Witty banter#1284

Matt Preston called didn't you get the memo it's official  he wants his cravate back.  I've run out of star of anise - first world problem. Those and some other prime turns of phrase have been my passport to social media networking success and glory the past few years.

Sure I usually get them mixed up, use dated references and make no sense, but that appears brilliantly subversive in cyberspace ( yet no need to seek asylum. When I do I will seek refuge chez Honorary Consul for Principality of Monaco, Lady Mary Fairfax at Fairwater, if she's still alive, would be downright vulgar otherwise. Can't wait to stage self-important press conferences from the funicular to the marina or the Fairwater rooftop. ).Why in October my tweets made Q&A two weeks running. We had cake for morning AND afternoon tea two consecutive Tuesdays at work. Life really could not have been better.

The power of tweet is a curious thing (oh step off Huey,  just build a bridge and get me over it} but sometimes it just does not work. Hey, no need to elaborate, dude, we've all been there. 

 This year I really want to get my head around the symbols, you know the winky eyes and poking out of tongues, and possibly find a replacement for "dude", it's very passe, perhaps "man" is back. Brian always told me that it was good to have goals but perhaps I'm over extending.

Sidebar*. Christ tonight's episode of Catalyst is noisy. Science has got all jackass/wacky spruikers delight. well then again Julius Sumner Miller was very noisy too.

*I first heard someone utter this term in a management meeting quite a few years ago and was awe inspired, dude must have a blog I mused in wonder, between thoughts of hurtling myself out the Boardroom window.

Truth

I think that it was Huey Lewis or perhaps Lou Reed who said it's hip to be square. 

In fact, it was what Lew Reed said to Huey Louis one night at the Factory for yes, I was there (slumped on an alcan foil covered beanbag (my creation)  about to pass out from too many luudes , nevertheless, there.)

The speed freaks and drag queens were out in force, Andy had had a quarter of a tab of a diet pill or perhaps it was a quart of Tab,  and Nico was flat on her back doing those crazy bicycle calisthenics (spookily portentous, not to mention lewd or is that loued) to the accompaniment of strobe, natch, so much goddamn strobe. Needless to say Huey Lewis felt really out of sorts and insecure and said as much to Louballsage (as Stirling and I had affectionately dubbed him).

It  took another 15 years for Huey Lewis to have the courage to put Lou's maxim to music.  I said to him, "Huey, dude, Lou's been ripping off cats for years, don't worry, it's the honky rockers' way." Unfortunately several years later I uttered similar words of encouragement to the Men at Work.

Takin' stock

Oh I know, everyone does with the new year and whatnot, so hardly un titre originale. However I really wish the Woolworth chain would.
Oh really I do.

Why one Sunday in my recent past, I went to two of the Woolworth stores in search of the schweppervescence variety of tonic water - it’d been so hot in Sydders that I required a hefty gnt to slake my first of an evening, Mrs Wigley's Rose just wasn't cutting it. And do you know what, neither of those stores had my preferred brand of tonic in stock.

Oh blame it on Alan Belford Jones.

 Everyone does, as the parrot moaned to me towards the end of 2012. We were in our personal individual bespoke hot tubs at our favourite gastronomique health spa fat farm, hot blubber, sweatin’ off the xmas lbs.  “You’re a c765, ABJ, I retorted with my infamous nodule entangled thyroid cackle of a laugh , but a rich one. Remember to laugh as you grow fat for everyone else will”. I noticed at that point he appeared to fart with rage in  the spa, those tell tale bubbles, don’t ye know.  "Oh well better out than in", I soothingly murmured.

Oh it’s a cut throat business this life and where would you be without your friends.

More's the point where would one be without the wit and wisdom of the quotes I am clearly plundering from my  top hole office desk calendar.

One has been so used to listening to people as they talk at me, no offence, ABJ, that I’d forgotten the art of conversation. So I created this magnificent technique, a la W.S. Burroughs, where I cut the quotes from each page of the past three years desk calendars and place them in a ginormous envelope which I transport in my enormous ma’am darling Princess Royale handbag. Then when I’m stuck for words, at a party, a work meeting, or during idle chit chat in the work bathroom,  I discretely retrieve the envelope from handbag, shake it about then pull out a few of the paper slices of  quotes (yes it's  a lucky dip process), throw the phrases down, randomly, and instant whiz bang conversation. Admittedly controversial and rather philosphique but I found I get away with it by ponderously stroking my chin or nose  during the pause that often follows my statements. It’s a top technique (i.e the random retrieval of quotes on paper pieces)  why  it helped David Bowie compose the lyrics for the songs of his new LP. And boy am I looking forward to our Liebovitz portrait for the June  Vanity Fair.

Oh enough of my celebrity  tittle tattle, but I know it does impress you.

I'll get to the point of this post, tomorrow. I've run out of desk calendar quotes, you see. 

Off the tweet

Robin Gibb has died and Aunty 24's report  after showing seconds of Bee Gees' film clips resorted to quoting tweets from John Prescott and Danni Minogue!  Danni quoted the theme song from the film Grease, i think that song  was written by Barry.

Transport parley

The new STA buses,  or perhaps there is only one which I am fortunate to catch most mornings to work, feature the most fabulously fat round STOP buttons that you press when you want to admonish the bus driver, dob in a fellow passenger, or even alight from Mr Jiggly Jiggly. These buttons are the size and shape  of yo-yos and are tomato sauce red with a yellow trim and I think S T O P is written in white on a red background. Very soothing and highly effective. Nifty, what.

When I have not been admiring these buttons, caressing them with my digits,  occasionally with my tongue; they do also resemble a lollypop/Wimpy burger, my focus in transit has been distracted by private transport, the rear windows and bumpers of cars, usually  some form of four wheel drive..  It would seem that The Baby on Board, Mum’s Taxi, Warning Nervy B Driver signs and stickers have been replaced, in fact, trumped by adhesive adornments that are even more nauseatingly self-congratulatory.  Yes,  I’ve finally noticed the “My family” stick figures stickers.

Oh the cult of the human and its tragic quest for further limelight hoggery, indivduality and validation. How much do these people and their faaaaamlies need?!   A rebate for lack of  awesomeness and being insufficiently surreal, I guess. Get a blog for cock's sake, that is what my bumper sticker sez. Incidentally, i've twice seen the word  J E S U S in big spaced out letters plastered across a car's rear windscreen.  I'm not sure if it is in honour of that crazy, delusional prophet (possibly sane compared to Apostle Paul) or if it's just a means of communicating vexation with one's quotidian when in jaloppy.

Did you know that you could fit the entire Queensland ALP opposition in a station wagon or mini bus? And if there is a ruction, well, crumbs, five of them could squeeze into my modest little hatchback and the other two on a motorcycle and sidecar. Stylish but a rum state of affairs.

Dude! (looks like a luvvy?)

I have just spent the past ten minutes searching the office kitchen shelves and cupboards for my coffee cup. While I was not quite having the usual yelping nervy b as when looking for keys, tops and shoes -  I am in public bel mode, after all,  I was rather puzzled, not to mention choked from supressing nervy b yelps and groans. Imagine my surprise  , get set for wawawaaaaaa sound effect when I found cup (don’t worry it doesn’t have “you don’t have to be made to work here but it helps..” written on it (cup is not THAT big) on my desk concealed by briefing papers  that were vertically propped  against cup.

In other news: Seal and Delta?!! Leanne Edelsten and Clive James?!! Luvvies and me.  Who said the naughties were over?!? and one more for effect,  ooh, ah,  ! yeah

of all the gin joints

When there are six cubicles in a public latrine, five of which are vacant, why on earth would ANYONE choose to take the cubicle that IS directly beside the occupied cubicle. WHY?

 Who are these needy people?! Why have they no sense of proivacy, prickliness or prudishness?! Granted there is NO NEED to ask who the uptight person/people is/are (oh the conjugational bliss of such an inclusive exclamation)! I just cannot understand  or abide it. This was too long for twitter.

Life Coach!!

Have you ever recruited one? Have you ever wanted to be one? Foolish questions I know. After all it’s the desire of any sentient being in this the 21st century and in the top ten of your bucket list - that's a given. In the 1980's, however, the concept was off the wall.

Those who know the mistress, and you sweet little poppets who read this blog, are aware that she has had a checkered career (more technicolour than black and white but nevertheless CHECK-ERRED). Therefore it will come as no surprise to learn that the mistress was one of the world’s first life coaches. However in the olden days, the early 1980's to be precise, I was known as a motivator, the motivator once my powers of persuasive encouragement (not manipulation I swear) became renowned. (These days we say “went viral” – couldn’t say it back then because of the herpes and whatnot but nowadays having herpes is a vadge of honour going by the personal blogs on the Fairfax Press webpage; looking forward to Gina Rinehart's take).

Truth be told my success as a motivator/life coach was courtesy of Brian. You might recall Brian, my old friend the autodidact-come-municipal council librarian; I used to talk about him during the early throes of my love affair with the blogosphere. Brian and I have been feuding, i.e. not talking, for the past 2-3 years. Needless to say our capers in coventry have caused our mutual friends much awkwardness at self-actualisation workshops, parties, wakes and the like. Regardless, we are never to be reconciled. What happened between us I cannot divulge.  All I can say is what happens in the Shire stays in the Shire.

Still credit where credit’s due has always been the Mistress’s motto and it’s thanks to Brian that I met Rick at a pyramid wealth seminar.

Rick was an amazing motivational speaker and a masterful TAFE teacher. I enrolled in his TAFE Motivator Course – “Choose Life”, and yes,  Rick was bitter about the boys from Wham an' all but he let it go and props to him, I say.  One day I’ll do his Saturday CBT sessions and rid myself of this cockin’ hairshirt but not quite yet for I’ve become accustomed to its weight.

Choose Life was a sensational course and Rick empowered me with the confidence to set forth and track down some apathetic souls and get ‘em going. My first port of call was a Rock against Work lunchtime gig....

wordy go go

This morning's All things considered program featured  the Lake Superior State University 2012  list of words and phrases to be banished from English due to "overuse, misuse and general uselessness" (or is that Jerri Blank's description of her life on the streets?).

Here is a list of words and phrases  that have been causing hornet rose here to tut, rick her neck or fume when eavesdropping, listening to the wireless or watching the television.

period of time

back-story

literally

contagion

at the end of the day

it is what it is

awesome (or perhaps that is now extinct, well, only used by French nationals during  facebook frenzy updates. Here's hoping).

hopefully

Chips Brodie-Jellinek

Woah and yoah as me and all my posse used to say when we was young, fresh and fly.
Speaking of which, not the posse, oh has anyone seen mah posse?  (setlle, inner Slocombe, s e t t l e)this afternoon on my walk home from work ( i gave myself an early mark. DUDE  I don't need to wear jeans to work of a Friday to stick to it to the man, no old tough nut/hard as here gives herself an early mark ) i happened upon some spectres from a part of a  much younger bel's life. No madeleines required.

So there I was,  walking, walking, walking all the way hoame and within five minutes of hitting funkYtown (15 minutes 20 secondsish from the Mansions)  I happened upon two former studente of mine. (I was a teacher, sorry, educator, for a bit of a spell last century, don't ye know, and curiously it was not during the interwar years).

Hanyways, first student i happened upon i had taught for a couple of years and she did have a look of recognition when our gaze met (or was it pity? - oh i so want their respect), so I greeted her by her name and I think she twigged for she said "Hello, miss" (only one context for that and no, it's not when one is being upbraided by nanny in St James Park, nanny always called me Miss Bel, if you don't mind,  it's your local school).

Miss duly and  briskly strode on. 'Magine Miss's surprise when she happened upon another former studente who she had taught in practicum and the first year out. We  exchanged pleasantries  and then he ran into a friend and I heard him say to her as they embraced

"You must have missed me heaps".

this is not supertramp

resist, resist, away, away

So much has happened since I last talked at you but I cannot go into such matters for my specialty is the superficial and inane.

I have to table the following, for neither are original, significant, or of any consequence and (triangular formation of dots) very important to me.

1. Diana Mitford's nickname for   Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon  was 'Cake'  owing to gin fizz Liz's penchant for confectionery like costume.

2. While catching a taxi home this evening after a splendid day picknicking in a very big park,    I heard a song on the radio that always makes me feel very ill at ease, provokes utter distaste and causes marked vexation. It was not Video Killed the Radio Star which I really, really cannot abide.

It was that song by little Stevie Winwood called While you see a chance or something like that.

 I do not know why I hate it so  but I suspect it's the timbre of his voice, the general tune, I don't know its content because I cannot register, all the space between my ears gets very tangled and tetchy.

Oh such vexation!!  BUT WHY?!  Could it be the dicky keyboards and possibly some of that saxophone, could it be the timbre of lSW's voice - so squittery and oh so weedy, or could it, could it  just be  my all consuming, crazy,  furtive  love for Captain Von Trapp tainting everythink?!!!

The only antidote to such a source of disquiet and moribund fate  is to listen to everybody's favourite tinker come pop star,  David Essex.

May tomorrow be a perfect day

Marie Osmond has been hospitalised with severe bronchitis. More alarming , however,  is her being referred to as "veteran performer, Marie Osmond."