tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25277185680866278302024-03-14T15:52:20.792+11:00The Saintly BitchIf Jose Carreras and Joan Rivers had a love child, the result might be something like Em Rusciano.
Em is a television and radio presenter, singer, former athlete and Italian mother of two. Passions include owl figurines and talking about herself in the 3rd person.
Having started out on Australian Idol season 2 Em now appears on Network Ten's 'The Project' and 'The Circle' plus anywhere else that will have her.Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-28176220469458299952012-05-21T18:32:00.001+10:002012-05-21T18:32:25.251+10:00I've lost my kid.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, 'Nimbus Sans L', sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: 300; line-height: 24px;"></span><br />
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Hello friend.. If you are reading this now then you need to GET ON BOARD with my new website as I will be phasing this blog out. All the same spelling mistakes you know and love will be over at <a href="http://www.emrusciano.com.au/">www.emrusciano.com.au</a></div>
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The Blogs will be as irregular as usual, have no fear.</div>
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Enjoy my new one below as it is now a dying breed..</div>
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Em. xx</div>
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Well, it's happening. In the back of my mind I kew it was coming but had successfully blocked it out like the need for superannuation and the impending removal of my wisdom teeth.</div>
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I've lost my baby, my first born, my loving, helpful, smiley girl. Where has she gone because I bloody want her back. Seriously, I want to speak to the manager about this as what I purchased from the store 'aint what it I got now.</div>
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Hormones have taken her hostage and she now shuts the door when she showers and stomps off over some pretty trivial stuff. There is plenty of info and support for when the baby arrives and even when they fly the nest but what about when the baby orders you to walk behind her on the way home from school or when she pretends not to know you when you are loudly cheering for her during a cross country race..</div>
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She has stopped running everywhere, you know how kids do that? They run everywhere all the time, especially when they spot you after having been apart. My 5 year old still does the Dirty dancing run and jump at the end of the school day when she sees me.</div>
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I'm lucky to get eye contact with Chell when I see her after School. What the hell am I to do? I am grieving for a child lost even though she is still here.</div>
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Don't get me wrong, my eldest daughter is RAD. If I went to school with her I would totally want to be her friend. She is a gun athlete, pianist,student and she's pretty with a bit of a punk skater thrown in. I watch her at School when I am up there on Prep duties with my youngest daughter (not in a weird, stalkery, over protective way) and I am way proud of my kid.</div>
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It's just, well... She doesn't love me best anymore! Plus, this morning we had an incident..</div>
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She said IT. She said that sentence to me that I though I'd never hear and it hit me pretty hard. I rank in up there between being told you have a body odour issue and having your heart set on fire.. She said "Muuuuum, you are embarrassing me. Go away".</div>
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NO!</div>
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We reserve that statement for the Mothers who rock up in their PJ's to drop their kids off or the Dad whose arse crack is hanging out. Not the Mum who skates to school with her kid wearing vintage ADIDAS high tops with wet look electric blue leggings and leopard print nails! (Me, I'm talking about me.)</div>
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Christ it hurt, you see I consider myself the "cool" Mum.</div>
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Yes, I realise what a wanker I am even typing that sentence however I keep no secrets here.</div>
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We were playing basketball before School started today and things seemed to be going well. The bell went and I tried to give her a hug, she responded by ducking my hug attempt with the skills of an elite Ninja. It obviously didn't compute so I tried again and again same crouching tiger hidden dragon shit - hug avoided.</div>
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Finally I caught her after several attempts and forced my love onto her. She screamed the now infamous "embarrassing" line and we both took a step back and looked at each other. She saw the hurt that had been inflicted and I did what any self respecting Mother would do, I grabbed her again and kissed her on the face, she fought hard but I won.</div>
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I didn't really did I?</div>
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Her body is "changing" her moods swinging and a group of long fringed boys now come over asking if she can go skating with them out the front of our house. I remember all that, I clearly remember being 11 and feeling everything at 10 times the intensity that I feel it now.</div>
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I now realise I have to completely change my mindset towards her and put the gear into "P" for parenting. Up until now we have been buddies who compromise on a few things, Chell would always do as I asked and we were a team. Not now, now everything I say and do regarding her must be justified and negotiated. It is like living with a small, angry politician.</div>
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Still, she is kind to animals, cleans the kitchen and doesn't swear so it's not all bad..</div>
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We'll get though it. I know we can. Right guys? Right.</div>
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E. x</div>
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<br /></div>Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-74256662645776771772012-04-30T10:49:00.000+10:002012-04-30T17:03:49.429+10:00Em's list of what every woman should have and know by 30.This has to be the toughest thing I have ever promised to do.<br />
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After posting <a href="http://emrusciano.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/30-things-woman-of-30-should-know.html">Glamour magazine's 30 things a woman should have and know by the time she is 30</a> and openly mocking it I have found it quite difficult to compile my own list.<br />
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I wanted it to have reflective value for you all, to be applicable to your situation - to encourage you to aspire to more than just a black lacy bra and a cordless power drill (which was on Glamour's list.)<br />
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I wanted to create a list that you could print out and stick on your fridge. Something you could email around to your girlfriends, Mothers and <i>Sistas</i>.<br />
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The first thing that popped into my head was that you should own a mobile phone that doesn't involve prepaid credit, unless of course you are a drug dealer. Alas, that was no better than Glamour suggesting you must have an e-mail address and bank account in your own name.<br />
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I sat staring at my computer screen looking for inspiration. By the hammer of Thor! You "should" definitely know the National anthem (even the 2nd bit that no-one knows) by the time you are 30!<br />
No Em, I said (a lot of self talk goes on around my house), how often are women going to call on that bit of information? That isn't going to make a difference in their lives.<br />
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After some pacing, dusting, lint inspecting and dog grooming it finally dawned on me..<br />
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The list is pointless. The list serves none of you any purpose, no I am not trying to get out of writing it but every time I came up with something it was either superficial, consumerist or would cause anxiety and that is the last thing I wish to do.<br />
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You are doomed to fail if you chose to follow a list printed by an American magazine in 1997.<br />
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The thing is, who am I to tell YOU what YOU should HAVE and KNOW by the time YOU are 30? Who is ANYONE to do such a thing? It's the use of the word "should" that offends me most. Unless the person using it has achieved absolute spiritual and emotional enlightenment and can give you the one true answer then I don't want to hear it.<br />
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At the risk of sounding like someone who wears a lot of corduroy and owns a beige skivvy we are all on our own path.<br />
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As luck would have it I am married to a professional coach, and this is his thing. So I asked Scotty what I should impart onto you all and he suggested I offer some questions. So here we go (These are my words, his language is far more professional.):<br />
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1.How well is worrying about the following, serving you?<br />
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Career.<br />
Babies.<br />
Body.<br />
Relationships.<br />
Generally being perfect.<br />
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If you notice yourself worrying, that's ok just try one of the following. Can you change yourself or the situation? Can you exit the situation or is there a way to accept it?<br />
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2. Guilt - This is obviously linked to worrying. Guilt does nothing for anyone, it traps you and causes suffering. Either act or accept the reality and let it go.<br />
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3. Have you figured out what is really important to you? What are your values? - (I pushed him on this. Coming up with your values is no easy task. He fought me and said there are many ways, I bullied him into telling me one.)<br />
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Think of one of your peak experiences, write it down using great detail and as many senses as possible - i.e. what you heard, felt, thought, saw, the mood, were you alone? With family? Were you giving to others? Was it expensive? Re-create the richness of the experience as much as possible. Read back through it and try to exact the deeper factors that made it so good for you. Bang -VALUES! Scotty says aim for 5. He also says it's helpful to know which ones you'd drop off if you had to take it to 3 values and what your number 1 value would be.<br />
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4. Make good stuff happen. Look for easy wins, but also think about what you ultimately want. For most women it's happiness. So do things that make you happy. Go deep here ladies. I mean it, not just shoe shopping but experiences that align with your values. The satisfaction will be deeper and longer, I promise.<br />
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I know we may have drifted into wankerville but the bottom line is stop worrying and start living.<br />
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BOOM.<br />
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By the way, I suck at all of the above and I live with a dude who does it for a job. It's not easy but when you all achieve oneness I will claim a small part of your victory..<br />
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I hope this helped.<br />
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Em x<br />
<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-24454318765166451782012-04-26T16:56:00.001+10:002012-04-26T18:43:25.299+10:0030 things a woman of 30 should supposedly have and know..<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I was watching </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAFQIciWsF4">Barack Obama slow jam the news with Jimmy Fallon</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> over at the Huffington Post and happened to glance at their list of "most read articles" and saw that the top one was "30 things every woman should have and should know by the time she's 30." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Instantly I was interested, I had a burning desire to know if I had satisfied the lists requirements. Deep down I knew I was probably headed for crushing failure and a loss of purpose in my life but I HAD TO SEE! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">The list was originally printed in 1997 in</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><em style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; font-style: italic !important; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">Glamour</em></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">magazine and was written by Pamela Redmond Satran.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"> It was a pretty big deal when it came out. It literally became an "email phenomena"which in the late 90's was no mean feat! It resonated with so many women that Glamour magazine went about collecting the lists of many famous women and then collated them into a book. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Glamour magazine has been around in the States since 1937, it has had ANYONE who is ANYONE on the cover from Michelle Obama to J-Lo. It's a stalwart amongst the miriad of glossies on offer in the U, S of A. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I thought I'd go through the list one by one with you all. My answers will be underneath, I encourage you to do the same. It's quite a cathartic/depressing/empowering experience. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
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<strong style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">By 30, you should have ...</strong></div>
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1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.</div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I had an amazing boyfriend in grade 3 named Jay, he and I would talk about Punky Brewster and how much we loved NKOTB. He was the only one who could braid my hair so I had no stickyupy bits and he loved musicals all most as much as I did- how I loved Jay... (SHUT UP, HE WAS NOT GAY, NOT THEN.)</span></i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">My first love. Broke my heart. Cheated on me with my friend. Still hurts to type. He still lives with his parents at 33 years of age and is single. Nuff said.</span></i><br />
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2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.</div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Define "decent" Glamour magazine?? Do you mean one that does't have weetbix welded to it or unidentifiable odours? I have 2 kids and a dog, I'm pretty sure no one at your office would deem any of it decent.. </span></i></div>
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3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I'd have to dig it out of the "clean washing mountain" iron it and pop a broach on the stain but I think I have this one covered. Clothes I can do. </span></div>
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4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I have a gold lamé coin purse that belonged to my Nanna a suitcase that my Dad emigrated with and an umbrella with a peacock head so I think we all agree, I ACED this item!</span></div>
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5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Nope. Still hanging on to that one. This item may have to go on the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"> "60 things every woman should have and should know by the time she's 60" list.</span></span></div>
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6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I work in the entertainment industry. This I have covered and then some.. (Insert Maniacal laugh)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age -- and some money set aside to help fund it.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">This one makes me feel anxious right across the board. They don't really know if I will grow old and I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT SUPERANNUATION NOW OK. I don't want to feel guilty about that until I am at least 40. </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account -- all of which nobody has access to but you.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">CHECK! I also have 2 secret credit cards so I feel I've earned bonus points here.</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">The last time I needed a resume I was trying to get a job at La Porchetta, I may or may not have said I had waiting experience at my Parent's cafe when I didn't really.. My parents have never owned a cafe. Never. Not once. </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I have plenty of friends who make me laugh, truth be told I don't like to cry in front of anyone so not many of them can attest to having seen that.. Except of course for those times on reality tv when that's ALL I APPARENTLY DID. (When on Aus. Idol the producers chose to show my "softer side" - A LOT.)</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">KINKY! </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I have eleventy thousand of this one..</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
13. The belief that you deserve it.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Deserve what? WHAT?!</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I have no plan. I have no regimen or routines. I am screwed here.</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Shut up. If you say yes to this one I hate you. I don't, but you know... Sheesh.</span></div>
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<br />
<strong style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">By 30, you should know ...</strong></div>
<div style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; font-size: 13px; font: normal normal normal 15px/21px Georgia, Century, Times, serif; line-height: 18px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">
<div style="color: #333333;">
1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I've been in the same relationship for 11 years. Do I need to go on here? </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
2. How you feel about having kids.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Done and done. I pumped my 2 out in my early 20's- WINNER!</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I have only quit one job and I told everyone to get f%cked when I left so I've got that one down! I don't even remember the last time I broke up with anyone, my Dad got rid of a few for me. I've had to confront a couple friends on their shit behaviour, 2 worked out well 1 still won't speak to me.. Half a point there?</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I always try hard. I am a try hard. I have not mastered the art of walking away, I one day hope to. I really do. </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Yep. Peck - Stop. Anything involving tongue - Go.</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">
6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; line-height: 18px;">FAIL. I am now on a mission to find out my Great Grandmothers' names.. I know one's name was Lillian Pearl and the other we called Mama Nelson but on my Italian side I've got no clue. If something needs tailoring I don't buy it and I'm substituting secretary of state with Governor general and I know that is the fabulous </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Quentin Bryce.</span><br />
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">
7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.</div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 18px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Oh how I dream of this one.. </span></div>
</div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
8. Where to go -- be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat -- when your soul needs soothing.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Red wine.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Heels, spanx and therapy says otherwise Glamour magazine. </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I've blocked a lot of it out so I get this one on default.</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I often do things for free when I should charge for it and regularly get taken advantage of by those I love, FAIL. </span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I don't floss. I know I should and I feel guilty about it every time I brush my teeth.. I know I should floss. I'm totally going to stat flossing. I am, I am! I won't..</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">This has been a recent epiphany for me. I now apply the "who would I call if my dog died" filter to my friends when it comes to the issue of trust and care.</span></div>
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<div style="color: #333333;">
14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Dude, I've known this one since I was 5.</span></div>
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15. Why they say life begins at 30</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Mine began the day I discovered Game of Thrones but you know, a lid for every pot! </span><br />
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
So I got 16/30, how did you do?</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
I have barely passed my 30's it would seem.<br />
<br />
Obviously I found this list superficial and not in a fun "Carrie Bradshaw is buying another pair of shoes even though she can't afford to eat" way. I appreciate the sentiment but found the execution patronising and archaic. It really has very little reflective value for it's readers which I think is the purpose of these types of exercises. Also, women should aspire to more than a cordless drill and a black lacy bra.<br />
<br />
Ironically, they probably should aspire to more than confirmation they're doing ok from a list!<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
I am currently compiling my own list, I will have it to you by the end of the week.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
Speak soon,</div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #333333;">
Em. x</div>
</div>Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-26592080081732537602012-04-19T17:59:00.000+10:002012-04-19T19:12:57.803+10:00So, you want to be a reality TV star huh?We are once again in the midst of a Reality TV tsunami.<br />
<br />
Networks love the gear, can't get enough.<br />
<br />
FOXTEL aside, which seems to have more Reality TV than actual actors doing their thing. Free to air has once again become clogged with painters, decorators, singers, dancers, gumtree leaf players, saxophonists, celebrities trying to reclaim their former glory, brides, grooms and Kerrie-Anne all competing to get a slice of the public's affection and their sweet, sweet cash.<br />
<br />
I feel as though I am a little bit smart on this topic as my name is Em Rusciano and I am the product of a Reality TV show.<br />
<br />
When people find that out about me they are either impressed or disgusted.<br />
<br />
I was on Australian Idol in 2004 and came 9th.<br />
<br />
Reality TV was an excellent career choice for me. Straight after being rejected by the nation I got a job in commercial radio. I went onto host breakfast radio for the then Austereo network for nearly 5 years, from there I got a my current jobs on The Project and The Circle. I still sing, host corporate events and take part in comedy and cabaret festivals - reality TV changed my life.<br />
<br />
It's been a bloody steep learning curve, before Idol I had ZERO experience performing. I also had next to zero self awareness. The last eight years have been a mixture of work, luck, tears, moving, counselling and reflection. I am still a nobody and have a long way to go before I can get a legitimate invite to the Logies, but I get paid to do what I love so I can't complain.<br />
<br />
I am in the minority of former RTVCs (That's shop talk for Reality TV Contestant) who have gone on to semi-successful careers.<br />
<br />
It's a waste land out there folks, you see once the public/judges decide they no longer want you, you're very quickly forgotten. The public are fickle and spoilt for choice, they will move onto the next thing if you're no longer on their TV every night.<br />
<br />
One day you are being watched by millions of people, have your own security guard, live in a mansion, are being interviewed by magazines and radio stations and the next you are back in your regular life which for me involved hacking away at dried weetbix with a metal ruler on my child's highchair. Aforementioned child no longer recognised me, just to really sweeten the situation..<br />
<br />
You are expected to pick up the pieces as though nothing has happened. It's a severe reality and not something the production companies prepare contestants for.<br />
<br />
Some are crushed by this, some fight it for a while and some try to pretend like it never happened.<br />
<br />
For the record, I did all three.<br />
<br />
With Big Brother starting up again soon and The Voice receiving so much hype I worry again for the next crop of rejects. I know that sounds harsh but that's essentially what we are, I wear it as a badge of honour. I think the mistake a lot of people make going into these type of situations is that they think if they get chosen as a finalist that's their one way ticket to becoming a *gargantuan star. (*I thesaurused the shit out of "huge" there.)<br />
<br />
Some contestants leave the competition feeling as though the world owes them something, when the offers don't roll in as expected it can be breathtakingly crushing.<br />
<br />
My advice to those of you thinking about Reality TV as your next move is to see it as a platform not a magical career maker.<br />
<br />
Go in expecting nothing.<br />
<br />
Expect to give everything.<br />
<br />
Don't attach your self worth to the outcome.<br />
<br />
For the love of everything that is good and holy NEVER, EVER, EVER, NEVER, EVER go near the internet forums. My GAWD I cannot stress this enough. I made that mistake.. My left eye still twitches as a result.<br />
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The crap news is even if you do win or somehow manage to trick people into giving you a career in the industry (as I did) you are still judged and looked down upon by those who got there by legitimate means.. You know, WAAPA, NIDA, being extraordinarily pretty..<br />
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Have a crack anyway, what have you got to lose?! (Sanity, privacy, career, sense of self worth, reason for living, credibility..)<br />
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I kidd!<br />
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Good times!<br />
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E x<br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-85342432687347180592012-04-11T21:33:00.002+10:002012-04-19T17:59:31.140+10:00Who will save my girl's musical souls?Growing up my top musical heroes were who you would expect.<br />
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Prince<br />
Michael Jackson<br />
Madonna<br />
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I pretty much decided that I would model my look on all 3 as a 10 year old and I haven't evolved since.<br />
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My daughters are music savvy. I mean it, they've truly got the rhythm in them. I know all parents say that but just trust me ok?!<br />
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Every Saturday morning I wake to the familiar sound of "Rage ra ra ra Rage ra ra ra Rage Raaaaaaaaage". The two of them sit there watching film clips, singing along hoping that their favourite song is next - as I did when I was their age.<br />
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I worry for them, who will be their musical icons? Who will adorn their walls, who will they rush out to buy smash hits for? ( Does smash hits still exist?)<br />
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They have no interest in One direction, Justin Bieber or Taylor Swift (I'm a tiny bit proud of that) They form attachments to songs not artists.<br />
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Having only ever listened to my music, as I decided very early on The Wiggles and High 5 were messengers of Satan, my kids expect much from their pop music. They can sing along to most of Stevie Wonder's back catalogue, know The Gossip's "Music for men" top to toe and it meant something to them when Whitney Huston died. What I'm getting at is they want more than what Bieber and One Direction have to offer. However the artists I mentioned above the boys bands are all my taste inflicted on them. Sure I'm helping to shape their musicality but until they discover someone for themselves they won't get that truly authentic "losing my shit over ________'s new album" experience.<br />
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The current day pop landscape is full of technologically suped up wannabes who are out before they're truly in. Songs have had the soul auto-tuned out and there is so much choice and product flooding the market place it's hard to know where to start.<br />
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What I want more than anything is for my kids to have someone to hook into, really love and obsess over.<br />
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I thought GaGa was a serious contender but it all got a bit much for my 5 year old when I had to explain the concept of the alien re-birthing and thirteen minute film clips involving bathtubs and leather.<br />
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Chris Brown might have been in with a chance had he not PUNCHED A WOMAN in the face.<br />
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Britney Spears. No. Just, no.<br />
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Beyonce is talented and probably as close as my girls have got to having someone they admire but she still leaves me a tad cold. I don't think Beyonce has a real identity, you would't look at an outfit or hear a song and say "that is so Beyonce" as you would with Prince, Michael or Madonna.<br />
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Robyn is front runner at the moment, again a favourite of mine but the girls play her independently of me so that counts for something. Sia has come up the ranks also particularly for my eldest.<br />
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Calling all icons, we need you. Us Mothers who are bringing up the next generation of music enthusiasts desperately need someone to believe in. Someone to teach our daughters and sons about the importance of independent thinking, musicianship, killer shoulder pads and shit hot dance moves.</div>
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WHERE ARE YOU?</div>
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Do any of you have suggestion? Am I missing someone? Who will my kids be playing to their kids?<br />
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Em. x<br />
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P.S. For those of you wondering about who Robyn is, watch below. She is RAD.<br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-67061662005141140262012-03-20T12:24:00.003+11:002012-03-20T12:24:54.843+11:00How to do the relationship exit interview.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My best friend Lauren makes terrible man choices. I am convinced her radar is permanently set to "arse clown".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />Lolly is a good egg. She's in her late 20's, has a job and is kind to children. To my knowledge she has no serial killer tendencies and doesn't steal from any charities, yet her "man karma" is the equivalent of someone who may have run over a truck full of monks on their way to an impoverished village to aid sick children.<br /><br />Upon hearing about another failed relationship due to douche bag behaviour from the bloke she'd been seeing, I gave her some advice. Well, I yelled it at her actually.<br /><br />"Give the dick head an exit interview!".<br /><br />How's that for a concept ladies and gents? An unsolicited relationship exit interview.<br /><br />Letting the other party know where they fell down and how they could perhaps improve themselves for future love happiness. Obviously you must also acknowledge where you may have slipped up to make it a more palatable conversation, but giving some constructive feedback may just save the next woman/man from suffering as you did.<br /><br />I think this strategy may only work for those relationships that didn't get very far down the track. I have been with my husband for 11 years and feel as though I give him an exit interview every few days.<br /><br />They have little to no impact, as he has heard my grievances with him many, many, many times before.<br /><br />No, this kind of thing will only work if the relationship didn't progress past the infancy stages. Before anyone had the balls to mention the things that were pissing them off. You must still be shaving all your bits and wearing matching underwear, still secretly sneaking off to brush your teeth before they wake up and exiting the room for flatulence issues for the relationship exit interview to have the desired effect.<br /><br />It would be a complete and utter lie to say ALL of the intent behind the relationship exit interview it to help improve the recipients chances of happiness down the track. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No, some of it is to get the crap off your chest that has been sitting there too afraid to show itself. We all know nagging or critiquing someone in the early stages of love is a big no no so those things gets stored away to slowly to build into an inferno of resentment. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Go to this place my friends to put together your notes, sort through the ashes of resentment and order them neatly and coherently so that they may be called upon during the relationship exit interview.<br /><br />Back to my friend Lauren.<br /><br />Let us briefly visit the behaviour of the latest man to disappoint her.<br /><br />They met 4 weeks ago and hit it off straight away. The witty banter was mind blowing, the eye contact lingering and the physical attraction stomach churning. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He called her the next day which was a good sign, perhaps this was a man not afraid to take what he wants! Not interested in paying the usual games, he liked Lauren and wasn't afraid to show it.<br /><br />He invited her to come to his mates wedding! Lauren called me and questioned weather that was something to be concerned about.<br /><br />"NO! How very refreshing" I exclaimed.<br /><br />A man who has acted on his feelings and not hidden them away to appear cool. "Go forth, say yes, purchase a suitable cocktail frock... Nothing too slutty but still hot enough to impress his friends." I advised.<br /><br />Lets us stop right here for step one in the relationship exit interview. You must always start with a positive, this would be it. He came out of the blocks well, fantastic start. This feedback is important as you want to encourage this type of honest behaviour. Well done on the opening stage conduct, arse clown, well done.<br /><br />This was his high point though. Their encounters after that took an overall tone of: "You are something to occupy my time with when the boys are busy and I'm not working." If this is happening a month in it's time to cut and run baby.<br /><br />Step 2 of the relationship exit interview involves giving them examples of where they let themselves and you down.<br /><br />In Lauren's case I would chose the following incidents.<br /><br />1. Not turning up to her birthday party until 3am.<br />2. Ringing and abusing her at 3am for having left said party. Continuing until 4am to ring and abuse her for the lack of taxis available in Melbourne.<br />3. Not calling her on her actual birthday or bothering with a gift.<br /><br />Usually this type of behaviour only a month in would just result in her benching him forever. Ignoring text messages and phone calls until he got the message. Not this time kids, this time feedback will be given.<br />The above behaviour just needs to be addressed as following.<br /><br />"Your lack of self awareness is pretty profound. Showing up anywhere at 3am is usually not going to end well and traditionally, birthday's of the person you are seeing take precedence over drinking with the boys. You are 32 years old not 18, that shit doesn't wash now. Not bothering to call me on my birthday and blaming me for a taxi shortage also illustrates a lack of reasoning and manners".<br /><br />After the negative feedback is given you must then move to step 3: Acknowledging how you could have improved the situation. In Lauren's case:<br /><br />"I acknowledge that I should have told you I was leaving my party at 1am however I had given up on you attending as you were FIVE HOURS LATE!".<br /><br />Lauren must accept she showed poor communication skills that evening.<br /><br />So there you have it, the relationship exit interview done in 3 simple steps.<br /><br />Let us review them once more.<br /><br />Step One: Where they went right.<br /><br />Step Two: Where they went wrong.<br /><br />Step Three: Where you went wrong.<br /><br />Think of it as a positive reinforcement sandwich. The meat in the middle is their stuff-ups the bread their triumphs and your missteps.<br /><br />All too often people walk away from what they felt was a promising union confused as to where it went wrong. Let us remove this confusion, especially if it was ended by the poorly behaved party. You have nothing to lose do you? Go forth and confront, you have my blessing.<br /><br />You're welcome!<br /><br />Em xx<br /></span><br />
<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-39616232689453548062012-02-16T21:23:00.000+11:002012-02-16T21:23:53.265+11:00Funeral hilarity- When sad times go bad.I have to go to a funeral tomorrow.<br />
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The last one I went to was my Grandfather's. I don't remember much of it as I've done the healthy thing of totally blocking it out emotionally.<br />
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Funerals are like stepping into a grief matrix, an emotional vortex that swings from the tragic to the hilarious, hanging on the edge of a cliff with nothing but fairy floss to hold on to.<br />
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What I mean by that is everything and everyone is bloody fragile. You don't want things fucking up at a funeral and by rights they should. Usually they don't. But, they should. Think about it: very sad people planning things while probably numbing the pain with medication and or alcohol handing over large sums of money just wanting it to be over and classy at the same time. RECIPE. FOR. DISASTER.<br />
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On the odd occasion that I hear about "funeral mishaps - when sad times go bad", I laugh. Hard.<br />
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It's probably the wrong response but sometimes, when I have the choice of laughing or crying I go down the laughing route to survive the situation.<br />
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Bodies falling out of coffins, people sitting through the wrong service and only realising half way through, hungover grandchildren spewing during the service, wife throwing herself in the grave after her husband was lowered into the ground (I witnessed this, at the time it was atrociously sad. Now-HILARIOUS.)<br />
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Because funerals are such sombre occasions and everyone wants to do the right things by the dead guy/girl's family a collective breathe holding takes place. Everyone just prays that it all goes off without anymore pain coming to those suffering.<br />
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Well, my husband and I had our own little funeral mistep that I thought I would share with you all.<br />
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It's a quick one.<br />
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A week ago, I got myself up, found my designated "funeral dress" and ironed my husband's shirt like the good and dutiful wife I am. We got the children off to school and drove down to Sandrigham for we were to say goodbye to Scott's baseball mentor Jack. Jack had inspired and supported my husband through out his entire baseball career and Scott was very sad at his passing. The funeral was going to be huge as he helped out many athletes and families in Victorian baseball.<br />
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We steeled ourselves emotionally for what was to come, we both knew it would be sad and so we sat in silence on the ride down preparing for the mood that the funeral would bring with it.<br />
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As we arrived at the Church I noticed there were only a few cars there. "Strange" I remarked.. Jack had many friends and had touched the lives of countless people so I had been expecting a bigger turn out.<br />
Instantly and pointlessly I felt bad for Jack (shut up I know he is dead and his feelings aren't there to be hurt by the small amount of people at his funeral- but I still felt bad.)<br />
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Scott and I got out of the car, I helped him put on his suit jacket and picked some lint off his shoulder. We looked into each others eyes, I gave him my best supportive wife smile.. Just a hint of warmth, loads of sincerity and a smattering of "here if you need mate."<br />
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We held hands as we walked towards the church..<br />
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Scott opened the door for me and as I turned around and took in the scene before me I noticed something rather odd about Jack's funeral.<br />
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It wasn't there.<br />
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A confused looking priest approach us and asked is he could help.<br />
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I said: "We are here for Jack's funeral."<br />
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To which he replied: "You're early, a week early. Jack's funeral is next Friday."<br />
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YES. YEP. YES. EVERYTHING YOU ARE THINKING NOW, JUST YES.<br />
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Scott had got the dates wrong.<br />
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I thanked the priest, took my exhausted, embarrassed, confused husband's hand said "not to worry we'll just do it all again next week" and headed back to the car.<br />
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So, tomorrow we do it all again.<br />
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I know, hilarious.<br />
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Go ahead.<br />
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You can laugh now.<br />
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Hard.<br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-7520480546783209312012-02-06T18:14:00.002+11:002012-02-06T18:26:38.599+11:00The kindness of humans.. In particular Tim Minchin. It's no secret that I am often bitterly disappointed by the way humans behave, not today my friends.<br />
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Not. Today.<br />
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I am an ambassador for a magnificent charity called Strike a Chord For Children. Basically they provide musical instruments, lessons and experiences for children who are disadvantaged, seriously ill or recovering from serious illness. Often times music is the only thing these small humans can manage as it gives so much back to them and expects nothing in return. <br />
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If you'd like more info please visit the website here: <a href="http://www.strikeachordforchildren.org/">Strike a chord for children.</a><br />
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Today I had the absolute privilege of escorting a little friend of mine Hamish, to meet his musical idol: Tim Minchin.<br />
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Hamish has had a particularly tough year fighting cancer and at the age of 5 has been through more pain and distress than most of us will see in a life time but my GOD this kid had spunk. He is also loving, giving, trusting, smart and generous with his sprit. Five minutes after meeting him I was in love.<br />
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While Hamish was receiving treatment at The Royal Children's he discovered the musical genius that is Mr Tim Minchin.<br />
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Everyday on his iPad he would play Tim's concerts over and over again singing loudly and laughing at Tim's unusual and hilarious lyrics. Tim has a song called "Dark Side" which particularly resonated with 5 year old Hamish! He explained he too has a dark side sometimes.. ( I think it's safe to say he broke cute with that statement.) Here it is if you aren't familiar with it: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I15rCluWLac">Dark Side by Tim Minchin</a><br />
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I met Hamish out the front of the Palace theatre in St Kilda where Tim is playing his sold out shows tonight and tomorrow night. Hamish had on his best white dress shirt, snappy jeans and rad white Nike kicks.. I was in the process of being hugged and high fived when up behind Hamish appeared the strapping red head himself ; Tim Minchin.<br />
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Hamish was beside himself, Tim lifted him in the air and embraced him in a good 3 minute hug (cue Em and Hamish's Mother crying.)<br />
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Tim took Hamish inside the theatre where the Melbourne Symphony orchestra where setting up for his sound check. He carried Hamish around the entire venue introducing him to the crew and other musicians. I felt so much gratitude and admiration for Minchin I thought my heart may burst. He was so wonderful and generous with Hamish we were all moved to tears.<br />
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The thing is, today I was reminded how people can be good and kind. I forget that sometimes when I'm wrapped up in the negative vortex that is my brain.<br />
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Tim Minchin you're a bloody good egg.<br />
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To the people at Strike a Chord for Children, what you provide these kids is such a magical gift, bless all of your cotton socks for making it happen. I feel so lucky to be allowed to play a small part in it.<br />
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I didn't write this piece to promote the work I do, I'm not a particularly good and charitable person! I freely admit I am an ambassador for pretty selfish reasons.<br />
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I feel good seeing the happiness on the kids faces, I am reminded to get out of my own head and small problems and focus on someone else who is doing far tougher than I.<br />
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Helping them helps me.<br />
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Here is Hamish and Tim.. I know right, BEST EVER..<br />
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Here is Hamish, Tim and I.</div>
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That's all I really wanted to say today, I hope you're all well.<br />
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Speak soon,<br />
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Em x<br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-76254908425305451082012-01-17T20:18:00.000+11:002012-01-17T21:24:17.281+11:00Calling all urban, sexy, mysterious soldiers. I need you, my kid is starting school.I'm already crying writing this post and we are only one sentence in.<br />
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Not a good sign but we'll press on like the urban, sexy, mysterious soldiers we are. (Look, I'm trying to be brave so I thought the image of me being an urban, sexy, mysterious solider might do the trick.)<br />
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We're deep in the bowels of school holidays at the moment. Normally I pray for the end of school holidays as a sugar dependant child may pray for cake, but not these ones folks.<br />
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I never want them to end.<br />
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I want them to stretch out in front of me for months if not years! These school holidays are very special as they are my last with my wonderful daughter Odette.<br />
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You see Odette is leaving me.<br />
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Nay, abandoning me to selfishly start primary school AND MUMMY ISN'T COPING WELL AT ALL.<br />
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(God the tears are overwhelming me now, mascara has just gone up my nostrils - it's getting dramatic up in here.)<br />
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I've already been through this once with my eldest daughter Marchella who is heading into grade 5 this year. When Chella started school I was hosting Breakfast radio in Perth so I was just glad she had somewhere to go while I was a work thus alleviating some of the crushing guilt I had being a working Mother. Her first day at School was a happy one for me, this is not the case with Odie's first day.<br />
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I have been at home with Odie full time since she was 2 - I decided I wanted to do that as I missed so much of Chella's early childhood working. So after I quit the radio Odie and I became each others' side-kicks. I think this is why I'm not coping well with the prospect of her heading to school; I just can't imagine my days without her.<br />
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The highlight of my day is seeing what Odette will dress herself in, she has developed quite a unique style and is fearless when it comes to fashion.<br />
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Everyday at about 8am Odette will announce to the house:<br />
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"I'm getting dressed, NO-ONE can come in until I say."<br />
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This morning we were treated to pink, wet-look Lycra leggins, a tule leopard print skirt, sequinned cardigan, pink vans and a blue t-shirt with ruffles around the neck. There will always be several necklaces and COPIOUS amounts of perfume she has stolen from me and hid in a secret location in her room. Her eye shadow is sometimes on her eyes and her lipstick is usually in the vicinity of her lips. She is nothing short of SPECTACULAR.<br />
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Now all I'll see each day is a checked school dress and sensible shoes. Humph.<br />
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I am worried sick. I am worried they won't <i>get</i> her. I am worried her lovely, creative, loopy spirit will be crushed. I'm just worried about EVERYTHING now that I won't be there to protect her ALL THE TIME and indulge her unique view of the world.<br />
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My eldest is savvy, smart, independent and sensible. I could send her out to live on her own now if need be. Odette is, well she's a little too much like me I guess and that is a HUGE concern.<br />
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Don't worry I know I am being irrational and dramatic. I know it's all probably going to be fine. I know this will upset me more than it will her. I DON'T CARE! It gives me a stomach ache every time I think about it.<br />
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There is a poem by Victor Buno called "<a href="http://www.inspirationalstories.com/6/614.html">I trust you treat her well</a>." I remember vividly hearing Tracy Bartram do her own version for when her son started school and so I thought I'd do my own as well.<br />
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Dear World,<br />
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Today I bequeath to you a little girl with green eyes in a checkered school dress she'll have altered to make it more "Barbie."<br />
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I can also guarantee she's done something fabulous with the standard issue school cardie.<br />
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Her laughter is loud and a little maniacal she will ONLY ride HER glittery bicycle.<br />
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I hope you treat her well.<br />
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I'm afraid someone will tell her it's "Frog" not "Froggett" and correct "Huggle" to "cuddle" can you stop that from happening?<br />
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Her Mother is mental and a little bit musical so she when she sings her answers make can you make sure there's clapping?<br />
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She likes raw pasta and will only drink water from this one manky plastic purple cup.<br />
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I'll level with you now.<br />
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Alls I'm saying is,<br />
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World, don't f$*k it up!<br />
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I hope you treat her well....<br />
<br />
Your friend Em.<br />
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Yes I know, I've already called Leonard Cohen to suggest a collaboration on his next book of poems...<br />
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Badly written poems aside I decided to do a little research on how to prepare myself for Odette's first day of School... I looked and I looked.. There was plenty of "how to prepare the child" crap but nothing on how I CAN COPE WITH THIS IMPENDING SEPARATION. Can someone alert Kaz Cooke to this?! I need her to write a book in 2 weeks as there is jack shit all out there for the "anxious, hysterical Mother."<br />
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I thought maybe I could have a crack at writing a guide to the first day of school for Mums.<br />
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<i><b><u>Em's guide to your child's first day at school.</u></b></i><br />
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<i><b>1. Get up early, find a nice private place and have your first cry before everyone else is up. This is the big one. You can snot it up, heave and lay in the foetal position without anyone knowing.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>2. Make sure you look amazing. Pick a fabulous outfit, do your make-up and ensure everything is WATERPROOF. I mean get that synchronised swimmer shit, the stuff that wouldn't move during a hurricane.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>3. Once at School immediately try to win over the teacher. If he/she likes you best then he/she may play favourites with your child.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>4. Don't get caught with the hip flask in your bag.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>5. Find a nice bush where you can spend the day watching if need be.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>6. After the school have you removed, hide around the corner crying some more. Don't worry your face has the synchronised simmer war paint on no one will know.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>7. Home time! Rush over to your child, hold on for dear life and break it to them you are considering home schooling.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>8. You're welcome.</b></i><br />
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I know you know that is EXACTLY how my first day is going to play out, I'm just trying to get some of you to behave as badly as I am going to so I'm not the only one..<br />
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I still have two weeks left so hopefully by then I will have gained some perspective....<br />
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If your baby is starting school this year, I'm with you sisters and brothers - let's do this thing together.<br />
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Em x<br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-6623252701072388362012-01-14T15:38:00.000+11:002012-01-14T15:38:37.007+11:00Women aren't funny?<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I feel extremely overwhelmed starting this piece of writing. I fear red hot lasers may shoot from my fingertips and melt my precious Macbook. I fear I may not cover all points intelligently and succinctly enough. I want to write it so well, I want you to all read this and have it ignite a fire within and perhaps change a few minds but I fear it may all turn into a steaming pile of ranty poo.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I will open proceedings with the following statement: I love comedy. I am a comedy nerd. I hang out with comedians. I work with comedians Im a "gag hag" if you will. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I especially love female comedians. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Let me reel off some of my favourite gals:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Sarah Silverman</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Tina Fey</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Dawn French</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Jennifer Saunders</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Amy Poehler</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Joan Rivers</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Kathy Griffin</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Kristen Wiig</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Margaret Cho</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Ellen Degeneres</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Rosanne Barr </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Amy Sedaris</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Judith Lucy</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Kitty Flannigan</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Felicity Ward</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Cal Wilson</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Fiona O'Loughlin</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Denise Scott</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I know I will have missed some brilliant ladies, there are so many. These were just the ones off the top of my school holiday addled head. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">So we've established I feel overwhelmed at what I am about to tackle and that I love comedians of the female persuasion.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Deep breath Em.. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">When I hear a man say "I don't find women funny" or "Women can't be funny" I am filled a red hot rage that burns like the heat of 1000 suns in the depths of hell. Shamefully enough, on the odd occasion, I have also heard a woman say "I just don't think women can be funny."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Last night on twitter I found myself ranting Kanye style after a male colleague stated there were no funny females IN THE WORLD. Big call. Some might say the call of a man who has deep seeded psychological issues related to a mummy complex he developed as a child - but I digress.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">What followed were mostly tweets of disgust from my followers at his statement but what also cropped up was some of my male followers saying that all female comics talk about is menstruation, men and mothering. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I'm not kidding.</span></div>
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<a href="https://twitter.com/#!/radioinnovation"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">@radioinnovation</span></b></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Ben Henry</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #ad3111;"><a href="https://twitter.com/#!/EmRusciano">@<span style="text-decoration: underline;">EmRusciano</span></a></span> there is more to comedy than periods, children and issues with men.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">When I read things like this I wonder how Ben and others like him manage to put their pants on in the morning. Is this a common held belief? If you are a man reading this, look deep into your heart. Do you think women can be funny? DO YOU?! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I wonder how extensive Ben's research is on the topic of female stand-ups? I wonder how many he has seen live? I also wonder when Ben was ordained King of Comedy. Because surely only the preordained king comedy could be allowed to write off AN ENTIRE GENDER and their comedic ability. It must be something about vaginas huh? Perhaps all the funny just fell out of us? I'm getting ranty now, let us get back on track.. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">In 2007 Christopher Hitchens wrote an article for Vanity Fare with the delightful title:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2007/01/hitchens200701"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Why women aren't funny."</span></a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I have reason to believe this article may have been a piss-take, however for the purposes of attacking someone to prove my point... Let us press on!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I think my favourite part was when Chris said that ladies don't need to bother being funny as they have boobs and stuff to attract men so why bother with words.. Ok, so he didn't EXACTLY say that he said:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">"Women have no need to appeal to men in this way-if you catch my drift."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Oh yes Chris, we caught your drift. I'd like to see your drift inserted in a place no drift should be inserted. Sadly Christopher passed away last year but I stand by my drift insertion request.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Among other things Christopher insinuated that women only use comedy to attract men. Of course! It all makes perfect sense. I know I only perform in the hope of impressing and trapping a man, that's definitely why Ellen Degeneres does it right? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Just when you think he can't get any better, Christopher rips out this gem:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">"MOST female comedians are hefty, dykey or Jewish." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I know, what an enlightened man he was.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I'm not even going to bother with that one. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Surely I don't need to. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">It's no secret that comedy is a male dominated scene. It's a burley, scary, tough world and in my experience you have to play by the boys rules because there are just so many of them. Men outnumber women on the comedy circuit a bazillion to 5 or something like that. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Comedy is for the brave which is ironic as a lot of comedians are a tower of insecurity needing laughter to bolster their fragile egos. (Same applies to performers, I include myself here.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I think a lot of women are capable of delivering excellent stand-up but they lack the encouragement and confidence to actually do so. I have also observed that audiences are more tolerant of a man bombing on stage than a woman. I think women are expected to kill it and deliver every time otherwise they are deemed "un-funny" forever.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Last year comedian/writer/actor/producer/queen of awesomeness Tina Fey penned an excellent memoir called "Bossypants." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Of working with the Saturday night live writers she wrote:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">"Only in comedy does an obedient white girl from the suburbs count as diversity." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Interestingly enough Tina has a much more zen approach than I do to people who say women aren't funny:</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“When faced with sexism or ageism or lookism … ask yourself the following question: ‘Is this person in between me and what I want to do?’ If the answer is no, ignore it and move on. Your energy is better used doing your work and outpacing people that way. Then, when you’re in charge, don’t hire the people who were jerky to you.”</span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Good advice T (I like to pretend we are friends and that I call her T.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Are women funny? Some are, not all.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Are men funny? Some are, not all.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I guess what I am ultimately trying to say is: let us judge what is and isn't funny by what happens on stage not by what happens in our pants.. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Wait. I can do better.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Let us not get hung up on the gender of a comedian. Funny is funny whether it has a bulge in it's pants or in it's top.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Just don't say anything wanky like: "women can't be funny" It's beneath you. It's not true and you should probably get something done about your small penis. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">BOOM!</span></div>
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<br /></div>Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-7051977466800161792012-01-09T15:35:00.001+11:002012-01-09T15:35:37.788+11:00Single? Want that to change? THE DOCTOR IS IN! I mean me, I'm the doctor..My two closest girl friends are single.<br />
<br />
It's a God damn jungle out there my friends and if you're a single person reading this then you know what I mean. Ammiright or AMMIRIGHT! (We've all just high-fived via cyber space that's why your palm is suddenly throbbing.)<br />
<br />
I am married. Being married is challenging. Too be honest, I'm not sure which of the two states is tougher.<br />
<br />
I am going to talk about a few things from the perspective of a single woman because that's what I hear about day in/ day out from my two best girl friends. I am often the person they turn to for advice when things inevitably go wrong with a fella. I'm not sure sure why; it may have something to do with the fact I have tricked one into staying with me for eleven years but even then, I get that wrong so often I worry about the validity of my advice.<br />
<br />
Also, I encourage you to take the following words from my brain with a massive grain of salt. I am a well know lunatic and get a lot of shit wrong, I don't think I have THE answer but I do have something for you to have a crack at.<br />
<br />
I believe men aren't really ready to settle down until they are 30, of course there are going to be exceptions to this rule and I avoid making sweeping statement where possible but; on the whole, I stand by this opinion.<br />
<br />
While I have my big arse broom out. I think women, given the right bloke are ready to nest and procreate by 22.<br />
<br />
Why is this important, it's not really I just feel ladies in their 20's trying to hook up and settle with men in their 20's are up against it from the start.<br />
<br />
Firstly, I wish to point out my love for the male species. This is not a male bashing piece. I. LOVE. MEN.<br />
<br />
My closest friends are male, a couple straight and ten gay so let us establish from the outset : if you've got balls- I'm a a fan.<br />
<br />
Of course, not all women want or need a man. Rah, rah women's lib and all that. My two do, so we'll be attacking things from their perspective if that's ok with you.<br />
<br />
Both girls are hot.<br />
<br />
Both are successful.<br />
<br />
Both are good eggs. No bullshit. No bitching. If I were a bloke, I would lock both of them down ASAP.<br />
<br />
Both want a longterm meaningful relationship.<br />
<br />
BOTH HAVE A HABBIT OF PICKING ABSOLUTE DOUCHE BAGS FOR BOYFRIENDS.<br />
<br />
I can walk into a bar or cub and spot the guys my two girls will target. They travel in packs of 4, wear expensive watches have huge biceps and are uber tanned. There is usually a lot of high-fiving going and it would be remiss of me not to mention the teeth, they always have SPECTACULAR teeth.<br />
<br />
We all know these guys.<br />
<br />
I wish to stop here and dwell on this type of bloke if you don't mind. I have a couple mates who play professional sport and fit the above description perfectly. I love these boys like brothers, they are good guys who are committed to their sport. They are kind, funny and loyal.<br />
<br />
However, until they are finished with their sport or click over 30 I would't let my dog date them. I hear how they talk about women and see how they treat them and it'a pretty shocking. AGAIN this does not apply to all professional sportsmen or hot meat axes in general, of course there are exceptions to the rule but I am dealing in stereotypes here so let's push on.<br />
<br />
Back to the bar.<br />
<br />
Here is how things usually play out.<br />
<br />
Friend targets a bloke.<br />
<br />
Eye contact is made.<br />
<br />
Smart arse comments exchanged.<br />
<br />
Drinks purchased.<br />
<br />
Much talking at the bar, laughing, witty banter.<br />
<br />
Dancing.<br />
<br />
Drinking.<br />
<br />
Cheeky pash.<br />
<br />
Home. ( I have banned them both from taking randoms home on first meeting so they usually don't.)<br />
<br />
Facebook stalking commences, photos analysed, friendship requested.<br />
<br />
Facebook friendship accepted. Flirting commences via direct messages they miraculously end up at the same place the next Friday night.<br />
<br />
Def con 1 pashing occurs.<br />
<br />
Home for the sex.<br />
<br />
Text messages exchanged during the week, drunk texts on the Thursday night, late night booty call.<br />
<br />
Friend HINTS maybe they should do something in the daytime.<br />
<br />
Bloke ignores this.<br />
<br />
Things fizzle out.<br />
<br />
Friend left wondering what the fuck went wrong.<br />
<br />
This plays out over various time periods with sex being withheld for weeks or hours with the same result.<br />
<br />
After grilling a few of my single, straight male friends I have been able to gather that the fear of commitment comes from the fear of missing out. Missing out on boozy nights with the boys, missing out on the next hot woman who walks in the room and not having the freedom to try and pick her up. Missing out on doing whatever the fuck they want which could involve sitting nude on the couch playing x-box for 8 hours straight.<br />
<br />
So how do I combine my knowledge of both sides? How can I bring them all together so we end up with meaningful connections that don't result in boys feeling suffocated and girls crying alone in bed wondering what went wrong? Baring in mind there is multi-million dollar industry devoted to this very topic with eleventy millions books/tapes/dvds and seminars available.<br />
<br />
Well, I have given it deep thought. It's not an original solution but it worked for me and I have had the girls try it recently and they are having good results.<br />
<br />
Here it is.<br />
<br />
When confronted with a potential romantic situation choose wisely and don't RESIST it or ASSIST it just let it happen.<br />
<br />
No game playing, no dating rules, no deep analysis- just let it be. Expectation usually leads to disappointment.<br />
<br />
Also, and this is the IMPORTANT PART: SAY what YOU MEAN and MEAN what YOU SAY. Then there can be no confusion, about anything.<br />
<br />
That's it.<br />
<br />
Choose wisely.<br />
Let "it" happen naturally.<br />
Be honest.<br />
Expect nothing.<br />
<br />
Before you come up with ten reasons why this won't work. Try it. Just try it.<br />
<br />
Go into every new romantic situation with this intent. It puts you back in control, you will have the hand, you will hold the power of grey skull.<br />
<br />
So, your homework for this week is to try this course of action. Then I wish for you all to report back.<br />
<br />
Go forth my brave solders.<br />
<br />
E xx<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-67878153411549274062011-12-20T16:58:00.000+11:002011-12-20T21:37:42.044+11:00You're doing better than you thought..<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I get a shit load of joy out of my kids doing well.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. T</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">he thought of joining the PTA makes me want to cut someone however my kids always have fabulous costumes and rad lunches.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The thing is, I am constantly worried that I'm doing irreversible damage to my children. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://youtu.be/Zi8vJ_lMxQI">Em's lecture fire up song.</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Niether of them have thought to challenge me yet but that day will come and I won't have a leg to stand on.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you're a parent and never feel like a failure then hats off to you hats fecking off.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I lay awake at night feeling guilty, I'm sure a lot of you can relate. You can right? Oh say you can..</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Why am I rambling about my inadequate parenting skills? Well my friends, today I had a win. A big dick off win!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The opening paragraph reads:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Chella has completed a fabulous year. Chella's approach, enthusiasm, strong work ethic and</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"> genuine interest in learning is INSPIRING and she is a positive role model for the other </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 14px;"> students."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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..." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Job well done right? RIGHT!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You've earned it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">E x</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-86517200934695261532011-12-19T11:54:00.000+11:002011-12-19T11:54:08.968+11:00Old people die and other stories..Hi my name is Emelia but you can call me Em.<br />
<br />
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?"<br />
<br />
Look, I'll admit it. When my Grandfather died I went into survival mode.<br />
<br />
Writing causes me to open my veins and go to that place in my brain where I lock away emotionally challenging things.<br />
<br />
Obviously losing a loved family member caused that area to implode so the writing of meaningful words became a little too painful.<br />
<br />
I'm back bitches and ready to go.<br />
<br />
For those of you experiencing this blog for the first time, welcome!<br />
<br />
WARNING: My spelling and grammar are both appalling as I suffer from a glamorous case of dyslexia.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
For those of you who stuck around let us press on. I'm glad those other bitches went, they were all so judgemental!<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
The morning I found out Ted has passed away I was in Canberra covering the Queen's visit for "The Project."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I called her straight away and said "When did it happen?"<br />
<br />
Mum replied "Midnight."<br />
<br />
I told her I'd get the first plane back to Melbourne.<br />
<br />
I called "Showtravel" who; as their name suggests, arrange all the travel stuff for "The Project."<br />
<br />
I have to say their level of service was exceptional.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I explained what had happened and as soon as she said "I'm very sorry Em, what can I do to help?"<br />
I broke down.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I packed very quickly and had the hotel arrange a cab.<br />
<br />
The whole way I was sobbing, the cab driver must have thought me crazy.<br />
<br />
I arrived at the airport in 19 minutes and sprinted to the gate.<br />
<br />
They were closing the flight as I approached I explained/yelled hysterically: "I HAVE TO GET ON THAT PLANE!"<br />
<br />
This now brings us to lesson one in the "How to deal with someone who has experienced loss" class.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I think we all know the road I chose to drive down.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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?"<br />
<br />
JESUS H CHRIST! Yes Captain Obvious they do but it's different this time. It was MY OLD PERSON.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
Well, yes. I guess they will but for CHRIST SAKE! You know.. OUCH.<br />
<br />
If your friend loses someone the following responses are acceptable:<br />
<br />
1. Would you like some brainless gossip? I can distract you with filth for 5 minutes.<br />
<br />
2. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I love you very much.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
That's it. Simple enough huh? Honest, real emotion works in this situation.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
For a second time, I chose to take the low road.<br />
<br />
I sent back an email that said the following:<br />
<br />
"<i>Boys,</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>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. </i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Thanks for the suggestion though.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Em."</i><br />
<br />
They were both horrified and were just being stupid boys but still. BLOODY HELL!<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
I miss you Ted. You were a good egg, never to be forgotten. (I'm sobbing now. Right now, shit it's hard.)<br />
<br />
See you all tomorrow.<br />
<br />
E xx<br />
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<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-58510841904020353892011-11-08T20:50:00.003+11:002011-11-08T20:50:45.214+11:00Slack BitchHello lovely darlings..<br />
<br />
I know I've been a slack bitch with the blogs but I've just had so much going on. No excuse I know..<br />
I swear to you I will get back on this horse once my stint on Breakfast radio is over.<br />
I may even mount it before then.<br />
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..<br />
<br />
Until then, be kind to everyone except the arse clowns.<br />
<br />
Em xxx (Too many kisses? I'm over reaching now aren't I?)<br />
<br />
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: <a href="http://www.SAFM.com.au/">Hear Em on the radio here!</a><br />
<br />
<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-64704083038393128892011-09-19T20:00:00.000+10:002011-09-19T20:04:22.735+10:00Not ALL stories involving nipple exposure end well..The following story literally made me gag.<br />
<br />
Then want to take a shower.<br />
<br />
Then want to hold my children close.<br />
<br />
Am I over reacting? Probably, but you're all fairly accustomed to that by now right?<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
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*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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Of course she didn't mind, so off *Jill and Mother number 2 went.<br />
<br />
While they were shopping for cheese rolls, sushi and apple slice unspeakable events were unfolding back at the house.<br />
<br />
*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)<br />
<br />
Am I building the suspense enough? I still bet you can't guess what happened..<br />
<br />
*Jill and Mother number 2 arrived back at the house to find all three children having a nap.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
"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."<br />
<br />
Have I dropped enough clues yet? Need I go on?<br />
<br />
Oh alright.<br />
<br />
Mother number 3 replied:<br />
<br />
"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!"<br />
<br />
OH YES. YES SHE DID. YOU BET YOUR SWEET BIPPY SHE DID!<br />
<br />
MOTHER NUMBER 3 BREAST FED MOTHER NUMBER 2's CHILD!<br />
<br />
Let us pause here.<br />
<br />
This is an act that can NEVER BE UNDONE. Never, ever not once ever can it be undone..<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
Mother number 2 apparently lost her shit.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I don't think I would recover from that type of thing either.<br />
<br />
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..<br />
<br />
How would you react if this was your child?<br />
<br />
*Jill, Misty and Timmy's names have been changed to protect their dignity and identity.<br />
<br />
<br />
In totally unrelated news I have a new facebook page here:<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Em-Rusciano/217356191651392">"Like" Em here (I know what a wank huh?)</a><br />
<br />
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: <a href="http://www.bellaunion.com.au/program_guide/show_476/"> Em's live show info</a><br />
<br />
I'm of course worried the room will be empty so tell your friends!<br />
<br />
E x<br />
<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-84464260460531956812011-09-12T18:16:00.000+10:002011-09-12T18:16:15.862+10:00Darlings,<br />
<br />
I have a new facebook page. Please come across and "like" me.. God I feel like a massive wanker typing that.<br />
<br />
It will at least allow us to communicate is a more meaningful way!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Em-Rusciano/217356191651392">Em's facebook page.</a><br />
<br />
Thanks.<br />
<br />
Em xEm Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-69453185188672800742011-09-06T15:20:00.001+10:002011-09-06T15:20:23.421+10:00PERTH SHOWS HOORAY!Darling Perth,<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Ticket info here:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.luxebar.com/bamboo/tickets/" style="color: #0000cc;" target="_blank">http://www.luxebar.com/bamboo/<wbr></wbr>tickets/</a></span><br />
<br />
I am very excited to see you all once more.<br />
<br />
Em xEm Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-66929754693623983032011-09-06T14:43:00.000+10:002011-09-06T15:12:01.322+10:00I'm sorry. This won't take long..Please forgive me for what I am about to tell you.<br />
<br />
Try not to let your eyes roll out of your head when you read what I have done.<br />
<br />
We can get through this you and I, I promise.<br />
<br />
I have broken up with friends for less so I understand what you are about to feel towards me.<br />
<br />
Here goes.<br />
<br />
I am on a health kick.<br />
<br />
I have been exercising, a lot.<br />
<br />
It's been about 8 weeks now and God help me I feel good.<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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.)<br />
You can tell Dean knows how to do a decent pelvic thrust.<br />
<br />
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..)<br />
<br />
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).<br />
<br />
I haven't become one of them but I have joined their cult, I pledge to remain a silent member.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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..<br />
<br />
Sorry.<br />
<br />
Let us never speak of this again.<br />
<br />
Em x<br />
<br />
P.S.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Details here: <a href="http://www.moshtix.com.au/Event.aspx?id=49236&pLock=&vip=&skin=&ref=">Em's Toff gig.</a>Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-50169464991291588062011-08-27T13:56:00.001+10:002011-08-27T14:01:41.554+10:00The 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?" <br />
"Of course I can!" I exclaimed, so I grabbed my laptop and the following is EXACTLY what she said. Word for glorious word.. <br />
<br />
<i>Once upon a time there was a dog named Toby. <br />
He lived in a family and Odette wasn't strangling Toby. <br />
<br />
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.. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
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.<br />
</i><br />
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Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-14119378730231619212011-08-22T16:10:00.002+10:002011-09-06T15:16:19.438+10:00Up coming gigs!I'd very much like to see some of you at a couple gigs I have coming up.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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..<br />
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<a href="http://www.moshtix.com.au/Event.aspx?id=49236&pLock=&vip=&skin=&ref=%22">Em's Toff gig info</a><br />
<br />
<br />
The second gig is the big one. I'm doing my own show for a whole hour for "Butterfly at trades."<br />
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.<br />
show and ticket info here: <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bellaunion.com.au/program_guide/show_476">Em's Butterfly at Trades gig info</a><br />
<br />
Thanks very much you wonderful people.<br />
<br />
E x<br />
<br />Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-9889613973687299022011-08-21T21:57:00.002+10:002011-08-21T22:30:21.119+10:00Taylor 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.<br />
<br />
Tonight, briefly I lived both sides of the coin and I have to admit I don't mind my side so much now.<br />
<br />
Let me take you back a few steps.<br />
<br />
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Taylor Lautner:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yQq6CaD-MlY/TlDgFso45pI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Hr-xlAjqBzU/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yQq6CaD-MlY/TlDgFso45pI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Hr-xlAjqBzU/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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?!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then we took to the stage. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was all over very quickly and then I was escorted back up to the green room to gather my things. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My Twilight fantasies are well intact as he is ridiculously good looking, kind, open and taller than I expected. Well played Taylor, well played. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-39199427359906822312011-07-18T17:36:00.006+10:002011-07-18T18:17:22.083+10:00Ever 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..<br />
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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.<br />
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Intrigued? Oh you should be.. Be prepared to laugh like a little girl at my expense.<br />
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A while back I wrote this blog <a href="http://t.co/Q4nom7l"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: cyan;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">"You've all experienced this."</span></span></a> 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..<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px;">Match34 said...</span><br />
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<dd class="comment-body" id="Blog1_cmt-4078481566265270765" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 25px; margin-top: 0.5em;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"I believe his best friend @ high school just read your blog....he is literally shattered."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">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:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Matthew,</span></span></i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">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. </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I literally had to google you to find this email address. I truly feel like a stalker. </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Your comment near broke my heart and I felt an intense need to set the record straight. </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hope this finds you well.</span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Em Rusciano." </span></span></i></div><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I thought that was Ok. It hopefully explained things and made him feel better about our time together. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">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?) </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">"<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Em, </span></span></i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think someone else must have posted the comment... But thank you for following up!<br />
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Regards, </span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
Matthew Chapman"</span></span></i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">JESUS H CHRIST!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He had never read the blog.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Someone pretending to be him had posted the comment.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">HE HAD NEVER READ THE BLOG! I HAD EMAILED HIM FOR NO REASON.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I didn't know how to proceed so I did what I always do in times of crisis, phoned my bestie Michael. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">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:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"That's not at all embarrassing, not one bit..</span></span></i></span></div><br />
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</span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe don't read the blog in question, best for both of us!</span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Em." </span></span></i></div><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Well, of course he went and read it and sent the following in response:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"<i>E</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">m,</span></i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">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.</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How are your lovely parents? </span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Matt." </span></i></span></div><br />
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Well, it was done and he had handled it with such grace and aplomb I actually felt OK about my wanky email.<br />
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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.<br />
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E xEm Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-80662151717761157132011-06-23T15:27:00.002+10:002011-06-23T17:29:30.290+10:00The Great Australian Racist (Title stolen from Twitter)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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.</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"></span></span><br />
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</span> </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"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." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Twenty one year old year old Raquel.</span></div></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Raquel lives with her bikie boyfriend Levi (who has an immaculately platted ratstail) and their 12 staffordshire terriers in Sydney's Blacktown. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her acrylic nails have southern cross tips and she pronounces Australia: "Straya." </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two minutes into the introductory package Raquel admits she's racist and that:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Blacktown really has become black town." </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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." </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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'."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh yes, she's quite the peach.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8:30pm SBS.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div>Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-60917353715713554782011-06-20T16:14:00.002+10:002011-06-20T18:04:00.745+10:00BIG 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..<br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aAJZC4RFxvI/Tf7Utrd5djI/AAAAAAAAAHo/mh5nBcdjd-M/s1600/IMG_2155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aAJZC4RFxvI/Tf7Utrd5djI/AAAAAAAAAHo/mh5nBcdjd-M/s320/IMG_2155.JPG" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can clearly see everything about us screams effort.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">I was pretty much left alone. Alone, by myself. TO ACHIEVE. (Sorry that just burst out, obviously I'm still repressing a few things.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Remember the inspiration story of Kurt Fearnly? The Australian para olympian who <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">CRAWLED </span>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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>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.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here are some more examples of me being a try hard (smiles- positive reinforcement people)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XTe8NuQPbsk/Tf7e-LWPxWI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CGjflNCq1ZU/s1600/IMG_1422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XTe8NuQPbsk/Tf7e-LWPxWI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CGjflNCq1ZU/s320/IMG_1422.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what my lounge room looks like. ALL THE TIME.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BNPKyo3Fk6Y/Tf7fc9ALzKI/AAAAAAAAAHw/6A8XEZ6nnjo/s1600/IMG_2457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BNPKyo3Fk6Y/Tf7fc9ALzKI/AAAAAAAAAHw/6A8XEZ6nnjo/s320/IMG_2457.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hand made everything you see here for my cabaret show. HAND MADE IT bitches.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldrekedRqeQ/Tf7foX752vI/AAAAAAAAAH0/BGu5lKXbadY/s1600/IMG_1665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ldrekedRqeQ/Tf7foX752vI/AAAAAAAAAH0/BGu5lKXbadY/s320/IMG_1665.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas is a colour coded affair.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">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.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Em x</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Em Ruscianohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05564260408073845227noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2527718568086627830.post-58267823465379352372011-06-12T18:07:00.000+10:002011-06-12T18:07:53.253+10:00Calling all ethicists!Hello darlings.<br />
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I read an article today I want your genuine opinions on. I expect the comments section to be overflowing with intelligent and respectful arguments.<br />
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The article was entitled: "Bligh's backflip sees rapist go from zero to hero to zero."<br />
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We'll address the "reporters" choice of headline later.<br />
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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.<br />
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Upon learning of his crimes the Premier's department director wrote to him and said: "<i>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.</i>"<br />
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Well it seems he could not. This man went to the local press such was his distress at being snubbed by Anna Bligh.<br />
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After reading this article I was genuinely in two minds over what the "right" thing to do here was?<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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I will now turn the discussion over to you lot. I'll moderate so try to keep it nice.<br />
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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?<br />
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Go forth and debate.<br />
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Em.<br />
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