P has had a bit of mean girl action at kindy this year so she's been a bit sad. We've been trying our best to cheer her up, and she does seem to be feeling better now.
Anyway, something that never fails to brighten her day is playing her that timeless classic, that essential component of the musical canon, that moving piece of the soundtrack to our lives - "My old man's a dustman", by wordsmith and humourist Lonnie Donegan.
If you are unfamiliar with this tune, I present it here for your enjoyment;
If you can't be shagged pressing Play, I can let you know that the chorus of the song goes something like this;
"Ohhhhhh......my old man's a dustman;
He wears a dustman's hat
He wears cor blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat!"
And so forth.
Don't ask me why we have this in our iTunes collection, it's just yet another of the mysterious bonuses that comes from being married to my husband. His tastes are...eclectic.
P enjoys it greatly and knows many of the words off by heart.
Unfortunately she also knows some of the RATHER POLITICALLY INCORRECT jokes that run through it off by heart too.
I am having palpitations that she is going to get up for kindy show and tell one day and come out with something like;
"I SAY, I SAY, I SAY! How do you make a fruit cordial?"
"I dunno, how DO you make a fruit cordial?"
"Oooh, be NICE to me!"
BOOM TISH!
or
"I believe in clubs for women, but only when kindness fails!" OOH ERR!
Cold sweats, I tell you.
On the positive side, listening to this song precipitated an opportunity to discuss some of the ins and outs of SOCIAL DEMOCRACY with my 4 year old daughter, when she asked me, "Mummy, what is a council flat?"
I bored on about SOCIAL HOUSING and GOVERNMENT SAFETY NETS and POOR PEOPLE and HELPING OUR FELLOW MAN until her eyes glazed over and she interrupted me to demand "Mummy...I want a BIKKIE!!" which was fair enough really.
Is your old man a dustman? Does he live in a council flat? Do you believe in clubs for women, as well as clubs for men?
I'm all ears, me old chinas.
Hooroo.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Monday, February 24, 2014
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Lounge. ProBlogger. Triple J.
Hi everyone! Welcome to The Lounge. I've been AWOL a bit. But here I am again keeping it real, as usual.
I have written this post at the last minute and have not proofread it. Am too KNACKERED! Apologies for any typos.
So, there was this conference on the weekend. Something to do with blogging. Apparently it's very big these days and some people even make money from it.
Haha I am so funny. Anyway the ProBlogger conference was held at QT on the GC, which is a hip happening hotel at Surfers. As I am a blogger, and I make a cool $50 a month blogging (see that little video down there? It's the MONEY TRAIN PEOPLE!), and I live on the GC, then you might be forgiven for thinking I would be participating in said Problogging COnference.
I hate to disappoint you, but I didn't go. Because MONEY! My $50 a month didn't quite cover the hundreds of dollars for the conference tickets. I have sworn not to miss it next year though.
In a sort of stalkery move, fellow lounge lizard Rachel and I took the opportunity to meet up with our out-of-town Lounge compatriot, Tegan! She was clever enough to organise herself tickets to ProBlogger, so we went to the Stingray Bar at the QT to share a few drinks with her. While lurking around opportunistically we also ran into Rachel from Redcliffe Style, Lisa from Mrs BCs House of Chaos, Carly Findlay, Twitter friend Jatosha and others were floating around. Cool man.
I've never actually indulged in a night out "on the town" Surfers Paradise style, but gosh, Stingray is a cool joint. I was driving so I behaved sensibly, and made a getaway fairly early on when I realised the whippersnapper to mutton dressed as lamb (aka me) ratio was getting out of balance and NOT in my favour. If anyone is wondering if their dress is too tight, or short, or low cut, for a night out on the GC, fear not. You will have found your people.
On the way home, as I do when I am in the car, I cranked the radio. Feeling old as I was, it made me think of recent developments in my increasingly complex relationship with Youth Radio Network Station type thing Triple J.
I love listening to the radio. I have already waxed lyrical about my love for Classic FM, but my first radio love will always be Triple J. I LOVED listening to the Js as a high school student. When I discovered it, my whole world changed. THE MUSIC! THE COOL! It was quite the revelation. I still listen to it, and actually these days there are HEAPS of bands and DANCE OUTFITS and whatnot that I like. A number of years have gone by where I couldn't have told you a single song that appeared in the Hottest 100, but I am back in touch with the KIDS these days. I mean, I think I am.
As much as it pains me to admit this, however, I am veeery slowly realising that I am edging ever further outside the target demographic. Signs I may no longer be part of the "Youth" are presented to you here. You be the judge.
Anyway, I've said too much. Talk about raving. Yourr turn. Maybe you've got something actually USEFUL to share! ENLIGHTEN US PROBLOGGER TYPES!
I have written this post at the last minute and have not proofread it. Am too KNACKERED! Apologies for any typos.
So, there was this conference on the weekend. Something to do with blogging. Apparently it's very big these days and some people even make money from it.
Haha I am so funny. Anyway the ProBlogger conference was held at QT on the GC, which is a hip happening hotel at Surfers. As I am a blogger, and I make a cool $50 a month blogging (see that little video down there? It's the MONEY TRAIN PEOPLE!), and I live on the GC, then you might be forgiven for thinking I would be participating in said Problogging COnference.
I hate to disappoint you, but I didn't go. Because MONEY! My $50 a month didn't quite cover the hundreds of dollars for the conference tickets. I have sworn not to miss it next year though.
In a sort of stalkery move, fellow lounge lizard Rachel and I took the opportunity to meet up with our out-of-town Lounge compatriot, Tegan! She was clever enough to organise herself tickets to ProBlogger, so we went to the Stingray Bar at the QT to share a few drinks with her. While lurking around opportunistically we also ran into Rachel from Redcliffe Style, Lisa from Mrs BCs House of Chaos, Carly Findlay, Twitter friend Jatosha and others were floating around. Cool man.
I've never actually indulged in a night out "on the town" Surfers Paradise style, but gosh, Stingray is a cool joint. I was driving so I behaved sensibly, and made a getaway fairly early on when I realised the whippersnapper to mutton dressed as lamb (aka me) ratio was getting out of balance and NOT in my favour. If anyone is wondering if their dress is too tight, or short, or low cut, for a night out on the GC, fear not. You will have found your people.
On the way home, as I do when I am in the car, I cranked the radio. Feeling old as I was, it made me think of recent developments in my increasingly complex relationship with Youth Radio Network Station type thing Triple J.
I love listening to the radio. I have already waxed lyrical about my love for Classic FM, but my first radio love will always be Triple J. I LOVED listening to the Js as a high school student. When I discovered it, my whole world changed. THE MUSIC! THE COOL! It was quite the revelation. I still listen to it, and actually these days there are HEAPS of bands and DANCE OUTFITS and whatnot that I like. A number of years have gone by where I couldn't have told you a single song that appeared in the Hottest 100, but I am back in touch with the KIDS these days. I mean, I think I am.
As much as it pains me to admit this, however, I am veeery slowly realising that I am edging ever further outside the target demographic. Signs I may no longer be part of the "Youth" are presented to you here. You be the judge.
- Recently, wunderkind breakfast presenters Tom and Alex had this quiz where people had to ring in and they played songs from Hottest 100s of yore. And they had to guess them, right. Anyway, they played a song from the 1998 Hottest 100. Now, 1998 was my freaking hey day, people. I was all over the Hottest 100 like a rash back then. Anyway, neither of the gormless twits participating in the quiz knew the song they were playing. I was screaming at the radio "Regurgitator! OMG! Regurgitator you fools! WHO DOESN'T KNOW THIS??". One of the participants said grumpily, "Aw, fair go guys, I mean, I was only 4 years old". Cue my brain exploding. I mean, shit. I almost spat my coffee out. OMG that means he was born in 1994 which means there are ADULTS out there who were born in 1994! HOW OLD AM I EVEN ANYWAY EVEN?
- I've developed quite the fondness for Macklemore. I like to shimmy along in the drivers seat of the car whilst rapping out some sweet rhymes like a veritable mofo. I was doing just that when I realised the inconguity of a white, Australian, thirty-something mother of two rapping along to the "Can't Hold Us" lyrics "And that's what you get when wu-tang raised you!". I mean, they didn't, you know, raise me. Really if I'm going to sing along I should probably change the words to "And that's what you get when Steeleye Span raised you!" which arguably doesn't have the same street-wise ghetto ring to it. Although some may say the words to "All around my hat" are hella radical and subverting the dominant paradigm like there's no tomorrow. I mean, it would be tricky argument to make, but some may. If they wanted to.
 |
| Google them, people. You won't be sorry. |
- The other day, I found myself increasingly enraged by subsitute breakfast presenters Veronica and Lewis, who thought it would be terribly AMUSING to ask Veronica's Great Auntie Joan or someone to review the feature album. The album happened to be London Grammar, which I am totally OBSESSED WITH. I love them sick. And I guess the point of the segment was to get an OLDSTER to listen to some MUSIC THAT THE KIDS LOVE and then report back on how SHOCKED they are about the youth of today, and the SWEARS, and the LOUDNESS etc. Things didn't go according to plan for Veronica and Lewis, because Great Aunt Joan or whoever she was totally loved the album and said she would recommend it to anyone, particularly people of an elderly persuasion. Poor old tween hipsters Veronica and Lewis were a bit thrown by that. It seemed to put a spanner in their works. I was infuriated, and embarked on a rant filled with righteous anger at nobody in particular, that may have gone along the lines of "OMG did you hear that! Bloody kids these days think they INVENTED music and sex and drugs and rock and roll and that. Gen Y hipster upstarts, who says old people won't like London Grammar, or Daft Punk or the Amity Affliction. Seniors are people too! In my day we respected our elders and had good manners and moshing was mandatory and at concerts you were covered in other people's drinks and sweat and were grateful for it and you can't tell me what to like and oooooh me gout's playing up......".
Anyway, I've said too much. Talk about raving. Yourr turn. Maybe you've got something actually USEFUL to share! ENLIGHTEN US PROBLOGGER TYPES!
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Lazy mother tips. Music.
I'm a pretty lazy person, when all is said and done. Motherhood has challenged my natural lazy instincts like you wouldn't believe. No more lying on the couch for a whole weekend reading. Unfair.
Anyway lazy mothers still have to try and come up with shit to entertain their kids with so I thought I would prepare a series of Lazy Mothering Tips.
Here's the first one.
When the kids are doing your head in, crank up some tunes and dance maniacally at them until they stop whinging. It really freaks them out. I just go for it and pretend it is the year 2000 and I am cutting moves in Super Delux in the Valley. ANyone remember that place? If you ever read this post I wrote a little while ago you will remember that I had years of training in this particular technique. I used to use it as a way to torment my younger brother.
Hahaha.
As well as being lazy I am also prone to obsessions. Particularly with songs. I play them over and over and over until I never want to hear them again. Many of my former housemates can attest to this irritating habit.
Currently these are the songs I am obsessed with. Feel free to copy my playlist and let me know if my technique of bamboozle and distract works for you too.
P's favourite is the last one. Fo' sho'.
Anyway lazy mothers still have to try and come up with shit to entertain their kids with so I thought I would prepare a series of Lazy Mothering Tips.
Here's the first one.
When the kids are doing your head in, crank up some tunes and dance maniacally at them until they stop whinging. It really freaks them out. I just go for it and pretend it is the year 2000 and I am cutting moves in Super Delux in the Valley. ANyone remember that place? If you ever read this post I wrote a little while ago you will remember that I had years of training in this particular technique. I used to use it as a way to torment my younger brother.
Hahaha.
As well as being lazy I am also prone to obsessions. Particularly with songs. I play them over and over and over until I never want to hear them again. Many of my former housemates can attest to this irritating habit.
Currently these are the songs I am obsessed with. Feel free to copy my playlist and let me know if my technique of bamboozle and distract works for you too.
P's favourite is the last one. Fo' sho'.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The public v private debate, or "Daft Punk is for weirdos"
Recently, my semi-retired mother returned to work as a part-time high school teacher. For the first time in her life, she is working at a fancy pants private school. After a lifetime of channeling Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds (aka working at huge state high schools in low socio-economic areas), and championing the public education cause, she is wide-eyed in amazement at how the other side learns, and is loving every second of it. Loving it SICK. The traitorous wench.
She admitted to me the other day, "Oh darling, it was SUCH A RELIEF! I mean, I was really worried that somewhere like [insert name of my old high school here] would ask me to work there. Oh it would have been simply AWFUL. I am SO RELIEVED they didn't ask me to work at [insert name of my old high school here]."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah. Yeah HOW AWFUL. I mean WHO WOULD SEND THEIR KID TO A SCHOOL LIKE THAT!? I mean IMAGINE! THE HORROR! IT'S PRACTICALLY CHILD ABUSE! Oh, hang on, hang on. WAIT A MINUTE! THAT'S RIGHT! YOU SENT ME THERE! YOU! CALLOUS UNLOVING PARENT! Pshaw! Pftt! UGH!"
It was a little unfair of me really, she has had a difficult* year and couldn't have coped with the stress of it all. She bloody deserves to spend some time teaching in a school where she's not working in a 20 year old demountable with the walls kicked in, and where the kids don't tell her to "Oy! Get FUCKED, Miss!"
"At [insert name of fancy pants private school here], the kids are ALLOWED TO GO TO THE TOILET DURING CLASS!" she told me in awe. "We used to have to fill out FORMS and PAPERWORK before a kid could do that at a state school! And they have a COFFEE SHOP! And a THEATRE! All the classrooms are AIR CONDITIONED!"
"Bastards," I said bitterly.
Ah, the public/private divide. That old chestnut. That old sausage. That old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be.
Most of my friends from primary school went to private high schools. It was only a couple of us that went on to the local public high school. I remember clearly, on the last day of Grade 7, we all cried and wailed in an embarrasing display of pre-teen hysteria. As we sat in the middle of the oval, clutching each other and weeping, one of the private school destined friends said earnestly to me, "Sarah! Promise me you'll never EVER wear a short straight skirt with your uniform, or wear your hair hanging down your back. PROMISE ME!"
"I won't. I won't EVER!" I vowed, so sure then that short skirts and loose hair were the quick road to ruin.
HAHA! AS IF THAT LASTED! You know as soon as I got there I was begging Mum to take my skirt up to bum-skimming heights and was wearing my hair hanging loose round my shoulders like the public school hussy that I was.
So the years went by. We stayed in touch with our beloved friends but things changed a bit. They went on to win the Rock Eisteddfod, we went on to lose it. They went on to have an arse-kickingly good concert band that probably won the Fanfare competition, we went on to play gigs at the local shopping centre that involved standing up and shouting "Tequila!" in the middle of a song. They developed passionate interests in theatre and THE ARTS, we developed unhealthy obsessions with the dudes from Green Day.
Towards the end of high school, I think it was Grade 11, two of the private school friends had a big party, and they invited us, the public school friends, to come. It was to farewell them as they headed off on year long student exchanges. We were to wear red and white, the colours of their host countries.
Because we were NERVOUS and TRYING TO BE COOL and it was THE NINETIES we decided the best idea would be to wear white petticoats, red and white football socks and Doc Martens. SO HOT! HOW COULD ALL THOSE PRIVATE SCHOOL BOYS REFUSE? They would never know that we were all DAGGY DORKS, they would be tricked into thinking we were HOT STATE SCHOOL REBELS MAN! YEAH!
We got there and to our shock a group of the COOL BOYS from our school were already there. Apparently they had part time jobs in the same place as our hosts. Our cover was blown. They looked at us in surprise, like they hadn't realised that we might exist outside school hours. We lurked in a corner watching everyone dancing to the actual live DJ who was there. He was, like, just dropping some BEATS and spinning some PROGRESSIVE HOUSE MUSIC or something.
We didn't recognise anything they played, until a Daft Punk song came on. Daft Punk was not our THING, man. We groaned, and rolled our eyes. "Ugh! I HATE Daft Punk!" we all said, wrinkling our noses.
All the other guests squealed, and ran excitedly onto the dancefloor. "I LOVE THIS!!!" they cried in unison. We watched on, incredulous, as they popped some moves. How could we be so OUT OF IT!? We shuffled uncomfortably and folded our arms, until it finished, and the next song came on.
It was that sexually suggestive R&B song "Pony" by one hit wonders "Ginuwine". Remember??? GHASTLY.
We squealed and clapped our hands together. "OH WE LOVE THIS SONG!" we shouted, running onto the dancefloor to join the other guests. They all stopped in their tracks, announcing "UGHHHH. HATE THIS SONG! HATE IT!". They left the dancefloor as quickly as we joined it.
We danced a little more self consciously then. I started to realise how crass the lyrics were, and tried to dance IRONICALLY to it, but the jig was basically up. I felt the eyes of the room on us.
Ride it, my pony
My saddle's waiting
Come and jump on it...
After the song finished, we slunk away. Our beloved friend, one of the hosts, L, said to us "OH! I just KNEW you girls would like that song! SO FUNNY!" she smiled and laughed, genuinely (or should that be "ginuinely") delighted. We laughed nervously and changed the subject but I still felt embarrassed.
Anyway I'm not sure exactly what the point of this story is except that it sticks in my head as a defining example of the difference between private schools and public schools. Like;
Fancy theatre/no fancy theatre
Air conditioned classrooms/75 million year old decrepit demountables with holey walls
Long skirts/Short skirts
Rock eisteddfod winners/rock eisteddfod losers
SEXUALLY SUGGESTIVE R&B ONE HIT WONDER/PROGRESSIVE FRENCH ELECTRONIC MUSIC OUTFIT DUO
SEE how crazy big the public/private divide has become??? SEE??? It's a bloody travesty.
I think that there is something in that for all of us.
What's that you say? This whole post is rambling and makes no sense and the parallels I am drawing are confusing and you're not sure what I am getting at?
SHUT UUUUPPPP! IT MAKES SENSE TO ME OK? GAH!
*Understatement of the millennium
She admitted to me the other day, "Oh darling, it was SUCH A RELIEF! I mean, I was really worried that somewhere like [insert name of my old high school here] would ask me to work there. Oh it would have been simply AWFUL. I am SO RELIEVED they didn't ask me to work at [insert name of my old high school here]."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah. Yeah HOW AWFUL. I mean WHO WOULD SEND THEIR KID TO A SCHOOL LIKE THAT!? I mean IMAGINE! THE HORROR! IT'S PRACTICALLY CHILD ABUSE! Oh, hang on, hang on. WAIT A MINUTE! THAT'S RIGHT! YOU SENT ME THERE! YOU! CALLOUS UNLOVING PARENT! Pshaw! Pftt! UGH!"
It was a little unfair of me really, she has had a difficult* year and couldn't have coped with the stress of it all. She bloody deserves to spend some time teaching in a school where she's not working in a 20 year old demountable with the walls kicked in, and where the kids don't tell her to "Oy! Get FUCKED, Miss!"
"At [insert name of fancy pants private school here], the kids are ALLOWED TO GO TO THE TOILET DURING CLASS!" she told me in awe. "We used to have to fill out FORMS and PAPERWORK before a kid could do that at a state school! And they have a COFFEE SHOP! And a THEATRE! All the classrooms are AIR CONDITIONED!"
"Bastards," I said bitterly.
Ah, the public/private divide. That old chestnut. That old sausage. That old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be.
Most of my friends from primary school went to private high schools. It was only a couple of us that went on to the local public high school. I remember clearly, on the last day of Grade 7, we all cried and wailed in an embarrasing display of pre-teen hysteria. As we sat in the middle of the oval, clutching each other and weeping, one of the private school destined friends said earnestly to me, "Sarah! Promise me you'll never EVER wear a short straight skirt with your uniform, or wear your hair hanging down your back. PROMISE ME!"
"I won't. I won't EVER!" I vowed, so sure then that short skirts and loose hair were the quick road to ruin.
HAHA! AS IF THAT LASTED! You know as soon as I got there I was begging Mum to take my skirt up to bum-skimming heights and was wearing my hair hanging loose round my shoulders like the public school hussy that I was.
So the years went by. We stayed in touch with our beloved friends but things changed a bit. They went on to win the Rock Eisteddfod, we went on to lose it. They went on to have an arse-kickingly good concert band that probably won the Fanfare competition, we went on to play gigs at the local shopping centre that involved standing up and shouting "Tequila!" in the middle of a song. They developed passionate interests in theatre and THE ARTS, we developed unhealthy obsessions with the dudes from Green Day.
Towards the end of high school, I think it was Grade 11, two of the private school friends had a big party, and they invited us, the public school friends, to come. It was to farewell them as they headed off on year long student exchanges. We were to wear red and white, the colours of their host countries.
Because we were NERVOUS and TRYING TO BE COOL and it was THE NINETIES we decided the best idea would be to wear white petticoats, red and white football socks and Doc Martens. SO HOT! HOW COULD ALL THOSE PRIVATE SCHOOL BOYS REFUSE? They would never know that we were all DAGGY DORKS, they would be tricked into thinking we were HOT STATE SCHOOL REBELS MAN! YEAH!
 |
| This is us circa 1996/7. Not at said red and white party. At another party. I am on the far left. I've used this picture before. How good are my pants? They totes fit into the Fashion Fails themeing we've got going on for The Lounge this week, I will say that much. |
We got there and to our shock a group of the COOL BOYS from our school were already there. Apparently they had part time jobs in the same place as our hosts. Our cover was blown. They looked at us in surprise, like they hadn't realised that we might exist outside school hours. We lurked in a corner watching everyone dancing to the actual live DJ who was there. He was, like, just dropping some BEATS and spinning some PROGRESSIVE HOUSE MUSIC or something.
We didn't recognise anything they played, until a Daft Punk song came on. Daft Punk was not our THING, man. We groaned, and rolled our eyes. "Ugh! I HATE Daft Punk!" we all said, wrinkling our noses.
All the other guests squealed, and ran excitedly onto the dancefloor. "I LOVE THIS!!!" they cried in unison. We watched on, incredulous, as they popped some moves. How could we be so OUT OF IT!? We shuffled uncomfortably and folded our arms, until it finished, and the next song came on.
It was that sexually suggestive R&B song "Pony" by one hit wonders "Ginuwine". Remember??? GHASTLY.
We squealed and clapped our hands together. "OH WE LOVE THIS SONG!" we shouted, running onto the dancefloor to join the other guests. They all stopped in their tracks, announcing "UGHHHH. HATE THIS SONG! HATE IT!". They left the dancefloor as quickly as we joined it.
We danced a little more self consciously then. I started to realise how crass the lyrics were, and tried to dance IRONICALLY to it, but the jig was basically up. I felt the eyes of the room on us.
Ride it, my pony
My saddle's waiting
Come and jump on it...
After the song finished, we slunk away. Our beloved friend, one of the hosts, L, said to us "OH! I just KNEW you girls would like that song! SO FUNNY!" she smiled and laughed, genuinely (or should that be "ginuinely") delighted. We laughed nervously and changed the subject but I still felt embarrassed.
Anyway I'm not sure exactly what the point of this story is except that it sticks in my head as a defining example of the difference between private schools and public schools. Like;
Fancy theatre/no fancy theatre
Air conditioned classrooms/75 million year old decrepit demountables with holey walls
Long skirts/Short skirts
Rock eisteddfod winners/rock eisteddfod losers
SEXUALLY SUGGESTIVE R&B ONE HIT WONDER/PROGRESSIVE FRENCH ELECTRONIC MUSIC OUTFIT DUO
VS
SEE how crazy big the public/private divide has become??? SEE??? It's a bloody travesty.
I think that there is something in that for all of us.
What's that you say? This whole post is rambling and makes no sense and the parallels I am drawing are confusing and you're not sure what I am getting at?
SHUT UUUUPPPP! IT MAKES SENSE TO ME OK? GAH!
*Understatement of the millennium
Friday, January 18, 2013
30 Odd Foot Of Les Mis. Or should I say LES MIS!
Hello my fellow sweaty broads. And gentlemen of course.
The stinky weather returneth. Hope you Southerners are ok in the heat. Although I argue that a humid 32 in Queensland is PRETTY hideous. OK maybe not 48 but still bad and worthy of whinging!
I've been looking through some of me posts from the olden days ie. 3 months ago, and it has come to my attention that my use of CAPITALISATION has become more and more OUT OF CONTROL as the months have worn on. Therefore I am staging a capitalisation INTERVENTION on myself and have committed to no more than, um, 10 WORDS IN CAPITALS!
SHIT! I just WASTED SOME! AND SOME MORE! It's worse than I first thought. I might have to go cold turkey. Something to think about for next time. Or do I mean, NEXT TIME!
Gah it's a hard habit to break.
Also, I forgot about Flog Your Blog Friday today. Sorry everyone :-(
Anyway, the point of this post is actually about how I went to see Les Mis the other night. As loyal readers and peeps who know and lurve me in real life know, I love the shizz out of this musical. I saw the stage show in Brissy when I was probs about 10 and cried my little eyes out. I saw it again in an amateur performance back on the coast. Old school friend LV I reckon it was the one where your sister was Eponine. I could be wrong though. We owned the CD and I recently bought it again on ITunes. See? I love it.
I've been dying to see the movie.
I went to see it with my beloved cousin B and our beloved friend J (you may remember J from such outings as Going to the Hyperdome to See Skyfall). B and J are both singing former drama student actory arts types. B was even in the orchestra for her local amateur production of Les Mis back in the day! And J sang in a youth choir and they did all the songs! So they have a history of musical appreciation.
So as you can all imagine, I was pretty horrified when I originally asked B if she was going to see the movie version and she answered, quietly, with shame, "Sarah, I actually don't think I like musicals any more...".
I was quite dumbstruck. What. The. Hell. When I recovered I said to her, quite rationally and not OTT at all...
"I. Do. Not. Even. Know. Who. You. ARE. ANY. MORE!! Get out of my HOUSE!"
And then flung myself sobbing onto my bed.
I lost no time in telling J who then told B, and I believe her words were, "WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP YOUNG LADY!".
I mean, really. Luckily she came to her senses and it was, in the end, her deft organisational skills that got us all out of our houses and rendez vous-ing, once again, at the Logan Hyperdome.
So we watched the movie.
Guys.
I didn't even say this to them at the time properly but I think I have committed the cardinal sin of Expecting Too Much From A Movie And Then Being Disappointed.
I know, I'm a bit sad too.
Look I still loved it because it is Les Mis! But frankly I think bloody Russell bloody Crowe bloody shitting ruined it for me.
Rusty cannot sing. Although B and J both really loved loved loved it, we were all agreed on that point. Like he really can't. As J said, couldn't they have got a voice double? I think his performance meant I disengaged from the movie. I only cried a little bit. No cleansing floods of tears for me.
 |
| Rusty is Javert [Source] |
Things I loved about the movie;
- It was Les Mis!
- The music!
- Anne Hathaway
- Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter (good Lord they have a lot of names between them). I love the Master of the House scene anyway and they are totally hilarious.
- The first, opening scene. Gosh.
Things I was disappointed by;
- Rusty as Javert.
- Oh, I just didn't feel as moved by it as I remembered from the olden days.
All I could think of when Russell was singing "Stars" was his band "30 Odd Foot of Grunts". This was not what I should have been focusing on.
 |
| Russell in his natural habitat, with his fellow Grunters. [Source]. |
Despite all this, don't think I wasn't wandering round the house the next day like George Costanza in that Seinfeld episode, humming and muttering "Master of the House, keeper of the zoo, yadda daada dada dada dum dum dum" like there was no tomorrow.
Sorry to bring you all down and stuff. NEVER MIND!
CRAP I'VE DONE IT AGAIN! Won't you just STOP IT with the CAPITALS YOU MANIAC!
Monday, January 7, 2013
The Life of Pitch Perfect.
Hey slappers.
I know youse are all keen to hear how the first day back to work went, but you'll have to wait til tomorrow before you get the full story.
Suffice to say we all made it through the day without any permanent emotional scarring, thanks for asking.
I can't fill you in just yet, because I have to write other stuff tonight. As you all know, I live an active, artistically and emotionally dynamic existence. So dynamic that I am struggling to keep the blog up to date with all the rampant socialising and entertainment that's been going down in these parts. Is it just me or did that sound a bit ruuuddeee? But I digress...
Let it be known that over the last week I have gone to the cinema not just once, but twice!!!! To see different movies! And one of them was on a DATE with M! Phwwooaaaarrrr...hahaaaahahaha. hahaha. Haha. Ha.
Aaannnyyyhoo, the first movie I caught was with my girl K on Friday night. We went to that notable gourmet establishment Fasta Pasta for dinner and moaned about our minor woes whilst shoveling carbs into our faces. Satisfying. This was followed by what just might be the BEST MOVIE EVER! I am NOT kidding.
Pitch Perfect, people! See what I did there? Alliterated the shit out of that sentence cos that's how I roll.
But seriously. Pitch. Perfect. OMG.
I have not enjoyed a movie like I enjoyed this one since, gosh, I don't know when.
Be warned though, my loyal readers. Do not attempt to enjoy this movie if you do not endorse, or are intolerant to, the following things...
- cliche
- sexual innuendo
- Glee
- fat jokes
- lesbian jokes
- Popular Music from the Hit Parade
- young people
- Glee
- cliches
I myself am hardcore good at casting aside all morals and good taste in the name of a good larrfff. Or in the name of awesomeness in the form of a COLLEGE A CAPELLA GROUP COMPETITION MOVIE.
So. Good.
I swung wildly between feeling pure and unadulterated pleasure at the simple Glee-tastic-ness of the artform, and stomach churning jealousy, as I yearned for the chance to go back in time so I could participate in such a phenomenon myself.
Why was I never in a college A Capella group!!??? WHYYYYYYY!!?? Oh, all those lost, wasted years, I could have been harmonising like a mofo..the pain, the pain of it all...
I take back everything I said about being a teenager again, I DO WANT TO BE A TEENAGER AND SING DAVID GUETTA AND LA ROUX SONGS IN AN A CAPELLA GROUP. And be all indy and cool in spite of it all. And get a spunky boyfriend who loves The Breakfast Club and just wants to HELP ME and GET CLOSE TO ME AND BREAK DOWN THAT GODDAMN WALL I'VE BUILT AROUND MYSELF SINCE MY PARENTS' BAD DIVORCE...ahem. Sorry about that. I guess we all need a dream...
I did do music at school and I suppose we did a bit of singing, but frankly my memories of our reedy three part harmony version of "Scarborough Fair" sung to the tinny backing tape we had made JUST DON'T CUT IT! Old school friend D, do you remember? No funky dance moves there I'm afraid...such a waste.
OK, so the second movie I saw was with M, on Saturday night. The Life of Pi.
I'd read the book and remembered that I loved it but I couldn't remember the story really. I know why now, I'd probably repressed the memory because far out. Talk about nightmares. For the record it contains basically all of my irrational fears in one.
- Being on a ship
- Being in a storm on a ship
- Being in a storm on a ship in the middle of the deep ocean
- Being in a shipwreck in a storm on a ship in the middle of the deep ocean
- Being in a tiny lifeboat in a storm in the middle of the deep ocean
- Falling out of the lifeboat in a storm in the middle of the deep ocean. With sharks.
Urghurghurghhhhhh...my skin is crawling just writing this....
So all of those fears plus some I've never even thought of including -
- Being in a tiny lifeboat in the middle of the ocean WITH A HUGE BENGAL TIGER. And briefly a hyena. And zebra. And orangutan. No prizes as to how long the other animals last.
- Carniverous islands
If I could sum up this movie in a non-authentic haiku it would be -
Carry on, my well-read and movie-loving public.
EDITED TO ADD: Linking up again for Flog Your Blog Friday with Grace! You should all go and check out some other great blogs around the traps.xx
I know youse are all keen to hear how the first day back to work went, but you'll have to wait til tomorrow before you get the full story.
Suffice to say we all made it through the day without any permanent emotional scarring, thanks for asking.
I can't fill you in just yet, because I have to write other stuff tonight. As you all know, I live an active, artistically and emotionally dynamic existence. So dynamic that I am struggling to keep the blog up to date with all the rampant socialising and entertainment that's been going down in these parts. Is it just me or did that sound a bit ruuuddeee? But I digress...
Let it be known that over the last week I have gone to the cinema not just once, but twice!!!! To see different movies! And one of them was on a DATE with M! Phwwooaaaarrrr...hahaaaahahaha. hahaha. Haha. Ha.
Aaannnyyyhoo, the first movie I caught was with my girl K on Friday night. We went to that notable gourmet establishment Fasta Pasta for dinner and moaned about our minor woes whilst shoveling carbs into our faces. Satisfying. This was followed by what just might be the BEST MOVIE EVER! I am NOT kidding.
Pitch Perfect, people! See what I did there? Alliterated the shit out of that sentence cos that's how I roll.
But seriously. Pitch. Perfect. OMG.
I have not enjoyed a movie like I enjoyed this one since, gosh, I don't know when.
Be warned though, my loyal readers. Do not attempt to enjoy this movie if you do not endorse, or are intolerant to, the following things...
- cliche
- sexual innuendo
- Glee
- fat jokes
- lesbian jokes
- Popular Music from the Hit Parade
- young people
- Glee
- cliches
I myself am hardcore good at casting aside all morals and good taste in the name of a good larrfff. Or in the name of awesomeness in the form of a COLLEGE A CAPELLA GROUP COMPETITION MOVIE.
So. Good.
I swung wildly between feeling pure and unadulterated pleasure at the simple Glee-tastic-ness of the artform, and stomach churning jealousy, as I yearned for the chance to go back in time so I could participate in such a phenomenon myself.
Why was I never in a college A Capella group!!??? WHYYYYYYY!!?? Oh, all those lost, wasted years, I could have been harmonising like a mofo..the pain, the pain of it all...
I take back everything I said about being a teenager again, I DO WANT TO BE A TEENAGER AND SING DAVID GUETTA AND LA ROUX SONGS IN AN A CAPELLA GROUP. And be all indy and cool in spite of it all. And get a spunky boyfriend who loves The Breakfast Club and just wants to HELP ME and GET CLOSE TO ME AND BREAK DOWN THAT GODDAMN WALL I'VE BUILT AROUND MYSELF SINCE MY PARENTS' BAD DIVORCE...ahem. Sorry about that. I guess we all need a dream...
I did do music at school and I suppose we did a bit of singing, but frankly my memories of our reedy three part harmony version of "Scarborough Fair" sung to the tinny backing tape we had made JUST DON'T CUT IT! Old school friend D, do you remember? No funky dance moves there I'm afraid...such a waste.
OK, so the second movie I saw was with M, on Saturday night. The Life of Pi.
I'd read the book and remembered that I loved it but I couldn't remember the story really. I know why now, I'd probably repressed the memory because far out. Talk about nightmares. For the record it contains basically all of my irrational fears in one.
- Being on a ship
- Being in a storm on a ship
- Being in a storm on a ship in the middle of the deep ocean
- Being in a shipwreck in a storm on a ship in the middle of the deep ocean
- Being in a tiny lifeboat in a storm in the middle of the deep ocean
- Falling out of the lifeboat in a storm in the middle of the deep ocean. With sharks.
Urghurghurghhhhhh...my skin is crawling just writing this....
So all of those fears plus some I've never even thought of including -
- Being in a tiny lifeboat in the middle of the ocean WITH A HUGE BENGAL TIGER. And briefly a hyena. And zebra. And orangutan. No prizes as to how long the other animals last.
- Carniverous islands
If I could sum up this movie in a non-authentic haiku it would be -
The boy and the tiger
In a boat
Or were they?
Carry on, my well-read and movie-loving public.
EDITED TO ADD: Linking up again for Flog Your Blog Friday with Grace! You should all go and check out some other great blogs around the traps.xx
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Margaret Throsby.
I don't know if it's just me, but I often imagine what songs I will pick when I become famous enough to be asked onto Margaret "Throbbers" Throsby's program on Classic FM.
It used to be that the guest had to, quite naturally I think, confine their choices to classical music. I don't know when exactly it happened but some time over the last number of years they changed it so Popular Music from the Hit Parade could be included. Scandalous, I know. I can only imagine the switchboard at the ABC lighting up with complaints from the change-a-phobic blue rinse brigade when that happened. However, because I am down with the youth of today and am quick to embrace change like a mofo I am ok with this development.
I've been giving this issue considerable thought and have devised the following list. It contains songs from every stage of my life, in no particular order.
1. Blossom Dearie - "Surrey with a Fringe on Top". M introduced me to the pleasures of Blossom Dearie along with other esoteric artists as Serge Gainsbourg, George Brassens, Depeche Mode and Flock of Seagulls.
2. Dubliners - "Dirty Old Town". This one's for my Dad who comes from a dirty old town himself. And in case you hadn't realised so far, I love the Dubliners. They are as relevant today as they were in their heyday, whenever that was.
3. James Taylor - "Sarah Maria". This one's for my mum, who loves herself a bit of 70s folk action and was inspired by the gentle warblings of James Taylor to name me after this song.
4. Cyndi Lauper - "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". This was my performance piece as a precocious toddler. Mum used to wheel me out for weddings, parties, anything.
Sorry about the foul and offensive ad at the beginning. Urgh.
5. Claude Debussy - "Girl with the flaxen hair". This was a song I used to play on the piano when I was but a mere chit of a girl, and being as how I was sporting some "flaxen hair" myself at the time I always felt a fondness for it.
What's that you say? Why yes, Mr Darcy, I will let myself be persuaded to serenade you with a song on the pianoforte, for I esteem, nay LOVE you greatly and with an abiding passion. Oh, sir, unhand me I say! I am a good girl sir from a good family! It won't do! Unhand me you devil. Oh, I hate you! No I love you! No, wait I hate you! Oh I am all at sea.
Ahem.
Sorry about that. Moving right along.
6. Old Blind Dogs - "The Battle of Harlaw" aka Diddieioh. P's favourite song in the whole world and makes me think of driving away in the car when we went to the hospital to have B, me sobbing like a maniac from anxiety and sadness and worry and generally mentalness, while she bravely waved goodbye in Mum's arms.
7. Tori Amos - "Winter". From the "emo" years. Tori you got me through a lot.
I could go on but I think I've already used up my alotted time.
Margaret, thanks for having me on to talk about how famous and successful I am and to encourage others to be famous and successful and rich and famous like me. I hope my inspirational mega mix has provided your listeners with joy, pleasure, relaxation, boredom, indifference or anger as they see fit.
There's no right response to the music, people, just let it wash over you like the humidity in a Bunnings warehouse.
It used to be that the guest had to, quite naturally I think, confine their choices to classical music. I don't know when exactly it happened but some time over the last number of years they changed it so Popular Music from the Hit Parade could be included. Scandalous, I know. I can only imagine the switchboard at the ABC lighting up with complaints from the change-a-phobic blue rinse brigade when that happened. However, because I am down with the youth of today and am quick to embrace change like a mofo I am ok with this development.
I've been giving this issue considerable thought and have devised the following list. It contains songs from every stage of my life, in no particular order.
1. Blossom Dearie - "Surrey with a Fringe on Top". M introduced me to the pleasures of Blossom Dearie along with other esoteric artists as Serge Gainsbourg, George Brassens, Depeche Mode and Flock of Seagulls.
2. Dubliners - "Dirty Old Town". This one's for my Dad who comes from a dirty old town himself. And in case you hadn't realised so far, I love the Dubliners. They are as relevant today as they were in their heyday, whenever that was.
3. James Taylor - "Sarah Maria". This one's for my mum, who loves herself a bit of 70s folk action and was inspired by the gentle warblings of James Taylor to name me after this song.
4. Cyndi Lauper - "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". This was my performance piece as a precocious toddler. Mum used to wheel me out for weddings, parties, anything.
Sorry about the foul and offensive ad at the beginning. Urgh.
5. Claude Debussy - "Girl with the flaxen hair". This was a song I used to play on the piano when I was but a mere chit of a girl, and being as how I was sporting some "flaxen hair" myself at the time I always felt a fondness for it.
What's that you say? Why yes, Mr Darcy, I will let myself be persuaded to serenade you with a song on the pianoforte, for I esteem, nay LOVE you greatly and with an abiding passion. Oh, sir, unhand me I say! I am a good girl sir from a good family! It won't do! Unhand me you devil. Oh, I hate you! No I love you! No, wait I hate you! Oh I am all at sea.
Ahem.
Sorry about that. Moving right along.
6. Old Blind Dogs - "The Battle of Harlaw" aka Diddieioh. P's favourite song in the whole world and makes me think of driving away in the car when we went to the hospital to have B, me sobbing like a maniac from anxiety and sadness and worry and generally mentalness, while she bravely waved goodbye in Mum's arms.
7. Tori Amos - "Winter". From the "emo" years. Tori you got me through a lot.
I could go on but I think I've already used up my alotted time.
Margaret, thanks for having me on to talk about how famous and successful I am and to encourage others to be famous and successful and rich and famous like me. I hope my inspirational mega mix has provided your listeners with joy, pleasure, relaxation, boredom, indifference or anger as they see fit.
There's no right response to the music, people, just let it wash over you like the humidity in a Bunnings warehouse.
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