Up coming gigs!

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

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

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

Em's Toff gig info


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

Em's Butterfly at Trades gig info

Thanks very much you wonderful people.

E x

Taylor Lautner and the screaming girls.

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

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

Let me take you back a few steps.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Taylor Lautner:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then we took to the stage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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


Match34 said...

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

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

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

"Matthew,

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

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

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

I hope this finds you well.

Em Rusciano." 

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

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

"Em, 

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

Regards,
Matthew Chapman"

JESUS H CHRIST!

He had never read the blog.

Someone pretending to be him had posted the comment.

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

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

I didn't know how to proceed so I did what I always do in times of crisis, phoned my bestie Michael. 

You see, Michael is well aware of the whole "Chris Cornell/Matt Chapman" phenominum as he attended the same high school I did. After laughing so hard he dropped his phone, he advised a "cap in hand" follow up email be sent. So I emailed this:

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

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

Em." 

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

"Em,

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

How are your lovely parents? 

Matt." 

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


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


E x

The Great Australian Racist (Title stolen from Twitter)

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

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

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

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

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

Her acrylic nails have southern cross tips and she pronounces Australia: "Straya." 

Two minutes into the introductory package Raquel admits she's racist and that:

"Blacktown really has become black town." 

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

Raquel is a television producer's wet dream- she's a walking sound bite. I was quoting her after a couple of minutes. My friends and I are already planning our Raquel halloween costumes. 

I dare say there will be a Raquel drag show coming to a gay bar near you. She's THAT GOOD and by good I mean fearless. It's as though Chris Lilley dreamed her up or if Kath and Kim had a politically incorrect cousin. 

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

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

Oh yes, she's quite the peach.

Raquel is an easy target for those of us who, well, aren't racist. She challenged me very early on and I went to write several scathing tweets but managed to catch myself and relax. 

Her frank admissions to growing up in a racist family and hating Africans were confronting and not something we would normally see or hear in an open forum. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

8:30pm SBS.

BIG FAT TRY HARD.

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

As you can clearly see everything about us screams effort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is what my lounge room looks like. ALL THE TIME.

I hand made everything you see here for my cabaret show. HAND MADE IT bitches.

Christmas is a colour coded affair.

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

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

Em x

Calling all ethicists!

Hello darlings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go forth and debate.

Em.

In Neeeeeeeew Yoooooork.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So here I am.

In New York.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are some happy snaps!

It's a FROZEN YOGHURT VAN!! 

B.Dylan street art.

A friend of mine.

Preparing for McQueen.

Self explanatory.

Hipstermatic School bus.

McQueen paperweight.

I purchased everything related to the exhibition.

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

The front cover of the McQueen exhibition book.

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

Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge.

Hipstermatic Brooklyn.

Times Sqaure.

Walking the High Line.

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

E x