happy bloggoday to me

It has been three years since I started this palaver. Thanks for hanging out, you guys.



And because I know you want it, here, finally, is a full length photograph of me.



Enjoy

two hundred

It's a rainy autumn morning here in Sydney. The Harbour is shrouded, the coffee is hot, and I'm in my pyjamas. And two hundred posts ago, I ventured a toe into the blogosphere, and found you all. Aaaawww. Now bring me some petit fours and rub my feet.

(Happy birthdays to Big K, Fynn9 and Nicemu the Mad Greek)

one french fry short of a happy meal

Apart from my own, the only blog I can claim to have read every single post on is Tetherd Cow Ahead. Reverend Anaglyph's wit is sharp and his brain is huge and pulsating (he keeps it in a jar), his sense of social justice is fierce, and he suffers fools neither gladly nor otherwise. He is fearless and challenging and he makes us think. And laugh. Oh yes indeed, the laughing. He is the most irreverent reverend you will ever come across.

He has invented a superfun cool Anti-Meme. Go and try it here.

get nude, again

Something tells me that those great aficionados of Art, AngryGinger & ColonelColonel will enjoy this scribble.

And for C.Rag - arse.

pointy

Inspired by this post by headbang8 over at Deutschland Uber Elvis, I give you my favourite New York building.


And my favourite poem, by John Lillison:

O pointy birds, o pointy pointy.
Anoint my head, anointy-nointy.

Such heights of poesy as Joey & Atlas can only dream on.

new kid on the block

And so we welcome Angry Ginger into the world. He jumped the gun, and is tearing ahead.

Cissy Aged One has some words of wisdom for him:
Have your stuffed koala beside you at all times, taking care he is not larger than you are; ensure you are wearing a jaunty hat made out of a birthday card; and always, I mean always, have your hand down your pants.

let's hear it for the boys

Because mike keeps a neat and artistic shop. Because Atlas Cerise appreciates a fine product. Because Colonel Colonel can rip off a strip with the best of them. Because The Very Reverend Anaglyph has been known to DIY. Today we celebrate duct tape.

Ficus macrophylla

For malach and angryginger (she is a ginger and she is cross), a Moreton Bay Fig from Centennial Park to climb and fall out of. Bats love these fig trees. They gorge on the fruit then shit virulent fuschia-coloured poo. As the sign says "Beware the Bats' Poo". It should really say "Don't Be Where The Bats Poo".

tits out for the lads

This is for mike, who apparently needs healing boob energy to recover from the delivery of his kid-ney. And the boobs need to be bare, apparently.

This is for angryginger, who told me she loves swimming nude. (Yes, 'she' - we all start as girls, and ag is very new).

This is for our dear lost sara sue, who once posted a lovely photo of herself as a naked 18 year old. I found it quite moving. This is me as a naked 18 year old, sistergirl.

This is for my pal Kate gone these four years, who loved saying "Tits oot for the lads" in an appalling Novocastrian accent, though she was famed for her own modesty.

This is for Phoebe Fay, whose eloquent musings on gravity and breasts made me feel close to her.

This is a photo of me "a whole girl ago" as Nuala Fury would say. Thirty years later and I got here okay, though, like mike, there may be some bits missing. It's been a great ride. I wouldn't have missed it for quids. So this is for me, too.

And for the rest of you? Oh, all right. A photo of me in a bikini.

as the Cow commands, so do I obey

I was walking down my spiral staircase ...












... thinking about my latest invention, a whistling dildo, and wondering why ...













... it seemed so attractive to Scientologists ...













... and clowns, when suddenly ...













... I tripped over that little piece that you always have left over after making something from Ikea.

for mike, because he asked

Mmmmmmm....



Ahhhhhhh....



ooooh oh oh ....



Ah! Ah! Ah!



uh uh


waaaargggleeeeboyyyyeeezshhhhhhaaaayyyyyyy ...... uh

just this once ...

Ginger Stick features photos by me. But just this once, a photo of me. I don't know, JediMac sounds as if he needs a boost.

This is me twenty-five years ago in a long-forgotten cabaret. And yes, that is a wig. Everything else is real, though. Sorry the photo doesn't show my legs. They were spectacular.

Next, we return to another natural wonderland, Tasmania.

every time I've ever been in a Police station, for Joey Polanski (because he asked)

Firstly: When I was 18 I was at a wild party which degenerated into a bit of a brawl. A manboy in front of me ducked a punch, which connected with my face. Down I went! At the Police Station they asked me to identify a 'suspect'. Other than skin colour, the man they showed me looked nothing like my assailant. It was in fact a Police Officer. Nonetheless, Punch-o the Puncher got three months in prison.

Second-hand: As a young adventurer I landed in London bouncing with excitement. On my second day there, I asked a Bobby with a tit on his head for directions. I knew where I was & where I was going, but I thought it was traditional to ask a policeman for directions. (I accosted him on the street, so this is not stricly a going-to-the-station event.)

Thirdmost: I had a show at the Edinburgh Festival. One of the cast lost his keys, so we visited the P'lice Station on the Royal Mile to make enquiries. Whilst there, I couldn't resist asking the dour-faced Desk Sergeant if Inspector Rebus was in. His face broke into a broad smile. He told me that they love the Rebus books in the Edinburgh Constabulary, and he himself had started his career at Rebus's home station.

Fourthlike: I spent a weekend in Goulburn at the Police Academy pretending to be a Very Important Person for a Close Personal Protection course. The chaps on the course had been training all week. They had to practice protecting three of us from all sorts of dangers, including some pretty nifty driving when we were 'attacked' by Bad Men on dirt bikes firing blanks at us. And these guys were strong. I'm 1.8 metres tall (about 6 foot) and I was picked up & thrown about as easily as a stick. The best part was when we left the grounds of the Academy. We took a stroll around Goulburn Mall, all of us wearing dark glasses, 'protected' by 7 be-suited, dark-glasses-wearing, curly-wire in the ear guys. We caused a sensation as the citizen of Goulburn tried to figure out who these famous people might be.

This is also the reason why I can confidently tell you that my weapon of choice is a 9mm Glock semi-automatic pistol. As part of our payment, we got an hour on the firing range. I fired a revolver, a pump action shottie and an Uzi, as well as the pistol.

Fiveness: Working at a bookshop in The Rocks area of Sydney, I was held up by a screwdriver-wielding thief at 11.30 at night. (Not nearly as much fun as a smoothly nude young man.) He ran away with the money. I went to the Rocks Police Station that night. Later that week, I went to Police Headquarters to look at photos. Though I couldn't identify the rascally robber, one of his mates turned him in & he was convicted for eighteen robberies, my shop's among them.

Six-of-the-best: Last year just before Christmas, a stupid mugger tried to take my camera. He was stupid because a) he was a scum-sucking junkie shithead, b) he didn't know enough to wear soft shoes, so I had notice of his rearward approach by the stamp of his feet on the pavement, and c) my camera strap was crosswise on my body. He grabbed the strap and pulled, so I couldn't have given it to him even if I had wanted to.

A very kind pair of constables came to my apartment, then drove me down to the Station to take my statement. The girl constable took a call on her mobile, which she rang off quickly. Recognising the strangled tone, I asked her if it was her mother. She told me she can't get her mother not to call her at work. Once she was on a raid & her mother called & was cross with her because she couldn't talk right then. Later, the young boy constable drove me back home, causing a stir as I alighted outside my building.

Finally: Coincidentally, on the morning of my last post, I went to the Station to have a Statutory Declaration witnessed. Twelve-year-old Constable Handley did the honours.

ancient beefcake (for PhoebeFay)

This is part of the Pergamon Altar built in the 2nd century before the Common Era. So even way back then, they liked perving at nice bums. This picture should keep you all occupied while I am away in Townsville in Far North Queensland for the next few days.

Some museums keep their star attraction as far from the entrance as possible, so that you pass through many galleries to get there. At the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, I was completely unprepared to walk through the front door immediately into the room which houses the Altar. The force of this astonishing work is such that we were grateful for the stone benches, as our knees were literally (yes, anaglyph, literally) buckling. My companion this day was Barbie, who was enjoying Cissy's Marvelous Berlin-In-Four-Days tour. She had always wanted to see the Ishtar Gate, another piece of the Pergamon's extraordinary loot.

pizzle

Sydney public sculpture is more usually the bailiwick of the good Reverend Anaglpyh, Cows passim or click on the medallion (suck it up, Radioactive Jam). But I feel I am able to make this post for two reasons. Firstly because this is not bad public art (the Rev's sub-specialisation). And secondly, it was a comment by the Rev himself which galvanised me into action.

So, I present Il Porcellino. He was made in Florence in 1968, and sent to Sydney as a "link of friendship between Italy and Australia". He sits proudly outside Sydney Hospital on Macqaurie Street. A plaque beneath his hooves reads: When you rub my nose and make a wish, your donation supports research, education and development at Sydney Hospital, Australia's first hospital.

The more eagle-eyed of you will already have noticed that some persons feel that rubbing another part of his anatomy may bring them more luck than that which is nasally bestowed.

bugger, tagged

Because it's the first time I've been tagged, and because it's Colonel Colonel, I will respond to the meme which requires me to quickly write 8 random facts/habits about myself.

1. I am very big on 'please' & 'thank you'. If I hold a door open for a stranger and there is no acknowledgement, I loudly say "You're welcome" with a bright smile. It pleases me to discomfort the rude & thoughtless in this fashion.

2. I would rather eat ice-cream out of the container than from a bowl.

3. When I cut into a passionfruit, the aroma makes my toes curl with an almost-sexual delight.

4. I smoked a packet of cigarettes a day for seventeen years. I haven't so much as touched one for ten years come this November - except the one I lit for my mother on her death bed. She also asked for a gin & tonic.

5. I am the second-worst housekeeper that I know. My apartment is constantly untidy & there are often several days' worth of dishes in the sink.

6. I am an excellent knitter. My tension is freakishly even.

7. I do not like being hot. I thrive in the cold. This morning I ducked out for the newspaper & a thing of milk. I was in a t-shirt. Everyone else had gloves, scarves, coats. I used to say I didn't feel the cold. But it is more Lawrence of Arabia - the trick isn't not to feel it. The trick is not to mind it.

8. I have many handbags.

gargoyles by request

That's enough gargoyles.