comedychick

And Tap Fittings...

 

A long time ago, in my former professional life, (when I was relatively normal and had not quite mutated into a comedian), I used to look after this guy who, let's face it, was a little bit mental. Don't get all arsey with me about my diagnosis - as a trained mental health professional I can make that call.

In most aspects of his life, he functioned at quite a high level, but he was continuously tortured by the frequent compulsion to say "And tap fittings". Out of nowhere, while you were in the midst of having quite a good conversation with him, he'd vague out, look away, and say "And tap fittings". And tap fittings, and tap fittings, and tap fittings.

He was all about the tap fittings, this guy, (and tap fittings). He was unable to prevent himself from saying "And tap fittings', no matter what. No matter what medication or treatment he tried, his tap fitting click was amazingly resistant. Maybe it was some kind of super power, but no-one could identify it as such, the medical and psychiatric communities typically unable to understand such a powerful, but seemingly useless, super power. (And tap fittings). Possibly, the phrase "And tap fittings" unleashed some fantstic force, or was the gateway to a parallel dimension, but he was ahead of his time, and diagnosed with a mental illness, as so many super heroes are.

Anyway, he was a lovely guy, who had other interests than just tap fittings. He was also into bonsai. But amazingly, he did not have much luck with the ladies. (And tap fittings). I guess it's probably hard to find a lady who's into such specific interests as tap fittings and tiny trees, but there's probably a website somewhere. Also, it has to be said, it would be a little off-putting being in the midst of passionate shagging with a guy who could go from "Oh baby... oh baby... that's right baby... oh baby oh baby OH BABY..." to the dull, monotones of "And tap fittings" in a matter of seconds. If I were his girlfriend, which I certainly would not have been, due to professional ethics and an aversion to bonsai, I would have countered this dilemma by saying, seductively, "Show me your tap fittings, baby. Give me ALL your tap fittings". That might have worked, but I did not put it in his care plan. Psychiatric care at that time was not that holistic. Like "Super And Tap Fittings Guy", I was ahead of my time.

Out of every person I ever looked after, (and tap fittings), 'And Tap Fittings Guy' was one of my favourites, and has stuck with me. Probably because the phrase 'and tap fittings' comes to me at the most ridiculous times, (have you noticed?), and makes me laugh. Can you catch a compulsion? I can't say. (And tap fittings). But I'll never forget this guy, and his bonsai, and his teeny, tiny trees. Probably because he used his super powers to infect me with the 'And tap fittings' bug, and now I occasionally think it at the most inappropriate of times myself. But I don't SAY it. That would be crazy! (And tap fittings).

I'm pretty sure 'And Tap Fittings' guy has passed away, so I'm not too concerned about identifying him. Even if he were alive, he would obviously be more concerned with tap fittings than my identification of him in a blog. I hope he's gone somewhere nice. Maybe a bloody big plumbing showroom, full of taps. And tap fittings, of course.

The end.

And tap fittings.

Gay David, Moustache Girl, and My High School Reunion...

It's weird running into people you used to go to school with. It can even be weird running into the parents of people you used to go to school with. I bumped into the parents of a boy I used to go to primary school with recently, and had the most surreal chat with his mother. After we'd talked a bit about what I'd been up to, I asked her what her son was doing with himself. "Oh, he's good. Really good. Isn't he Stan?". Stan doesn't bother replying, knowing it's not really expected. "No, he's not married yet. Just hasn't really met the right girl yet, has he Stan? Actually, David's never really had a girlfriend. Plenty of time for that, though. No hurry." He's 'never really had a girlfriend'. At 42. Okey doke, then... "He is lucky he has lots of mates though. He has a very nice friend, Steven, who lives with him, and he's lovely, isn't he Stan? Steven spoils him, actually, he does nearly all the cooking and cleaning, which is good for David, just until he gets a girlfriend, because he's hopeless!" Uh-huh. "Steven and David do everything together, they do a lot of travelling, and go to a lot of shows together. They just went up to Melbourne to see Billy Elliot the other week, didn't they, Stan?".

Let me be honest right now and acknowledge that I have the world's worst 'gaydar'. I really do. If I'm not told directly, I pretty much think lesbians are just straight women who like wearing their hair really short. I can't pick if you're from the land of gay, or not. And it doesn't matter at all to me, because I just love everyone. Regardless. But at this point in our conversation, I'm getting a little bit frustrated. I'm a peaceful person by nature, but I just had this incredible urge to grab this woman by the shoulders, and shake her really, really, hard, while shouting "HE'S GAY!! DAVID IS GAY!! STEVEN IS HIS PARTNER!! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT THIS, YOU STUPID, STUPID WOMAN!! BILLY ELLIOT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!". Annoying! She should be celebrating her son's gayness! Does she not know that it's hip to be gay right now? I wish to god that I were gay. It would have really given my comedy an edge. But no. My parents didn't see fit to pass on any gayness to me, did they? They gave all the gay to my brother and sister, leaving me with only straight, white, and bloody fertile! Can you get any more pedestrian than that? Favouritism! Anyway. Gay David's mum just goes on smiling inanely at me. So I told her to give David my love, (not that he'd want it, because he's gay and all...), and said goodbye.

The only thing weirder than running into people you used to go to school with, (and their actively delusional parents), is The High School Reunion. No-one from my high school year could be bothered organising a reunion for years. Obviously, the reason for this is that everyone is 'just waiting until they lose 5 kilos' until they feel they can go. Eventually, though, a few of the girls organised a reunion of our 30 year anniversary of starting high school,(30 years, you say? Wouldn't that make you..? Shut up, please. Obviously I started school very early. Don't do the math.), and thankfully, I knew I could attend, because I had bumped into a few of the girls and knew that there were quite a few with bigger asses than mine. And one had a moustache.

I'm quite well behaved in social situations on the whole. But I was worried about the moustache, and became quite pre-occupied with developing strategies that might help me get through some polite reminiscing with Moustache Girl. I have to say, it at least distracted me from worrying about the size of my ass! Mostly, I was worried about obviously looking at the moustache, instead of the girl, in some Austen Powers like trance, (if you have not seen the 'mole' scene in 'Goldmember', you are beyond help. Rent it immediately.). I became anxious that I might refer to all things moustache while catching up. "So, are you still married to Moe? How are the little tashes? Do you still live up Moustache creek way?"

I developed a list of strategies, and a mantra, that I could use to keep myself out of trouble. I MUST NOT: A. Look at, or speak to moustache as if it were an individual or entity in it's own right, B. Refer to Moustache Girl as Derryn Hinch, C. Mention pedophiles around Derryn Hinch, and D. SEE C! DO NOT REFER TO MOUSTACHE GIRL AS DERRYN HINCH!

By the day of the reunion, I knew I had to stop being ridiculous about it. I resolved to try and see Moustache Girl as the 14 year old girl I used to know, instead of seeing her as the construction worker out of The Village People. After all, it's only a bit of facial hair. It should not matter. It's a trivial thing. "Trivial Hirsuit!" I thought to myself, realising I might be in big trouble, as my mind was now on a roll with the seemingly endless moustache gags that I apparently had no control over.

The day arrived, and I was surprisingly well behaved, only describing the time we nearly got caught by the headmaster for leaving the school grounds as 'a close shave' once. It was getting late, and I was relieved. I was definately on the home straight. I could definately pull this off. Then, as it often does, the talk amongst the girls turned to all things beauty and ageing. And hair removal. And waxing. And this very nearly brought me unstuck. Because it was at this point, that Moustache Girl announced that she 'regularly has brazilians'. That's right. She regularly leaves Tasmania for Brazil. She frequently engages in deforestation of her pubic region. "Oh yeah", she says "I JUST CAN"T STAND HAVING ANY HAIR DOWN THERE."

Oh. My. God. I was just beyond myself. My  jaw dropped. My mouth was shout, but my inner voice was screaming "You can't stand having any hair DOWN THERE? But you refuse to wax that caterpillar on your upper lip? YOU LOOK LIKE A MAN! YOU HAVE A MOUSTACHE! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE HAIR DOWN THERE! AND NOT 'UP HERE"! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? HONEY, YOU WOULD LOOK MORE LIKE A REAL WOMAN IF YOU STRIPPED NAKED AND STOOD ON YOUR HEAD! AT LEAST THEN YOU'D HAVE HAIR ON THE BOTTOM HALF, AND NOT THE TOP!"

I was seriously one bourbon and coke away from saying that. But I didn't. Thank god. I just said "Well you look fantastic!". And went home, completely exhausted from behaving appropriately.

(Please note, names have been changed to protect the gay and hirsuit).

Earth Hour 2009...

No, it's not some rock concert starring some old fossils, 'making a comeback', (that I didn't get to, and am not the teensiest bit bitter about!). It's Earth Hour, and I'm really going to try and turn everything off at 8.30pm tonight, so I can imagine I'm part of this very cool video. Oh, and to save the world and stuff!

I wasn't sure if I'd post this clip, because if it's it's not somewhat amusing, I usually won't post it. But when I'm unsure about a vid, I put it through a rigourous testing procedure, which I like to call: 'The Rigorous Testing Procedure'. Basically, this means if I watch something and it gives me a physical sensation, (I'm talking goosebumps here! Keep it clean, please!), I'll post it. And this clip gives me goosebumps - it moves me. This may be because I love the song on it, 'One Crowded Hour', by Augie March. Or I may be coming down with something. But the goosebumps never lie, so here's the clip. Happy Earth Hour!

(Do you think it would be poor form to be on Facebook during Earth Hour?)

 

Jesus Cushion vs Grilled Cheese Mary...

 

Thousands flocked to the Roman Catholic Church on the Island of Reunion after believers claimed to have seen the 'face of christ' in the pleats of a cushion which was attached to a priest's chair. Now I'm not one to rain on anyone's money spinning parade. Far from it. In fact, the other night, I myself saw Joaquim Phoenix's face in a slice of pizza, (not 'Walk The Line' actor, Joaquim Phoenix. I mean the 'homeless person chic', 'serious musician', barmy as batshit artist formely known as Joaquim Phoenix). I seriously considered putting it on EBay, but I was starving, and scruffy Joaquim pizza is actually pretty tasty.

No disrespect to the 'believers', but if the imprint in the cushion looks like the face of Christ, and a priest has been sitting on said cushion, doesn't it stand to reason that it might, in fact, be the priest's ass that looks like the face of Christ, rather than the cushion? I'm not suggesting that the priest's ass be put on display for people to worship, 24 hours a day. And obviously, a priest's backside would be a lot more difficult to sell on EBay than a cushion. I'm just saying... will the real vision of the face of Christ please stand up? I think it's on the priest's bum, and there's possibly a 'Da Vinci Code' style movie in it. Phillip Seymour Hoffman would be an excellent choice as the priest. But for the all important role of his bum, I can think of no better choice than Tilda Swinton, who would require very little in the way of make-up to play this convincingly.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find a photo of the holy cushion in question, but I did find one of 'Grilled Cheese Mary' - the half eaten slice of cheesy toast that CLEARLY LOOKS LIKE THE MADONNA that sold for $28,000 in 2004. I personally think that Grilled Cheese Mary looks more like a kewpie doll, but because there is at least a picture of her, in all her toastiness, I think Grilled Cheese Mary trumps Jesus face cushion at this stage.

A bit off topic, but my face looks like the pleats in a cushion after a big night. And I don't see anyone whacking a picture of that on EBay and declaring it a miracle!

In other news today, Pauline Hanson's head mysteriously appeared in photos of someone else's body, and some misguided editor thought it was newsworthy enough to put on the front page of The Sunday Herald Sun. Explain THAT!

 

 

 

Slip Slidin' away...

This house was built in Suffolk, England, for a couple who had lots of 'capitol' and some land. The architecht, an old school chum of the owner's, looks very much like David Walliams from Little Britain, (taking the piss out of an architecht who has just built a large, glass house). I don't think it is is David Walliams, although it wouldn't surprise me - he's pretty clever. He's swum the English channel, you know, and looks lovely in a dress.

The point of building this house, apparently, is to take advantage of the seasons, and to make a You Tube video that gets about a billionty hits. In the winter, the owners leave the roof on, to keep in the warmth. Or possibly take it off, to take advantage of the afternoon sun - I don't know. But when they want to completely show off, I mean, get some sun, the roof slides back like a bloody big foreskin, exposing the large, erect glass house. If they want to practise 'safe' house, I imagine they'd have to drape a huge tarp or something over it for extra protection.

 Anyhow, it's very 'minimalist', and doesn't seem to have much furniture, apart from a couple of Ikea chairs. They're probably spewing they couldn't find any glass furniture to put in it, because now it just looks like all the other glass houses on the block. Or is it just that they couldn't afford furniture, because the house was so expensive? Maybe they can't even afford food, because they have to buy 10 gallons of Windex every week at the supermarket! They're probably living off the unlucky birds, who stupidly fly, kamikaze style, into their glass house, thinking: "Oh, I wonder what that lounge suite's doing sitting out in the open like that...SMACK!!". How sad.

 How much fun would it be to get a friend, (who didn't know you had a sliding house), around, get him totally smashed, and then slide the roof back? Can you imagine how completely freaked out he would be? Now there's a You Tube I'd like to see! Or at least a 'Funniest Home Video'. We couldn't have a completely glass house - the kids and the dog would be covered in bruises, and maybe even sustain the odd head injury, from walking right into the glass. It's happened before.

But ironically, this house does remind me a bit of our house, which has a large row of huge glass windows at the back. It's passive solar, or as I like to call it 'passive-aggressive solar'. It's a very temperamental house, in that it has a concrete slab which is supposed to heat up when it reaches a certain temperature. It's designed to do that, apparently, but unfortunately, it is possessed, and produces heat only when it feels inclined. And it's often disinclined on the coldest, and wettest days of the year, when you come home from soccer, teeth chattering, expecting to enter a nice warm house.

To compliment this, we have an ornate, cast iron Norwegian fireplace, which doesn't hold enough wood to actually produce any heat to speak of, and is attached to an irritable and unpredictable chimmney, which may or may not function at all on any given day, especially the aforementioned winter days, which we like to enjoy sitting in the lounge room, wrapped warmly in blankets. This is because, on such days, whatever demon possesses our home, likes to watch us attempt to watch TV, while trying to get rid of the large plumes of grey smoke coming from the fireplace by turning both fans and the air conditioner on and opening all the doors and windows, while the rain pours romantically outside.

The agent and previous owners did not think these details were important enough to mention while we were looking at the house. Just like they didn't mention the fact that the house is the place where a million millipedes like to migrate and have their young at certain times of the year, and that coming downstairs on such mornings was not unlike walking straight into a scene from an 'Indiana Jones' movie. 'Indiana Jones and The Temple of The Giant freaking Millipedes'. I've been told that baby talc at the doorways is effective with millipedes. But why should I buy beauty products for them, when they're making my life a living hell?

They did mention the 'abundant birdlife'. But they did not mention how abundant it was, or the fact that the roof above our bedroom is the place that the whole community's abundant birdlife most like to hang out and have some sort of demented rave, which starts at about 5.00am. Dodo birds are not extinct. They are on our roof from 5.00am every morning, I swear to god, dragging dead bodies around or something.

 But other than that, it's a beautiful house. As is the David Walliams designed, uncircumcised, glass house. I hope the video of the roof sliding on and off didn't turn you on too much. For a house, it's kind of porn, isn't it?

I Think You Should Stop Drinking...

Here's what seems to be a paparazzi shot of Victoria Beckham telling Kate Moss she needs to get off the booze (note stick-like model legs). Kate then goes all Gordon Ramsay on her. So would I!

              

Actually, it's my favourite cartoon by Dave Walker. It pretty much sums up my response to an intervention, although I don't drink nearly as much as I should.

 

 

Damn you, Sam Kekovich! / Happy Australia Day...

        

       

So I'm at the supermarket, looking for lamb. Why? Because it's Australia Day, and that damn Sam Kekovich ad about doing you patriotic duty and eating lamb on Australia Day is stuck in my brain. I don't want lamb. Half my kids won't eat it. And goddamn, it's bloody expensive! Does it  have to be actual lamb? I ask myself. Could I fashion some sort of 'mock lamb' out of a lesser priced meat? Could I get some mutton, and dress it up as lamb? But no. Here I am, picking over the lamb, because some advertising whiz kid thought it would be a fantastic idea for Sam Kekovich to make the average Australian feel guilty about not buying enough lamb. GODDAMN YOU TO HELL, SAM KEKOVICH! I eat Vegemite,you know... lots of it. On toast, especially when I'm hungover. I've been known to eat the odd lamington, as well. I've watched 'The Castle' billions of times. I'm VERY patriotic. So I don't think I need some retired football legend, or whatever, telling me what I should feed my family on Australia day. Are we clear? ARE WE?

So anyway, I bought the lamb. Little frenched cutlets, and some loin chops - barbecued, of course.There must have been about one cubic centimetre of meat on each one, and it cost a fortune. And they were beautiful. I hope you had a great Australia Day, and that you really understand what the day is all about. It's about lamb!