genocide

you know you got me burning up baby

One of my earliest memories of Madonna was of a 6 year old me running around the playground singing Like A Virgin at the top of my lungs with my best friend Peg. I was one of those painfully shy kids, so I can just imagine what my teachers would have thought about that one. I was infatuated with Madonna. I guess every little girl was. We’re talking ratty hair, mesh singlets and black rubber bracelets here. What’s not to love?

I have certainly gone through my love and not-love phases with Madonna. But looking back on her career now is amazing. For all the criticism she gets – the religion, the marriages, the sex, the children’s book and the constant reinvention – she still comes out on top. Have you seen her now? She is still right on the money. The thing about Madonna that is absolutely refreshing even today is that you get the impression that despite the girly eyelashes she would cut you if got too close. She has all the power, all the time. There aren’t many female artists that can truly say that. Take Kylie Minogue (since she blatantly does the rip off Madonna thing) – she’s got a shit load of money and runs her own empire but you still get the impression that she’s passive. Kylie is the object, there to be looked at like some princess. And there you have Madonna, there to be looked at like some princess but at the same time she directs your gaze. You look where you’re told. There’s nothing there that isn’t completely controlled. Love or hate the machine, it’s still schmicko.

I have recounted the story at dx of the first ever album I got (The Beatles Rock and Roll Music Vol2 – which was a horrifying present for someone who had asked for Cindy Lauper!). But the first ever album I bought for myself was Madonna’s The First Album. I remember the day well – It would have been my 7th birthday and I’d just got my ears pierced for the first time. With the money left over I wandered on into Brashes and purchased my first album. I was beside myself with excitement about playing it that I could hardly contain my pee. That christmas I had recieved the world’s best present: A baby pink Panasonic Radio Cassette player – with white buttons and dials and a white strap that went over your shoulder so you could carry your tunes with you wherever you went. That present was beyond cool – I loved that portable player so much. Can you imagine how beside myself I was at playing The First Album on the best cassette player?

I played The First Album so many times over the next couple of years that it actually broke; the tape snapping and with it tearing my heart strings too. I knew every single word and had concocted dodgy dance moves to every song. I knew this album better than I knew my family. So much so that when I finally purchased the CD only a few years ago I still knew every word to ever song EVEN non-hits like I Know It, Everybody, Think of Me, Physical Attraction – songs I hadn’t heard since the tape broke. There aren’t many albums I could say that about – I guess you never love like you love when you’re young.

Since I had the album Peg and I decided to make up a dance to Lucky Star and perform it at assembly. We practised every lunchtime and recess (and afterschool at eachother’s houses) for about a month before deciding we were ready for stardom. Of course the performance was a complete disaster but I had hot pink leggings on and a big white lace bow in my crimped hair and make up on (oo lala), so at least something looked good (err). Despite the disaster Peg and I went on to perform Holiday and Borderline as dances at the school assembly and wanted to do more but strangely the requests kept getting denied. Obviously we still thought we were shit hot though.

My all time favourite song from this album is Burning Up. After I saw the video clip on countdown (well, it was on chanel 2 anyway) all I did was writhe around on the floor like Mads singing my head off into the hairbrush. God love her – and christ help me: Moonwalking down the corridor and rolling around on the floor like some prosessed demon. And so that’s the song I leave you with – how could I not?

Burning Up – Madonna

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Me

Women talk, a lot. We talk about what’s on our minds. We talk about what’s ailin’ us and we discuss how we can solve our problems. When you talk, you come to understand things about eachother and you come to realisations. You may not always agree but there *is* always something you can take away with you. This is why they say the pen is mightier than the sword. Knowledge may not always bring swift change like cutting off a head would but it’s always the better option…the more enlightened option. Women should do it more often, this getting together without men thing – I’ve said it before; it’s important. Sometimes you hear women say “other women hate me. I get along with men better”. I can only think of one reason why women hate them and that is; said woman flirts with her friends’ boyfriends. Stictly a no-go. I feel sorry that these women who jeapordise their friendships with other women by only seeing girls as competition. Sure, all women go through a competetive stage with other women, but not 24/7 – unless you’re a freak. My view is that – genuine friendship problems aside – women should generally support eachother cause men, god love ‘em, won’t do that unless they really love or care about you – and most don’t. Also, men tend to complicate things highly. Not because they try to, but because they’re just there and when they’re there women go ga-ga and stop thinking.

So in a conversation at the bachelorette about how everyone is married now (argh) G said It’s hard, this “looking for a man” thing. If you are committed to it, then everything you think and do becomes about that. They’re everywhere! You can’t even walk down the street without wondering whether he’s out there somewhere and whether you look okay. You don’t even want to think about it, it just happens – it becomes ingrained in everything you think about , well, something clicked over in my head. I just thought, I don’t want to live my life that. So, you know what? I’m not. It gets you nowhere and you miss out on living because all you’re doing is waiting and hoping. G is right. Finding someone is like a full time job. You are always on high alert. Not because you want to be. Not becuase you need to be – but it just happens. It’s not even a wholey active process in your mind. It’s just always a part of who you are. I don’t want to be like that. I’m done with it. I feel like I’ve taken control again. Thank fuck – on with my life.

Anyway we started off with food, a belly dancing lesson (hence middle eastern theme: I can now belly dance folks – it’s very cool) and much wine and merriment. By the time we got to the club S was tanked and the daggy dancing came out. I love me some daggy dancing. M (of the E and M fractured friendship ordeal) is also a champion of it so we broke out all the moves (I’m talking about the running man here folks – hardcore dork city!) – including making up specific moves to the lyrics of crappy songs which we all knew the words to (which is always interesting in a retarded fashion). 4 hours later without a break and feet practically bleeding I looked around and realised we’d even set off multiple daggy dancers in other groups to strutt their dorky moves. I mean, when it’s 80s and 90s night at the club there is nowhere left to go. I haven’t done that in ages – been to a club and just danced for fun. It’s part of the reason why I find nightclubs so tedious now and tend to refuse to go more often than not – LOVE the dancing. HATE the boy games. Once you take the boy games out – it’s back to the business of being a dork, my speciality, and having fun. It was like remembering the old me. There were many laughs to be had.

So, I stand by my not ‘looking’ resolution. Sure men are there but that’s all they are. There. I’ll keep crushing on them and if an opportunity comes my way, I won’t say no, I’ll keep musing about issues I have with men or women and queries I have too – but I’m done being on guard. This morning I’m still picking heart shaped sequins bits off me, but it’s a good place to be. Me.

here’s to new friends

Fragmented Friday

- another note on the nice guy v prick entry from yesterday. I got this great email from matt who pointed out that if someone calls themselves a nice guy then it usually means they aren’t. Real nice guys don’t need to or want to define themselves so narrowly (or rather, they don’t need to affirm it every time they go out for a drink). I wholeheartedly agree. He pointed me in the direction of a great article that I hope you’ll read. It basically sums up my position on the Pick Up Artist who hides behind the cloak of “nice guy”. Here’s a great quote:

Let me put it this way–you’re not committed to women’s equality if you still think that women are obliged to reward you with a pussy avalanche for lowering yourself to treating them like human beings. And if you walk around with a chip on you shoulder, angry that women don’t immediately take off their pants because you kindly point out that you’re sure that their boyfriends are dickheads, because you know women like jerks, it’s going to show.

And let’s be frank, the niceness of “nice” guys is highly questionable if they feel they are entitled to be buried under a mountain of naked cheerleaders for having what many of us would consider the basic decency of having good politics. If guys with these expectations actually get a girlfriend and then do something nice like buy her a present, what otherworldly favors do they want in return before they get angry? The essence of the “nice” guy’s whine is, “I’m so awesome and the reason women don’t see it is every single woman in the world is a secret masochist.”

click

there are also some excellent thoughts which expand on this in the comment section. A worthy read! Thanks Matt

- Today I saw a (spew) …financial planner. If you say you work with money and you actually like balancing ..err stuff, then I pretty much know which side of the line you live on (the other side to me). I can’t think of anything more boring than “accounts” (except expense accounts) actually. But anyway, if that rocks your socks and wacky ties then so be it. But for me? Nah. Basically, I’m terrible with money – I can save if I put my mind to it, but I guess I don’t really live as responsibly as I probably should. I have a credit card – it gets a work out – I couldn’t even tell you what I spend money on. I’m not dumb – I know what can make and break ye in this world of capitalist pigs but I just hate trying to make sense of bank statements and working out what the fuck negative gearing means (*remembers old Late Show pun*). So yeah, I’m finally in the market for some bricks and mortar (not the kind from Bunnings Warehouse..the REAL kind that has it’s own address) and it’s a pretty scary place to be as a single chick on a teacher’s salary. I realise I may quite poor for the next 30 odd years and then knowing my luck will probably die the day after I pay the bloody house off. Not that there is a house yet…

- Also, today I woke up with ANOTHER headache. I almost cried but went into work anyway (cause I’m an idiot). I told (whispered actually) the kids that I had a headache and was feeling very, very sick because of it and that my one rule in the AR today was “quiet and listening”. All the kids were really nice about it actually. I guess they could tell that I was about to burst into tears. One of the students came up and said “don’t worry Miss F. I have a headache too”. When I called the roll they all said lovely things like “I’m here and you look lovely today!” or “I’m here and you ALWAYS look pretty”. Of course these are outright LIES but teachers need some loving too ya know! By contrast, I was walking to the staffroom looking like death, when I encountered Vice Prin banging on a tin can like it was a bongo drum (yeah, I know – if a girl did that she’d never get a job anywhere – a guy does it and he gets rewarded with a promotion!). I was rubbing my temples VP said “aww what’s wrong M?”. I’ve got a headache P “Oh I’ve got something that will cure that!” *bangs louder on the bongo tins*. I give him the teacher look and he laughs and walks away.

Sometimes kids are way better than adults.

- Artist – Turned Nun- Turned Away From Nundom Cousin (yes, she’s my age) is back in town for a little holiday. Despite the general feeling in my head of being stabbed with a thousand blunt needles I was so excited by our little get together. She’s been an ex-pat for a year and a half and planning on staying that way for a long, long time. Some people you don’t have to see everyday but you meet in a room and it’s like you were never apart. Okay, she’s family – we share the same fucked up genes- but you can’t do that with everyone, ya know?

- S has her bachelorette party tomorrow night. The theme? A small flavour of the Middle East. Yeah, I had a wtf moment about it too. E suggested we put the dot in the middle of our foreheads (not quite middle eastern but yeah. lol). I suggested a full burka (I feel like shit this week anyway – the burka would be so liberating for those “bloaty” days wouldn’t it?). L suggested we forget this middle eastern bullshit and just wear normal attire. The Middle East isn’t really conjuring up lovely thoughts these days so it should be great on the streets of Melb. I have gone for a pair of nifty earrings and coiny bracelet (yeah, scraping the bottom of the barrel) – but I think everyone is going down that road for this one. The other proviso for the night was “bring something for the bedroom” (my first thought was ear plugs and a feather duster). Honestly, how cliche can that request get? Yes, I’m sure “the bedroom” is 100% raunchy lovin’ every single night once you’re married! And yeah, let’s all bring out the dildos on the hens night, woo – we’re so liberated yeah. pft. Yeah, right. I hope I never have such a dumb idea for my hens (ie: when my sperm sample from the sperm bank finally pops the big question). E summed it up best while in the body shop looking for massage oils.

Me: hm, this one smells nice
L: yep, gorgeous – we should get it.
E: so..should we get something like a moisturiser for after the massage?
Me and L: *not saying anything*
E: you know…so you aren’t all oily..
Me: um, you don’t need anything after the massage. After the massage S will be doing SOMETHING ELSE that doesn’t involve moisturiers.
L: hahaha, exactly.
shopgirl: hahahaha
E: haha, oh no! What does S really going to think it’s going to be like? *does rodeo riding while swinging cowboy hat in the air motion* “woohoo!! Bring it on”? I’m sorry. I wear my winnie the pooh flannel pajamas and fluffy socks and reading glasses at bedtime(may I add that actually, E is HOT). Let’s be a bit practical.

So we settled for the three sides to the story. Life is complex after all.

1. Romantic: candles and massage oils.
2. Kinky: feather tickler, edible undies (I voted for the leather collar but ohhh no, no one went for MY idea!).
3. Practical: iddy-biddy-booklight.
bonus: candy covered g-string for the groom.

Which present turns you on most guys? Yes, exactly I know! THE IDDY BIDDY BOOKLIGHT! If you said anything else you are a goddamn liar!

prick this!

“We’ve all gone out with guys like you. Men like you think you were put on this earth to put us back in our place”*

I’ve been reading this blog out of ny for a while (about a year or so). It’s about this ‘nice guy’ who can’t get dates. He’s supposedly good looking and moderately successful and all the rest of the garbage that women are supposed to go for. He’s also supposedly a funny, lovely guy but he’s perplexed at not being able to get dates. He is recently divorced and really wants to get back out there. Why would such a guy as me be dateless? He wonders about himself in a round about way. He constantly talks about wanting to find the right girl. Wanting to be in love again. cue audience: awwwww.

His blog attracts a cult of PUAs (pick up artists- for the uninitiated) who have all sorts of advice for him – the good bad and ugly. There’s be confident, get a hobby, get a life, don’t be so nice, you’re too sweet, insult them (seriously!), bring up other women while you’re chatting them up, don’t tell them anything about yourself, don’t be honest, don’t, don’t, don’t be…you.

Some of the girls who vist his blog agree: yes, don’t be nice, be meaner, don’t be so avaliable! Some girls don’t: be yourself the right girl will come along. Some girls think he’s a dick: get a life first you idiot.

His basic mantra is that nice guys don’t get the girls and I should know because I’m a nice guy. He argues that women say they want nice guys when they really want pricks. Maybe he should be more of a prick and then he’d get the girl. Einstein stuff. yep. I wish I had a farthing for every time I heard a man blame being nice for not getting the girl.

Here’s the home truth. It’s not being nice that’s letting him down. It’s that he’s a sap. He would do anything for a lay and girls sense this and back off (obviously he doesn’t approach drunk chicks, cause drunk chicks would be so totally into it). Girls get as horny as guys, you know. It’s just that sometimes you realise that a guy is a complete dickhead because they couldn’t give a shit if it was you or your friend or anyone else and that, Houston is the problem. In my opinion, being nice will not get you a girl but neither will being a prick. It’s who you gel with.

Everyone seems to have a different definition of what makes a guy a prick and what constitutes nice. Is a prick inherantly sexier? Is he stronger? better in bed? Or is he an abuser? Will he always cheat on you? Will he treat you like shit? Is a nice guy always the perfect gentleman? Is he a loyal person? Is he commited to you? Or is he unable to make decisions? Is he boring? A nerd? Wear socks and sandles?

There are too many factors to ever get it straight.

I supose how you define a nice guy or a prick will affect whether you label yourself as finding one more attractive than the other. I guess there are people that would say that “nice guy” is the same as a “pushover”. I totally dissagree. I can’t respect a pushover (they need to be able to lovingly call me on my shit) but I am definitely someone who is attracted to the nice guy instead of a prick.

So I tried to think of a bottom line that would define a nice guy and a prick.

I came up with this: a prick doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how he treats you. He doesn’t care about his family. He thinks of himself first in all situations including situations involving people you love and care about. If he doesn’t care then it allows him to treat you badly.

A nice guy will always care…err, even if he’s being a total prick

All behaviours stem from that.

So when (certain ny blogger) argues that girls want pricks. I really wonder if that’s true. I’ve heard it many a time being said in casual conversation over a drink. I actually had an argument about it with E one time. We went to see Bridget Jones’ Diary when it came out at the movies. We laughed. We cried. We gushed. Okay, we didn’t cry or gush, but you get the picture. Afterwards at the coffee shop we discussed the movie. We both loved both male lead characters in the movie but we were talking about who we’d actually like to end up with. E preferred the Daniel Cleaver character (quintessential prick) and I adored the Mark Darcy character (quintessential nice guy). After she mentioned liking the DC character I challenged her immediately.

Me: But he’d treat you like shit! He wouldn’t even LOVE you! He can’t love! There is no way you would stand for that
E: He’s sexier. He’s hot.
Me: They’re both sexy
E: No, Hugh Grant is sexier!
Me: Are you being serious? You would seriously want DC as your boyfriend?
E: Yep.

You know who E married? L. L is almost a carbon copy of the Mark Darcy character, even down to the job. He’s what I would consider a nice guy. Strong, funny, personable, knows what he wants and how to get it, responsible, cares. He’s no pushover. Oh no.

I guess E is the perfect example of the girl saying one thing and doing another in the nice guy/prick choosing dichotomy. I sway less in that regard. I will call people on their prick like behaviour straight up – and while there is a myth of the prick having bigger balls, let me tell you, it’s a lie – they run. heh. Here’s another bottom line: the prick is okay on paper. He’s okay if you don’t ever want a strong committment (ie: kids, marriage, love). He’s good in an open, casual relationship. Are there girls who want this? Yeah, heaps! He probably gets the girl quicker than the nice guy in that sense, because he’s so immediate. He’s just out there. But the nice guy is what I said to E when she said she loved L:

He’s a keeper.

*Kate Langbroek talking to resident “prick” Chris from Big Brother on this morning’s nova breakfast show.

ring ring

I get a call today:

Parent: Hello it’s JS (mother of child I taught last year).
Me: Hi there! So nice to hear from you again!
Parent: Thank you! Sorry to take up your lunch break but I had a little problem.Me: That’s okay. What can I do for you?
Parent: Well, E isn’t at school today and she’s really upset that she’s going to miss art.
Me: *laughing*.
Parent: *laughing* I know! Anyway, E’s really beside herself and wants me to bring her in especially for art today – but she’s way too sick. She loves it so much. She really doesn’t want to miss out.
Me: I have to let you know J that this has made my day.
Parent: Haha, I’m glad to hear it. I hear that you’ve making some garden stakes out of clay today and I wanted to know whether she can have a bit of clay to make it when she comes back to school.
Me: Well, sure. But if she’s well on Friday she can come in and do the lesson with another grade.
Parent: oh, that’s a great idea thank you! That will make her so happy. She loves you and misses you!
Me: Well, I miss her too of course!
Parent: …thank goodness that worked out. When I told her I’d ring you to see what we could work out she told me “don’t tell Miss F that I’ve been crying all day about it!”.
Me: hahaha, oh kids are adorable!
Parent: Wait till you have your own.
Me: hahaha.

Yesterday we held autidions for the parts for the movie project. There was the usual riff raff of children too embarrassed to get it done properly, and surprisingly some real talent there too. I was so proud of the group for organising the auditions so well. They did it all, including the distribution of script and pep talks to the budding actors. We all sat in the art room with serious hollywood producer type looks on our faces while the readings were going on. The one problem was the lack of talent for the main character. We were only auditioning children in the upper grades but I thought of one child I knew of in a lower class who takes acting lessons outside of school. He was a transfer student a couple of years ago from a Steiner School – so obviously geared towards creativity. Anyway, this kid gets up and I swear to god it was like watching Laurence Olivier in action – there were arm movements and expression, he wasn’t even looking down at the script the whole time. Tony awards here we come! He did a cold reading and was awesome. The problem is, there’s a bit of prejudice towards him being younger and so the group is unsure. There are so many things at school that we do that is all about giving the underdog a go, but for once I just want to say – let’s give the gold star to the best kid eh?!

I await with baited breath for the call-backs tomorrow and the readings we do to test compatibility between actors.

:(

:(

a dream

I had this amazing dream about the angel of death.
I was crying and he came up behind me, wiped the tears away and put his arms around me.
Then he seduced me.
He was a punk rocker with dark greasy hair and blue eyes.
It was an amazing dream.

You can find my musical monday at cbg today.

And She Was

Quite frankly.
I always thought I was the girl in the song ‘And She Was’ by Talking Heads (one of my favourites). David Byrne is masterful – even though he can’t quite seem to get the fashion right. I’ve been thinking about this song a lot lately.

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