Welcome to Nadstown

i am considering maybe possibly returning to blogging

2007-08-24T13:06:00.000+10:00

until then, or from now until forever, please enjoy this arty picture of a meerkat, taken by the photogroper on my birthday a few years back:

probably not worth returning to blogging for...

2007-04-11T21:02:00.000+10:00

we interrupt this blogging hiatus to bring you this shock announcement:

I WATCHED 'SPICKS AND SPECKS' TONIGHT AND DARREN HAYES IS A COMIC GENIUS!

yes, for anyone who didn't catch it, darren hayes, former savage garden frontman, recently outed manlover, and he whom i thought was possibly one of the lamest humans to ever take a breath, is fucking hilarious.

i swear, i'm as shocked as you are about this. but i promise it's the truth.

it's like now that he's admitted to his love of mansex he can also admit to having a sense of humour. because, as we all know, the gays are a laugh a minute. all of them. even the dull ones.

so what will i find out next? nikki webster actually has a brain? naomi robson actually has a soul?

it's all a bit too much really.

and now back to my time-out.

UPDATE: i would like to state my affinity with defamer jess's opinion regarding recent allegations concerning mr. hayes. although stranger things have happened, it does seem very unlikely to be true.

it's not you it's me.

2007-02-20T10:50:00.000+11:00

somebody recently left a comment alleging that in order to increase my readers and comments i should talk more about my massive rack and penchant for pole dancing.

i am not offended by the remark, and nor am i adverse to waxing lyrical about either of these topics, as many of you will know.

after all, i do have a massive rack and i am obsessed with pole dancing.

however if people feel that this is all i have to offer the blogosphere i think it may be time for a bit of a break.

and besides, i'm so freaking busy whoring my soul to the advertising world and learning to hula hoop that i can barely find the time to bathe, let alone blog.

so don't cry for me blogospherina, always remember that mummy loves you very much, and she is never more than an email away.

stay dorky.

x

maximum exposure

2007-02-12T10:20:00.000+11:00

last week i received a 'bring david hicks home' campaign poster in the mail from wonderful tree-hugging lefty organisation GetUp.

this is what it looks like (except it's bigger in real life. der):

assuming i was meant to display it somewhere for others to see, and lacking in better alternatives, i hung it on my balcony, at the rear of my appartment.

the problem is that there is only one person ever likely to see this poster, and that person is my very possibly obsessive compulsive neighbour with an eerily strong resemblance to hicks himself.

and maybe his three cats.

so i thought i'd write this here post in order to spread the word a little further than my backyard.

bring david hicks home and give him a fair trial, etc.

pass it on.

hypothetically speaking, of course.

2007-02-11T22:59:00.000+11:00

if your 80 year old grandmother randomly gave you $100 and said it was "because you don't have a valentine and your parents died", would you feel like the most incredibly pathetic creature to ever walk the planet?

some like it hot

2007-02-05T13:08:00.000+11:00

ladies and gentleman, i believe i've met my match/future husband:

it will be a love like no other, born of a mutual tolerance for all things spicy.

our children, "jalapeño" and "habañero", will be idolised by kids everywhere, and we will tour the world in a traveling festival of chilli eating wonder.

and who knows, maybe we'll even cure cancer or something cool and helpful like that.

you can leave your hat on

2007-02-01T16:44:00.000+11:00

my office, which i share with two very spunky co-workers, is commonly referred to in my company as "the cave".

this is in large part due to the lack of natural light filtering in, and in small part to the fact that the three of us have gone a bit primal since moving in here.

anyway today a colleague sent an email around the entire company to inform us all that he was free for the afternoon should anybody need his assistance with anything work-related.

and being the hilarious ball of original comedic genius that i am, i replied to his email with the following words:

"your services are required in the cave. NO PANTS REQUIRED."

funny stuff, huh?

yeah, i thought so.

and so did every employee at my place of work when i REPLIED ALL!

and now i am currently receiving about one email per minute on average inquiring as to my "going rate" and other such humorous questions.

i will never live this down.

well, until i do something even stupider. and we all know that's only a matter of time.

a very pole-ish gentleman

2007-01-28T21:42:00.000+11:00

so on the weekend i did a pole dancing workshop with this man.

he is adam jay, he is the uk's leading male poledancer, and he is a freaking genius.

now i know what y'all are thinking as you read this - "a male poledancer? heavens above it can't be true!"

and i too was skeptical at first. of course i had heard that they - these penis-bearing poledancers - existed. but never had i witnessed such a phenomenon with my own two eyes.

until saturday.

fair readers of nadstown (all three of you that have stuck around through the quiet times of late), i have now seen divinity itself. and divinity is an apparently HETEROSEXUAL male poledancer in zebra-print lycra hotpants.

i must go now and attend to the five thousand new bruises covering the entirety of my body, gained at adam jay's workshop on saturday. i currently look like the victim of either some rather heinous domestic violence or a freak semi-trailer accident.

but it was fucking worth it. and i'm going back next week to do it all again.

adam jay for president, etc.

where all you control is which queue you choose to spend an hour in

2007-01-22T11:47:00.000+11:00

yesterday some friends and i went to jamberoo action park ("where you control the action").

this effectively meant enduring a one and a half hour drive in 40 degree heat very early of a sunday morning only to spend the next five hours surrounded by inbred halfwits with a collective IQ of approximately 12.

and then we had to drive back home again. with sunstroke. and possibly herpes (that wave pool is as about as sanitary as colin farrell's boxer briefs).

sound like hell? it was.

why did we do it? because we wanted to "control the action", and where better do so than the self-proclaimed home of action regulation?

now as a creative in an advertising firm i take my duty to the public very seriously. i would rather stab myself in the eye with an inexpensive pen than mislead the masses. and i would never, ever bend the truth in order to sell a product. unless of course they paid me extra and upped my incentive allowance* tenfold.

thus i am very perturbed by this bogan wonderland's choice of slogan, as there was such little action to be self-controlled that at times i felt downright reckless.

and apart from two three-minute waterslide rides and one damn good pastrami and cheese sandwich made by my flatmate, the entire day was one big (hilarious) disappointment.

here are some memorable moments i will treasure in my heart forevs:

- playing "spot the mullet";

- playing "spot the teen mums";

- playing "spot the future teen mums";

- playing "spot the kids peeing in the wave pool";

- watching a toddler drink "water" from the wave pool from a cup while her buck-toothed mama not only looked on and laughed, but also filmed the entire incident;

- watching a kid be dragged from the wave pool by two lifeguards, gasping for air, while the other pool-goers "booed" because the fact the waves had been turned off while he was rescued;

- getting the hell out of there.

the great oscar wilde once said that "the only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else."

he'd obviously spent a lot of time at jamberoo.

*cocaine supply

ass-spankingly wonderful

2007-01-02T12:22:00.000+11:00

they say how you spend new year's eve is indicative of how the following year will play out.

and if i get to spend the next 365 days eating, laughing and tongue-kissing adorable boys, it's going to be one hell of a good year!

happy new year, fair readers.

i hope 2007 promises to be just as jovial for you.

i feel dirty

2006-12-24T23:26:00.000+11:00

as the year draws to a close, i have a confession to make.

what i am about to tell you will no doubt shock you as much as it does me, but i swear on my marc jacobs mary-janes that it is the stick-a-needle-in-my-eye truth.

are you seated?

ok...

...

...

...

...

i love wii.

yes, that's right, despite my traditional hatred of video games, i am hopelessly addicted to the pitifully nerdy phenomenon currently swiiping(!) the universe. and not just because of the endless punning opportunities it has brought with it.

a colleague invited me over one night for a wii party (sadly, not the first time that's happened), and now in spite of myself and all that i believe is good and holy in this world, i just can't stop wii-ing.

perhaps i should consult my doctor. BA DOOM BOOM!

i have even determined to buy a wii in the new year so i can wii whenever i like and not have to wait for a wii party to get my fix.

it's true, i've changed.

SEND HELP!

bringing sexism back

2006-12-19T22:39:00.000+11:00

this is so ridiculous it's almost comical.

"it objectifies women, that is the message it sends ... women are still seen as sexual objects".

really?

that can't possibly be true.

let's examine the evidence:

exhibit a)

exhibit b)

exhibit c)

well colour me shocked!

here i was thinking we lived in a totally sexism-free society.

silly, silly la nadine.

and then tom cruise arrived in a spaceship and led me towards the light.

2006-12-17T13:09:00.000+11:00

this morning i sat down to write a blog post, yet i was unable to come up with anything i could be bothered writing about.

i thought about writing about my office christmas party, at which i coerced all my colleagues into playing juvenile drinking games, and then spent half an hour telling someone i work with how very much i want to make the hot sex with him.

but considering that some of my coworkers read my blog, i don't think that would be a very good idea.

so then i dabbled with the idea of writing about how i have been such a scatterbrain this weekend - possibly as a direct result of the aforementioned drinking games - that i have left my phone in not one, not two, but three separate establishments.

but that's kind of a boring story.

and then various stories of french cricket-playing and flatmate dry-humping (for funnies) and aquarium-visiting came to mind but all were deemed inadmissible by my sun-stroked brain.

i was at a loss.

until something happened. something amazing. something so blogworthy it almost hurts.

i got into a cab in my mad rush to track down my oft-misplaced phone, and the bucktoothed, presumably perma-erectioned driver actually tried to sell me this:

how wrong is that?

aren't you glad i blogged today?

textual harassment

2006-12-13T11:48:00.000+11:00

a multimedia message received from my beloved joshua a few evenings ago:

upon first viewing the above on the screen of my mobile telephone i was somewhat startled, not knowing from whom the message had been sent.

however i soon discovered it was from joshua (that playful cad!) and all was well with the world once more.

i soon found myself on a trip down memory lane, perusing those text messages that remain in my phone for one reason or another, yet to be deleted to make space for the many yet to come (i'm heaps popular you see and thus I have a phone that just won't quit).

and so I present to you, for your voyeuristic pleasure, a random selection of text messages from the mobile telephone of la nadine:

- There's nothing better than a random leg humping.

- WHERE ARE OUR HUSBANDS?

- 'Digital Penetration' - Now there's one i haven't heard before.

- Bridget Jones is a cunt.

- Straight to the wank bank.

- You don't think my Proud Marys could whoop your Bic Rungas?

- hi its patrick do u wanna go out with me sumtime ps dont tell any1 on the team.*

*(poor patrick had been given a fake number by an evil, lying strumpet at his high school. i would have gone out with him "sumtime" myself, but he lives in far north queensland. and i'd probably be arrested if i did. still, i never told any1 on the team.)

- Reese and Ryan. Over. I'm only just keeping it together.

- I threw up my dinner.

- Your rack is being admired by lovely boys.

this last one evoked a similar reaction in me as the mind reading pic, causing me to look out my bedroom windows in search of onlookers. sadly the only things i found lurking outside were an abandoned shopping trolley and the neighbourhood stray. the sender, miss jessculture, later explained that she had been passing a pic of my baps round at a social gathering full of hotties. i tried to be offended by this. i wasn't.

if you sent me any of the above messages, bless you for filling my phone (and indeed my life) with the joys of random insanity. i live for that shit.

so does any1 else have random texts they would like to share with the rest of us?

go on. its liberating.

a nadstown poll (that's poll with a double 'l')

2006-12-06T22:55:00.000+11:00

don't ask me why i care, but...

if you had to choose one of the following food types, meaning you could never eat the other ever again in your whole life, which would it be:

CHEESE or CHOCOLATE?

for me that's easy: i'd go cheese without pause. but i'm a savoury girl all the way. i'd run a mile for a taste of a good blue, even if the path to it's melty, mouldy goodness was chocolate-coated and even calorie-free.

and you? what's your pleasure?

would you rather dine on double brie from here to eternity or guzzle ganache 'til your dying days?

can you tell i'm hungry?

and really fucking uninspired?

please just humour me and answer the question while i try and think of something even vaguely worthy of blogging about.

ta.

taking stock

2006-12-01T10:34:00.000+11:00

so at the beginning of this year i made a bunch of new years' resolutions.

apparently i will never learn to spare myself the torment of such an obviously ridiculous endeavour.

what can i say? i live for pain.

for those of you too lazy to follow the above link, my resolutions for 2006 were:

1) quit smoking.

2) pole dance my way to hotness.

3) learn to play the drums.

4) cook more often

5) not lose any more family members.

6) buy a house.

i also threw 'further my career as an actual paid writer', and 'start doing volunteer work again' into the mix, because i obviously wasn't aiming high enough with just six random goals to achieve in one year.

and with one month to go of this most tumultuous (albeit MUCH better than past years) of years, the time has come to check in with just how successful i've been in fulfilling my ambitions.

let's take a closer look...

1) quit smoking.

i...um...sort of...well not as much as i used to...but then...um...NEXT!

2) pole dance my way to hotness.

did i learn to pole dance? yes.

did i become absolutely obsessed with all pole dancing-related things? yes.

have i thus been covered in bruises for the better part of the year? yes.

is there now a giant, shiny pole in the middle of my lounge room, blocking access to my kitchen? yes.

would i say i have "pole danced my way to hotness"? probably not.

3) learn to play the drums.

i have yet to even sit before a kit with a pair of sticks in my hands. so lame.

4) cook more often

i have most certainly cooked "more often" than i used to, but i would still define my culinary endeavours as occurring "not often enough".

good think my loverly new flatmate is cuckoo for cooking.

5) not lose any more family members.

i refuse to respond to this on the basis that the year is still not over. and if i have learned anything in the past most cunting of years, it is that a lot can happen in a month. A. LOT.

6) buy a house.

not only did i buy myself a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, but i renovated the fuck out of it as well. kudos to me.

meanwhile, about the whole paid writer/volunteer work business, i can safely say that i have made great strides in regards to the former; and that i may have to withdraw my membership to the bleeding-heart left due to my abysmal efforts regarding the latter.

and so i have thirty one days to quit smoking, master the drums, whip up a few meals, do some volunteer work and still not lose any more members of my ever-shrinking family.

fuck me dead with a rissole, it's gonna be a LONG month.

retail therapy (or 'i am a superficial twat')

2006-11-27T18:08:00.000+11:00

i need help.

serious help.

apparently the therapy i’ve been having to overcome my shopping addiction (i kid you not) has not been very helpful.

i know this because today i received a phone call from my bank in which i was asked to confirm whether or not i was responsible for the EXCESSIVE EXPENDITURE on my credit card over the weekend.

unfortunately i was.

its just that when i’m feeling sad/lonely/fat/stressed nothing cheers me up quite like a new pair of stilettos and other such shiny trinkets.

and lately i’ve been feeling muchly the sad/lonely/fat/stressed on a quasi-regular basis.

*tear.*

the thing is that if i keep going the way i have been, on top of sad/lonely/fat/stressed-ness, i’m also gonna start feeling muchly the broke/hungry/cold/unwashed.

i have a problem.

a serious problem.

HELP ME!

or don’t.

no pressure.

eat your heart out, amanda woodward!

2006-11-20T16:47:00.000+11:00

things i am thus far LOVING about the advertising world:

- i sure do feel a whole lot lighter without that pesky soul i've been dragging around with me all my life;

- the excuse to dress up everyday - just call me corporate barbie;

- MOVEMBER BABY - i have been walking around in a constant state of orgasmic bliss, as my office building is filled to bursting with a zillion cute boys rocking the porn mo like there's no tomorrow. i fucking love dirty porn mos. i am up to at least three underwear changes a day, and counting;

- work crushes - having worked freelance at home for so long, i forgot how fun it is to invent reasons to walk past someone's desk every five minutes in the hope they'll fall madly in lust with me and ask me to "stay late and work on some 'briefs'";

- the fully stocked open bar IN MY OFFICE - i swear if i'm not a card-carrying member of alcos anonymous by autumn, i'm doing something wrong;

- the constant self-validation - "its ok, i'll just work here for a year or so, make a bunch of money and then start up a non-profit organization that gives poor people free stuff";

- the gazillion story office building at the apex of which is my desk. not only does it have a killer view, but it is also handy should the urge to kill myself for turning into a soulless, corporate wanker ever take complete hold of my being;

- the hookers and blow (actually, these are my dear colleague mr kiel's favourite advertising perks. but i'm quite enjoying them too).

i'd TOTALLY hit it. is that wrong?

2006-11-15T08:44:00.000+11:00

last night at the musicoz awards, my hot date and i were playing 'i'd hit it' about the presenters, performers, nominees and awards winners.

for those of you not "in the know", 'id hit it' is an amazing game of intellect and skill in which you exclaim to the other players whether or not you'd make the sex with any person in your line of vision.

try it, i think you'll like it.

so anyway, throughout the course of the evening i learned that my date would pretty much "hit" anything with two legs and an inverted pee hole, from john williamson's nubile young daughter to the new age yodeller with enormous cans.

i, however, was having a much harder time designating prospective lovemuffins, and by intermission i had only consented to "hit" a drunken timmy rogers and a middle-aged russian instrumentalist named igor.

the pickins were depressingly slim i'm afraid, and hard as it may be to believe i wanted to get naked with neither richard wilkins nor the regional head of telstra who presented one of the awards.

until...

a seemingly reggae-influenced band called 'the shades' took out one category and onto the stage sauntered four 15 year old mini-hotties, all of them just barely taller than the presenters stand.

they were playing it cool, neither jumping up and down nor exposing themselves a la a certain ex-channel ten personality whose name had been removed from the presenter's list after the arias post-haste.

and the first thing they did was give props to the absent 5th member of the band whose "MUM WOULDN'T LET HIM GO TO THE AWARDS BECAUSE HE STILL HAS END-OF-YEAR EXAMS!!!"

*swoon*

and so i spent the rest of my night in a state of mild catatonic arousal, following the underaged ones around, and wondering (inappropriately loudly) how wrong it would be to offer them a fiveway and/or a spa party.

hey, if mary-kay letourneau can do it...

WHAT?!?

its been at least a month and i'm getting antsy here. gimme a break. i wouldn't really do anything with a group of mid-pubescent teens.

but here's a very poor quality pic of them for your enjoyment nonetheless:

i'm so going to hell.

...

2006-11-12T18:26:00.000+11:00

belinda emmett's death from breast cancer this weekend is a tragedy.

it is a tragedy NOT because she was a public figure, and NOT because she was rove mcmanus's wife.

it is a tragedy because she was 32 years old when she died.

and that is way, way, way too young.

56 years old is also way, way, way too young to die.

that's how old my mum was when breast cancer claimed her life last year.

and i'll bet that many of the loved ones of the 7 women killed each day by this most heinous of illnesses will tell you that their mother/sister/friend/lover was way, way, way too young to die.

please donate to breast cancer research.

or perhaps you'd like to donate to alzheimers research

alzheimers being the bastard that killed my father, aged 62.

hell, donate to anything, anything at all.

medical research, anti-hunger networks, humanitarian aid efforts, whatever.

there's a lot of things killing people out there.

x

i ain't nobody's second best

2006-11-08T11:51:00.000+11:00

last night my flatmate and i were sitting on our brand new swivel bar stools, drinking chardonnay and eating white castello cheese on crackers with spiced pear paste. dolly parton was on the stereo and dinner was on its way.

good times.

until...

we got onto the subject of past dalliances of the sexual variety, in particular one of mine. let's just call him 'assface'.

assface was around briefly when i was but a wee lass of nineteen. he was a friend of a friend and despite (or perhaps because of?) his lack of hygiene and slacker lifestyle i fell in lust with him.

we danced the dance for a few weeks until one morning while we were lying in bed enjoying a post-coital cigarette, assface turned to me and said:

"i don't think i'm really all that into you. i just don't think i should settle for second best."

WTF?!?

WHO SAYS THAT?!?

at the time i could only stare blankly at him before hurriedly getting dressed and uttering something about him getting one last poke in before running humiliated from his house.

but the story doesn't end there. oh no.

years later i saw assface at a party. i considered ignoring his existence but decided to all about maturity instead. so i said hello.

the rest of the conversation went something like this:

assface: "oh hey."

me: "how are you?"

assface: "yeah, good. i heard you've had a rough trot though. i'm sorry to hear about your parents."

me: "thanks. its been an awful few years."

assface: "i imagine so. well, i guess if you weren't fucked up before i guess you must be pretty fucked up now then."

WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

WHO SAYS THAT?

cue me staring blankly at him again before hurrying off in a dumbfounded haze of hate.

luckily i haven't seen him since then. thank fuck.

and so ends the story of assface.

ain't he a peach?

lullabies to paralyse

2006-11-06T01:00:00.000+11:00

i think i may have had an epiphany.

or perhaps i'm just high on red wine and bath fumes.

whatevs, just humour me for a minute, will you?

ta. you're too, too kind.

so i was lying in bed just now, drifting off, images of joaquin phoenix caressing my thoughts and tickling my thighs, listening to the cowboy junkies as i have done almost every night for many, many years now.

and just as i was about to cross over into sleepytown, my brain shouted this at me:

"OHMIGAWD! IT'S THE COWBOY JUNKIES! IT'S THEIR FRICKING FAULT YOU'RE SUCH A MESS! THOSE SWEET, HAUNTING BALLADS HAVE REALLY FUCKED YOUR SHIT UP GOOD!"

?!?

could it be true? could my lullaby music be the secret to my sadness?

i know of course that i can't blame this most wonderful of bands for all my problems, being that i was well fucked up before i owned a copy of 'the trinity sessions'. and i'm almost certain the cowboy junkies didn't kill my parents.

but surely falling asleep night after night listening to songs such as 'i'm so lonesome i could cry', 'i don't get it' and 'to love is to bury' must have certain adverse affects on one's soul.

WHY DID I NOT REALISE THIS BEFORE? AM I REALLY THAT DAFT? WHAT ELSE AM I MISSING?

the problem is however, that even though i've had this grand epiphany, and i realise that i should probably seek out some less depressing sleepytime tunes, i don't think i can fall asleep without hearing the beautiful songs of loss and sorrow i've come to depend on to sing my into slumber.

and what use is an epiphany if you can't act on it accordingly?

i'm all conflicted.

please advise.

yay! it's multiple choice thursday!

2006-11-02T15:28:00.000+11:00

it's been an eventful few weeks for several reasons.

there's been a house move, a wedding, an almost romance (or two), an interstate trip and a whole lotta alcohol.

and one event in particular has me all a-flutter today.

but rather than tell you about it straight up, i thought i'd make a little quiz for you.

don't worry, it's quite possibly the easiest quiz in the history of quizzes ever.

so leave your answers to the three questions below in the comments section and i will divulge all next week.

enjoy!

- QUESTION ONE

who said the following to me this afternoon:

"the more you let me in, the more we can achieve".

was it:

a) fruity new boyfriend;

b) door-knocking mormon;

c) overzealous gynecologist;

d) hot, french massage therapist?

- QUESTION TWO

who provided me with the "happy ending" i so very much needed after my recent disappointing rejection?

was it:

a) old crush i had a drink with last night;

b) quasi-regular fuck buddy;

c) new pearl rabbit vibrator;

d) hot, french massage therapist?

- QUESTION THREE

who freaked me out by making cat noises in the middle of being "let in", before i realised there was an actual cat in the room?

was it:

a) overzealous gynecologist;

b) quasi-regular fuck buddy;

c) new pearl rabbit vibrator;

d) hot, french massage therapist?

i told you it was easy.

have a good weekend y'all!

x

riddle me this (and that).

2006-10-31T20:22:00.000+11:00

someone to whom you have confessed your desire to make the hot, naughty, oh-baby-yes-right-there-oh-lord-that's-good sex with tells you they "don't want to ruin the close friendship".

and even though you are indeed pals, you know for certain that this person:

a) doesn't know your last name;

b) doesn't know your birthday;

c) wouldn't have a fucking clue what you do with your life.

so riddle me this: if that's a close friendship, does that mean i'm "bff" with EVERYONE WHO EVER LIVED EVER?

please riddle me this also: i'm considering changing my profile picture.

you know what they say - 'if you can't change your life, change your blogger profile picture'.

or something like that anyway.

so would a change present a major problem for anyone?

talk to me, people. i value your opinions. swears.

UPDATE: PROFILE PIC CHANGED!

deal with that, change haters!

so, do we like it?

i think it works because it maintains my anonymity while showing just a hint of cans.

but i need your approval, dear readers.

VALIDATE ME!

am i not pretty enough?

2006-10-26T16:05:00.000+10:00

today i received an email from devastatingly hot rocktographer daniel "all the ladies want to touch me, and some of the boys do too" boud.

it said: "I saw this on the internet somewhere and thought of you."

and it was accompanied by the picture below:

i honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry.

*wanders off humming christina aguilera's 'beautiful'*