Brave Creatures

Barbies dear friend Miss Jilly sent this around today. Apparently its the instructions to at a particular company re: Mardi Gras bookings.
Dear agents,

We have had an overwhelming number of clients seeking to find travel advisories specific to the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. Please do not direct these clients to www.smartraveller.com.au as I have been notified, by clients, that this site has "flagrantly ignored" the concerns of travelers heading to Sydney for Mardi Gras events this weekend.

To address the most common inquiries, please advise these concerned passengers as outlined:

AIRLINE CHECK IN TIMES

Despite the fact that you are flying to Sydney for Mardi Gras, you are not exempt from complying with normal check in times.

Please do not expect to waltz up to check in, 10 minutes prior to departure, and still get a boarding pass. Justifications for your lateness such as "I just didn't know what to pack" "I don't just wake up in the morning looking like this, people!" and "You just won't believe just how long it took them to make my organic soy latte!" will not get you on board.

BAGGAGE ALLOWANCE

On domestic and international economy tickets checked luggage should not exceed 20kg. Again there no are "special rules" for passengers in possession of Mardi Gras party tickets or hysterical sobbers at check in.

In an effort to keep you luggage weight down, here are a few tips:

* Instead of bringing you lucky hand weights with you, pack rubber
resistance bands instead. They're perfect for a pre party pump and with a few clever twists can also transform into tiny pair of shorts or a headband.

* You can take 7 kilos of luggage on board, so put your eye cream in
your carry on.

* Try not to dedicate more than half your luggage space to grooming
products. Lots of products can multi task; for example anything that says brightening, tightening and whitening can be used on both your teeth AND anal arena.
INCREASED SECURITY MEASURES

In the event that we are on a Code Orange (burnt tangerine) threat level, you are not permitted to take your fat calipers on board the aircraft.
Along with your Tweezermans and mini Uzi, these must go in your checked luggage. Members of El Gayda's South Beach Fl chapter have been known to use fat calipers as an instrument of torture.

Ensure that all checked luggage is locked. Do not keep it unlocked in the hope that baggage handlers will put a kilo of A class in there ?
they are more likely to amuse themselves by switching the contents of your jars of Pore Minimizer and Penile Maximizer (and if that stuff really works, you'll end up being able to fu*k your own face)

TRAVEL ATTIRE

Ground staff and cabin crew will request that you remain clothed in passenger terminals and aircraft. The party does NOT start once you've passed the security check, and even if your body "defines definition"
keep your shirt on. You can't use the excuse that your polo is making you all hot and bothered under the collar either. Try wearing it with the collar down.
SPECIAL MEAL REQUESTS

There is NO special meal available that caters to the all white dietary requirements of the recently zoomed.

ITINARIES

Obviously intinaries are going to be tight and if you're going to get to the "trillion"events and parties you've planned on attending, you need to operate with military efficiency.

Don't waste time trying to figure out the top/bottom dichotomy, wear you preference on your t-shirt. The usual blatant "Bottom is Tops" number that you wear at the gym may be a little too gauche for Sydney - go for more subtle statements. We like "I give and I give and I give/Always on the take"
Or "Can't be arsed/Very accommodating".

Get your phony business cards made up before you leave. These are quick to produce once you know the formula:
Name: Use your phonetic alphabet initials to create this i.e. your initials are VS you become Victor Sierra
Title: Needs to be fabulously nebulous i.e. Vice President Executive Managing Director ? Business
Qualifications: Just use a combination of airline and airport codes i.e.
PVG (CA) CDG (AF) LHR (BA)
Company name: Take your preferred shoe and wine labels and mix. *See below
HOTELS

If you insist on completely redecorating your room it will be at your own expense.

CRUISES

There has never been a butch gay cruise line called Rainbow Warrior.
MISC

That elusive "manly fairy" you are looking for is more likely to be found at Circular Quay than Arc.
Happy MG 06 people!
Best wishes
Juliette Bravo II
Senior Vice Consultant Travel Agent Provocateur
* Sergio Neuf du Pape Travel

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I am starting to feel like a traveller again, what with all the back and forward to the Gold Coast late last year, the trip to Byron and now a weekender to Cairns.

I had a truly great time on this trip. Did some diving, went to the Daintree, hung out a GREAT friend and generally relaxed. Some pictures at Flickr and more to go up tomorrow.

I came back in such a stupid good mood this morning that I got funny looks from the folks at work, but given that I am REALLY recharged I got through about 100% more than I normally do in a day so everyone wins.

I have a lot of stories to tell from the weekend, but its been a long day and I am off to bed.

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[< classical L. nefandus : wicked, impious, abominable]
/neh FAN dous/ archaic
unspeakable, unmentionable; abominable, atrocious

"Only the bricks of the chimney, the stones of the cellar,
some mineral and metallic litter here and there, and the
rim of that nefandous well."
- Tales of H. P. Lovecraft

"Many of the persons who held such opinions were, of
course, guilty of the most nefandous conduct themselves,
and yet saw no paradox in holding such views because they
were not hypocrites themselves-they took no moral stances
and lived by none."
- Neal Stephenson, The Diamond Age

I have to say, I can think of a few people this applies to.

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On the spur of the moment and with my bosses blessing - nay almost her direct instructions - I am off to stay in Cairns for the weekend with visiting friend from Europe. So don't be looking for sassy blogs from me over the weekend, although the cameraphone will come with and so "Wheres Wobby" should get a workout. Don't miss me too much. Stories and piccies when I get back.

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I recently had a couple of reason to pause and reassess my presence on the internet. I had never thought particularly deeply on it, but lets face it this is a pretty much completely public space, just about anyone could be reading this. I guess that's part of the thrill.

The three incidents in question are quite different and quite instructive. The first was a mail from Harley over at Gayety who I have been subsequently corresponding with. He was a little surprised that I was so public about aspects of my life and wondered if I was concerned that my present or future employers might have trouble with some of my publicly declared antics.

Now Harley works for the government so its understandable that he might be a little careful on that score, although funnily enough he has been pretty open about some of his exploits as well. We talked it back and forward a bit and in the end I decided to remove a little bit of identifying detail but basically fuck-em-if-they-cant-take-a-joke. And given that most of my favorite jobs I have been hired at least partially because I will, and I am quoting here, add a little colour around the place. I recently used the phrase in a meeting "working with that vendor was like being raped on a beach by a recently released 300 lb convicted multiple murderer. Brutal, fast, abrasive, disorienting and really not what we had been hoping for. Plus no flowers after, not even a card." Given that, I suspect work has an idea of how my mind operates.

The second was a post over from Darien over at At Worst, My Best in which he kind of took me to task for an earlier post of mine that he seems to have disagreed with. In truth I did come across a little slutty, but in my defense I was kind of going for yuks, or as Jon Stewart likes to call them, snicks. I didn't much enjoy the implications of what he wrote, i.e. I am a perhaps a little shallow or in fact something of a "Ho", but it's his opinion, its his blog and basically what he things has precious little real impact on me. But at the VERY SAME TIME I really do appreciate his opinion, enjoy talking to him and want to maintain a conversation. He is a great writer (I think), seems like a good guy, has a well informed set of opinions that don't always match mine and he is happy to share with me. He is a good conversationalist. Regardless of what Darien says of me in the course of these partially public conversations, and of course there are some limits, I don't feel that I need to cut him off because he has displeased me.

So at last we come to our final example. I posted something I thought was fairly innocuous as a comment on a blog that I read occasionally. There was some sort of power thing going on with the New York Blogging Fagarati. They get all snippy with each other and one had used his evil power to block another from some bar because the second had said semi-mean things (actually quite funny) in HIS blog.

It was all like "oh no YOU DINAUT!!!" (insert own head waggle). Got that? It is kind of he said/she said, I know. Anyway I get a mail telling me to go away basically. I am not planning on reveling who this is or quoting the entire email� but here is a snip "My blog is an account of my life -- which spans two blocks. It is not an international review. ... I think we'd all be better off if you just ignored me. Just quit coming to my site."

Snap! Girlfriends been told. Now this is the FIRST time I have commented I think and certainly the first time I have received an email. And while I am perfectly capable of being a nasty piece of shit when I want to be, I was pretty mild - I have confirmed this with both Barbie and Miss Manners.

So what's the deal Chaniel? If you are posting your life on the internet, are you expecting no one but your friends to read it? It is a public internet last time I checked. And if you don't expect people to read it, then why would you have blog ads on your site? That does imply some expectations of readers or at the very least tweaked out friends who sit there and click manically until their meth wears off. So is the expectation that no one is going to challenge him? No one is going to argue, or in my case tease? Lordy, that must be an amazing life. I am forever getting teased so I suppose its my expectation of life. But then I am kind of funny looking, annoying, socially abrasive and, as Barbie is so often at pains to remind me, completely lacking in fashion sense‡.

Maybe my feeling about this will change once I have had an blogsquatter giving me grief or an internet stalker, but at this point I am left with a few questions. Am I weird that I like the conversation this blog brings me? Is it strange that I don't get particularly upset when I am challenged? Is it really something to boast about to say that your life can be defined by two city blocks, regardless of the city? If that's all your world is, do you really need a blog to communicate? Is ego stroking all that a blog is about?

Na, thought not.

as tempting as that is

‡ I really DIDN'T know that Birkenstocks were the new loafer

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Its been a while since Mr Cranky got on his political rocking horse, so I figured it was time.

Telstra has announced immediate plans to remove 1000 payphones nationwide, with further plans to remove another 5000 in the near future. This is causing a flutter in the political hen house, particularly amongst the beleaguered Nationals. The government as a whole is aghast that Telstra could even consider doing something like this without close consultation with the Communications Minister, Helen Coonan.

Meanwhile, representatives of country seats, such as the popularist Nationalist Barnaby Joyce, are jumping up and down, calling for details of Telstra plan and assurances that their constituents will not be adversely affected.

But does the government really have any real justification for its outrage?

Some months ago, J'Hos band of merry marauders approved full privatization of the Telco giant with the sale of the governments remaining 51% of Telstra. Once that goes ahead Helen Coonan is going to find herself no longer the boss of Telstra and no matter what "guarantees of service" applies, I suspect the government is going to find that market forces are going to rule.

Another point of note is that Telstra board recently brought in a new CEO, Sol Trujillo , an American with all that implies with bravado, capitalist motivations and lack of respect or desire for government regulation. I really don't think this is going to be the last of this sort of initiative we can expect to see from Telstra.

Am I surprised? Not even slightly. Even the timing is no shock. It is just an indication of Telstra increasingly feeling its independence from its government parent. It may not be of age yet, but dead cert its going to make off with dads car if it thinks it can get away with it.

Personally, I am yet to be convinced of the long term advantages of having the national telecommunications carrier and infrastructure completely in private hands. In truth, it seems to me to just spell the end of long term planning, by which I mean 10 to 50 years rather than 3 to 5.

Having lived in both Hong Kong with a giant, monolithic Telco monopoly, which was simply a mess, and the US with their deregulated and privatized nightmare, I can't help feeling that there just has to be another way. Some middle ground.

The problem Australia has unfortunately is that we have not even acknowledged the need to look for the middle ground.

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Pronunciation: san-TOR-um
Function: noun

1. The frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex.
Etymology : Savage Love - 05/29/03

2. Senator Rick Santorum

This is an oldie but a goodie. Thanks to Dan Savage for another quality addition to the English language.

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Have you ever been amazed by you ability to catch a ball. I am a bit of klutz so it always surprises me.

If you think about it for a second, it's a pretty amazing thing. So many calculations and assessments must be taking place in your brain on a second by second basis, none of which you really have the time to really perceive or even be aware of.

Step this up a level and see it in the context of a cricketer or a baseball player or a footballer. How completely amazing some of the catches they make are. And again, there is no time for then to really think about it. It just happens.

We as humans are amazing in our ability to do things by simply allowing our instincts, perceptions and reflexes to interact and bring us the desired outcome.

So it is, I suspect, with love. When I met James there was no question or reserve. it simply happened driven by things unseen and unacknowledged, things that function at those gut levels. I tried to be sensible about it for a while but there was a deeper driving force that just swept away any attempt to stop it. It was like we both just put our hands out and plucked love from the air, caught it as it flew by. It was simply amazing.

Then as amazingly as it came, my ability to catch that ball seemed to just vanish, leaving me wondering what next.

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When it comes to food, depression, stress and tedium are my biggest enemies. Comfort and boredom, the two of them have shoved more unnecessary calories down my throat than I care to count. When I don't have enough to do, I will turn to food as recreation. My mother used to take me to task for standing in front of the fridge, staring into it. "Go outside and play, or swim. And if you want something to eat, have some fruit."

I suspect that eating gives me something immediate I can do that, at least in the short term, makes me feel better. That is until my pants stop fitting.

The post divorce depression really hit me in the diet and as a result I ballooned during 2004/05. The trouble is that once you get into your mid thirties, those extra kilos don't just disappear when you look sharply at them.

So at last I am getting back on track with my training. I am doing 30-45 minutes cardio a day, eating low carb a couple of nights a week and training a bit harder. In the last six months I have dropped about 8 kgs, almost all of which is fat.

Now if I can ratchet the training up a notch and scrub up the diet a touch more I should see some substantial gains. Oh and I need to lay off the chocolate, in particular Cadburys new "Boost" bars.

These things are so ridiculously full of sugar they actually crackle from the crystals, which of course makes them as addictive as crack cookies. On top of which, I get an insulin crash about half an hour after I eat one. But my god they are yummy.

Diet has always been my primary battle with body shape. I love to eat, love food with taste, and unfortunately taste means salt, fat and sugar. I have always thought it a particularly cruel evolutionary joke that the things that switch off hunger are also the things most likely to make you fat.

All this thinking about diet and body shape brings up questions for me about what am I really aiming for any way. It got me thinking about what is really important to me. I feel like there are two lists, what I think should be important and what's actually important. Here is an example.

I feel like I SHOULD be attracted to and attractive to the handsome and socially adept; the beautiful people who are handsome, built, witty, wealthy and fabulous. Truth is they tend to bore me, plus they usually run a mile from my sense of humor and almost complete lack of decorum. I am simply too "big" and loud and blunt.

It turns out that the guys I find really attractive are big in the body but not necessarily lean (but I am not talking fat here). What they all have however is a boyishness about them. There is something in their smile, some gentle innocence.

Steve had it and James was absolutely defined by it, his smile completely lit up my world.

I used to think that I was attracted to these guys because I was so serious and mean; that they provided a balance. I think the truth is actually that more than anything it's because I am at my centre a little boy myself - open hearted, trusting and loyal.

But after all that's happened how do I leave myself open again to find that in another person? After the last 2 years I am still so emotionally gun shy exposing myself to another person seems nearly impossible. And then there is my remaining loyalty to James.

I still wear his ring; not our rings, that I gave back to him in the lame hope one day he would ask me to wear it again; but the ring he first gave me. Foolish as I know it is, I feel naked with out it.

I guess something's don't change. I am emotionally standing in front of the fridge hope to find something that isn't there any more. Perhaps I should have some fruit, or go outside and play.

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OK folks I am pleased and proud to report that I have been out, had some fun, flirted with a few boys and generally had a bloody good time. Such a good time that its taking me a couple of days to completely regain my composure.

The weekend started with dinner with a friend on Friday night then lazing around watching Margret Cho (I am the one that I want) and generally laughing my arse off. Yes, yes, I know she is a face puller, but she is still pretty funny.

Saturday Dingo and I had planned to go to the Midsumma Pool Party in Collingwood, figuring that it would be a lot of fun. Like how far can you go wrong with a bunch of poof, in a pool with music and drinking. Its got to be great - right?

Wrong.

This is Melbourne and without being too harsh about the place, these queens are generally so up tight that they can pretty much ruin anything. Call me bitter if you want, but they really are pretty torchered. Added to that the sound system was working only intermittently, there was an MC who made unintelligible announcements and basically I arrived with the hottest guy (Dingo being very easy on the eye).

The final straw was the "swim suit parade" hosted by the normally very funny Kaye Sera and entered by pool party goers. Thats when we left. Dingo had brought a date and the date had brought his room mate, both of whom are very nice guys, so the four of us went out to dinner at IlFortinu in St Kilda (delicious) and then on to the Greyhound for a drink and a bit of a dance. I have not been before so I was in for quite a treat. Its not often you get the chance to dance to Atomic Kitten.

I don't care what you think, pop music can be F.U.N.

We all went to the Market after that for a little while, but it was about my bed time so I headed home. The next day (Sunday) was relaxing, breakfast and the pool, then meeting up with Barbie to go to the Midsumma Tea Dance at Treasury Gardens. Not that was a LOT of fun. I am very partial to an afternoon dance event. None of that silly flopping around until dawn business, you can have your fun and get to bed at a reasonable hour if you so choose.

All up it was a wonderful weekend. So much so that I think I am going to dump my idea of going to Sydney for Harbour Party. There are a few people I would like to see, but basically I don't feel the need for another big weekend. Plus, I am loving my job so much I want to make sure that things are really on track and under control. Not out of guilt or fear or anything, but because I want to.

That's such a nice feeling. I have been sleeping badly this week (no comments on that please) so again its been a low blog week, but I will try to catch up. Promise.

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