My work times hurts

Funny things happen at work.

Last night a 65 year old psychic therapist brought two phone books to stand on so he was taller than me when he gave me a hug. He actually brought them from home and carried them to the studio in his man bag.

A strange listener told me she sent me a letter addressed to 'Miss Maddy'

One listener called up and sang opera to me twice in 5 minutes. Each time he said "Hey Maddy, listen to this" then burst into song then said "see you bye" and hung up.

There are some strange people out there.

My lack of inspiration hurts

Today I am minus inspiration and minus motivation.

I don't want to work, I don't want to run, I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to lie on my bed and watch Twin Peaks.

You know when things seem way more difficult and complicated and painful than they actually are? Like right now the thought of getting off my bed and putting on my running shoes is just so beyond me.

The running itself I wouldn't have a problem with, but I can't bring myself to put on those freakin shoes.

Whinge whinge whinge.

My tummy hurts

because I ate too much.

My life is so freakin difficult. No one understands me. I've got all these ailments and only this pitiful blog as my outlet.

I ate too much because I went to afternoon tea with my school friends. This is what happens now apparently. Amongst the cheesecake and awkward silences of people who used to be close and have nothing in common anymore, I discovered that one of said friends reads my lil blog here.

Thank god I didn't publish that bitchy post I wrote about her, eh? That's the thing about these 'web logs' (sometimes referred to as blogs I believe) - you never know who's reading.

But anyway, said friend launched somewhat of a gentle but poignant attack on self when I was giving my humble opinion on the film 'Whip It'. (read below as to what I thought of it, but in short it was a pile of total unrelenting craaaap). This attack stemmed from my use of the word 'codefied' when describing Drew Barrymore's character. She called me up on the fact that I wrote an irrate blog post on people using marketing lingo like "let's open a dialogue" (see below) and yet use much more offensive terms such as 'codefied' in general conversation.

Well Jenny - I apologise for my inconsistencies and apparent hypocricy. I'm sorry that 4 years of media studies has so addled my brain with wankiness that I can't tell what's acceptable in everyday speech and what should be kept for long winded academic articles titled "Now You're a Gay: Gender Identity and Sexuality in Queer Eye For the Straight Guy."

Sometimes these things just slip out, you know? They're greeted with the predictable eye rolling and exchanged glances. I know, I see them. But this is what the School of English, Media Studies and Art History has made me. I'm a monster.

Perhaps, Jenny, we should sit down with our problems and open a dialogue.

WOULD THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY, JENNY?

My Head Hurts

Everybody get excited - this is officially my first drunk-blog.

W00t!

Now I won't get carried away, I'm not on-the-floor wasted or anything. Yes, I am making more typos than usual but I am coherent enough to go back and fix them.

It's more my first tipsy-blog, but still something to be celebrated nonetheless.

My head hurts because the wine headache has already begun. This does not bode well.

But I totes deserved a (read: several) beverage because today I organised the first outdoor broadcast for JACradio. It went ok, despite some technical hiccups. What really shat me off was the guy organising the event that we were covering. It was some bullshit University organised marketing thing about student stress relief. Holy jesus it was so over organised - there were about a million emails, meetings, phone calls and other crap just to organise this tiny thing.

But it wasn't just that - this guy spoke in the most infuriating marketing lingo. Seriously, I would ask him a question and instead of giving me a yes or no answer he would say "Ok Maddy, I'll go get my program and my info sheet and I'll brief you on this. Then if you have any queries we can open up a dialogue and discuss potential solutions."

FUCK OFF. WHY CAN'T YOU SPEAK LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN??? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE EVERYTHING SO RIDICULOUSLY COMPLEX AND WANKY???

rar

My Mixtape Hurts

Here have a mixtape.

Tracklist below. Download here.

1. Date With The Night – Yeah Yeah Yeahs
2. Now We Can See – The Thermals
3. Serio – Lost Valentinos
4. Hold Music – Architecture In Helsinki
5. Happy Alone – Kings Of Leon
6. 15 Steps – Radiohead
7. Black Stacey – Saul Williams
8. Cassius – Foals
9. I Cut Like A Buffalo – The Dead Weather
10. Pull Up The People – M.I.A.
11. Last Night – The Strokes
12. P.Y.T. – Michael Jackson
13. Velvet (Gang Gang Dance Remix) – The Big Pink
14. Quicksand – La Roux
15. Cheer It On (Trey Told ‘Em Remix) – Tokyo Police Club
16. Smiling – The Beta Band
17. I Don’t Want To Party (Party) – Philadelphia Grand Jury


And don't say I never give you anything.

My arse hurts

Don't be disgusting.

I played squash. It hurts the old gluets you know.

I am such a bad loser, I throw my racquet and swear and just generally have a tanty. This is a fairly unattractive quality and considering I'm fairly shit at squash and therefore lose with relative consistency, I feel sorry for anyone stuck on that claustrophobic little court with me.

Here's a tip. Don't play competitive sport when you're hormonal. Oh the rage.

And now I can barely sit down. Boo.

My Social Networking Hurts

Have wrestled with the demons of my conscience and come to a compromise. So as not to make things too personal, I will lampoon facebook fauxpas on a more general scale, with some specific examples thrown in.

Item the first.

Religious Status

One of my facebook friends has recently chanced their religious status from "very Christian" to "Christian all the way."
Yikes.

Firstly, why did she think it necessary to change from very Christian to Christian all the way? Was her point not clear enough? We get it! You're an uber-Christian, you forsake all others for that bearded guy in the dress. Obviously the religion element of her facebook profile was so important that she felt the need to keep it fresh.

I don't understand why any extra qualifier to "Christian" was required. I don't think Jesus actually cares what you put in your facebook profile (as long as it's not Muslim of course).

I got curious about Jesus' take on facebook, so I had a look around and found that he has no fewer than 500 facebook profiles. No wonder he can be everywhere at once. Or is that Santa?

I checked out Jesus Christ from Pittsburgh's profile and not even he lists himself as VERY Christian. In fact he just has a cheesy quote from some guy called Matthew.

My How Mean is Too Mean (?) hurts

Question: Is it too mean to start posting a 'worst facebook' status of the day thing on this blog?

Is that what they (the almighty "THEY") call cyber-bullying?

It's not that I want to hate on people, but some people need to realise the kind of identity they are creating on such social networking sites. A shit identity. And that the world would be better off if they deleted their facebook/twitter/tumblr/fliker ET AL accounts immediately.

Hmmmm. I shall ponder on this.

My Talent is a Beautiful Thing hurts

Thank you Tom.

This made my day.

My Maddy Newman-Entertainer Hurts

(This is a bit of an in-joke, so I apologise to anyone that is reading who doesn't get it (hey Liz Hickey and Tal).)

Guess whose favourite "hardest working actor in Brisbane" has re-posted a fuckload of videos onto facebook?

Check it out to see such comedic masterpieces as "6 Rules of dating" - a hilarious short film about the 6 rules to follow when out on a date. This is neither hilarious, nor barely even a short film. Also FYI, I have a sneaking suspicion the girl he is oggling throughout the "film" is a relation (sister?).

AWKWARD!

My Bogan Slang Hurts

Question:

Is there a more bogan term for getting drunk than "hitting the piss"?


Please comment with answers below.

My Attack Attack! Hurts

This is the best/worst thing ever.

Dedicated to Attack Attack!'s biggest fan, Tal.

Make yourself watch to the very end. It's worth the pain. I promise

My Stop Motion Hurts

Raaaad

My Shinedown hurts

These guys are at Soundwave.

WTF

My Indie Movies hurt

This is a response to this very thoughtful (if not a little 'I-majored-in-Media-Studies-hear-me-roar') post.

Excuse the wank.

I agree with much of what was said here - though my problem with the appropriation of Indie-ness doesn't align exactly with the authors.

My initial problem with the two movies in question was that they were not great films. In the case of Whip It, it was down right terrible. Everything about this film seemed an afterthought - characters were one dimensional and oh-so predictable, issues were dealt with on the surface only and conflict was messy and yet too-cleanly resolved.
Any potential this film had to challenge gender stereotypes was undermined by it's complete sanitisation of the all-female roller derby (ie. making sure that although the women were seemingly constructed as tough and independent, the audience was aware that they were either engaged/had children and all the positions of responsibility and power, ie. coaches and commentaters, were men).
This film's appropriation of Indie-ness is laughable and will be seen through by all but the 13 year olds (read: target audience) who will see and love it. It is so non-threatening and Hollywood that its use of Indie symbols cannot seriously offend me. Although it is careless and lazy in its use of subcultural codes, it is so obviously mainstream that I don't find it threatening or invasive. It has bigger problems. What offended me more was the over-written screenplay and the pitiful direction. Even for a debut, Drew - this was pretty bad.

(500) Days of Summer offended me more because it consistently bills itself as an indie film. It screams Indie. It beats you over the head with how freakin cool and alternative it is. Read Matt's post for more details because I can't be bothered listing it all again, but it's there in the music, the cinematography, the cast, the costumes, everything. But it was just so heavy handed and obvious that even someone within the subculture has to cringe. The director clearly spent too long jizzing themself over how cool this film would look and not enough time on creating likable characters or meaningful/belivable relationships.

My problem is complex because I haven't always identified with this subculture and was particularly resistant (if not aggressively opposed) to any overt signifiers. I saw them as alienating and downright try-hard. However, even now that I consider myself (*shudder*) one of them, I don't find references to obscure horror film directors or a Radiohead song playing in the background as inclusive. They don't instill me with a sense of belonging, nor does it make me appreciate the film on any greater level.

For me, Indie-ness (the aesthetic, the soundtrack, everything) does not automatically give a film worth. In fact used thoughtlessly, it seriously detracts from my enjoyment.

I would have loved Juno without the codefied references because it was a beautiful story. That's what a film should be primarily occupied with- story telling.

Ok, I clearly ran out of steam towards the end there as it is really late and I am drowning in my various jobs. Maybe I'll clear it up more tomorrow when my brain is not made of porridge.

My eye hurts

Actually Matt's eye hurts, both of mine are fine. He has some weird growth and is currently lying next to me on the couch with a warm washer over his eye and somehow listening to The Simpsons and his iPod at the same time. Also it is worrying how much of this episode of the Simpsons he knows without even seeing any of it.

Cold rainy day in Brisbanal - what to do? Think I might see Whip It - I do love Ellen Page although am wary of Drew Barrymore's directorial debut.

Start my new job at Old Person Radio on Monday. Woot. Also doing an hour live on JACradio on Tuesday to launch Michael Jackson's new single. Busy busy

Peace out.

My Ticky-Tak hurts

Woot. Ticky-Tak myspace actually has music on it.

Check it out.

In other news - I am hungover and my feet hurt from the retardly high shoes I was wearing last night.

My 16 hours of work hurts

You know who I hate??

People who complain aboout how much they have to work. I hate them almost as much as people who complain about how little sleep they got the night before. Notice there is a significant overlap between these categories.

I just can't feel sympathy for them. Oh no, you had to go to work 8 hours IN A ROW like every other normal functioning human being in the history of the world. Your life must be so hard, having to leave your bedroom 5 mornings a week and go earn money, sweet glorious money. How did you think the world would work? How are you surprised by this turn of events?

I am much more likely to feel sorry for people who don't have jobs and instead have to spend their time dicking around on photoshop and pretending their band will make it one day in order to feel relevant.

Now they have the right to complain. Not you - you whinging sack of shit. This is capitalism goddamn it. You will work until the day you die and you will hate every minute of it. Deal.with.it.


In other news, I had to work 16 hours straight yesterday and I barely got any sleep. Pity me.

My brain hurts

Rachel is insane

My dinner with a friend hurts

Titles are getting harder...swiftly moving into the relm of the nonsensical.

Had dinner with a friend tonight in the Valley. Struggled with arsenic coated throat and each bite of my veggie burger was pure agony. Good company though except it's weird with this friend because although she's one of my oldest friends and I love her to bits and see her every few weeks (and have done for 5 years), our relationship is pretty shallow.

You know when you were 6 and friendships were based on the fact that you and Kristen McGrath from the house across the road both liked raspberry licourice and Sailor Moon?
That's what this is like.

She also really liked (500) Days of Summer.

But she had a really cool ring.
So maybe it all comes out in the wash.

My throat hurts

Blah. My throat started hurting last night and is still hurting today. It feels like someone is varnishing my throat with arsenic every time I swallow. Matt won't kiss me for fear of catching it. Precious. And I fell asleep in a beanbag for several hours instead of doing anything productive.

What a stupid day.

My theremin hurts

I have found something glorious thanks to Richard Kingsmill. He may be too old for Australia's national youth radio station, but he's ok by me (even if he did choose Dizzee Rascal as this week's feature artist).





This is win x 10000

My newspaper hurts

To make myself feel better I am going to go have lunch and another look at the wedding and babies section of the Sunday Mail. Apparently it is Fat Bride and Ugly Baby Sunday. Woot.

Then I might go and stalk some of the bigger wankers on facebook...Mr Matthew McDowell-Entertainer here I come.


Self-esteem rising...

My computer hurts

Sigh. sigh sigh sigh sigh.

I fucking hate computers.

hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

My everything hurts

My hangover hurts

It's weird that I get sooooo thirsty when I'm hungover because I don't drink much water on a normal day, and yet when hung over it doesn't matter how much aqua I consume my thirst is never quenched.

There is also someone pressing their thumb into the back right corner of my brain. Completely self inflicted wine induced headache. Oh alcohol you hurt me so much and yet I keep on crawling back.

Music at Rics has been so hit and miss all year. Have taken to going out on Friday because Saturday music is the same terrible 1960s stuff over and over and over again. If I have to hear Shake Your Tail Feather one.more.time....
Need a place where they play new music. Or at least stuff from this decade. Is that really too much to ask?

Crowd on Saturday's also full of hyperactive 19 year olds who are so impressed with their own indieness that they don't realise that everyone else hates them. Friday's have been better except last night there was a strange amount of over 30s. Upstairs. At Rics. Huh?
There was one couple who thought it appropriate to take up a quarter of the dancefloor ballroom dancing. To Phoenix!
They kept bumping in to us and I kept hoping they would jive their way into oncoming traffic. Tools.

Where have the cool people gone??

My eyes hurt

My eyes are tired and sore because I spent the rest of today Op Shopping and it really does take more out of you than normal shopping - sorting the 'ugly ugly' from the 'fashion ugly'.

Despite my sudden bout of lethargy I managed to buy some fun things.

These include: a gold insect brooch, two scarves that may have been part of an 1980s air-hostess outfit from some now-defunct airline (ie. rad!), a cushion and two pillow cases.

One of the pillow cases didn't fit. It was so small, I don't know what kind of dwarf pillow is supposed to go in it. I hung it over my curtain but I think it may look stupid. Will keep you updated on this whole ill-fitting pillow case saga.

I also bought a dress that was heinously ankle-length, hoping to cut it and create some appealing short floral number with tights montage. Well hoping Matt would be able to cut it as I don't really do scissors. Needless to say it didn't end well and most of the dress is now decorating my couch, except for a small bit that I'm currently wearing as a neck-scarf thingie.

It sucks when plans don't work out.

Also staring at the computer screen while typing this has made my eyes even sorer.

Nice one BLOG.

My finger hurts

Today Matt gave me my first lesson on bass guitar, which was well overdue since my contribution to Ticky-Tak currently consists of me sitting on the bed and judging what everyone else is doing.

Said lesson was fruitful but left me with an unfortunately chappy index finger on my left hand. Mmm, I know and it's pretty sore too. But you know these are the sacrifices you make as a professional musician. It's my art and I have to suffer for it.

And you have to hear about.

Everybody loses.