KerrieJean.com

There’s this woman at work who wins fistfuls of international awards for radio documentaries….

She’s just received news [from New York] of another one…..

I was the first to offer my congratulations.

After I closing the door of her statuette festooned office, I said:

Great news….really, really great……

You did really, really well to record that 80-year-old drover who also happens to be an Olympic level contortionist and communicates only in Esperanto….really, really interesting guy……great……..just great.

I thought: I’ve had enough. I’ve been pumping out journalist gems for the Pacific Rim electorate for quite a while – but my peers remain singularly unimpressed………really!

…….At last count, my awards count was remaining steady: zilch, nowt, diddly squat.

[Okay, okay, I tell a lie...

[ The good news? In 1978 I did win the Dunhill Award for the student journalist most likely to do something.

[The bad news? I can't put the maroon and gold embossed Dunhill Award Certificate on my office wall because it'd have be packaged in plain brown paper.......]

Anyway, after I congratulated my talented [and very lucky] colleague I said:

So, how good are you?

She said nothing but pointed to her latest statuette – a finely crafted replica of David with a contemporary twist: a little brass placard covering antiquity’s most famous private parts.

The placard said: ‘Best In Show’.

I said: Well, I’d liked to see how good you really are……..

[Very, very competitive. cr: Library of Congress: flickr]

She said: Well, be quick, I’m busy……….

I said: Well, you and me go back a long way…….

……All the way back to Triple J when the Falklands War was Maggie T’s attempt to seize back the agenda from the unprecedented dole queues, if I remember correctly……

…………AND do the words ‘Harrier Jump Jet’ mean anything to you, DO THEY?

She said: Yes, soooooooooooooo?

I said: On June 30th, you and me will turn up to work fitting comfortably into a garment from our Triple J days.

She said: Okay…..now, I’m busy………….

I said: YOU’RE FINISHED BEFORE YOU’VE EVEN STARTED!

And left…..

Thinking already of my *Gwennie-tailored nifty jungle theme inspired jumpsuit, circa 1982.

So……..to let you know…….I’m going to beat that infuriating woman at work at something……….

In the ‘Return To Triple J Fat Cat Fight Challenge’.

Can I go down three dress sizes in one month to fit into Gwennie’s (*mum) jungle theme inspired jumpsuit?

Yes.

That other woman?

Fat chance!

In the meantime, messages of support would be welcomed………

And…….some tips on how to drop nine kilos in 30 days wouldn’t go astray………really.

Help out now 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.

I’m bamboozled…….

I awake to a screaming headline in the Sunday Tele:

JULIA….WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Only to immediately find that the source of the headline, Mousse-Man-In-Lodge, Mr Tim Mathieson, ‘is yet to discuss’ his high hopes with our PM.

Well, Mousse-Man-In-Lodge I have only one thing to say to you:

‘Get a grip.’

Because plainly, running around an already feverish Post-Budget nation telling anyone who’ll listen that you have sensational marriage plans while failing to inform your ‘intended’ is at best, unsettling, at worst, downright loopy.

Mr Mousse-Man-In Lodge, you need urgent help.

Never fear though…….

As Ambassador or Honorary Consul or Number One Ticketholder or Celebrity Hairdresser or somesuch for the trailblazing DIY therapy cluster, the Men’s Shed Movement, may I suggest you jump the bus to your old home town and avail yourself to the wisdom of the kind fellas in the Shepparton Shed?

They’ll sort you out.

Within 24 hours they’ll have your Wedlock Un-Deadlocked.

['National Stimulus:Cr: Library of Congress: flickr]

There you’ll be in the cosy Shepparaton Men’s Shed…..making a new bedside table, all under the watchful eye of retired master carpenter, Joseph of Shepparton.

‘Just kept goin’ Mousse-Man-In Lodge….it doesn’t have to perfect……life’s not perfect…..just keep goin’ and keep thinkin’ about what you’re gunna say to ya beautiful lady when ya get home…..’

And Joseph of Shepparton is right.

Soon, a composed and clear-minded Mousse-Man-In-Lodge is home.

In the drawing room, he’s standing next to a handcrafted, roughly hewn bedside table which has been covered with a spare Australian Flag.

In walks Julia.

‘I have something to say to you my [and Australia's] numero ono defacteroo…….’

Julia – rejuvenated from her weekly tussle with Bob Brown – smiles…….

Mousse-Man-In-Lodge whisks the flag off his bedside table……

‘Julia will you marry me and accept this roughly hewn bedside table as a sign of my ardour…..’

‘Yes Tim, I will – and while the little table is by no means perfect – I LOVE it…..’

And that ladies and gentlemen and taxpayers of Australia, is how IT will happen.

Stop Press:

The Sunday Tele followed up its Wedlock/Deadlock scoop with an editorial:

Make your move, Tim:

Tim Mathieson looks like a man who wants to ask the most important question of his life but is anxious about how it will turn out…….

But the signs are good Tim.

As a couple, you seem to have been toying with the idea since your stay at the Shepparaton Men’s Shed [sorry my mistake!] since the Royal Wedding, and Julia has indicated she’s old-fashioned enough to wait to be asked.

So go on, Tim.

Just show her the bedside table (sorry my mistake!)….just ask her.

*****Original screaming headline story:

http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/will-you-marry-me-julia/story-e6freuy9-1226055937846

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

Gee, relationships are complex……

I’ve never been married but there’s still time. Apparently life on a double pension is much easier than a single one……with the spiralling cost of electricity, bananas and the like.

Anyone out there married?

If you’ve got a poignant (or pathethic) proposal story please proceed to our comments section now……and tell Australia all about it….

And if you think you know the date of the biggest wedding in Australia since Dr Edelsten and the beautiful Brynne, please report in….

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.

The Shroud of Turin, the Eureka Flag, the canopy from the last Spitfire ever made [saw it on the Antiques Roadshow], the Leeton Redlegs jumper worn by the greatest Australian Rules player the Riverina ever produced, Des Lyons…..

Priceless artefacts?

Most certainly.

However, I too have something very superdooper.

My curatorial notes say:

‘On KJ’s alluring bed there is a huge bespoke spread consisting of several hundred squares of winter fabric.

The fabrics are a magnificent pastiche of obscenely bright wools, foxy flannels, titillating tweeds………

….The superb spread consists of offcuts from the hundreds of superb outfits the country artist, Mrs ’Goucho’ Gwennie Ross, made for her five daughters over a period of some 15 years.’

['The quilt dreamer': cr: George Eastman House: flickr]

I’ll let you into a little secret….

I never have dreams or, for that matter, nightmares, in winter……..

No point.

They’d be superfluous for as I snuggle down, the hopes, fears [and dare I mention, occasional sinful behaviour?] of five Catholic girls literally weighs heavily on me…….

****The purple velvet  squares were Merrilee’s outrageous *gauchos. 

So taken was a studious Leeton High School pupil by the outlandish gauchos, he proposed somewhere between the canary yellow wool squares [poncho] and the lime flannel squares [micro mini with pom pom hem].

****The fluoro flannel squares were Julie’s 43-inch-wide flared pants with matching cape. So intrigued was a Leeton High School romantic he spent long days perched on our fence hoping to catch a glimpse of the ’fox in fluoro’. 

When our fox moved into the soft green garbardine squares [modest pinafore with detachable collar] our fence sitter quickly moved on. 

****The restrained mauve wool squares were Kaye’s Catholic Ball gown. It’s a wonder she survived the night so tight and high was its ‘Vatican inspired close-fitting, high-necked’ feature.

But, by the time she’d moved into the hot tangerine twill squares, things had changed. Her impending marriage had given her much needed breathing space and new found zest.

****The sizzling pink merino squares were Frank’s tilt at sophistication, *gouchos with matching bolero.

However, after turning up at a school dance where everyone, on her arrival, shout Ole! Ole!, she quickly moved into the sombre tweed squares. 

Despite this, Gwennie’s obsession with *gouchos went up a notch: ‘It’s all tweed and gouchos now. Ole!’

****The bright red and blue squares were my hotpants overlayed with a full split skirt….. 

A sensational ensemble which never really got off the ground.

When I arrived at the school formal, a nun with a big red, angry [square] face rushed out of the throng with needle and thread and proceeded to sew up the front of my skirt.

By the time I’d catapulted myself  into the vermillion and hot mustard squares, I was out of the Catholic school system – and back into hotpants.

And very pleased.

So, thank you Gwennie.

Seamstress to the starlets…….

And like all great artists…..controversial, single-minded in vision – and, quite frankly, sometimes very strange……

* I have no idea why Gwennie was such a fan of the gaucho.  

But I do know this….

Pleas along the lines of: ‘Look Gwennie it’s a school dance, not a shoot out,’ always fell on deaf ears.’ 

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

So, let’s mark the not inconsiderable achievements of our mothers……

I’m not one but I sure as hell am thankful that I’ve got one – and just didn’t turn up out of the blue.

And here’s to all the old style seamstresses – craftswomen of the highest order – even if they did push their singular visions a little too hard on occasions.

There’s a whole hidden history of  ’at home couture’ in Australia – if you’ve got personal experience, please report in…….

Easy to do…….

Just by 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.

The Duke of  Cambridge’s nuptials have changed me forever…….

I’ve am now very ‘bald aware’.

Surprising, really.

Being the youngest of five reasonably presentable girls, ‘impending’, ‘middle-stage’ or ‘fully-blown’ baldness has never been on our extensive list of personal terrors and existential challenges.

And last time I looked, my three nice brothers-in-law were perhaps Gut Buster candidates, but they all had hair……

….Which, my recent field research confirms, is spine tingling in its exceptionalism.

Yesterday – as excited as Hugh Mackay on crack, I staked out my local Woolies.

[Unravelling of the bald self: cr: William H. Johnson: Smithsonian: flickr]

My mission?

To identify the incidence of ‘impending’, ‘middle-stage’ and ‘fully-blown baldness’ and compare the demeanours of men in these sub-groups as opposed to those with full heads of hair.

The difficulties of my project were immediately clear.

…….All men >20 were obviously in the’ middle’ or ‘fully-blown’ stages.  

And in a sure case of ‘it’s not happening overnight but it’s bloody well happening’, the men in the *’middle-stage’ baldness cohort  presented the most challenges for this researcher.

* ‘Fluffy’ presentation of  follicles, particularly towards the cranial vortex: tendency to obsessively run fingers though areas of  ’fluffy’ presentation: if accompanied by female, no spontaneous gestures of imtimacy [eg, bum pinching] and a morbid avoidance of the ‘hair products’ aisle.

On the other hand, the demeanour of the ‘fully-blown bald’ cohort, was marked by what this researcher terms a ‘distinctive form of bald cavalierism’.

‘Distinctive bald cavalierism’ is marked by a particular brand of middle-class sub-conscious overcompensation.

All ‘fully-blown’ bald men’s wives and girlfriends have exceptionally big hair……

‘Fully-blown’ bald men spend inordinate amounts of time sticking their bald heads into frozen food cabinets,  a la  ’How tough am I?

And they avoid genetically modified products on the basis that they cause baldness……

Which, of course,  is ridiculous but remember that this is a cohort for which ’reality’ has become hopelessly skewed.

Overall conclusion?

Because 99.9 percent of men will end up ‘fully-blown’ bald, God makes sure that the ‘impending’ and ‘middle-stages’ are mercifully short.

By the time ‘fully-blown’ stage has been achieved,  most men deny they’re bald.

To acknowledge it would be unbearable.

The small percentage of men who DO realise they’re bald are furious……

Shaving all their hair off which makes things even worse, particularly for those subject to forceps deliveries….

 [I ask you, what's attractive about a big bald head which looks like a touring map of the Great Ocean Road?]

Summary of research findings:

Baldness is a nightmare and it’s very hard to come to terms with if you’re not the Duke of Cambridge/Baron Carrickfergus.

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

Well, well, well………

Are you bald?

Has your life changed since you achieved ‘fully-blown’ bald status?

Is there anything good [at all] about being bald?

Is your partner in the ‘impending’ or ‘mid-stage’ of baldness? Are you thinking of leaving him?

……Perhaps you’ve even found your fella to be nicer since he went bald. I don’t believe this is possible but still……..

So, a warm invitation to join in Australia’s big bald forum. If you’ve got a story from Australia’s secret ‘Bald History’ be brave, come out now. By……………..

Just by 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.

You know the feelin’?

You’re so chipper, so up yourself you decide: time to let the world in on an intimacy so profound it’s a wonder Dr Phil hasn’t already been on the case.

Call me cunning, call me impulsive, call me anything you like – I don’t give a damm…..here goes……

I do NOT own an iron or an ironing board and have not had either in my keeping for two-and-a-half decades.

['Please stop ironing the paper towels': cr: Library of Congress: flickr]

There, I’ve said it..

Why, why, why? [I hear you bleat]

Why, why turn your back on the Industrial Revolution’s greatest legacy – the device that irrevocably changed for the better the personal presentation [if not the very demeanour] of right-thinking folks everywhere?

Simple….

Because I come from a long line [four sisters, one mum, Gwennie] of extreme, fetishistic ironers.

……..They’d iron the back lawn if cords were made just a bit longer.

As it is, nothing remotely ‘ironable’ is safe……

Chux super wipes, special occasion and everyday knickers, bra cups, patty cake cases, knee support bandages, Huggies………

Years ago, I worked out that here was a bunch of good women forever trying to wrest control of an out-of-control world.

I knew that my world would always be a crazy roundabout of dates and the unpredictable advances marking all stellar careers – so stopped ironing.

All WITHOUT changing my wardrobe or personal habits – quite the opposite.

Never a fan of  ‘drip drying’, I wash and spin and put in the dryer [setting: 'crucible'] even garments and intimate accoutrements that warn: ‘Dryclean Or Cry Or Go Broke’.

Be it at work or at play, I disport myself in the aforementioned sans ironing.

The crucial factor?

On an annual basis, I factor in the loss of up to 46 percent of my wardrobe.

All due to wilful ‘mishandling’ issues.

But I happily accept this under my no iron rule.

I’d certainly love you to join me…..

There’s only one further stipulation:

You must NOT ever be seen in those appalling garments that fashion emporiums proudly market as ‘pre-scrunched’.

Wanna look like tent that’s been pushed into the bag without being dried off?

Go ahead….

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

Well, well, well……….busy times in here……and that, ladies and gentlemen, is the way I like it…..

Another thing I do know….

Australia has a secret ironing history which deserves to be told…..

Let’s start today – would love to hear your great tales from ‘around the iron’…….

And…..if you [sadly] don’t hail from a well-known ironing family….I’d still like to receive news about anything afoot in your patch….

Go on, throw caution to the wind – and send a message to KJ and the world:

Just by 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.

By KJ’s Extra Special Election Blogger, Chadwick:

7.30 pm Sat:

This is tragic.

Electoral officers closed their doors on hundreds of beautiful women who attempted to explain their lateness at the poll.

An Electoral Officer said delays at hairdressers was not a legitimate reason for failure to vote under the Electoral Act.

This factor could explain the sudden tip in favour of ‘O’ for Orifice, ‘O’ for O’Farrell party.

‘Not since Marilyn stood on that air vent have we had such a heroine,’ said a Kristina Koo supporter.

She demanded a Royal Commission into the denial of Constitutional rights to latecoming females voters.

‘Perhaps there is a conspiracy in the hairdressing industry,’ she said.

A massive Something in the Hair rally is planned in Belmore Park.

By KJ’s extra special election blogger,  Chadwick:

7 pm: The late Something in the Hair Factor has yet to be considered.

It may not be not known for days.

Some female voters were caught up in a gigantic bottleneck at the salon for so long that they had to lodge postal votes.

The Kristina Kut is the latest craze.

The Julia Jell is not in much demand thanks to the Kristina Kraze.

For some Labor traditionalists bobby pins are back!

Did we see a Dorothy Parker bob at Lakemba?

On the male side, we have noticed a Big Fella Cut at Auburn.

Expect hairdressers to appear on Monday TV.

They know it all, and they are not bound by the confessional.

More soon. 

By KJ’s extra special election blogger,  Chadwick:

As the polls open under a dark and ominous foreboding Sydney sky I wish to make it known that I am confidently predicting a landslide for NSW Labor.
The hidden factor is Kristina’s secret weapon : Something in the Hair.

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

I fell in love with Liz when I read (many wrinkles back) that she’d been born with a double set of eyelashes.

Could not believe [was not even willing to entertain the idea] that a gal whom God had already bestowed uber natural gifts – had deemed a double set of eyelashes (lower and upper) wouldn’t go astray……..

[cr: SMU Central Libraries: flickr]

I loved you as a martian may look into Mr Tony Abman’s eyes – and think: who bore you? from what planet doth thou hail? And is thou garb of lycra a gift from the Gods?

Gee Liz, you - like no other - set the moisturising beauty bar sooooo darn high……

I worried about you.

……So smokin’ hot, I feared you’d self-combust, ending up as a mysterious ash ring on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame.

And where did that waist come from?

The prelude to not so much an hour glass but  – I am from a fruit growing district - a ripe, cling peach bursting forth early in the season.

Liz Taylor, you made Grace Kelly look like the girl next door.

And mere mortals?

Somewhere between Morticia and Lurch – on a good day.

Do report in:

Just by 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.