KerrieJean.com

The last time I disported my pert little frame in blue jeans was June 12th, 2007.

At work.

But then, at precisely 17:16, the office stalker appeared:

‘KJ, you’ve passed over….’

‘Nice to see you sweetie. So, so……I’ve been passed over for promotion?  BIG DEAL!’

‘Not at all KJ. What I’m saying is that there comes a time when women look anything but great in blue jeans.

‘And they should face reality: they’ve passed into another place, a place where they really, really should explore new styles, new demeanours. 

‘At best, you in jeans screams: mutton dressed as schnitzel. At worst: Cheap, cheap, CHEAP!’

[In every life, there comes a time.......cr: bsdfm: flickr]

Harsh – but after reflection – fair.

My jeans came off - and stayed off.

SO, very, very disturbing to see Miss G and The Mousse Man presenting grossly inappropriately just after signing the lease on The Lodge.

[Warning: Disturbing pictorial material included in this supplement: http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/09/26/3022207.htm]

Trust me.

They should [and will] be hauled before be an ugly Senate Estimate’s Committee grilling.

Senator 1:  ‘Did you and The Mousse Man choose of your own free will to both look ridiculous patting each others’ blue jeaned bums near the carp pond in the backyard of The Lodge?’

Senator 2: ‘And exactly whose idea was it to render those unisex jeans even more appalling by coupling them with mid-price-range jackets?’

Senator 3: ‘Unbloodybelievable!

‘I’m from a country town.

‘EVERYBODY KNOWS……THAT MIDDLE-AGED COUPLES….

‘….who dye their hair a lot and wear matching jeans and massive baubles which they say are authentic Navaho ‘get rich as a personal right’ totems and rent out modified shipping containers on the Gold Coast and fork out $25,000 of other people’s money to have colonic irrigation and claim their daughter, Beautiful Boop, is on the Target catwalks in Perth and their investment in a Indian Double Drip Irrigation Innovation made ‘em 1450 percent last year………..

‘ARE TO BE AVOIDED AT ANY COST…….’

*So, an extraordinarily concerning tableau paraded before the nation near the beautiful carp pond at The Lodge.

My only hope?

That later on, Miss G and The Mousse Man got their jeans off – and will continue to keep it that way.

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Oh dear, so much to worry about this week.

Just for starters, ANOTHER AFL Grand Final. Booked in for a heart stress test, later today. Please God, NOT a stroke when I haven’t even started my Chrissie shopping.

Just quietly, how old are you and are you still wearing jeans?

Do tell.

Where, when, WHY and most importantly: WHAT SIZE?

As usual, please tell report in and let me know what’s happening in what passes for your life. 

*I DO NOT judge the states people find themselves in. Never have, never will………

Which brings me to this…….

The launch of yet another ’boutique’ facility for the kerriejean.com community.

Our ‘Restricted Area’ is the receptacle for material you will be desperate to peruse – or not at all.

It’s accessed by clicking on the big ‘Restricted Area’ thingo in the left hand column of the main page.

It is for adults who embrace life in pluralistic Democracies.

So, if you’re immature, Communistic or proudly Homogeneous - the Restricted Area is NOT for you.

In the meantime, keep our community strong. Keep it potent. Keep it hot. By:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Emergency Update: 5:28pm. Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice Keeps Well In The Fridge For A Week.

[Original story]

Serenity Now………

Today, is the day I can forget what a miserable tableau my life has become.

Grand Final!!!!

It’s also the day I offer my gift to this most sporting of sporting nations:

Gwennie’s Traditional Footy Day Pineapple and Banana Slice.

[cr:US National Archives: flickr]

[Harvesting nature's pineapple bounty for Grand Final Day, 2010]

Gwennie’s Traditional Footy Day Pineapple Slice is:

* ‘NO mess Charlie’.  Sticks to teeth, gums and whole of face when yelling at the telly. 

* With 12987 kilojoules a 4cm portion, provides enough energy needs for four quarters of even the most gruelling football.

* Tried and tested. This slice is no ‘MasterChef’ novelty. This is THE slice that went with Gwennie, Hec (President of the Leeton Redlegs) and their five lovely daughters to thousands of games in the glory days of the old South-West League.

This is the secret weapon that may not have delivered us Grand Final Glory….

But I shudder to ponder what the final margins would have been if  Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice had been stuck on the benches.

Get cookin’!

Base Camp:

One and a half cups SR Flour.

Quarter pound butter.

1 Egg

Half Cup Icing Sugar.

Rub butter into dry ingredients, add egg. Push into dough consistency. Press into eight inch tin.

Bake in moderate oven until brown.

Time On Topping:

Grab one 450 gram can crushed pineapple in syrup.

Thicken with custard power.

*WARNING, WARNING, WARNING. Custard POWDER not made up custard…

*Last time I released this recipe (’Footyzine’, Spring ‘96) thousands of furious cooks claimed Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice was a fraud.

Wrong.

They’d made up the custard and ended up with something resembling the Whitton Footy Oval after two drops of rain. And (just between you and me) malicious attempts to sue me for carpet cleaning bills came to nought – let me assure you……

Spread on cooled base.

Top with layer of sliced banana.

Finish with whipped cream and tinned passionfruit pulp.

Put in boot.

Cover with tarpaulin.

Transport to Griffith/Whitton/Narrandera/Grong Grong-Matong/ Ariah Park Mirrol/Ganmain/ Coolamon/Turvey Park.

So good you can get it down NO matter what tragedy is befalling your team……

Sing the praises of Gwennie’s Pineapple Slice by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Urgent news to hand about the Riverina Australian Rules Football League’s feared Groin Dynasty.

I speak of the Ganmain Groiners (’The Groiners’)  who, for decades, have operated unchecked out of the Ganmain Grong Grong-Matong Club.

In Premiership mode yesterday, the Ganmain Groiners – as per usual  - joined 18 groins (thus playing as one groin) to smash the disparate groins of the hard men from Turvey Park, Wagga Wagga.

…..Hard men who travelled to Narrandera to go through the motions of Riverina Grand Final Day, 2010.

Hard men who knew they were already doomed [The Ganmain Groiners: 14-8:92, Turvey Park: 7:8:50]

The Groiners – who hide behind their town’s innocous slogan,’The Pacific Rim’s Haystack Capital’ – have snatched six flags in seven seasons.

[What horrors lurk behind the Haystack Capital? cr:The Library of Congress:flickr] 

Which brings me to this…..

In an effort to discover why one club has managed to make a mockery of something promoted as the Riverina Football League Competition, I have just completed a gruelling interview with Ganmain Groiners’ President, Mr Phil Hatty.

I tracked a very nervy Mr Hatty to the Ganmain Sports and Recreation Club, known throughout the Riverina as ‘The Home Of The Groiners’.

He was preparing to present the The Groiners to yet another (sigh, sigh) Brekkie Premiership Civic Reception.

Sadly, luminaries would be thin on the ground.

The Mayor is sick of coming.  The Groiners had demanded cous cous and tapas ‘just to make things a bit interesting’. Ganmain residents were ’sick and tired’ of turning up when they couldn’t weep and say things like:

‘We got through the drought and we’ll get through losing the premiership if we all stick together as a community, we surely will…..’

*Highlights of interview with Mr Hatty.

Why do the Ganmain Groiners always win the Grand Final?

“Because we hate Coolamon (ed’s note: one of the prettiest, ‘go ahead’ towns in the Riverina).

“Everyday our coach, Daniel Rankin, has to drive through Coolamon and everyday he says to himself: ‘I hate this place and I swear to God I’m gunna make sure ’they’ never get their hands on our groins’.”

So Mr Hatty, The Groiners are driven by nothing more, nothing less than psychopathic malice?

“Yep KJ, that simple.”

I put down the phone. Suddenly, I felt cold. Then chilled to the very bone.

The Ganmain Groiners – the most successful club in the history of Riverina Australian Rules Football - are driven by irrational hate……..

I am shaking.

All those years ago when Hec (Leeton Redlegs’ President) bundled Gwennie and his five lovely girls into Holden CLU 295 to drive erratically to Ganmain to get thrashed he knew this was no (passably) ‘normal’  family day out.

The fact that Hec always returned to CLU 295 shaking, sweating and swearing badly and loudly is testament.

And in retrospect, why wouldn’t he be acting highly inappropriately?

For a real family man had been continually forced to subject his loved ones to the cauldron of hate that was the Ganmain Groiners very raison d’etre.

So, listen very carefully. I owe it to Hec.

I am returning to Leeton in 2011 to coach the Leeton-Whitton Crows to Riverina Football League Premiership glory.

Why?

To rid regional football of the canker that continues to threaten Riverina community-building, The Ganmain Groiners.

I also happen to hate them with every bone in my pert body.

Yep, simple as that.

[Here's a link to my first story on the Ganmain Groin Dynasty. *Mitch Carroll named best and fairest groin on the ground, yesterday. Scroll down a bit and you WILL come to the groin material]

http://www.kerriejean.com.au/2010/06/the-world-cup-30-day-fizzer/]

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It’s very sad when a community going under the banner of ‘Living, Loving Learning’ is forced to confront issues like hate – but if we must, we will.

Why does Ganmain hate Coolamon? Why does Coolamon hate Ganmain? Why do I loathe both?

….And while I’m at it, I’ll chuck in Ardlethan, Grong Grong and Moombooldool just for good measure…..

If anyone out there can help me confront my irrational hatred of other towns please be in touch.

Trust me, I’ll read what you’ve got to say, I’ll respond BUT if you think I’m going to change my mind you are - quite frankly – SADLY DELUDED……

As always, I’m sitting here waiting to hear news from your patch: the good, the suss and the downright pathetic….everything is treated equally in here.

Go on, express yourself by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Huge news today vis a vis my advocacy work which, as my supporters will tell you, is all done in my private time….

For free, gratis…..diddly squat. 

['Do we really want the war to continue?' cr: Peter Hindmarsh: flickr]

With sleepy rural constituencies being propelled into the national spotlight, I have embarked on an urgent lecture tour at (as my supporters will reaffirm) great personal expense.

While it is true that country towns are hell bent on snatching every last cent from our collective nation-building coffers, I am not only appealing for calm but viewing our new paradigm (sigh, sigh, sigh…) through the prism of peacemaking and understanding – a rare opportunity to achieve rural-city detente.

My lecture series is titled: My Cow, Your Cow, Our Cow .

Whether you are reading this in Bondi or Barmedman, please take a couple of minutes out of (let’s face it) your pretty ordinary life - and hear me through.

*Opening ‘My Cow, Your Cow, Our Cow’ comments – busting unhelpful myths.

[1] Country people are geniuses because they know where food comes from.

While city folk devour beef medallions strategically poised on juniper jus, followed by something sweet floating in quadruple curd, they have not a clue about the source of their bacchanalian tastes.  

The truth:

Both country and city folk know the souce of the aforementioned repast: COW.

[2] Country people are superior lovemakers because they’ve seen lots of cows being born. Seeing cows being born makes people ‘more at one with life forces’ .

The truth. 

Man or woman – city or country – who’s observed vets armed with tractor chains pull calves from wombs and thinks this has equipped them with ‘higher authority’ bedroom skills needs professional help NOW.

[3] Country people fight like bulls on heat but when someone needs a finger sown back on after giving their all during a particularly gruelling calf birth, they’ll quickly forget their differences and form emergency fundraising raffle committees.

The truth.

Country and city folk have the same propensity to hate. Taking away a person’s right to hate is akin to castrating cattle without adminstering panadeine. 

[4]  Country people are too busy monitoring cow prices to care about what’s happening in Myanmar.

The truth:

Country folk have been trying to get a live cow trade going with Myanmar for decades. They know everything about it.

[5] Country people are ’less Australian’ because they know not the pleasures of the surf. Nor have they faced - and conquered - its dangers. 

The truth.

They’ve done far more than that. 

Time for the hidden stories of dam and river derring do to be put before the Australian public. 

And time for me to declare I’m midway though a cultural history of just that.  Tales so far….

*Brave (stripped bare) country men winning three-day fights with 567 kilo dam carp.

* Modest country women having cossies ripped clean off their pert bodies by lethal Murrumbidgee River undertows.

And most intriguing of all, the three men in a tinnie who disappeared without a trace nearly one hundred years ago. 

Locals still talk about ‘The Tinnie Heaven’ case.

Wazza, Jezza and Tezza were last seeing loading a tinnie with 10,045 tinnies at the Tinne Hell Ramp at 06:37 on the 13th day of the 13th month in the year 1913.

I am currently investigating how 10,245 tinnies can disappear without a trace.

In the meantime, I declare the next seven days: ‘For Town And Country Week’. Patrons: Messrs Oakeshott and Windsor.

Please join us.

***************************************************

So busy, busy busy……..

And a big welcome if you’ve discovered us via the extraordinary buzz around our new comedy series, ‘Something In The Hair’.

Do let us all know what’s happening in your patch – perhaps you even enjoy the City-Country Culture Wars and would be mightily disappointed if peace came in your lifetime.

Perhaps you like ‘Something In The Hair’ – or perhaps you find it nauseating. Trust me, I’m not the type to lose sleep over such a slight but I’d like to know exactly why and how you formed your opinion - I really would. I really…..really…..REALLY……would.

So, looking forward to meeting you. If not during the ‘My Cow, Your Cow, Our Cow’ lecture tour then right here and now.

You can do that by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Hello there, top of the morning…..

Despite the sad news that a dear friend is getting all his teeth out today, life goes on - and like how!

Today, the official on-site launch of my mid-life-crisis project: ‘Something In The Hair’.

Make no mistake.

While the country I love – and would be  prepared to lay down six bottles of Golden Gate Spumate for - remains hostage to the delusional thoughts of three crazy rural brothers, art-making continues……

What you can do to help……

Simple.

Just click on the nifty promo lines under the pic of me emulating a windswept Catherine in ‘Wuthering Heights’ (to the right of your screen) – and away you go.

There’s sound and vision and podcasts and a cast of wonderful Riverina folk who touched my heart and didn’t hold back in advising me during what continues to be a very challenging time in my life.

Fifty, fifty, FIFTY!

Why, why did I think that men would find new strength in cellulite…?

Why, why did I think my bosses would come to value the special cynicism I’ve cultivated over a long working life….why, why, WHY…..?

Still, I’m an optimist……..

And terrific things did happen during the making of ‘Something In The Hair’.

For example, I got a date and I will be be making a bonus ’sealed section’ available when I see fit. 

So, have a listen to ’Something In The Hair’ – and even report back on what you think of it.

I believe all art should be subject to rigorous critique.

For example, I loathe ‘Grand Designs’.  I tell you - if  that terribly up-himself Kevin McLeod ever turns up to criticise my floor plan, I’ll be taking out my (seventh) AVO.

Spring………

A time for repose and reflection.

A time for planting….house keys.

A time for counting how many people barely tolerate you - and how many just simply cannot.

Most of all, the one time of the year for making – a festive Hummingbird cake! Take one can of Aldi’s crushed pineapple, nine rancid bananas, six cups of Aldi’s dessicated coconut….. 

For all of us….a time for every purpose under Heaven.

….A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing (particularly if it’d be highly inappropriate).

……While still embracing your responsibility to report back to KJ by……

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.