Who likes cats? You do? Well, that's fine and jim-dandy for you. As to me, when the question is asked, my hands tend to remain at my sides. I've never been fond of the snotty creatures, although I would never be cruel to one because as a rule I love animals. But today I had to clean an elderly gentleman's apartment, and part of it involved cleaning a kitty litter tray, which for me is practically Barfing Central.
You know what else I did today? My FB group were set a challenge to find a song with several incarnations. And what did I find? No less than five versions of 'Tell Laura I Love Her'. I found Ray Peterson and Ricky Valance. I found an even more over-wrought one by Johnny T Angel. I found the one I remembered from my little tacker days being by New Zealand band Creation. And I also found a rather campy and fun one from US 50s tribute band Sha Na Na. It really puzzles me that it was in musical history deemed necessary to have five - FIVE - versions of this song that can simultaneously make you want to stick your head in a gas oven, cry your eyes out, and/or vomit up a major bodily organ. Personally, I go with the first and last options, and skip the middle one. Can you believe the Johnny T Angel one has sounds effects like a car combusting on the race track and ambulance sirens? I'm not a studio engineer, but I will still point out this doesn't really help. If anything, it makes the song even more schlocky and laughable. The bloke who did vocals for Creation really does have a nice voice, but how did he apply it to this festering dung heap of a song and keep a straight face? No matter who covers this song, it doesn't alter the fact that Tommy would have to have been one of the greatest fuckwits in the history of the popular song, and Laura is better off without him.
I will be following the fallout of this stripper scandal at the AFL grand final with interest. Or with eye-rolling. To be honest, I don't approve of this act being booked in a corporate box. Because the box does not appear to have been all that private, and could be seen by people who should not be watching, ie, children. And people who did not wish to be subjected to tawdry spectacles. There is a time and place, folks, that's all. This will seriously damage the brand of whoever the holder of that box is. I'm sure I've mentioned before a similar scandal from my late twenties when I attended a function at a barristers' chambers, and someone thought it would be the height of cleverness to book a stripper. It was not. It was actually dispiriting to watch grown, educated men acting like lobotomised trolls. Not wishing to trudge around in a dress and heels as I sought a taxi, I made my way to the ladies and started to change into jeans and a shirt. I was in my underwear, the door was opened and a naked stripper came running in. I looked at her, and looked at myself, and asked, 'Have I overdressed?' (By the way, I cannot resist pointing out I looked a damn sight hotter than she did!). The woman laughed, but was a bit upset and confused at having had her show cancelled. I pointed out her show was not appropriate for this party, but it was not her fault as she wasn't to have known that, and whoever did the booking should have exercised some common sense. Kind of like whoever was involved in the sleazy romping and cavorting at the AFL Grand Final.
Well, I might practise what I am to read at the Scone Writers' Festival this weekend, and hopefully get some copies of 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth' sold. I am also going to flop onto the couch and watch 'Q&A' when the time comes. What will tonight bring? Given Chris Pyne is a guest, probably some very disapproving glances. I'm sure he doesn't mean to, but he often pulls faces like an old maid who's been propositioned in church.
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