I used to push gherkins in a gherkin factory.

I’ve had some weird jobs in my time! No idea why I started thinking about this yesterday, normally this topic is reserved for drunken story-telling. Everyone has weird job stories to tell after a few voddies. I need to come clean and share some of mine. This may come as a surprise but I didn’t start out as the uber-glamorous PR type I am today.

McDonalds Gherkin Factory.

You may not know this but all McDonalds gherkin’s used to come from my home-town, Griffith. I had a job there one summer where I stood at the end of this massive pit filled with dirty gherkins. I had a 6 foot pole and with that pole I had to push the gherkins down a shoot and into the factory. As the pit emptied the next truck would pull in and unload. It was dirty gherkins for days. And the stink! Awful. Gherkins in brine is truly revolting. I was practically paid as slave labour. I still can not bare to eat a McDonalds gherkin, I’ve seen what goes in that pit!

...revolting...

Brick Stacker.

This was hard, heavy work. While wearing thick leather gloves I had to stack the bricks after they’d come out of the kiln on to the pallets. Can you imagine anything more mind-numbing or exhausting? I learnt the stacking technique from an old-timer who I’d bludge a sneaky Horizon off at afternoon tea. No one spoke to anyone. And it was winter and freezing. I shudder still thinking about it. It was during that winter of brick-stacking that I resolutely decided I was not built for manual labour.

They looked EXACTLY like this, haunted!

Safety Bus Driver.

Who the hell gave me the keys to the safety bus? Now that’s just negligent! I had a licence to drive a 32 seater cause I was a Residential Tutor and to earn extra money I’d drive the safetly bus. The worst night to be rostered on would be a Thursday which was bar night. You’d end up with a bus full of pissed idiots singing Zombie at the top their lungs. What made it more infuriating was that the Thursday nights I wasn’t rostered on I’d be the one leading the pissed-idiot singing.

Country Music Festival.

Now this is one of the best fortnights of my professional life. The Divine Ms M got me a job as a journo at the “Foster’s Australasian Country Music Festival” – I remember that cause I had to say it at the start and the end of each voice report that I’d send through to metro radio stations. Why this job was weird was because I knew absolutely nothing about country music. Took a mad crash course over that fortnight so by the time we got to the big finale – the Golden Guitars – I was besties with all the big stars. I still so clearly remember doing a story on learning how to line-dance. I reckon I could still bust out those moves if the tune was right.

Tamworth Rocks, my mate Lee

Cocktail Waitress.

I had a one-night-only gig serving cocktails at a Mens Only event at the Botanical Gardens. Hold up, that story can’t be told here.

Pool Cleaner.

Let go of all those stereotypical ‘pool boy’ fantasies. It was an indoor pool and they had me in to clean it when it was shut. The irony of me having any sort of cleaning job is not lost on me. I’m a filthy bitch. The only reason I took the job was cause it was a stepping stone to earning a highly-prized lifeguard position. The best part about the job was that they would leave the pool kiosk open while I’d be cleaning and I used to gorge myself on Freckles and Red Frogs. I stunk of bleach all that summer.

I could go on for days on this topic. In fact there is a whole post on my days as a Bank Teller! Now that was a very special two years. Weird they let near the money of the safe, but ahhh, such good times at the State Bank Griffith. Will post that one soon.

Over and out, 10-4 Big Daddy, keep on truckin’!

Slap! Reality Check.

Firstly, who said Australia was homophobic? Gays may not be able to marry but there’s a long weekend to celebrate the Queens. I love Kate and Will as much as anyone but I’m a Republican at heart so I’m ignoring any Queen other than my people. Thanks for the long weekend to celebrate us!

It may seem like three random stories today but I promise it will all make sense in the end. Stick with me, have faith...

Couch.

I sat down on my beloved couch at approx 9pm on Friday night and got off again at approx 12noon on Sunday. Yes, I rolled myself into bed both nights but that was at the very last moment before my eyes shut only to quickly return upon waking. Had a fridge full of gourmet snacks, Belvedere vodka and some B&H on the outdoor table. There is nothing either Little Sammy or I could want for. Had both heaters going all weekend creating a very cozy Man Pit. Jeez I watched some brilliant television and ate myself up two sizes.

First night/day/night was all Law & Order, no shock there. Then the absolute highlight! My new friend Arrjaydub brought over the entire first series of Downton Abbey. Heaven, so brilliant, this is one of the best TV series ever made. I can not recommend enough. Shame my allegedly gourmet quiche and pork pies were shit otherwise it was a perfect sensory experience. Then I introduced Arrjaydub to another of the all-time greats - West Wing! So much television, so much food. Completely self-indulgent, lazy, luxurious few days.

Third all-time greatest television series.

Potts Point.

I am so confused by Potts Point! I like neat little descriptions for things so that I can easily sort in my head. Potts Point confuses the hell out of me. It is such a weird mix of just about everything. Gorgeous gourmet deli’s next door to a shop where you can buy a 12 inch dildo. Beautiful homewares stores half a block down from a sordid strip bar. And the people on the streets reflect this. Mostly it’s your standard Eastern Suburbs glamour-set with their fur collars, designer denim and giant sunglasses. But then around the corner you have the complete contrast of anorexic strippers and giant scary bouncers. I also smell the whiff of a methadone clinic. So confused.

Mark David Jones took me exploring yesterday, and of course we were exploring for food and drinks – it’s what we do best. Mr MDJ took me for my first experience of Fratelli Paradiso. I whinged my way through a 15minute wait for a table before we had a gorgeous, generous lunch of calamari, pasta and steak. The food was divine, so were our vodka’s and wine. We didn’t bat an eyelid at our Monday lunch bill before heading to Green Park Hotel for a quiet afternoon drink. Just a lovely, lovely afternoon. Thanks Mr MDJ.

Fratelli Paradiso

Monday Night.

Reality check. Some nights when Little Sammy and I go for our evening walk we pass the line-up of disadvantaged men and women who are waiting for the kind and compassionate people who deliver their evening meal. This is embarrassing to admit but I always have a brief moment where I check where my phone and wallet are. Normally there are about 30+ people lining up. Last night there were about 60-70, possibly more. We can walk around with blinkers on sometimes, claim ignorance and pretend not to see what un-nerves us; last night was different. It was a sobering wake-up call. At the risk of sounding patronising, it really broke my heart.

It has been so cold and so wet all weekend. Where have these guys been, how have they stayed warm? You can imagine after a weekend like that they would be aching for a hot meal. No wonder numbers were so high last night. No wonder there were so many men and women politely lined up with their possessions - first in, first served – for the chance at some comfort. I was feeling like a fat, lazy pig after a weekend of pure indulgence, excess and comfort. All while there were at least 70 men and women in my neighbourhood who were struggling to find any sort of comfort. Slap, huge reality check.

For all my whinging and moaning here at St. Murphy I am one of the incredibly lucky and fortunate ones who really has not a care in the world.

Signing up for volunteer work with Father Chris Riley's first thing today.

Father Chris Riley's Youth Off The Streets food van (Google Image pic)

The '90's are now Retro, but I do not want to relive them.

This post is inspired by and dedicated to the fabulous Edenland. She is a new blogging/Twitter friend of mine who I’ve actually met in the flesh. We were chatting away on Twitter and we think we may have also met at some dirty, seedy night club in the debaucherous 90’s. I set Edenland the task of choosing this posts subject matter; she went with how the 90’s are now retro even though they only seem like yesterday. Lets hope I do it justice!

It’s weird to think about the 90’s cause I really can’t put my finger on any distinct trends – in music or fashion. I know I had a ball but what I was wearing or listening to is beyond me. The 80’s is a walk in the park with all that brightly coloured shit, should pads, power dressing and pop music. They stick very clear in my memory. The 90’s I’m not so sure. It’s a mixed bag. This could be because it was a decade of excess and I remember very little. There were two very distinct periods for me in the 90’s which says much more about my ‘personal journey’ than what the 90’s were about. They were the Uni days and the Sydney days.

University: ’92 - ‘96

I went to Uni in Bathurst, had no money, and was slowly working out if I had any personal style at all. I certainly had none when I started there. Country Road was exotic, cutting edge fashion for me before I went to Uni. I got in touch with my care-free hippie side and used to wear my pyjama pants to class with RM Williams boots. I’d buy hemp jackets at the markets and team it with a dress shirt from Vinnies. We all did! Uni at Bathurst was this weird mix of country style, city chic and a wannabe-bohemian alternative style. Not having a clue what or who I was I dipped my toe in everywhere. I was from the country, destined for Sydney and living the classic student life so I had to cover all my bases. Also, living on Austudy means you really don’t have much choice to follow fashion. A shirt at Vinnies for $2 lasted me about 5 years, I was still wearing it out on Oxford St many years later.

There were two albums that were released while I was at Uni that if you didn’t know all the words to than you may as well kill yourself. Alanis Morrisette’s Jagged Little Pill and Oasis’ WonderWall. They, along with Peter Andre, are the only music releases that stick in my mind from that time. Having said that, my whole life I’ve never been very good with music. The only constant has been the beautiful Madonna who had a number of key releases during this period. I still adore her today. We used to dress up in our Saturday night best to dance at a League’s Club. That about says it all of my musical awareness in the early 90’s.

So now that the 90’s are considered Retro there is very little I want to drag into 2011 with me from this time of my life. Except of course Madonna.

Syd-er-ney! ’96 - ‘00

When I first arrived in Sydney I was still wearing this weird mix of styles from my Uni days. I reckon within 2 months of my first pay check I’d had the complete Oxford St make-over! Out went the hemp jackets and in came lycra. By ’97 I swear there was not one natural fibre in my entire wardrobe. The late ‘90’s on Oxford St were heaven to me. I used to go out on my own and come home with 100 friends all while wearing my cutting edge lime green satin pants with a skin-tight royal purple lycra T. I had started work in PR and to think back now what my bosses must have thought of my ‘business’ clothes makes me cringe. Shiney black shoes with big buckles. An olive synthetic Morrissey suit with zippers worn over a shoe-string singlet to an Awards night. Flourescent shirts with a skinny-legged powder blue pant. I can not tell you how hot I thought I was.

The only music I remember was the bubble-gum dance music of The Flinders and The Albury. By the late-late ‘90’s I’d started to go a bit more hardcore with big weekend at DCM’s, or as we called it Gorilla’s In The Mist, and the downright dangerous BlackMarket (and this is where Edenland and I think we may have met). For these nights of craziness it was head-to-toe black synthetic teamed with chunky silver jewellery. Today this jewellery would not pass through a metal detector, back then guns would get by. My favourite album without a doubt was Sash!’s It’s My Life with the epic track Ecuador. That song could raise the dead.

The late 90’s were a special time for me, still such a big part of who I am today. But even with that sentimental attachment I do not ever want a synthetic wardrobe again. My skin would revolt. And for me to hit Oxford street now in anything as tight-fitting as lycra would have me stoned. Love-handles are difficult to squeeze into a Small women’s disco top like I could in ‘97. The 90’s may now be retro but there is no trend from that time that I want to have make a fashionable comeback. I remember them fondly but do not want to relive. That’s how I think of the ‘90’s.

**Now my dear Edenland has one of the best bloggers you will ever read. It's impossible to do her justice by trying to describe why. It's her life laid bare and it's a truly beautiful thing. Please take a look...

Edenland

**Sorry about the boring pics -  besides Edenland - computer download issues over weekend.

Three Little Nuggets!

I swear my watch just jumped forward six days! If I didn’t know better I'd say I've been cast in a bad sci-fi movie about time travel (I got the role over Eric Bana). Since drinks with Mummy-Bloggers it feels like 6 days got crammed into 24hours. 99% of my life I’m sitting on the couch, eating pizza and wondering why I don’t have a life; then for 1% it’s a crazy, psycho blur. I’ve used up double my year’s quota of activity just in the last week.

But for the sake of my beloved blog I’m trolling out three stories from the last week that ring clear in my head. All for different reasons. St. Murphy has become bizarrely like a diary for me, which was never my intention, I had hoped to be more interesting than that. It appears I’m too self-centred to write about anything but myself (Shock! Horror!.. St. Murphy you’re not self-centred).

Story 1 – Royal Wedding

Hello Boys!

I would never in my wildest dreams have predicted that I would be so transfixed by this fairytale. I fell hook, line and sinker during Ten’s appalling telemovie which had me on the edge of my seat. Then from the moment my beloved Kate stepped out of the hotel I was in tears. No joke! Miss Cal will vouch for me, she was on the couch beside me. We were literally in a trance the whole ceremony. It was truly spectacular and amazingly beautiful. Maybe there is a romantic deep inside me after all.

A-Dorable!

So many highlights! The trees, the music, the dress, David Beckham, my new best-friend Pippa. The 6 priests, the hats, the carriages, the crowds swarming towards Buckingham Palace. It was 5 hours of heaven! The absolute highlight on my little couch was during the national anthem when Miss Call, who is normally super-intelligent, turned to me and said “Why isn’t the Queen singing?” To her credit she realised her error immediately and we were hysterical! SHE IS THE QUEEN, ITS ABOUT HER! My only non-pure, un-romantic thought during the whole thing was about the James Middleton / Prince Harry sandwhich that I am sure is on the menu.

My fav Archbishop cause his eyebrows are bigger than mine!

Story 2 – So grown-up and brave!

Was south of the border in Melbourne on a work trip over the weekend. Had a lovely cocktail party, a gorgeous dinner, then a quick disco nap – as you do on a Saturday night. You know how it is when you are newly single and determined to be a part of everything? I know this will ring bells with some of you. I wanted to go out and dance on a podium waving my arms in the air like I just don’t care! My hurdle – I couldn’t find anyone who would go out with me. Was feeling rather sad and lonely, fat and ugly, who know one wanted to play with – then I had a very Oprah moment and forcibly made myself pretty and went out to the Greyhound... ON MY OWN. So grown-up and brave.

Reno'd Greyhound. It did fill up. (haha file pic)

Now I can’t remember doing this since 1996 when I first moved to Sydney. Difference then was I was young, thin, had big gorgeous hair and didn’t get tired if I lifted my arms above my shoulders. I distinctly remember I had no problem making friends. Oh how times have changed. I spent nearly all night standing sadly in a corner sucking on double-vodka’s and B&H Fine. I forgot the key element of going out on your own – you have to be prepared to approach and start conversation. And no way am I doing that! As I’ve been saying for years, I’m not good with new people. Too old to make new friends. Luckily I had the young-gay-Melbourne’s obsession with hair-product to keep me entertained. So much hair-product it was both hilarious and disturbing. Please note boys; if you are not a model do not get a model-like haircut, and if it takes more than 3 minutes to do you hair than the cut is not working for you. Thank god I am now back in Sydney where I do not have to go out by myself and the gays respect their hair.

Story 3 – Hang-over cure fail.

Had a work party on Sunday night which is my ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE night of the year. It is the one and only night of the year I wear a tie – even bought a new one. Now you may have heard me brag here before that over the years I have mastered the hang-over cure. Being interstate I didn’t have all the ingredients so I woke up (late) on Monday with one of the most debilitating hang-overs ever. Speaking was a huge issue, brain-function was the equivalent of an NRL forward. I stumbled into work looking like the grim-reaper. I don’t even think my shoes and belt were the same colour leather.

New tie - so proud!

To cut to the chase on tedious tale, I am writing this to extend my sincere thanks to Qantas. More specifically, Qantas Club! I bailed for the airport early after even the polite receptionist said I looked like shit and then slept in the cab the whole way. Qantas couldn’t bring my flight forward – damn to hell that discount ticket – so I turned a lounge at QC into a make-believe bed, curled up cuddling what was left of my dignity, and slept for over an hour! Doesn’t matter what you pay for QC cause there is always one day a year you would give your life for a membership. Monday was that day. Thank you also to the check-in guy (who earlier I despised) who had the good sense to keep the seat beside me free on the plane. My breath was horrific and there would have been complaints. Moral to the story, I want to have my 40th at Qantas Club.

My beloved Qantas Club

So just three little nuggets (tried for gold, more likely shit) that in a nutshell sum up the last 6 days. The emotional highs of the Royal Wedding  and Sunday night down to the crassness of passing out in Qantas Club. Talk about highs and lows – I’m practically Lindsay Lohan.

Clinging to the Dream: Photos from my youth

So I lost the good part of half a day while I was at home in Griffith going through old family photo albums. It’s addictive, once you start you can’t stop. Everyone in my family, especially me, LOVES a photo. Every stage of my life is very well documented.

Now this is the most self-indulgent, self-absorbed post I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something! Every time I got all excited about a photo I took a shot of it on my iPhone. The result is this post.

Now there are two quite obvious themes to these photos.

A)   Camp, cute, funny shots from my Youth that would sit well on Born This Way, and…

B)   Shots that clearly show and prove that many years ago I used to be much much thinner and FIT! 

Please enjoy my little egotistical trip down memory lane!

Pageboy at Auntie Cheryl and Uncle John's wedding

Auntie Cheryl is the best aunty in the world and I love love love her dearly. Just wanted to get that in there.

Got excited over this one cause this year I am back in contact with two guys from this shot, one after 20 years and the other after 25. All thanks to Facebook.

Yr 7 School photo - start of monobrow and huge front gap

Yr 10 Social Committee Slave Day (have talked about this one before) - Brilliant time of life!

Yr 10 Formal, and no its not fancy dress. That shirt is Jade. Protecting the identity of partner here.  

Such an unbelievable poser! But can not tell you how much I  love that I used to be this thin!

Bro and I at his 18th. Note the floral shirts and motorbike on the cake.

This one, I got so excited about what my stomach looked like 20yrs ago that I nearly passed out.

CLINGING TO THE MEMORIES!!!!!

Now as much as I am addicted to B&H, Absolut and Foxtel today, I used to be just as addicted to exercise - I've literally become the polar opposite of my youth. These photos will come as a great shock to those of you who know me now. Please note the ponytail (it was the early 90's)!!!

Now these shots are to make my old mate Snuddo and I feel better about ourselves. Now that we are men of a certain age we can only dream of our athletic youth and defined shoulders.

Now just to end... I've talked before about how I'm such a hoarder. Well I've got boxes of 'memorabilia' still in the shed at Mumsy's house. Trolling through them I found these... My favourite swimmers from 1984! LA Olympic themed "Where there's a Will there's a way!" Or am I the only one who remembers that slogan?

Ahhhh... such memories. Sorry to drag you along with me. I did warn you upfront it was gonna be self-indulgent! Other reason, besides my ego, is I got a bit nervous putting shots up of other people who may not like it. Damn I'm considerate. So it's all about me

I'm clinging to the dream as much as those Willy swimmers clung to me!

Celebrating Good People on Good Friday!

Upfront: I have completely stolen this idea from Twitter-bestie ShaunHeron. He began a ‘movement’ during the week to change Follow Friday (or #FF) to Good Follow Friday. Instead of the Twitterverse sending shoutouts to their friends, for Good Friday he wanted everyone to send shoutouts to people who are doing good in the world. So that’s what I’m going to do at St. Murphy today.

Happy Easter!

Now I am not a religious person in any sense. Like many of my people, organised religion scares me. It's all that “Gays are going to hell” and “ Your relationships are the devil’s work” that puts me off. But I do believe in some of the christian values such as be kind to people, fill the world with love, take care of one another, respect and honesty.

While I am not 100% sure what Good Friday means in a Christian sense, I am going to use it to celebrate good people, doing good work, for the greater good. It may be someone undertaking a special project or just someone who just by being themselves makes the world a better place. Bottom line, I just want to celebrate and acknowledge some peeps that have made a difference in my world – the good people.

Mums

It’s a world so different to my selfish existence. This past month I’ve spent a lot of time with some beautiful mums – my Sis-In-Law and my gorgeous nieces and nephew, Cousin Trudy and Mrs Woog with the Woogettes. I honestly do not know how you ladies do it! I get exhausted thinking about it. I struggle with the compromising it involves having a pet, let alone a child. I've learnt from you guys how big and how important your role as a mother is. And goddamn you do it well!

Nina and Lucas

The Commitment Project           

Evan Cooper, through his website The Commitment Project, has simply, effectively and with so much heart put forward his case for Gay Marriage. Evan tells the story of gay couples who have been together longer than 8.8 years – this is the average length of a hetero marriage. It is a motivating and insightful website, and the fact that Evan has undertaken such a huge task is inspiring. It is people like Evan who can bring about great change. Get on board!

The Twitter-verse

I make jokes about my Twitter obsession all the time; yes it’s a time waster, yes it’s distracting, yes its full of a lot of shit. But I honestly do not know what I would have done the past few months without it, my crutch. It creates community, friendships, entertainment and knowledge. I’ve relied on it so much as an outlet for contact and engagement. And I’ve met so many new fabulous people, and cemented friendships with people who were only acquaintances previously. All jokes aside, its been my safe-place for the last few months. To my Tweeps – you are good, good people.

Twitter-Date #1 with @Simieboy & Milney01

Great writing & Tim Dunlop           

You maybe sensing a slight theme here, that’s because equality is very important to me. Via a tweet from TheFlack I was introduced to this phenomenal piece of writing by TimDunlop. For two reasons: his incredibly eloquent and sensible explanation for the legalising of Gay Marriage and for the fact he gives it to the offensive ramblings of Barry Cohen. For every dumb-ass Barry Cohen we need 5 brilliant Tim Dunlop’s so that as a society we are always moving forward, not backwards. We all need to stand up to the Barry Cohen's of the world.

Funny People

I rate laughing very highly. In fact, it is mandatory. Laughing with, laughing at, chuckling, mocking, laughing at yourself - its all good. Luckily all my friends are funny bitches, friends always have a shared sense-of-humour. Met a whole heap of new people lately who have made me laugh... Hard! So if I've laughed at, with or about you recently THANK YOU! I think everyone needs to lighten up! We've got a lot to be happy about me thinks.

Laughing...

exBoyfriend

I've been blogging for about 3 months and in that time Boyfriend became exBoyrfriend. Today I want to change it again. I use nicknames for my closest friends here on St. Murphy and exBoyfriend is one of my nearest and dearest. exBoyfriend sounds nasty and suggests a harshness that doesn't exist. He will now be known as Aschapelle due to his morbid obsession with Ms Corby. What this latest change means is that I 100% believe we have very maturely, cleverly and respectfully transitioned ourselves from long-term lovers to life-long friends. I would seriously be lost without my Aschapelle.





So thats my Good People on Good Friday wrap-up. Hope you liked it. Celebrate the good people today! And Laugh!

It's a sad day.

It’s a sad day. Very sad. I don’t really have the energy to sugarcoat it today or try for some cheap gags. Its just plain and simple a sad day.

Today I move out of our little house and for the first time in 6 years I am on my own. I move in to my new bachelor pad today and begin a new chapter. There’s some great and exciting stuff about this but for today I am feeling like a sentimental old fool saying goodbye to some really good times and a relationship that was the longest and strongest of my life.

How can you not get all emotional at a time like this? I think irrelevant of the circumstances its always hard when something comes to an end. Especially something that has had such an impact on you and literally changed your life like my relationship with exBoyfriend has. But all good things come to an end for a reason. It’s the right time for us to go our separate ways. I think its human nature though, certainly it is for me, to reminisce at a time like this. And that’s what makes me sad.

We had it so good for so long. Such great memories. Great friends and families, exciting holidays, brilliants homes, so much fun. So thankful that we’ve had not one ugly moment that detracts from those memories. And the boys, Jackson and Sam. Damn I’m gonna miss all of that. And exBoyfriend is a great man. I have nothing but total respect for him. We taught each other so much and learnt so much together. There is going to be a gaping, huge hole in my life without him in it day-to-day. I will miss him unbelievably.

But talk about life going full-circle! I first moved to Sydney in 1996 not knowing anyone. I rented a shoebox studio on Crown St in Darlinghurst and began my life here. Lived on my own for two years while finding my feet in the big-smoke and then have shared a house ever since. 15 years later I am back on Crown St living on my own; thank god the apartment is nicer and bigger this time.

A big part of me is so excited about this new adventure. It’s going to be very cool. But for today I can’t help but be sad. Sad because of what is coming to an end.

Thank you so much Ash, I will be forever grateful for the last 6 years. 

**Sorry, no comments today, this one was for my own therapy, not to get a reaction. x

My Treasure Chest

Ok, so I am completely distracted by the packing up of my little house and moving this week. I’ve got heaps of those plastic bins on wheels full of 'stuff' I have collected over the years. Here is a list of some of the more interesting things I’ve found…

All my Channel Ten VHS’s of Law & Order SVU – some of them from first series even.

My Australian flag that I wore as a cape for the two weeks of the Sydney Olympics.

A Coles green bag full of phone and camera battery chargers.

Hamish Von Trapp’s playlists on CD from 2003.

A fake Diesel cap in army green that is now mouldy grey.

My eye-mask from the Air Tahiti Nui flight to NYC in 2008.

A copy of the LA Times from the day I landed in Los Angeles in 2006.

A crystal vase given to me by my first ever Sydney boyfriend, Portia, for Christmas in 1996.

The Morrissey 100% synthetic sleeveless T I wore under a suit to the 2001 Peoples Choice Awards.

Love letters from a high school girlfriend (who shall remain nameless) that are disturbing in their heterosexuality.

Speaking of heterosexuality, the complete works of Oscar Wilde that was a gift from my last ever girlfriend, 1995.

My two medals from the Mardi Gras swimming carnival in ’98.

A toilet brush in my wardrobe.

The beautiful silver lighter that my favourite early-childhood teacher gave me for my birthday many, many years ago.

My gorgeous Asian print wrap-around mini-skirt that I wore to some Mardi Gras late last century.

The photo album from my first year at Uni back when you got prints of your shots and captioned them (and you know who you are if you are in it – be mortified!).

The teeth that I lost during the ‘dark year’. In a sterile container.

A pin board, as inspired by Oprah, with cutouts from magazines of all the things I wanted.

A fedora hat I bought circa 1987 to wear at swimming carnivals – back when I had a 6-pack. (Let go of the dream St. Murphy!)

The plastic cups we drank cocktails out of at the US Tennis Open.

Five pairs of those free hotel slippers from three different resorts.

God damn I am a hoarder of EPIC proportions!

What does my wardrobe say about me?

Moving house is a shit-fight!

It’s not just that you have to spend so much time packing everything up, it’s having to deal with all the crap you've stored that is the worst part.

It’s disturbing, hilarious and embarrassing all at the same time. And that’s just the wardrobe! Yesterday I packed up all my clothes for the big move on Wednesday and I had never realised this before but your wardrobe is like a museum of your life. I could plot events back to at least ’95 just by sorting through my clothes (’89 if you include what’s in the washing basket).

Starting point

You may find this odd but I kinda treat clothes like souvenirs. If it has any sentimental value I keep it. If it gives me a really strong memory I keep it. If I know that I looked really good in it I keep it. I’ve got a giant big suitcase full of clothes that I don’t wear but I just can’t bring myself to let go of. I’m a hoarder! Just ask my mum, she has a whole shed at home packed full of all the shit I can’t let go of.

So yesterday I took a sentimental journey as well as find a few things that I didn’t even know I had. The first bag I filled was socks and jocks. My favourite drawer is always my sock drawer cause another weird thing about me is I only buy socks when I'm travelling so they each have a name. Today I am wearing London, tomorrow it might be Thailand, Toronto or Adelaide. Even when they’re holey I struggle to let go, how can you bin something that has a name?

CSU & Neighbours jackets

I actually laughed out loud at the memories from this one. It’s my Charles Sturt University tracksuit from 1995 when I somehow got roped into competing for CSU at the National University Games in Gymnastics. Now let me be clear, I have never in my life done gymnastics. We trained for about 2 hours a week for approx 5 weeks and then went to Nationals. It was one of the funniest trips of my entire life. We stayed in a caravan park, got shitfaced on tequila the night before and one of my teammates couldn’t even get his gut up and over the high-bar. Love that tracksuit!

Next to it is one of 4 items in my wardrobe with a Neighbours logo on it. This one is a jacket celebrating 20 years! Well Neighbours just had its 25^th so ballpark it's 5-6 years old. See, anything that has ‘historical’ significance must be kept. I love Neighbours and have had a lot to do with it over the years so I’m sure I’ll be passing this one on to my niece of nephew as I am shuffled off to the retirement home – just as Neighbours celebrates its 65^th.

Never worn!

I’m almost 100% sure I’ve ever even worn this little treasure. It’s a Donna Karan sleeveless puffer jacket. Why the hell is it in my wardrobe? I scored it from a photographer friend who was having a throw out and I thought it was the coolest thing. I mean who doesn’t want to own a free DKNY puffer in 2002? Why I’ve kept it all these years I have no idea but I still haven’t tossed it out. One day they will be cool again…

I’ve got a whole section of my wardrobe dedicated to “when I lose weight…”. I’ve got atleast 3 Marcs slim-fit shirts in a Small that I have a snowballs chance in hell of ever fitting into again. But a girls got have a dream, yeah? When I get my stomach stapled they will look great on me. Speaking of things I don’t fit into... I’ve still got a RL polo that my ex-exBoyfriend, the Sculptor, gave me. Must have been in 2002. For some reason I can’t throw it away cause it was a gift from Sculptor, jeez I’m a sentimental old bastard. But the absolute worst is I’ve kept the t’shirt that I was wearing the seedy night I met exBoyfriend. Its TINY! I met ex during the ‘dark year’ so I was fabulously thin – now I’d be lucky for it to fit my thigh.

Used to be soft and fluffy

This one I did manage to let go of… it’s my Garnier robe from the very first Australian Idol. I loved that show and I particularly loved that series. Scored it for doing some work for the sponsor and its one of the few mementos I have from that special time. But it is now literally crusty from being shoved down the back of my wardrobe for years so its time for it to go. Someone shopping at St Vinnies could love it I’m sure.

I’ve also got quite a few things of dad’s that I keep. A pair of his pyjama’s, his lawn bowls jacket and his bowling shoes. Love them, of course I’m not getting rid of them. Disturbingly I found to Ed Hardy pieces – a cap and a T. I know I’m a bogan but I didn’t think I was that bad. Had to put some thought into it and the T came from the Idol wardrobe department in ‘03 and the cap I bought in LA in ’06 before EH hit Oz so I felt a little better about myself. Both went to Vinnies.

So wardrobe is done now, all nicely packed. As big as a pain in the arse as it was to pack, I did love love love some of the memories. Had never realised that my clothes tell a story. I like that. I don’t feel so bad about being such a hoarder now.

From this...

...to this...

...to this!