My three favourite conversations about the Election

1- On election day, at about 4pm in the afternoon.

 A- "Man, anything but Abbott, anything but Abbott, I'm moving to Canada if he gets in!"

Me- "So where did you vote before work, cos I need to get somewhere in the next hour?"

A-" Uh, I'm not actually on the electoral role. I'm an anarchist, actually. Not many people know that."

2- At 3.45 yesterday after the Independents press conference.

Me- "Did you hear, Labour got back in? Are you excited?"

D-" It doesn't make an iota of difference to me."

Me-" How come? You don't vote?"

D-" No, because, no one can stop the music."

3- Yesterday, during the presser, Windsor has announced and Oakeshott is banging on.

Me-" Eeps, Windsor has announced! We're just waiting for Oakeshott now! "

R- " Wait, which one is Oakeshott? Is he the hotter one?"

Pause. 

Me-" Yeah." 

Much tired, Hungry caterpillars and too many needles.

Can I have this now please?

Reason number 54 why I love my life: I spend all day on mondays at work emailing Holly from the Malvern store. We totally pretend it's really work related but it tends to dissolve into me calling her doofus and her writing IN CAPITALS. And the today she only emailed me once so I spent the whole day worrying about her, thinking she may have fallen under her desk and hit her head and was spinning into a fantasy land, in which she is a burlesque star/hired assassin and then she'll come out of her coma in about a hundred years, thinking she's still in 2010. WAKE UP DOOFUS, COME BACK TO THE LIGHT, CONTACT US!

Reason number 7 that I'm not such a fan: I have had about 6 blood tests lately, all for something quite serious and yucky and I really am a bit scared. And this week I get to have three 3!!!! more needles in about three hours. I is so going shopping inbetween. 

Reason 213 why I really like the way my life is going: Just when you've spent the last month or so a bit sick and hovering in test land and you're really a bit fragile and not sleeping. You head off to work and someone greets you with a high-five, then you get to hire a life-sized Spot costume for a launch including Paul Kelly and then you get home and lovely peeps are arranging to go see possibly the FILM OF THE CENTURY! 

Reason 1 why Reason 7 of the bad things isn't so bad: I is getting skinny and my Mum keeps buying me sympathy clothes, including hot high-waisted jeans! 

And also this which I am going to pur-chase in between the blood-letting on wed. Oh yeah! I am so hot-right-now with the under fives!

Yours in health,

Moi.

P.S- I'm not infectious and it doesn't have anything to do with toes, so breathe normally now.

P.P.S- Also on the happy pants list, I am now the primary children's book reviewer for Readings, oo, la la. I have a whole page! Goshity!

In which I moan about moving house and secretly wish for Lego

Moose.

Moving house is much like childbirth. 

(I knowingly proclaim never having given birth to a child or indeed a moose) But I have quite the imagination, to the extent I can no longer watch anything even vaguely frightening or involving Sarah Michelle Geller. So much like I HOPE with childbirth, once you have moved house you completely forget the sheer horror of packing and the sorting and the calling of the utility companies. And then once you have excitedly signed the lease for a new fancy pad, the memories start flooding back in. 

Blerg.

I only packed up the dvd's today ( 6 boxes, please don't judge us) and then I had to go and have a nap with the cats as I was so devastated by how hideous the process is. Unfortunately I napped right through dinner cooking time, so then my boy had to take me out to dinner which involved naan (my favorite kind of dinner) and then I had to be bought ice cream as I had eaten too much dinner (perverted logic I know) 

Its all been quite a rude awakening from the delightful mandarin scented cocoon of holiday world I was in up until  four days ago. Work and packing? Eeps, sounds far too much like real life for my liking. 

So instead of focusing on the reality of the situation ( you thought I had some DVD's, you should see the sheer volume of books) I am going to pretend I'm moving into a house made of Lego, because I'd quite like that.

(I do quite like our new flat but not quite as much as I like Lego)

I also heard a rumour that there is a huge toy sale on somewhere in the capitalist ether and perhaps instead of using my money on, oh, useful things like bills and moving costs, I best just buy some Lego.

If you hadn't noticed this post is quite nonsense but look! Houses made of Lego. Much more interesting that thinking about packing

(That last house, not Lego, but I would live there if necessary, although I might have to take up cooking children in the oven)

Holidays

Shall I tell you about my holidays? I don't want to make you feel sad but I'm very excited for MANY MANY reasons. Reason 1 is that I am on holidays, reason 2 is that my workplace is under renovation and its horrid (no heating, ugh), reason 3 is somewhere between needing a good nap and sheer bewildering fatigue.

But you needn't be too jealous, I'm not off to Morocco or London or even... Perth. No, no, I'm having a holiday just around the corner and in my local cinema and at that new restaurant on Victoria St and at my Parent's house and for most of the time, on my couch. 

Yesterday I went to a bookshop and ate mandarins, the day before I went shopping and bought seasons 2 AND 3 of Mad Men. Today I went to another bookshop and bought a cardigan, then I bought some special chocolates and ate most of them. Sunday was the official first day of the holiday and I went for a one and half hour walk to the Botanical Gardens. (That was the exercise allotment for the holiday) 

Tomorrow I'm having lunch with my boyfriends brother and his wife and son and semi-son (stillcooking) and my boyfriends sister and her husband at the very specific time of 12.30, where we shall have a strangely large amount of time before going to see Karate Kid. My semi-demi nephew chose this, being 9 and VERY interested in kicking and as I once accidently, ACCIDENTLY, smashed his head into a glass ice cream case, I have to do anything he tells me or else he brings up the INCIDENT and everyone laughs at me for hours. 

What else am I doing? I'm off to the zoo and to see Shrek and read a lot of books. I'm going to go to the farmers market and drink cocktails. I'm going to Bendigo to one set of parents and Samaria to house sit for the others. I'm going to sleep for extended periods of time and figure out what I want to study next year. The final days of my holiday will be at 50 year old's party and I will be dancing like a crazy lady and I MAY even drink rum and cokes, cos I haven't ever done that before. 

I will also, in no particular order, write a children's book, have a business meeting with the awesomest gal called Holly, throw out half of the shitty furniture that clutters my house, make two skirts, get my friend to fix two skirts I just made, drink cider, pash my boy, cook brownies and go to work for one day because I am irreplaceable. Gosh, I am busy on these holidays. 

Did you want to know all that? I'm sorry if you didn't but here's some 

photos of my cats if they were hipsters to make you feel better. Yes. 

This is Ally, she likes to wake me up by climbing on my tummy.

And this is Ptolemy, she is the other half of the 'and me'. She is such a hipster kitty she is too cool for photography and she is quietly angry with all of us. 

I hope you are on holidays too or if not, you can share mine. Can you sew at all?

Yes, it is true.

If you couldn't tell, I kinda like this lady and I like it when the world changes and I like today. There is so much time tomorrow to be cynical and suspicious and face reality but today I get to like the world and its shiny red-haired people.

Living dangerously or not at all or maybe living soft and comfy

Does anyone else get whizzy-brain syndrome? The kind of fullness that comes from trying to absorb too much or maybe do too much thinking or maybe the kind of itchy brain fever that you get when you read too many blogs that make you feel...well, like you're doing it wrong.

I got the whizzy fever bad today.

Today on the whizzy-brain front, I wanna new job, I wanna new house, I have decided that all the things I thought were important were really silly surface things and now I just want more real. More real relationships with people, more real connections, a real job/career/direction that means I can do something useful with this strange thing called lifespan. And I want to try and get some of this done before my desire for kidlets actually kills me! ( Damn you biological urge)

So we all search for guidance outside of ourselves. I read lots of books and read interesting blogs and seek out wise people. And then I feel really ick. Cos I'm doing it all wrong you see. I'm not enough of a rebel, I like comfort too much, I don't want to go to India and meditate in an ashram for 2 months. I like drinking cider and watching silly Hollywood movies, I like dyeing my hair and turning on the heater all the time in winter. I don't put myself out there ( A statement I never understood but I believe it to be something like prostitution if your single and quite like prostitution if you're trying to find an interesting job) 

What is it like wanting to fly far away and try new things all the time and constantly push yourself out of your comfort zone? Cos as far as I can tell that's what I'm supposed to want if I want a 'real' life. The kind of life rebels have. I'm supposed to be more of everything as far as I can tell.

Just thinking about it makes me want some cake and a lie down. I think I'll pass actually. I think I'll have the fake life that means I don't do the things right. That mean I get to lounge around with my kitties and NOT be brilliant at craft and watch the right films and read the right books and eat at the right places.

In fact I'm going to start a society. An appreciation society. Perhaps we can call it 'Infinite Wednesday Club' and we can get together and do nothing, and be very dull and rebel against everything with our passivity. 

Let's bake cakes and not know where the latest bar is. Let's read books we love again and again, in fact let's have a book club where we only read books that we've read before. Let's never see unhappy german films by that director who made Funny Games. Let's wear lots of clothes because we're cold. Let's grow our hair because we want to put it up in a ponytail, not because all the Frankie girls are wearing it long. Let's not ride cute vintage bikes and let's not buy oversized non-prescription glasses. Let's never talk to people like we're waiting for someone cooler to arrive. Let's ask questions about each other and really want to know the answer. Let's not just communicate using Twitter. Let's have pets and stay in the one house for years and years. Let's travel to the places we want to go too, rather than the ones on Lonely Planet's Blue list. Let's build tree-houses and let's not go thrift shopping. ( Maybe op-shopping...) 

Let's just be. Usually on a wednesday. 

Ten things in Twenty-Ten

Resolutions are for suckers. Let's all get that straight, resolutions are the drunken promises you make to stop smoking, run a marathon or in the immortal words of my friend a few years ago, I'm going to get a tattoo of a moose head butting another moose over who is a better dancer. I've yet to see such emotion captured in a tattoo but I live in hope.

So anti-resolutions we are. Most decidedly. But I do love a plan, oh yes, plan city here in Miss kitty land. Perhaps a leetle problematically, there may be cold-sweats, awake at 3 am, massive heart palpitations if there is no plan. I don't do well free forming, I am geeky, specific and quite like clean feet. ( Actually I've noticed something about myself lately, if i get a text that uses abbreviations, C U L8er, etc, I feel the need to wash my hands. Travesty of language.)

So this is in the theme of plans ( not resolutions ) and lists, which are a really marvelous way to disguise plans, plus you get to check things off. 

Ten things in Twenty-Ten, a plannish List by Miss Kitty that freely welcomes failure and disgrace.

1- Dance. Oh, yeah. I love dancing. It makes me feel spesh. So I think 20-10 is the year of dancing. 3 different kinds by the end. Yes, sir.

2- Get through master's confirmation. Without the nervous breakdown I am imagining for my pretty little self.

3- Get my License. I am tragically old and unable to drive. I am very scared of cars and am convinced that I will end up in a fiery spectacle on the news one day.

4- Eat like a healthy ninja. I figure ninjas must have fairly good diets with all the sneaking and killing they do, so I'm on board.

5- Read some PG Wodehouse. Small goals are highly important too.

6- Floss my freaking teeth. Small box of floss, $3.50. Root canal, $1700.00. Kay?

7- Write book for the children. Grown-up books suck. I'd rather write stories for little people with dragons and ninjas and chocolate cake for tea.

8- Love my self. I'm just so lovely and darned good looking. Must become more self-absorbed.

9- More with the cooking. Must expand cooking repertoire. First on the list, pizza's grilled on the bbq, all smoky and delicious. 

10- Be calm, be mindful, be here. I need to practice this. I want to spend the year living more and worrying less. Breathing and appreciating these moments for what they are. (And if anyone has figured out how to do that yet, can you let me know? Or the Dali Llamas phone number?)

Sounds delightful to me. I've already got a list for 2011 too, which is full of excitement. Yippee.

Oh and I forgot...

(11- Keep more lists!)

No-Whenber?

from here

Hello world, I know its November and all that but really a whole week of 30+ and nights not getting below a 17? What is that about? Are you on Al Gore's side, is that it? Are you just trying to put Andrew Bolt in his place ( Actually I'm all for that, vapid little human) 

I'm just not ready for summer. Although my Moo-Ma is coming to visit today to get me a skirt sewing lesson and I just bought a pair of Luvees ( On Lili's recom) which are heaven in pink lacey frothiness. And I'm having large lusting for these sandals that tick both cuteness and most comfortable shoes ever for work and walking around.

But still, I'm a winter gal. How I love the coats and the boots and heater and the snuggling under the doona. Heaven.

P.S- That photo at the top is by my beautiful Mother. Don't tell her but she and her husb are having a 120th birthday party next year and my pressie to them is going to be two weeks gallery space for a photographic exhibition. It may be the best present ever and I may never be able to give them anything else, ever. Alas.

Grumpy and I

Got my grumpy face on today.

So has poor Miss Ptolemy, kitty divine. It's Spring, you see, and she has lost all her Winter fur but it's not quite warm enough for kitty skinny dipping.

I really should post pictures here of her furry divinity but she's so black I can never seem to catch her in a good light.

Project for another time.

I'm just on the come-down from wedding number three. Three family weddings in as many months. Ouch my poor self.

Normal weddings ( read, other people that are not in any way related to my boy or myself ) are delightful. There's dressing up, drinking, eating and awkward small talk, lovely.

Family weddings, sheesh. That champagne isn't celebratory, its medicinal!

I shouldn't whinge, they've all been lovely and touching but you know, everything in moderation. So much planning and stressing and money. Hand me that medicine again, barkeep.

Yesterday was my older step-sister, who is such a doll and I love her husband so much, he's even more of a doll. I got sucker punched by my step-dad Murray getting all sooky walking his girl down the aisle, so sweet from the old bushranger.

But now I'm sitting with my feet up ( new heels ) and keep napping ( the dangers of the infinite glass of champagne ) and wishing somewhere in the madness there was a little time for me to have some me-fun too, please?

'Cos I work in retail and it's the last week of October, which means only two months until Santa comes a knockin'. And I have large chunks of thesis that refuse to write themselves. And a strange pain in my left ear I'm trying not to think about. 

Damn, damn, damn, what a year it has been and no slow in sight!

I'm thinking of starting a club, a slow-down-me club. Each month someone picks an activity they really want to do but never seem to get time. And we do it in a group 'cos that will make us feel less guilty about spending all that time on ourselves.

I wanna have a Famous Five picnic in the Botanical Gardens. We can have cherry cake and lashings of Ginger Beer. And then we can lie on the picnic rugs and look up at the sky and stop.

That'd wash the grumpy away.

Context

Hello again, yes, its me, the one who owns/writes/runs this blog. 

And where have I been?

Ah, nowhere?

Seriously, I have spent years scoffing at those older type peeps who always say "How fast is this year going? Oh, you just wait until you're older and then...Wooh, time really flies"

Or some such to that effect. But OMG where does time go? 

I blinked sometime in August and now its mid September and I HAVE NOTHING TO SHOW FOR THE LAST MONTH. Not even new shoes.

It has been weddings a go-go here at land of Misskit. My boyf's brother just got married 2/mebbe 3 weeks ago and in a week his sister is getting married.

No, dearest ( She says through gritted teeth) I love spending every waking moment with you family, talking about your family, planning wedding things, worrying if the dress I bought 2 months ago will fit. ( It does, its just a little tight if I try to breathe)

But wedding number 2 is almost over. I'm doing the brides make-up and the bridesmaids and the mother-o-the-brides, probably too! Which is fun cos its like painting and colouring, only more tense! I'm not really a make-up genius, I don't wear too much nowadays but its all a matter of comparison. And I'm cooking masses of cupcakes for the day after wedding brunch! And then I'm going to hop in the bath with a gin, or a bath of gin, its unclear.

I'm trying to plan life post-Weddings. There may be less high heels but hopefully more Picnics, bbq's, playing with my nephew, caramel, finding that perfect pair of summer shoes that are both comfortable to walk all day in yet stylish and adorable.

I also have hopes for belly dancing classes, actual free-time, publishing my article on Twilight, wearing my new maxi-dress ( its so pretty and swirly and bright, I'll post a pic soon) and growing my hair all long and romantic-like.

And salsa-dancing classes.

Really, any classes that require new shoes, I'm pretty much interested in.

 

Under strict orders

Natalie from Definatlie has given us strict orders to keep on with this loving thyself theme. And seeing as my week of self-esteem posts died a sudden and terrible death ( illness and the week from hell) I'm snapping too Cap'n and listing away!

What I love about myself:

I love my strength of character. Even when I'm misery and convinced everything is awful and always will be, there is a tiny spark that knows I'll get through this because I always do.

I love my compassion, while sometimes it makes me hide away from the cruelty of the world, it's the constant drive in me to be a better person.

I love my hands, they are graceful and white and expressive.

I love my foolishness. I have the gift of play, I can tease and giggle and get up to mischief without being self-conscious ( sometimes)

I love my mind, it is fast and flexible and meaty. It will take me somewhere beyond the everyday if I just trust my instincts.

I love my cocoon that I have built around my beloved and me. It is a safe, warm space of love and trust. I love that I know how fragile it can be and how every day I am thankful for it.

I love my smile, it is wide and genuine. It is offered freely and often to strangers, friends and even people who MAY not deserve it.

I love my sheer joy and semi-inability at baking. It brings me such pleasure and I'm really not that good at it.

I love that I can dance. Like really dance. Like I'm the annoying person at beginners dance class who gets it in five seconds and becomes the teachers pet. But I love how it makes me feel and I love that at least I am instinctively fabulous at something.

I really like my butt!

And my kissable lips and grey eyes and red hair and pale, vampire like skin!

Ooo, I think deep down I might really like me.

I'm Bitchin'

Seriously why is this post so freaking hard? I'm playing along with Sally from GeorgieLove and making a week of posts about the marvelousness of me!

So this is day 3.... and this is post 1.... it's going well.

What makes it so hard to give yourself props? Yet when I go to write something about myself I have to temper it, i.e.- I'm pretty awesome, I'm kinda cool, I sorta rock! Why is it so hard to write the bald statements? I am awesome, I am cool, I definitely rock. I'm bitchin! 

Con-un-drum.

Who actually likes themselves? In a 'I don't spend my precious and finite time beating myself up internally every single day for not being smart enough, pretty enough, cool enough, enough enough' kind of way. Oh, none of us? Well, then this must be normal.

Normal is for losers.

I don't want to be normal if that means having to feel crap about myself any longer. Dammit.

I want normal to be no anxiety about what I'm wearing, what size I am, if I'm funny and witty in conversation. I want to stop thinking about how much better life could be if only I was thinner, spoke french, was outgoing and had Megan Fox-like charms.*

I want to stop and breathe and appreciate what I have in my life instead of chasing my tail wanting something, anything! 

So today I'm starting an adventure! Wanna come? I'll bring cookies

 

I'm gonna find me a beautiful pea green ( sea green?) boat and set off to find my self-esteem. 

Here's what I'm taking:

Me- 28, red of hair, size 16-18 of build, shy of temperament, intellectual of brain, kind of nature, loving of mischief, deep streak of sarcasm, good taste in shoes, ability to love loyally, excellent baking skills, no ability to stop eating the chocolate and a smile as wide as the sea.

Lots of honey and a little bit of money.

No map or compass.

Why? Cos I'm bitchin'. 

*Disclaimer- While Miss Fox is possibly one of the finest looking women alive I will admit to being quite concerned that she may not notice if she walked into a wall. But she is awesome and power to you, sister.

Mumsy's coming to town

Ah, the Mothership is arriving tomorrow! Its silly to be excited when I saw her a couple of months ago but really if a late twenties gal can't be excited about her Mumsy then there is something wrong with the world. 

See for my last two years of High School it was just Mumsy and me. My beloved Papa had just died and my big brother moved to Melbourne, so it was just us. We spent the first 6 months after Dad died sitting on the couch watching old episodes of Star Trek and holding hands. 

Now I live three hours away from her and shamefully don't visit enough ( cos I'm naughty) But also she got married again and got a life! Retired from work and now spends all her time traveling with her husband the bushranger! Shocking! Mothers with lives! 

She's coming down tomorrow to play for a couple of days. OOoooo, lovely. Also, she likes to buy me things. 

Mothers rock, its true.

Oh, just wake me when it's August

July is turning out to be quite complex. For starters, I still didn't have the hang of June and now its quite chilly outside and I once again have only my THREE QUARTER SLEEVED COAT to keep me warm. ( How, how, how did I not notice this in the shop?) 

Then there is the small problem of my Master's, which everyone assumes I have under control but really I'm agreeing with them so I don't look stupid. You know when you just nod because your brain has stopped taking things in and then once its finally caught up you realise you don't know what that actually was but ITS TOO LATE NOW, you can't go back and ask them to explain. What WILL they think of you? That is my life!

 

Then I had to tell people about my brilliant idea of a Children's Lit reading group that is combined with knitting and they all want to join so I'm going ahead and organising it. Found a lovely place and got some ideas for discussion topics and hum, am I forgetting something...something vaguely important? Oh yes that's right, I CAN'T ACTUALLY KNIT.

Only one thing for it, slurp some gin and back to bed until August. Failing that plan I may have to break out the EMERGENCY AUSTEN adaptations. Mmmm, Captain Wentworth, such reassuring thighs.

Head adjustment = Hair adjustment

Firstly, Hair stalking. Not good but in my defense it was really mostly unintentional hair stalking. More a confluence of events resulting in hair stalking.

I returned from my trip to Vietnam desperate for new hair ( it was all ratty and icky) and for a new hairdresser. Lili just had a new haircut and seriously, could there be a better advertisement for a salon? Long story short, went to the same salon, accidently got the same hairdresser and came out with this...

(Yes that's me, all innocent and cute!)

Which is a leetle (well, rather) close to Lili's hair! But, but, but. See it wasn't intentional and really a black bob looks so much sleeker and better than mine! Mine kinda looks as if Grug gave birth to my head!

That's Grug

That's me feeling naughty with Grug Hair!

But see I needed a new 'do. I'm going through one of those adjustment periods in life when its all whizzy brain syndrome (WBS) and crazy highs and even crazier lows. When you feel like you just grew up 10 years in about four minutes. 

It all started with the Lecturing, damn that job heroin, it gave me such a boost of confidence and such a feeling of certainty that now I'm re-examining all the other facets of my life and wondering why do I keep doing them if they don't make me happy?

My trip to Vietnam was a massive example. You may have noticed no specific posts here about said trip...That's cos it was a bit awful. A really expensive object lesson. So why did I go?

I have had a best friend for about the last 7 years who is amazing and cool and very much an awesome Frankie type chic. But for about the last year and a half every time I see her I leave feeling so crap about myself, so very unimportant and uncool and just bland. To try and change this feeling I tried to change myself, become cooler and more carefree, book crazy trips to Vietnam ( we were supposed to go with her and boyfriend) and generally be more like the person I thought she would like to hang out with.

As I write this I cringe because seriously, when does changing to fit with others work out? Cos I'm not cool at all. I like reading more than anything else. My Masters is the most exciting thing in my life. I don't music unless its classical. I really don't like staying out after midnight. Sunday night is date night with ABC television. I hate fancy restaurants and I can't stand Music festivals. 

So I'm standing on a balcony ( having an illicit cig) in Vietnam. The day has been 39 degrees and I get pretty sick in the heat. All I want to do is go home. I'm sooking cos all I can think is 'Why the hell am I even here?' And right then I make the decision to never, ever, ever again do something that I don't want to do ( within reason, cos you know, I still gotta go to work and the dentist)

Its so funny, I thought I loved to travel. But that was through England and France. Both of which had meaning for me. The books I read as a child, the films I've watched, the history, those are the places I get meaning from. So when I got back from Vietnam I found myself wanting to find that girl again. The girl who was so happy because she had been to libraries in Cambridge and seen first editions of Blake's poems. 

Here she is and strange, what a similar haircut to the one I have now.

xx

P.S- But sorry Lili for hair stalking, if you weren't so damn stylish and lovely! Don't they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? Please feel flattered! 

Home again, jiggity jig

Hello Internet World,

Oh, I missed you and you look so pretty, is that new? Swoon.

Ah, home from Vietnam. Home from the 38 degree heat and the 70% humidity. Home from the non-stopping noise and the crazy traffic. Home from the beautiful, most intense, fantastic, horrible trip I have ever taken.

Home.

I may have loudly exclaimed on landing in Melbourne that I WAS NEVER LEAVING AGAIN! Which is a pretty bold statement as the V&A Museum is on the other side of the world and I have a real thing for that Museum. 

But for now I am so glad to be in my leetle house with a sympathy kitty and some hoodie boots. I think I'll stick around and appreciate the loveliness here for a while...at least until the jet lag wears off. 

Am wearing the tanty-pants!

Ooo, I am one angry kitten. All hissing and very ineffective claws. And why you ask? Because of this.

This is the cover for Nick Cave's latest book, The Death of Bunny Munro and its a charmer! That is the disembodied crotch of a female ( adult I hope) and oh, has it got under my skin. I work at a bookshop which will buy an absolute truckload of these ( cos they're oh-so-cool) and I will have to sell them whilst biting back a feminist diatribe about the appropriateness of using this image to sell a book.

I really hoped we were moving away form objectifying women's bodies, naive I know. But I though, yeah, the book industry is a progressive one, we just don't see misogynistic imagery like this anymore.

And here it is, on the cover of a book that will sell truckloads regardless of the image on its front.

So, I've been trying to pinpoint the exact problems with this cover and I've defined it down to these.

1- That it is the image of a disembodied vagina. Passive and confronting. It taps into the distillation of the female body to a series of penetrable parts.

And if that is all a woman is, why would she get any equal rights or be treated with respect or expect that she might treated as more than an object.

2- That an image of the female genitalia is both shocking and taboo. Cave, obviously, has been associated with the kind of rock'n'roll subversity that this image hopes to tap into. The crotch shot is meant to titillate and confront the Australian literati. 

Oh well, women's sexual self esteem will have to wait until white, middle-class men have finished using the vagina as an image that is both dirty and forbidden!

3- Text Publishing have just championed Bill Henson over the allegations that his work is pornographic and now use this image to sell a book. Sure, Text, this is art too!

It screams to me "Oh we need a stunt to distract people from how crap this book actually is!"

( I know as soon as I publish these I will come up with better ways of expressing the problems but this is the jist.)

Oo, I love a good rant! I joined in the discussion on the Meanjin website too, here's the link if you're interested.

And now, Tanty-pants are removed. I promise my next post will be entirely frivolous. Am now going to find cookies.

Less Cookies, more Walkies

Winter and cookies are best friends. 

It's true, they go together like chocolate and mint...ice-cream.

Or chocolate and additional chocolate.

But the problem all these besties have in common is that they attach themselves to my body in interesting ways, primarily in a pants-don't-fit kind of interesting.

So option a) Less Cookies.

( But the pants don't fit that badly do they?)

Or option b) Join Pip from Meet me at Mike's walking challenge!

Hoorah! Option b for me. 

(Is it very wrong to eat cookies whilst walking? Must check with Pip on specific rules...or maybe, I'll just go with my gut on that one)

And what happens now?

Ah, sunday. 11 am. Still in bed. Snuggly black cat. Laptop humming quietly. Parental units fresh off a plane from NZ coming for lunch. Pot-roast and roast vegetable salad waiting to be cooked for dinner. Maybe also an apple and raspberry crumble with vanilla bean ice-cream from Jocks.

Plans for Vietnam to be settled, clothes to made by lovely Vietnamese seamstresses to be chosen. (Is five dresses too many?) Birthday presents to be figured out ( for difficult bestie who has awesome taste) 

Weekends, oh how I missed you.

I am so freakin happy that I have finished the ill-advised and yet ultimately successful lecturing a whole semester in Children's Literature. At the best times, it was actually like I was a bee dusting the pollen of knowledge onto the shiny happy flower faces of the monkeys. At the worst, it was quite like that scene in Saw, with the leg and the chain and the inevitability! But I just kept sawing away, oh yes, You will learn monkeys, even if it kills me.

Didn't kill me, just gave me a bejesus of a head cold and a strange craving for bacon....hmmm. 

So what now? As I am terrible at staying still for any period of time, I am currently looking for the new shiny thing to distract me. Here's my possibilities:

Craft- The meet me at mikes book is calling my name and I would fulfill all my mothers dreams if I could learn to sew.  ( Yes, dear, that PhD you're planning is lovely but patchwork, that's a keeper!)

Water sports- I could maybe find out what these are to start with.

Revolutionise the world with my Library Board Game!- Librarians everywhere would bow down to me as their leader. (Finally a board game based on the dewey decimal system, why did it take the world so long?)

Sleep- Worthwhile occupation that I have neglected of late.

Actually do some of my Masters- Ah, yes, the old Master's. Not that I've been neglecting it whilst I Lectured but I have been going through more of a thinking phase, rather than a constructive doing phase. 

Bake cupcakes to distract Master's supervisor from lack of constructive work on said Master's- I think chocolate with mint buttercream icing. Nothing says whoops like Mint buttercream.

Right, now if you will excuse me to clean my house before the Parental units descend at least forty minutes before they said they would and also to find the peppermint essence, I think that may become necessary...quite soon.

Love, love, love, blah, blah, blah

Misskit loves:

Her new Hoodie boots! They're grey and black stripes (as seemingly most of her wardrobe at the moment...hmmm.)

Being three weeks away from a day off otherwise known as the end of semester!

Being six weeks away from flying to Vietnam and all the clothes she plans to have made!

Kate Harding's book Screw Inner Beauty. Making me laugh and changing the way I think

Making plans for my Ruddy bucks which just arrived in my account yesterday.

Does Miskit be fiscally responsible and spend that money where it counts, i.e.- New pants and or dress at Queen thus supporting local designers?

Or does Miskit offer her lovely money to Britain by purchasing a heavenly pair of green Suede boots via DuoBoots that will make her feel oh-so-like Robin Hood (Miskit hasn't discussed her dream to become a champion Archer here has she?) 

Taylor Kitsch who plays Gambit in the new Wolverine movie, which lets be clear, was my delightful but comic book obsessed boyfriends choice. There was however perks for me also... 

Want. To. Pash. His. Pretty. Face. Please.

But one thing on Miskit's Blah list...

Giving up the Children's Book buying at her bookshop. Sigh. Miskit has been lecturing in Children's Literature which is beyond all expectations and rather lovely but also time-consuming and pays much better than her buying position. So its heave-ho to my buying job, which sucks cos now she won't get to play with Lili anymore. 

Miskit feels on the whole the love bunnies win over the blah bunnies this week. Tally-ho