch with Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte. (Everyone thinks they're Carrie don't they.) This should be an epic moment for me, I really want it to be. It almost is except I'm on my 4th hour of an SNL marathon as I can't leave the hotel room due to all the ugly crying I've been doing..

Oh I'm hopeless. I'm George Bush at a meeting involving numbers. I'm a huge failure as a traveler my friends.

I thought I could be like Madonna in "Suddenly seeking Susan" and Sarah Jessica Parker and the Gossip girl cast all combined into one all powerful New York conquering goddess.. I'm trying to be. I've worn all my best tutus and sat in cafes but the truth is: I miss my kids and the dog and my husband. (Yes, maybe in that order. Of course not in that order. Maybe a little bit in that order.)

The last time we spoke I was wetting my pants over my upcoming show wasn't I? Jesus H, I gotta get my emotional shit together huh? Been working on that one for a good 10 years now.

My one woman show at the Butterfly Club could not have gone better. Turns out all that worry, sleepless nights, anxiety acne and excessive drinking was not required! The last two nights were a sell out and I've been invited to perform at the Melbourne cabaret festival. I'm taking the show to Perth in October and I will also be doing a return run in Melbourne later this year. Against all the odds people liked it.

A few days after the show finished I received a phone call from one of my producers at the 7pm Project. The conversation went a little like this:

"Ring ring" (That's my mobile phone ringing. I felt that was important to assist you all with the "theater of the mind" stuff)
Em: "Hello"
Producer Kelly: "Hi Em. We were hoping you would be interested in shooting another behind the scenes story on Master Chef next week."
Em: "Yes! I mean let me check if I'm free..(Fake checking of diary) Oh yes! Yes I am."
Producer Kelly: "Great. There's just one other thing.. We would need to send you to New York on Thursday."
Em: "Whaaaa? Shut up! SHUT. UP. (Panting, screaming etc)

So here I am.

In New York.

The one place I've always wished to come to and all I want to do is go home.

Booooooooooooooooo(breath)ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo to me. What a pathetic, un-grateful person I am.

I have been here a week. In that time I have achieved the following: (I'm not going to bore you all with the stories behind that list. I'll just use one word to describe each.)


1. Spent 24 hours vomiting. (Acidy)
2. Wallet Stolen. (Gutting)
3. Spent 2.5 hours with the NYPD (Frustrating)
4. Shot with the Masterchef kids. (Rad)
5. Visited the Met and the Alexander McQueen Exhibition. (Overwhelming)
6. Ground Zero. (Confronting)
7. Central Park. (Green)
8. Brooklyn. (Skatiehipster)
9. Greenwich Village. (Gated community)
10. Tribeca. (Rebuilding)
11. Walked the High Line. (Touristy)
12. Saw "Sleep no more"a cutting edge, multi-leveled total emersion play. (Witch-orgy)

Yes, if completing travel tasks were an Olympic sport I would be Flo Jo; you know, minus the excessive steroid abuse and heart attack stuff.

Don't get me wrong, New York has been great. I think I'd just built it up so very high in my mind and what with all the vommitting and the Grand Larceny-ing it all got a bit much.

Here are some happy snaps!

It's a FROZEN YOGHURT VAN!! 



B.Dylan street art.

A friend of mine.


Preparing for McQueen.

Self explanatory.

Hipstermatic School bus.

McQueen paperweight.



I purchased everything related to the exhibition.

I was forced to buy some "sensible" shoes as the heels were shredding my feet.

The front cover of the McQueen exhibition book.

The masks we had to wear while watching "Speak no more".

Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.

Hipstermatic Brooklyn.

Times Sqaure.
Walking the High Line.

I have 3 days left and in that time I fully intend to get my shit together and have an amazing time. Right now it's 9.22pm and I have ordered room service. Ferris Bueller's day off has just started and I am excited. Baby steps.

E x

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

A letter to you all...

Dear Friends,

It Tuesday afternoon, it's 3 minutes into the hateful "witching hour" and I really should be bathing and feeding the children however I simply must type a bit before my head explodes.

For those of you without children the "witching hour" starts around 5/5:30pm each night and involves your children changing from well behaved small people into the spawn of the dark lord. Everyone is tired from the days activities yet we must all push on to ensure the children are fed, brush their teeth, read a story and put to bed. It is WORST EVER. What I really want to do at this time is open a bottle of red and lay on the couch.

I don't care how perfect you claim your child to be: ALL KIDS TURN. 

I swear if they were really serious about cutting teenage pregnancy rates they would send them to any household with more than one kid at 5pm. That will extinguish the fires in their lusty teenage loins toot sweet. 

Why am I borderline manic right now? Well, if you've been playing along at home you may know my one woman show is starting this Thursday night at the Butterfly club. If you're new; well done, you've missed most of the anxiety!

This show has been all consuming. I feel ridiculous writing that as it's only a tiny production, an hour long and my "special effect"involves fake candles and a self operated fog machine. Still, it's something I've come up with and written so if it's God awful I have no one to throw cake at at the end and call a wanker.. 

The stage is only as big as the front of a small car and I am filling it with my guitarist and a home made change screen. Yes, I purchased a "frame wall" from the reject shop, punched out the pictures and replaced them with sparkly material. Boom, somewhere to complete my costume changes.. Tonia Todman 'aint got nothin' on me friends. The screens lack of structural integrity is a little concerning.
I just hope a stiff wind doesn't blow through the Butterfly club the moment I strip.

I have also made an actual "power point presentation" this whole production plays like a Yr 12 theater studies project. Which, I'm ok with. 

This is one of the scariest things I have ever done. 

I am packing shit. (I love this phrase, it's not used enough in my opinion)

Seriously.

Why did I think I could do this?

No. I can do this.

If Britney could get back on the stage as medicated as she was; and not pass out, I can get through an hour of talking about myself!

As my annoyingly calm husband said to me at 3am last night when he found me running lines in front of the bathroom mirror: "If you feel anxiety you are living in the future."

At the time, I wanted to spit listerine in his eyes. Not so much now; it's become my mantra, just don't tell him that.

If you live in Melbourne and you're free Thursday/Friday/Saturday or Sunday night around 7pm it would be nice to see you. If you're got this far down and haven't given up then we are kindred spirits (copy write Anne of Green Gables) and your presence would provide moral support.


Earlier in the week I did an interview on JOY FM, it previews the songs in a ridiculous way.


This is the last time we will speak before I embark on this tour of self doubt and sweat. 
See you on the other side..


E x