Christianity in a nutshell

This photo is not doctored in any way - I think that's the best bit about the whole thing.

You like Gawker Stalker?

No way!*

I just found out about this 'even better' version that News Limited have created for World Youth Day:

http://twitter.com/popedownunder

Ya - you can totally follow the pope on his visit around Sydney. It's, like, so hot right now.

*For the record, I don't care much for Gawker Stalker. Nor the pope and his brood.

i think the universe is telling me something...

the campaign to get me to admit to my judaism seems to be ramping up. i had a very funny moment last week walking past the temple round the corner from my house, where the security guards moved aside to let me through - even though i was clearly walking past and not into the grounds.

then this morning, i come across this t-shirt, which i totally want almost completely based on the cool little preview screen that magnifies the image. given my dislike of christmases (unless they're the white variety we tend to have here in sydney) with the family fights and the screaming children and the horrifically tone-deaf carollers, the thought of converting is starting to appeal.

then i remember what i'd have to lose to become one of God's chosen. no rush on that one.

that, and i'm an atheist. might be a bit of trouble to convince the rabbi that the goy that looks jewish should just become one.

[Discoo]

Just In: Not only am I Jewish, apparently I'm a Mormon too...

I mentioned the other day that I keep getting told I'm Jewish. It's kind of amusing, given the anti-semitism that was so rampant among many of the ukrainians I grew up around (i'm not excluding family members in that, either).

Anyway, apparently Gmail is convinced I'm a bike-carrying member of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints. This Ad link was up today on my inbox:

On My Island Website



Do they realise I'm more likely to be the person RELEASING the dog than running away from it?

It's that self-indulgent time of the year again

Then again, what time of year isn't self-indulgent?

Oh, that's right: Yom Kippur.
Then again, being the good Jew* that I am, I observe my birthday more regularly.

Also, having the wonderful good friends that I do**, I'm always asked what they should get me. So, at Lady M's specific instruction, I have updated my Amazon wishlist in the leadup to my twenty-nth birthday.

Here it is people.
* By Jew, I mean "Ukrainian ex-Catholic middle-class poofter". Strangely enough, even a lot of Jewish people seem not to understand the difference. I had a few young hasidic kids throwing off Shaloms to me on Friday at Bondi Junction Westfield. Maybe it's cos Hasidism started up in Ukraine?
** This part is true.

Ukrainian-Irish Stuff

So, I received a completely unreadable email from my cousin today (strangely enough, not an unusual occurrence). Unreadable, that is, except for this image:



Which of course made me think that I really want to head to that t-shirt store where they print what you want on t-shirts for you with the following design:

St Patrick's Day
getting Ugly Catholics pregnant
ever since the bastard killed that dragon.

(Yes, I realise that it was in fact St George that slayed the dragon. I was brought up Catholic - and I am thoroughly relishing the idea of getting preggers tomorrow).

hey, i think you may have forgotten missy elliott and queen latifah...

Ever had one of those days where you feel really down, like God's not looking after you?

Maybe it's because you've been listening to Gay Bands!

PS. I never knew George Michael was Texan! Or that John Mayer is gay - well, at least that explains Jessica Simpson...

I don't know about you, but i could really go for a splash of that Mr Martini...

Hmmm.. these ARE potentially the gayest christmas-themed present ever. (Well, that or those photos of Tom Cruise.)

Remind me how mermen and mermaids fit into the story of Christmas? Is it that Christian obsession about fish?

My personal favourite? 'Cosmo'. Nothing says Christmas to me like a leather merman, cocktail in hand.

In any case,I love that Americans still don't know who Robbie Williams is.

i just wanna fuckin dance

I once read somewhere that a hermit who was watching his hourglass without praying, heard noises that split his eardrums. He suddenly heard the catastrophe of time, in the hour-glass. The tick tock of our watches is so mechanically jerky that we no longer have ears subtle enough to hear the passage of time.

Bachelard, The Poetics of Space (p167)

Anyway...I'm trashed. Or trashy. Or something like that.

I'm overrun with time this afternoon, partly because I can't focus on anything long enough to get my shit together. So I've decided to intersperse what is a particularly boring story with random commentary just to give you an idea just how scatty my brain is today.

---

Whatever happened to getting my shit together?

---

I stupidly started seeing this guy a few weeks ago.

The fam were visiting, which meant a simultaneously boring and emotionally stunted dinner which - due to the present company of my catholic priest godfather, who decided that after 40 years of living in this country that he can't (and won't) speak english - included such scintillating topics as the priestly ethics course that the Ukrainian Catholic Bishop of Oceania has put into place and that my godfather is now running with a catholic priest from Adelaide.

Hindsight being that lovely kick up the arse that it is, no, I didn't make the obvious joke about altar boys and Father Paddy's (in this case, Father Dimitri's) hair parting actions. (That's what us devout atheists call Taking It for Jesus).

So, of course, when we left the restaurant at 10.00 that night (no pre-dinner cocktails and ONE bottle of red and ONE bottle of white between four adults, AND I was the only person who actually ate all three courses...must have been Lent or something. aren't Catholics supposed to be alcoholic what with all the children and the guilt and everythign?), I was desperate for some human interaction that didn't involve my mother and I pretending to listen to each other's inane chatter.

A few phone calls later, I headed over to J's place in Chippo, only to end up coming back to Oxford St 15 minutes later. Typical.

After two minutes at the Burderking, we grabbed the boys and headed over to Palms.

---

See! isn't that funny? I just merged the Burdekin and the Burger King into one word, even though they're diagonally across the road from each other. Whaddaya mean, you don't get it? Oh, it's not that funny, is it? Well, I'll just HAVE to continue this story then, won't I?!

---

J and I seem to spend too much time at Las Palmas. For those who have not had the pleasure, Palms is what you would get if you interbred an RSL, a gay club and a greek tavern then dumped it into a basement space and added (for good measure) a DJ who doesn't mix the music so much as wait for the track to finish before putting the next one on. So of course, it's all handbaggy and trashy. Just the place to go to every once in a while after a house party or something.

Just not every weekend.

Hmm... I've managed to avoid its insidious charms this weekend. Probably a good move.

---

So, when we arrive, there's this cute guy who bounces up to our friend J2. I accidentally tripped J2 up at some point in the evening when my legs and arms went out to catch him, except my arms didn't move. Must have been the alcohol and residual anger towards my father and godfather. Anyway, bygones.

The cute friend was giving me the eye. You know, the gay version, not the evil one. Except he was there with some guy. Then he started chatting me up and dumped the guy (in front of me, no less) to spend the night with me. I remember being bemused about it at the time, but should have known better than to go home with him. But I did - what goes on at Palms stays at Palms.

Except for that time I slept with that guy that went to school with J, and it turns out he works in the same building as me. Reason #128,954,759 to leave my job, anyone?

---

Wake up in the morning with a head like ‘what ya done?’
This used to be the life but I don’t need another one.
Good luck cuttin’ nothin’, carrying on, you wear them gowns.
So how come I feel so lonely when you’re up getting down?

So I play along when I hear that favourite song
I’m gonna be the one who gets it right.
You better know when you’re swingin’ round the room
Look’s like magic’s solely yours tonight

---

Anyway, so we slept together. BIG surprise there.

And I stupidly went out with him again. And slept with him again.

Then I left it at that. I wasn't particularly interested, and he seemed a little, well, flighty.

Funny that.

---

Oh, I forgot to mention that I went to this Madonna thing at Slide at some point in during this whole shemozzle, where they were supposed to play 48 Madoona songs in a row, but ended up playing three at a time, then three other songs, then three more madoona songs all night long.

I bumped into the spunky Croatian doc from a while back. He ended up walking part of the way home with my housemate and myself.

Hmm.. he's still cute and friendly. I think I could really do with a serve of McDreamy.

---

Anyway, we did end up on a second date, where we ended up at the Colombian with W, a few PR PR people and a sleazy journo who ended up pashing one of the PR PR girls in a really ugly way.

(Can you tell I'm preparing myself for my future career in PR?)

The strange thing was that it turned out he did have a brain, and a creative one at that. Either that, or he was very good at very elaborate lies, because by the end of the night he had charmed me. Then, when we woke up the next morning and he said he wanted to spend more time with me (and not just see me once a fortnight), I was genuinely happy. That was last weekend.

Busy crazy week meant that I didn't speak to him again til Wednesday, when he rang up and invited me to a party on Friday with him. He didn't have the details, but he would call me on Friday morning with them.

---

I love Fridays. There's something about leaving the office at 7pm and knowing that I have two days to myself that I really really love.

Yes, I did mean 7pm, people. I know I work stupid hours.

---

But I don’t feel like dancin’
When the old Joanna plays
My heart could take a chance
But my two feet can’t find a way
You think that I could muster up a little soft, shoop devil sway
But I don’t feel like dancin’
No sir, no dancin’ today.

---

So Friday came round, and I texted him at 9am, when I remembered I had no idea what was going on. I was run off my feet with the fifteen or so things that are happening around the traps so I wasn't exactly checking my mobile waiting for him to ring. Still, no phone call.

At 6.30 I left a message on his phone as I was walking home to let D1 drop off our new (well, not so new, but still) big screen TV. By 7.30, no phone call - the dirty bastard.

So I called W, and went and joined him at the Opera Bar for a friend's birthday drinks, followed by drinks at the Colombian with J and J2 and some random complicated love triangled people (too confusing a situation to understand, just don't ask), and then Kooky.

I haven't been to Kooky for almost five years. It really sucked on Friday, though. I left after the band finished. (The band sucked bad eggs).

---

I'm breakin' it down
I'm not the same
I know you're feelin' me 'cuz you like it like this

---

So now, all I want to do is get out and dance. I can't be fucked being pissed off with him, I can't be bothered beating myself up over the fact that blind freddy could see that conclusion coming from outer space, I don't care to slap him across the face next time I see him (as much as he TOTALLY deserves it). I just want to enjoy myself, really.

So I'm just gonna go to the Kylie thing at Slide tonight with some friends and enjoy myself. Even though I enjoyed myself last night a bit too much, what with the vino and the pot and the half-tab (and a fucking strong one at that) of ecstasy at my neighbour's house-cooling/birthday party last night. But that's another story.

Ok, rant over.