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September 23rd 2007 21:05
I have a stalking arrangement with local Sydney News Limited columnist, Joe Hildebrand. The arrangement is that I do all the stalking and all the arranging.
This involves but isn’t limited to randomly calling News Limited just knowing that the person I’m speaking to is in the same building as Joe; commenting on Joe’s blog and requesting he be my friend on MySpace. But MySpace posed all sorts of problems because people started stalking me and I had to leave. That hasn’t deterred me, after all there’s still Facebook, email, snail mail, text message and as a last resort, face to face contact.
But if I’m truthful, I think if I ever saw Joe in public, I’d run up to him, scream like a teenager and run away again. Either that or forget my name when I introduced myself. He’d always call me ‘Belinda’ but ask ‘Why does your email address say Liz?’
My friends are so sick of me talking about Joe that as soon as I say ‘Guess What?’, they interrupt me with a shooting - ‘Is it about Joe?’ Of which I’d just nod my head and lower it in a look of shame. But enough about me; more about Joe.
Joe has a docile drawl much like the Sandman. Looks wise, he’s the sort of guy that’d take a good mug shot - in fact, I think his Bio shot is a mug shot. Joe writes a lot of things about a lot of things, but most weeks he talks about his gay friend ‘Darrin’. In last weeks column, Joe introduced his readers to what could only be assumed to be one of Darrin’s favourite You Tube clips by ‘Bear Force’. I’m not familiar with ‘gay’ lingo but I’m presuming Bear Force doesn’t refer to the team of Care Bears we all grew up with.
Bear Force have, for lack of a better word, a video clip. The ‘team’, comprises of four male members each wearing their own individually coloured pastel shirt (lilac, musk, aqua and lemon) and pants whiter than a Larry Emdur smile. Bear Force is what happens when the Wiggles age, buff themselves up and turn fruity. And I’m not talking apples or apricot fruity, I’m talking fruity with a lisp and a wardrobe full of tan sandals.
Their video includes a lot of crotch shots. A lot. It also includes a lot of self chest touching and very obvious muscle poses. You know the one. This is where you ask a buff man for directions and he positions himself in such a way he's sort of pointing in the direction but doing it with puffed up ‘guns’.
Like with any tragic ‘boy band’ stuck in December 1987, Bear Force have a unique style of a synthesizer backing track and a montage of disco tracks. And what would a gay video clip be without a strobe light, near naked frolicking on the beach and more dancing in the rain than a tampon commercial. Essentially, the team of Bear Force dance, well, like, gay men. There’s also a lot of sexual innuendo even I don’t understand.
All I can say is that this video clip is more mesmerizing than Melissa Tkautz’s ‘Read My Lips’. But the question goes begging - I wonder if Big Ted is a part of the Bear Force?
Are you begging? Do you have tan sandals? Are you being stalked? Do you have a crotch shot? Are you stuck in 1987? If so, email Liz at Another Monday. anothermonday@theonioncupboar d.com - Guess What?
** To subscribe to this weekly article club and get your copy before everyone else, - email Liz **
September 12th 2007 09:24
Some people don't know how to use umbrellas and that makes me really mad.
First of all, there’s the obvious danger; at one end, there's a sharp point and at the other end's a blunt point, (ie, a person). Combine a sharp point with a blunt point and you have the potential to inflict all types of injuries and have reason to complain. So Another Monday faithful, get ready to flick those brolly's open for another literally deluge.
ANOTHER MONDAY – IT'S NOT RAINING ZEN
For the purposes of this Another Monday, we're talking about umbrella's in relation to precipitation (water). Those who use umbrella's during sunlight hours should be avoided at all costs. This is because these are probably the same people who believe shoe phones are just ‘a matter of time’.
Umbrella's are like girlfriends. They come in all different shapes, sizes, colours and range in degrees of difficulty. There's:
- The jumbo sized, so big that can cover all members of the fifth Battalion of The Royal Australian Regiment,
- The cheap and nasty you buy only because you're desperate and it's dark outside,
- The slim lined, pretty, perky and overpriced and,
- The one's that only show up in kebab shops because you can't find them anywhere else.
Umbrella's people - not girlfriends.
Then there are those special umbrellas that serve as two umbrellas; they're called 'magic umbrellas'. They work both inside and out. You don't know you have a magic umbrella until you're walking into a gale force wind and the rain is cutting incisions down your back. Magic umbrella's by nature sound fun but if your umbrella can't decide if it wants to be inside or outside, maybe it's time you decide you should be inside.
Then there are the type of umbrella users. People who:
- Carry their long and closed umbrella horizontally, not vertically,
- Leave a clear drip trail over tiled floors,
- Use their open umbrella as 'chicken' when they're walking towards you,
- In an attempt to dry their umbrella, end up flicking more water on you than away from you,
- Use their umbrella (unsteady), side to side, front to back, basically anywhere not above your head.
And lastly, there's those people who really give you the wet middle finger. This is when they have a brolley and a spare space underneath it but stand at the lights and don't offer to share it. Yes I'm talking to you ugly man at the lights.
Other than the physical dangers of umbrella's and the physical danger you want to do to some umbrella operators, there's one glaring wrong with them. Rather than have water ricochet away from us, we should be collecting it. We whine when we don't have enough water and then we whine again when god forbid some of it gets on your bad crew cut.
So after all's said and done, umbrellas only really protect you from hair and face water. If you have a lower body, no matter how much you angle your umbrella, you will always get wet. So really, the only umbrellas that have any use at all are the umbrellas you put in your pina colada.
Are you drinking a pina colada? Do you have a lower body? Have you got a girlfriend? Do you have a shoe phone? Are you ugly and standing at the lights? If so, email Liz at Another Monday. anothermonday@theonioncupboar d.com Some people call umbrella's 'dry hats'. That makes me mad as well.
I love a good bogan joke. I love it even more when you stick a vast array of bogan jokes together and package it up in a nice neat bow. This means I just love Sunday nights Kath and Kim.
I'm fond of this show because as much as I pretend otherwise, there's a little Fountain Gate girl inside me. I adore the shows keen observation of suburban life, current affairs and what's happening in the world of New Idea. I enjoy Kath sneaking a cigarette in the kitchen, Sharon's hideous bowl cut and Kel's unwavering admiration of his newlywed wife. It all comes together very nicely but that is, until we get to that selfish, ungrateful, narcissistic daughter Kim.
Right from the get-go, let's get a few things out of the way. Kim's 'muffin top' reference (the flabby overhang above the top of your jeans) doesn't bother me. I'm not bothered by the deliberate mispronunciation of words - in fact, I giggle every time I hear the word affluent (pronounced effluent). And I'm not offended by her protruding g-string under a backless dress. But what bothers me about Kim is her painful shrill and the 'I'm the centre of the universe' dialogue.
In my mind, the 'look at moi' comes from the wrong character. This catchcry is Kath's motherly way of pacifying Kim's impending 'mental explosion'. But it should really refer to Kim, the insecure, self absorbed, classless middle-aged, spoilt brat. If she's not whining about something useless, she's ricocheting abuse on her poor whipped husband. Poor Brett. The only time I've ever really seen Kim smile is when everyone is commenting on how great her (fake) tan and (fake) nails look.
Then when Kim's dialogue dries up at the tail end of a hissy fit, it's almost always followed by a 'Kim Storm'. This is the kind of storm accompanied by a dramatic 'exit stage left' huff, puff and bum swagger out of the lounge room. It's only when she leaves the room, I wish I could crawl through my television box and give the remaining characters a big hug for putting up with such a slapper.
Look, I'm sure Kim is whiny and cranky for a lot of different reasons. She may have serious post natal depression. She may have a true mental condition. Or it could be something as treatable as extended PMT or lazy bowel movements. But whatever her problem, I'm presented with a quandary.
On one hand I have the pleasure of watching Kath and Kel's endearing relationship, Sharon's 'okay Mrs D' mumbles and the clever ways bona-fide celebrities are worked into the Fountain gate background. On the other hand I have to suffer through the words of a venomous bully, squashed in tight Target jeans. Kim's attitude makes me so mad I want to grab her hair extensions and yank them from here until Tuesday. But then I remember this is just a television show and that calms me down. Just a little bit.
What Is 'Life Putty'?
Note: Life Putty, unlike Play Dough (flour, water and colouring), should not be ingested
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I get confused easily. And if you know me, none of what I’m about to say will come as a complete shock.
Many moons ago I joined myspace. It was under a different name, I had a different hair colour and was operating in a completely different headspace. I joined in the hope to meet people I wouldn’t normally get to meet – this was my opportunity to open myself up to likeminded people with likeminded goals. So, keen as mustard and sufficiently naďve, I spent a majority of one Sunday afternoon listing my likes, favourite books and heros. I painstakingly crafted a delicious introduction and made sure every box was completed. Done and dusted. All I had to do was sit by my inbox and wait for all my friends to eagerly await an ‘add
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This is a Public Service Announcement for anyone doing nothing more than live their life. You could be lunging in your step class, standing in line to buy socks or smacking your child at a Wiggles concert. You could be complaining about your mobile service coverage, eating a chocolate bar or getting your hair cut.
Then all of a sudden, one a lazy Sunday morning, you’re flipping the pages of your local newspaper and there you are, alive in black and white. You’re the subject of a snappy little lifestyle article entitled, ‘Where The Yummy Mummy’s Are At
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Liz Cooper Smith is a Sydney writer looking for writers to collaborate on some darn interesting writing projects. These range from TV Pilots to Screenplays to Novels.
The Onion Cupboard is the trading name of Liz's writing ranging from quotes to novels to articles to screenplays
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Last week was an emotionally charged week filled with talk of interest rates, the stock market slide, APEC security and tears when Radar left Mash. So this week Another Monday’s talking hamburgers.
It started with an advertising campaign daring us to name a burger. An advertising campaign I happily ignored. You know the one - taste the burger and tell them what you think it should be called. Yes, happily ignored the campaign for weeks on end. But little did I know my unconscious psyche was working overtime
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There’s been a lot of talk about Police of late. The phrase ‘Keystone Kops’ has popped up again. For those not familiar with these good ol’ bumbling policemen, close your eyes and imagine seven Ned Flanders look alikes (or at least seven Magnum PI’s). Then imagine them dressed in early 1900’s Police Uniforms wearing those cumbersome and ridiculous looking bowler hats. These movie Cops stumble and fall more times than drunk teenagers at a Blue Light Disco’s. They also throw around more cream pies than consumed on the first day of the Biggest Loser. Now open your eyes. You have an Another Monday to read.
I think mention of the Keystone Kops is what compelled our friend ‘Ridley Bid’ to email me. I couldn’t ignore Ridley’s email other than the fact I received the email twice “by accident”. But it wasn’t for that reason, I couldn’t ignore them because I could feel the exasperation in their words. This is the edited version. All swear words have been removed for your safety
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Bang. And with that, Another Monday is back. The hiatus is behind us and the stupidity is back. It’s nothing like bringing ‘Sexy Back’ - we couldn’t afford the video clip. We hoped you missed us. We missed you too. Whoever the hell you are.
This week we find ourselves again in another Supermarket aisle. The ‘Another Monday Party’ faithful will remember the last time we were in the Supermarket. It was singles night and we didn’t even know it. A lot of upright banana action and not enough dip purchasing. But let’s not get into dips; this has nothing to do with sticks
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Comment by Liz Cooper Smith
on Another Monday - More Than Your Average Joe
Another Monday
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