Boss Of Everything

See My Short Film

Posted on December 13th, 2009 by prinny.
Categories: News.

Or fillum as my Dad would say. It’s here. My Short Fillum. Go see it. Love it. Leave a comment.

Nikon are holding a short film contest. They ask, “So what’s it like to be you? Capture the essence of your day in a video of 140 seconds or less. It can be funny, touching or profound. It can be about everything you did, everything you didn’t do, the day’s biggest dilemma or its most telling detail.” As you can see, we went for ‘profound’. Living with a three year old with a large vocabulary is a lesson in, keeping a straight face. What’s the prize, you ask? Camera’s and stuff, mainly. I don’t expect to win, they judge on image quality – my trusty Canon aint no Nikon 5000D – and some of the entrants have used these gorgeous cameras. It’s like the difference between the Mona Lisa and an Etch-a-Sketch pic. But it was fun, Spike was in fine form and Mo in a mo is always good for giggles.

In other news, we have an Itchy gig this week. An Itchy Nativity – kinda says it all, doesn’t it? Guess which one of us is playing the Virgin Maree? Guess which one of us never ever gets a root – even when he’s married! The delightful Dr Grog, Tim Harris will be our able Narrator/Wise Man and lil one ball Adrian Calear will be the Arc Angel Gabriel and a Wise Man. We may or may not check his prosthetic plum. What are you waiting for?

Haggs was over her the other day and we wrote our play then cleaned up the pee. We have SO much fun, writing. It’s just the best part. We squealed and wheezed and wee’d! Just the old days… Come see us blaspheme, if there are any tickets left. It’s a long night with a LOT of Melbourne’s best and brightest character performers, we’ll be your rancid cream with a cherry on top.

So what do you have to do before you continue with your Xmas shopping, Hanukkah candle lighting or Kwanza… being black-ing? That’s right, click on the link to “Spike and Morrison’s Day… in moustaches.” and then click on the link to buy tickets to our very christianful Nativity play.

Good!

I do love, plans.

Miss Candy-Girl’s keeper xxxx

1 comment.

Miss Itchy – On Stage July 19 – Live – Be Afraid… I Mean There. Be There.

Posted on July 14th, 2009 by prinny.
Categories: News.

Miss Itchy – out of mothballs, having survived not only the last 10 yrs stuffed in prop barrels along side the remnants of baby harp seals (plural, each in varying stages of bashedness), a litter of unwanted plucked kittens (some on skewers, some just flattened naturally by a brick) and the hair strands from our patented Hair Walker (gawd remember those?!) but survived being stored in prop barrels at Linda’s fire ravaged Kinglake home. (And the one, two garages/storage sheds before that.)

Risen once again, like the Phoenix. River Phoenix. Drug addled with a bit of sick still in their mouths that the coroner is going to have to suction out before he can even think of embalming the bodies. Is there nothing that can kill eight metres of taffeta that smells like off-cream and bushfire? Hmm, no!

Linda had just survived Australia’s nastiest inferno and I’d just had a human baby, respiratory distress and Cerebral Bells Palsy so when Nelly Thomas asked Loob if there was any chance we’d frock-up to celebrate the opening of their new Character Comedy night at Trades Hall – the sensible answer seemed to be, “Look, if I can find our wigs and they don’t have too many poisonous spiders in them… I’ll ask Fahey…”

I’m shit scared of spiders which is why Miss Gerda always handled our Huntsman when making our Huntsman Scuffs I love them, but I’m frightened and torturing our *FCIC interviewees. (Sorry, Christine.) And why it was also Gerda who did the great escape from the Sleeping Bag of Horror and how it had turned to actual horror when I’d accidental tipped the entire container of live Daddy Long Legs Spiders into the sleeping bag instead of the pocket stapled in the bag and she had to REALLY thrash about to be sure she’d killed ‘em all. Well, being fairly confident she knew kinda where she’d maybe seen the wigs when they packed the house up at Baysie to move to Croydon before their house was built at Kinglake and did I remember how the entire Mud Cake Wrestling in Aspic through a Leaf Shredder onto a Ramp of Terror over Kittens and Guinea Pigs all controlled by Dr. Grog. Or was it Princess Fat… no wait… Princess Criminal the innocent paedophile. Or was it the glamorous Uncle Cockneck with Crickets go? And YES she’s pretty sure there wouldn’t be any spiders left in our wigs!? Surely.

Since our last gig we have still spoken to one another (and a handful of friends and demented fans) in Itchy-speak so that bit would be like falling off an oyster named Janet. It was the rest of it. Ah fuck it. I will if you will. And you know what, I think that’s how it ALL started in the first place!

e-mail sampling #1:
> Been chrying to think how we can have a rool pig for an iPig.

So a goodened oydear. Ut cood be a ginny pig or fayling a rool pig ut cood orso be a block off of baykun. Dirdy, sloimy baykun whot are tucked into dellykut man-pants.

That was about two months ago and it DID seem like an great idea at the time. Pull on a tight wig, wriggle into the aforementioned stinky textile and hey, didn’t I used to wear gloves with that outfit? You DID find the wigs?! Oh yeah, I found the wigs. But I’m scared to wash them…

Character Comedy is the brain child of Nelly and Tanya Lossanno. Now in it’s 10th season proudly taking up permanent residency at Trades Hall (corner of Victoria and Lygon streets in Carlton) the 3rd Sunday of each month, co-produced by the effervescent Toby Sullivan. Character comedy is a hard thing to get right and it’s hard thing to practice/perfect. Stand up rooms aren’t always accepting of someone in a wig or a chap holding a plastic dog so more power to the girls for fostering a safe haven for characters. Doesn’t help Miss Itchy though – cause they’re real and live at the Shrine of Remembrance (cause of the 24/7 BBQ facilities) – always have.

e-mail sampling #2:
Sooo… haven’at chyoo deecoided where Mince CannyGrill wants her stoma site? Abuv or binlow tha nayvul?

Miss Itchy were born out of another (mostly) character comedy night called, Purge at the Limerick Arms out in Sth Melbourne. It was a night to “bring out your dead” the material you were too scared to do anywhere else. The dark stuff. The stuff a normal audience wouldn’t let you get away with. (I know, still makes me pee with glee at the very thought.) Linda and I had been writing and performing together for a couple of years but the stuff that used to make us screamingly fall-down-joyous, we hadn’t really been able to ’sell’ on stage. Purge was a godsend. There’s something to be said for popping on a frock or meat rompers as it was in Gerda V 1.0’s case and being brave. Back then we didn’t even have names, we were just Miss Itchy and we had a wicked song or two (still wicked by today’s standards) and some kittens to euthanise. Seems other people thought it was as funny as we did and that’s intoxicating, so we kept doing it until it wasn’t. Intoxicating I mean.

e-mail sampling #3: (To Tim Harris)
Yesterday I lifted my garage door – (to look for the big tub of stuff, costumes n’ shit for Mince Inchy – tell ya bout that in a second) – and guess who popped his head up and wanted to tell me the temperature?

Ahh Alphonso the Room Temperature Pony. Is there a room temperature you’re not familiar with?

[Above. Alphonso & his Dad. Itchy Couriers. And two ladies, two drag queens. Which is which? You be the judge, judy & elocutioner.]

It’s been a looooong time. Two babies, five houses, two continents, a bushfire, a new art career and a sore shoulder (I hurt it carrying Mo around Harvey Norman the other day) between drinks. Fluffy Duck or a lovely cricket mashed Grasshopper for the lady?

One more drink sounds delicious.

Can I get you one?

Here, come on through to the Trades Hall bar. Upstairs on the corner of Lygon and Victoria Streets. Show starts early, around 5ish? Check the website. It’s all here.

Alphonso will nuzzle your coat.

e-mail sampling #4:
Hey yeah, we HAVE still got it. Only I don’t know if my gut is going to fit into my frock.

til next time,

Miss Candy-Girl’s keeper. xxxx

*FCIC, Fucken Cunt in a Cage. Our interview segment from our “Inaugural Barry Award Winning” Breakfast Show. It’s a whole story on it’s own but suffice to say, I deeply apologise to Ms Christine Basil who had an angry 7 legged Hunstman dropped on her while she was trapped in the cage one night after he spooked Miss Gerda’s handler and she wissed in her man pants and dropped him. It’s one thing to have a spider dropped on you, it’s quite another to have one dropped on you, while you’re in a cage, on stage in a sold out room with bright lights burning out your retinas – retinas that would have been handy for focusing on and capturing the aforementioned pissed off arachnid. I also sincerly apologise to the audience I stampeded across (kinda like a kelpie in a sheering shed) in my efforts to put as much space possible between me, Miss Candy-Girl and that spider. Sir Marcus Wellsby, was retired that very night and we believe, still lives happily in the trees outside the Melbourne Town Hall, waiting… watching…

13 comments.

Obsessions

Posted on July 31st, 2008 by prinny.
Categories: Stories.

Food and Real Estate thankyouverymuch. If I find a house I can eat, I’m doomed! Ok, let me qualify that… if I can find a low carb house, that’s self propagating, near the city, with a yard and ok, no neighbours. I’m DOOMED! It’ll need to be full of glass (gonna be tricky to eat, I am aware of that but ultimately worth it I think) and gorgeous architectural features. High tech – naturellement – ginormo kitchen with the $80k stove I saw the other day (yes that’s eighty thousand dollars) a panoramic roof top deck and… a Butler. The interiors should give a shy nod towards disgustingly opulent. Not a Rose Hancock “I lub you Langley” disgustingly opulent. I’m looking more for a Grand Designs Kevin McCloud look-at-me-fawn-over-the-beauty-of-design kinda opulence. Proper opulence. Taste, if you will. The opposite of, “Look Rose, something tacky!”

Grand Designs makes me froth. A deep bubbling froth that has me oohing and sighing alternating with a lot of screaming, “Get outta my house!” GET OUT and take your awful framed wedding photos and your molting cat with you!” *sigh* So many pretty thing for people who don’t deserve them anywhere near as much as me.. mee… MEEEE! Feature walls of glass. Funky designer furniture in unique fabrics. Water features that don’t include pebbles and fake fish. Indoor gyms (don’t need to use it to have one). Ensuites with his and hers everythings. Sea Views and undercover parking… *sigh*

Gawd I love stuff! I disgust myself a little, with how much I love ’stuff’ but then I get more stuff and I forgive myself. “I forgive me.” “Thank you, you’re so kind.” “I know.” “Here have some stuff as way of thanks.” “Oh for me? Thank you.” “You’re welcome!” I’m so kinda AND polite. Obviously, in a past life I was a charming architect. I bet I was brilliant at it.

The other thing I slavishly obsess over is, food. Really, a fat chick loves food – who’da guessed?! That’s not a very nice thing to say about Linda, is it? Now come on. Apologise. “Sorry Yinya.” Ok, back to me. I love food too! (heh even hungry, I’m funny.) The Food Channel is a calorie whore who must be observed in this house. Ok, only by Spike and I but we love it enough for three people. B would rather shove silence in his eyes please. Although, enabling my addiction he lovingly sent me to this gorgeous link I clicked it and have become a devotee.

I read Slashfood and have been known to frequent Taste.com but this new geekafied foody site is just the bees knees, infused with orange zest and served on a saffron pilaf of cats meows. Open Source (surely Open Sauce would be more appropriaté, pas il?) Recipes. It does have great recipes, and gorgeous photographs of same. Admittedly, if you get close enough to cat food with good lighting you can make it look like delicious, expensive paté. But still, the cat food comment notwithstanding, it’s a gorgeous site.

Yeah yeah, I love my husband and my baby and writing and my iPhone blah blah blah… but if I could find a way to make a living from consuming real estate and food from the comfort of my own home, I would definitely explode with joy. Full on. Muck on the walls explode.

*sigh*

Thar she blows!

What’s obsessing you?

Me xxxx

3 comments.

ABCDEF…WYZ A Make Your Own Words Kit.

Posted on May 13th, 2008 by prinny.
Categories: Stories.

Writing is such a joyful experience for me. Yes probably because I find it easy and I’m exceptionally good at it. Yes, that’s probably it. Hmm? Nope, not listening – that is most assuredly the reason! Comedy and I have had a bit of a fight. So I’ve turned away from it (that fickle whore) at the moment to throw down a bit of dramatic hoo-hah, Final Draft style. My *friend Rich asked, “What kind of drama? Is it funny??” heh That’s a suspicious comic for ya. Answer? Yeah, ’tis, actually. Well at least it got a few chuckles around the table-read the other day. (Humongous thanks to those who participated, btw.) It’s such a fine line betwixt the funny and the ‘oooh!” Fleety once said, “Funny + Sad = Art.” A saying I love. He also says, “Hurry, Daddy’s vein is going down.” But that’s the good thing about junkies. You don’t need to listen to e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g they say. Every second thing will do. I love the line good ‘funny’ treads. GOOD funny has truth to back it up. It has guts and a heart. Or, occasionally it’s just someone falling down. Hard. Ok, slapstick isn’t helping my cause here…

Chris Morris is about my favourite comedian/writer in the whole swollen world (as if you didn’t even hardly know!). Trying to explain him to people is an exercise in utter frilly, futility. He’s just… and then he says… then he got arrested for copying dogs… Do your brain a huge favour and just look him up. Jam (is sublime), Brass Eye, This Day Today, the exquisite Nathan Barley. B says, “he’s not for beginners” which sums him up beautifully. (Both B and Chris Morris!) He’s simply generations ahead of anything or anyone else on the planet. I think the only one who comes close is another Brit, **Simon Munnery. Completely different writers but both so incredible. And ‘incredible’ is such a shit word to describe either of them. They need their own word. Like, Fanmastical. Yes. They’re fanmastical and they both fill me with overwhelming (brain) avarice. But so what. I just wrote a show about ladies! So there! Take that you big… bums! (Woo, I am on FIRE!)

What’s my point? Oh yeah, words ‘n shit. They’re nice and good, aren’t they? My son is learning new words every day. The latest being ‘oh-gurt’. (Vanilla Jalna if you don’t mind.) It’s so fascinating to watch him grapple his way around what we say to him. We’re still having a bunch of fun with it. For instance, I’ll get up and leave the room and B will say to the baby, “If you were a better baby, she wouldn’t leave.” We don’t turn Family Guy off when he’s in the room, nor do we edit what we say to each other. (Ok, we’ve started to spell b-a-t-h and w-a-l-k but you get the picture.) i hope he loves language as much as we do. I also hope he has his father’s grammar skills and my… skin. I have lovely skin.

My other favourite thing (what I love) is my iPhone. Do I have an iPhone? Wait, lemme check… why yes iDo! We picked up it on our last visit back to ‘the old country’. It is simply the best piece of technology ever invented. I love how it rIngs and it gets eMail and how it cApitilises every second lEtter in a wOrd. I love it’s iPoddiness, it’s Google Maps and it’s full screen You-Tubeish bahaviour. I love that it makes my conversations smarter, my hair shinier and my lung function in the top 90% in the country! The only thing I love more than my iPhone (and my baby and hubby blah blah blah) is FREE WIFI! (Hold on for a ‘here’s what’s wrong with this country’ rant – you know what, go pop the kettle on). The friggen price of accessing the internet is completely and utterly retarded in the biggest tongue in the biggest hydrocephalic-head sense. Forget the mobile roaming shit – that’s a whole nuther point of contention – I’m just talking about regular garden variety broadband/dsl/adsl2 access. $60? We pay $15 for UNLIMITED access in LA. Why am I paying $60 a month in Melbourne? (Ok $50 for the bundled package but again, don’t go there girlfriend cause I have a backlog of pent up hate for Netspace – Nutscrape THE shittiest of the Telco’s currently raping the country – that is at fever pitched breaking point on any given day.) I’ll tell ya “why”. Cause a 1 or 2 gig allowance per month is arse-punching bullshit of the highest order! Even my mother uses more than a gig a month. WHY do we have ‘capped’ usage at all?! Is it because Oliver’s Mr Bumble himself sits at the helm of The Internets and doles it out as HE see’s fit? “Well ferfucksake sir, I’d like some bloody more!” Australia, we’re turning into a slipshod little backwater. Kids in Haiti and Mongolia have better internet access than we do! And if any of those kids participating in the OLPC program knew how screwed up it is here, they’d be outraged too. They would sign my email petition. “If you don’t pass this on to 10 friends, your goat will die.”

Yes I realise what I’ve just written.

Like I said, I’m good at words ‘n that.

Thank you.

It’s a gift.

A gift and a burden.

But mostly a gift.

I shall go fan myself with an old script (nice callback) and download some more stuff onto my iPhone (zing!).

“Did you hear, she has an iPhone?”

iFahey xxxx

*(gawd I hate MySpace. Rich, get a pretty website already!)
** (et tu, Munners? Et tu?)

2 comments.