KerrieJean.com

The fear that I’m right out of my league has always marked my chaotic inner life……

….Throwing myself at an HSC Maths Level 3 paper in a stinking hot cell at Leeton High, withdrawing as a candidate for local Showgirl in 1976 [citing cold sore pressures], grappling with crippling blood phobia as a crime scene reporter in the early eighties……

But miraculously, the patron of out of leaguers everywhere, St Try Too Bloody Hard, has always been at my side….and I thank Him for that.

……Now - as everybody knows – Mr Bob Dylan is about to tour Australia.

I don’t care….

Why should I?

Afterall,  Mr Dylan was the springboard for perhaps my most alarming episode of  ‘out of leaguedness’.

Dylan concert: the old Sydney Showground, April, 1977.

My Hipster boyfriend [who'd spent the previous six months telling his daggy though 'cute on a good day' girlfriend] who exactly Bob Dylan was took me there.

For a gal whose biggest arts ticket thus far had been for the Leeton Musical & Dramatic Society’s ground breaking interpretation of Gilbert & Sullivan’s ‘Yeoman Of The Guard’ in 1969, this was huge.

I was desperate to please The Hipster.

So I opted for a long billowing cheese cloth dress with striking [handprinted] flowers of the field dotting the hem..

……Topped off by one of those Himalayan embroidered suede coats with that trademark moose hair lining hanging out just about everywhere…….

…..And my freshly permed locks stuck out straight from my forehead, providing a patio for my simmering kohled eyes.

The Hipster appeared surprised but stoked.

At the Showground, with Bob Dylan belting out a couple of songs which The Hipster had based his tutorials on, a hard rain was falling……and falling and falling…….

['Peace Brother'. Cr erjkprunczyk: flickr]

I was was increasingly concerned about my moose hair coat because it was starting to smell very bad.

The Hipster seemed not to care at all.

Instead, he was sharing reefers with folk obviously out of their leagues but by choice - and ignoring Moose Babe.

…Then The Hipster et al were throwing themselves in the mud, rolling around with the same look on their faces I get when I have a Splice…….

And Moose Babe found it – to say the least - disconcerting.

While Bob sang on….. good heavens, ’she makes love just like a woman’……….the Showground was rendered one big  seething mudbath.

The Hipster suddenly appeared: ‘Come on babe, come on babe…..’

So the Moose Babe, used to playing outside of her league, did.

At night’s end, two double dipped choc-coated cookies boarded the kombi for the journey back to the prestigious tertiary education centre of Bathurst, NSW.

But when the cookies got half way, The Hipster [always responsible] reported to his mud-encrusted cookie cum smelly Moose Babe:

‘Babe, I can’t drive any more. Nooooo can do. I’m too hyped up…..’

In the back of the Kombi on the side of the highway, The Hipster and his Moose Babe fell into fitful sleep.

At sunrise, Moose Babe kicked The Hipster awake with terrible news:

 ‘My mud’s set ……I’ve turned into a human tandoori oven…..’

‘Chill Babe….just chill……’

And I knew that - once again - I was definitely playing outside of my league……..

Gee, the Moose Babe is gettin’ old – it’s terrible but you’ll be pleased to know that I’m still playing outside of my league……..

What about you…?

I suspect there’s millions of real Hipster readers to kerriejean.com - and I’d love to know whether you think you were born with The Hipster gene or it’s a case of nature and Hipster Nurture……

Anything else…?

Keep cool  – and do report in by:

Just by clicking on the ‘comment’ TINGo 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.

Best Ever IWD Tip To Get Ahead As A Woman In A Harsh World…….

Get a wealthy fella.

*Simple and effective……..a new life mercifully free of:

Discrimination. Money Bags picked me, did he not?

Work/Life Balance Dilemmas.  Money Bags pays. You sit on your bum and smile.

Odious Career Trajectories. Money Bags invests his vast inheritance wisely. You sit on your bum and smile.

Competition From The Sisterhood. They talk all the time about you ’selling out’. You sit on your bum and smile.

Happy International Women’s Day…….

Read on for the Charlie Mr Sheen missive……….

Well, well, well…….I’m back.

And [just quietly] more unashamedly passionate than ever [if that's humanly possible].

I make no apologies for what’s been goin’ on the last few weeks…….

[Finding Myself Was Fun': KJ. Cr: Cornell University Photostream:flickr]

The truth?

There’s two very special people in this loose configuration of nobodies called the world – Charlie Mr Sheen and MissKerrieJeanatpleasurecentral/too.right.  

So here I am slumped knee deep in the detrius of my StayCation……

……. Just for starters, the hundreds of ‘post it’ notes stuck on my cookie jars have already become reminders of how gloriously selfish the pursuit of pleasure simply for pleasure’s sake is.

For example, don’t forget KJ:  go! [channel 99] 2:00 ‘Dukes Of Hazzard’, 7:30 ‘Total Wipeout’ UK, 1:00 am ‘Hellcats’ PG. *Just like Charlie Mr Sheen I couldn’t give a damm about Leigh Sales and Chris Uhlmann’s premiere menage a deux.

Charlie Mr Sheen and me also have another glorious trait in common – we’re both die-hard sensualists.

I’d like to tell you that during my StayCation, I shared everything with two attractive and personable guys who just happened to come into my life – perhaps a Red Shield collector and a real sweetie who came by to give me a quote for a wind turbine.

But that would be a bald-faced lie.

Instead, I’ve been re-igniting my insatiable appetites….by cooking.

But only with the three most sensuous ingredients – egg yolks [ova of life] condensed milk [check Charlie Mr Sheen's larder) and cream (ditto).

Put 'em together and what have you got?

The start of a *Key Lime Pie, that's what!

It is said that when Charlie Mr Sheen turned up in the Emergency Ward, the doctor said:

'Mr Sheen you gotta stop makin' *Key Lime Pies. They're dangerous for folks like you for whom the words moderation,  family and values have no meaning.'

 To which Charlie replied: 'And when Zombie Nobody Sir was the last time you acquainted yourself with the pleasures of f****** condensed milk?'

I concur.

The truth is:

I have spent my StayCation experimenting with condensed milk: making Key Lime Pies, turning it into caramel for caramel pies, eating it straight out of the tin, making Hedgehog slices.......

And I have no regrets - none at all.

And because - just like Charlie Mr Sheen - I love to share, I'll leave you with this -

My favorite Key Lime Pie recipe....[note: Charlie Sheen uses 'Key' limes because he can get anything he wants. I use limes from Woolies because that's all I can get]

http://www.thenibble.com/reviews/main/cookies/pastry/key-lime-pie-recipe2.asp

…..If you’re worried about getting obscenely fat obscenely quickly on Key Lime Pie, this site is not for you.

Talk soon.

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

So, here we are all again  – and I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to hearing news from your patch.

I guess some people may find the idea of a StayCation odious, to say the least. Why, why, why…..?

I – for one – can’t wait to turn up in the office and tell everyone that I’ve been exploring my inner Charlie Mr Sheen….through the bottom of a Key Lime Pie tin.

Oh boy!

Another thing, if you run into any problems with your Key Lime Pie, don’t hestitate to get in touch 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.

DATELINE: Monday Jan 10. Murray-Darling Basin, Murrumbigee Irrigation Area Without Guaranteed Water, Leeton, NSW, Pacific Rim, Computer Terminal Reserved For Seniors, Leeton Library.

Hello, hello, hello…….tentative greetings once more from Australia’s most controversial Basin…….

Greetings again from a town rent asunder - a town where family members are at war with each other more than usual.

Some long to pack up and go live somewhere with 21st Century amenities like trees, handsome men and occasional inclines……

Others argue long into stinking hot nights that the importance of water for the cycle of life has always been hopelessly overstated:

‘I’m stayin’, I’m stayin’, I’m bloody well stayin’ – this is where I got my first sunstroke, this is where I got divorced (twice) and this is where I intend to get divorced again……I’m stayin’, I’m stayin’, I’m bloody well stayin’……….[by the way KJ, you busy Saturday night?]

[Hands Off Our Town: cr: Powerhouse Museum Collection: flickr]

Where do I stand?

Well, as one who’s never been a fence sitter [because of serious OH&S issues] and is not about to start now, I’ll tell you where…….

I want the uncertainty to end.

I want to know if my hometown will continue to provide the same level of services it has always prided itself on doing so……..

I want to be assured I’ll be able to get a Brazilian Wax in secure and pleasant surroundings…….

I want to be assured there’ll be able-bodied and filthy rich rice farmers to date……..

And I want to be assured that if those dates do not go to plan, I have easy access to mental health care teams.

This is the reality.

The reality behind the headlines, the politicking and the promises……

Country people have the right to Brazilian Waxes and love – just like their city counterparts.

Remember this next time you read, or hear, or watch a story about the Murray-Darling Basin Plan.

And let your imagination and emotions run free.

Empathy – not sympathy – PLEASE!

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

Gosh, gosh, GOSH! I’m glad I got that off my chest.

I mean some people - they really don’t know what they’re talking about……..

How are you handling the usual January-driven uncertainties…..?

You know what I mean?

Will I go to Fiji or use the money to buy new blinds?

Will I accept that there is no God or continue going to Mass etc, etc, etc?

Always difficult.

My counsel? For the time being, just keep making the same mistakes. To change direction at present would just add to your stress.

Love to hear from you. Everything valid.

[Particularly if you're about to make a big mistake and want to be assured that you're on the right track.......trust me, I'll back you all the way....] 

Do 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.

So here I am……….

Chasing a star, speeding towards a small stabling facility out the back of nowhere and grabbing trinkets off the shelves of Seven-Eleven stores [knew you'd like it, just knew you would!] 

Oh dear……..

But still, I’ll let you into a little secret: I’m crazy about Christmas – always have been, always will be……

It makes me feel alive, which is amazing considering the litany of ‘tricky, tricky, tricky’ episodes that have marked 2010.

And trust me, I will tell you about the trickiest of those ’tricky, tricky, trickys’ at a later date.  

But quite frankly, I’m not going to ‘waste’ them at present. Even I know they pale into insignificance [just] if put up against an impending assisted Virgin Birth.

I know what a big story is……

And I can tell you a Virgin Birth is going to lead the seven o’clock news – and the 7:30 Report, with or without Mister O’Brien.   

So, this Christmas I am turning my efforts to things literary, things metaphoric….

I am currently penning a short story called: ‘The Christmas Prawns’.

[Trad Xmas Game: Prawn Roulette: Cr: National US Archives: flickr]

‘The Christmas Prawns’ is about loved ones gathered at a Christmas luncheon table in a small inland town.

Prawns and this town are not comfortable bedmates……

 …..This town where December temps propel local climate change activists’ knickers into terrible knots which makes things ever more uncomfortable ….

……This town which is so far away from Source Of Prawns, they’re hauled in in armoured ice trucks manned by Special Prawn Guards………

….This town in which the ‘Prawn As Christmas Luncheon Centrepiece’ is a relatively new mantra.

The intro to ‘The Christmas Prawns’ says:

 ’All families love prawns, they just love them in their own way.’

For our family, Christmas Prawns are taken DIY style – everybody is removing those pesky digestive tracts at the table.

Festivities continue…….

But at 4pm, it starts. Mass queasiness, followed by unspeakable bodily evacuations.

‘The Christmas Prawns’ centres on just who will take responsibility for the shocking turn of events.

Who set the fridge temp?

Did the Prawn Purchaser transport the Prawns in the boot of their car?

Who assembled  The Prawn Platter?

Were rubber gloves provided?/if so, were they used?

How long was The Prawn Platter on the bench after assemblage?

In ‘The Christmas Prawns’, there are no answers.

I simply leave our fragile family on Boxing Day quietly coming to terms with the Christmas Prawns Fiasco.

This year, I want you to see The Off Prawn as a powerful metaphor for your family’s celebrations.

If something terrible happens, it is no one’s fault.

……..Just a intricate web of small oversights……

Culminating in a fully-blown traditional Yuletide Disaster.

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

So, Merry Christmas……..

But, you will hear from me briefly before then – because on Wednesday I’ll be flying Air Valium to a small inland town very far away from the Source Of Prawn.

And I am very much looking forward to having a good sniff of  my prawns pre-injestion come Christmas Day.

In the meantime, do you think the ‘Off’ Prawn metaphor is a good one for family life?

I hope so because ‘The Christmas Prawns’ is nearly finished and I’ve squeezed out every last drop of my creative juices on it, I really have…..

Another thing – as per tradition - here’s a little link to the Christmas song which I recorded with the musical genius, Big Swifty, a couple of Christmases ago. 

[Big Swifty: We coulda been big! ]

 *Everybody said Big Swifty did a great job but they weren’t backwards in coming forward to offer this opinion:  KJ, you can’t sing!

click-to-hear-They’re-Your-Bloody-Family

Isn’t that mean?

 Next thing, the same people will be telling me ‘The Christmas Prawns’ doesn’t work, just does NOT work as a piece of literature.

Big deal!

Please report in – it’s free, easy - and it’ll really calm my nerves before Air Valium tries to take off  on Wednesday. Do the humane thing 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.

Best that I tell you……before WikiLeaks does.

So……Saturday was supposed to herald my big glam event in the on-going glam saga that is 2010.

It was to be fun and sophisticated: it was to be the official de-popping and sip, sip sipping of the hard-earned results ($20 each x 12 months = $480) of a two-member Christmas Club: dear friends united in a quest to try before they die the rare bubbles which are Cristal Champagne.

[cr: geishaboy500: flickr]

Cristal – Cristaaallle for those in the know – was made by the French ‘passion pop maker to the stars’, Monsieur Louis Roederer.

He had an exclusive contract with the last Emperor of Russia, Tsar Nicholas 11, who was very demanding about his bubbly requirements.

Astonishingly, the pesky Nick decreed that his Cristal come  in a heavy, flat-bottomed clear bottle so scary detractors couldn’t put a bomb in the usual indentation.

[I'd be checking that cheap stuff at your Chrissy luncheon table, I really would....]

So….our modern day Cristal Chrissy Club convenes…..

I’m feeling good…..

…..If not a little concerned that the high tensile side seams on last Summer’s prize purchase - a nifty strappy number -  are being stretched way beyond manufacturer’s specifications.

Cristal Chrissy Club member # 1 is smiling as she reaches into the silver ice bucket. She carefully lifts the Cristal.

Pop, pop…….

We both agree that the Pop is a mysterious melodic pop, the likes of which we’ve never heard before.

Oh, did tell you?

On the white linen cloth, there’s also eight dozen freshly shucked oysters………..

As Cristal Chrissy Club member #1 attends to her special pouring duties, I (forgive me) am slurping molluscs at a disgusting rate.

Pausing only accept my Cristal.

Cristal Chrissy Club member # 1’s face turns ashen:

‘KJ, you’ve got blood all over your mouth. Blood! You’re scaring me…..’

 I can confirm that Cristal Chrissy Club member #1’s  journalistic powers of observation remain top shelf.

For I am the victim of a mollusc shell lower facial inside-upper- lip injury.

Blood sprews forth….

I am stumbling to the bathroom……

……Then emerging with a giant wad of toilet tissue lodged in my mouth – biting down hard.

I am calling for a straw.

I am drinking Cristal through a straw…….

‘What do you think of it?’ says Cristal Chrissie Club member #1.

‘Everything’s comin’ up shiraz here, everything’s comin up shiraz……’

All in all, a fantastic day.

And….in historical terms, spot on.

As Cristal Chrissy Club member #1 reminded me:

‘A fair few Russian Royals were haemophiliacs KJ……..quite a few….’

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

So, how are we all on another fine dayin the history of us…….

Was I wrong  – as a child of the Riverina bulk wine growing region – to seek the finer things of life?

Was I wrong to think I’d find happiness in the flat bottom of a $300 bottle of plonk?

Have you ever sustained an at-table injury?

When you feel like giving up, what do you do?  Pray or get into an embryonic possie under your desk? [Whence this missive comes from]

Do report in – it’s easy. And it costs nowt.  Do join the conversation 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.

Time to get my traditional Advent Calendar….

Calmly yank off bits of cheap choccie [gulp!] and let my traditional tri-semester pre-nativity December unfold……

As per usual…….(sigh)

And could it be that my traditional hot December will be the hottest yet……?

 [Happy November! cr: Nationaal Archief: flickr]

Fat chance!

Just read the signs KJ, read the signs….

* December always heralds my traditional dental pre Yuletide crisis.

This year, it’s early and very, very bad. At 11:30am today, I am presenting at my favorite dental facility with what appears to be a double molar triple collapse with quadruple pike.

Very unusual for November.  Even eerie.

* December always heralds my traditional pre Yuletide Demonstration of Middle-Aged Precision Flirting.

…..For one night only [usually at a nameless corporation's pre-nativity bash where dilation of the eyeball kind is common]

Again though, I’ve gone early. 

So early, I gave my traditional Yuletide Demonstration Of Middle-Aged Precision Flirting on the weekend just passed.

It will be the last.

Could it be that flinging my ponytail while simultaneously winking and intoning:

‘The Riverina really gets hot from now – incredibly hot - so darn hot the roads melt forming rivers of hot, hot bitumen….’ is passe?

Apparently. So everyone says.

* December always heralds the arrival of my traditional ONE Christmas card with three-page cheery insert.

It comes from a mystery well-wisher who I obviously made a big impression on some time in 1986.

Nonetheless, I’m glad to be on the distibution thingo  – so vast it must been purchased from the House With No Steps donation list or some such. 

Anyway, nothing to look forward to in my traditional ‘one day only’ pre Yuletide mail box overflow…….  

My card with insert has already arrived.

But I am pleased to report that out there somewhere lives Australia’s *happiest/most successful/most nauseating family.

* This year someone called ‘my husband, Thomas’  did have a heart attack but ’stunned the cardiac specialist community when he [unassisted] climbed Mt Kilimanjaro two days later.  Not surprising if you know Thomas…’

For the record, I am surprised……..

* And (most critically) December always heralds my traditional pre Yuletide propensity to put on quite a bit of weight – fairly quickly.

Nothing to look forward to this time – I’ve been packing it on all year.

The comforting news is that I didn’t notice.

Until I tried on my much loved personal summer range of classic essentials. It is now essential that they be replaced with new essentials. Preferably essentials that will cover classically bulging lines.

The good news?

At that aforementioned function when I did my traditional Yuletide Demonstration Of Precision Middle-Aged Flirting I chanced upon revellers talking about surgically enhanced bosoms.

All eyes went to mine.

I said: ‘You must understand I have put on quite a bit of weight this year. And I would hardly elect to present like this, would I?’

They were not convinced.

Frustrating.

So I allowed an elected representative of the doubters to ‘appropriately investigate’.

After a quick [and highly appropriate manual investigation] the rep reported:

‘She’s telling the truth.’

And that ladies and gentleman made me feel good.

Like all my Decembers had come at once.

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

Well, well, well – good luck with your traditional pre-nativity season.

I hope it hasn’t come early because it really is a strange feeling……….

One thing’s for sure – let’s all try and report in with happy things this week.

If I read one more report about psychologists being on high alert to deal with December driven nervies I will surely turn up at the Press Council in a terrible state.

The thing is: make December work for you.

Now, sing along….

Six million Baby Boomers, all colours of the rainbow Boomers, heading for their best December yet……….

And spread the joy right 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.