Songs That Sing and Dominant Dorks

Are you ever concerned that you'll never find another favourite song to replace the one you've just played a thousand times and kinda wish it would still sing to you but just...doesn't?

As some people cling to those feel good love stories in movies, I am a sucker for a song with lyrics that relate to however I feel at the time.
Of course there are the songs that sing to me and don't necessarily say the right words, but if the notes are good, i'll take it.

A fine example of this would be my infatuation with "Before I Forget" or even "The Nameless" by that delightful band Slipknot. I'll admit they didn't sing so much as scream at me but that was during the heavy metal stage I went through in my early teens and at that point in life I was in everyway a typical angsty child, however unlike my other angsty counterparts I wore a façade resembling something like a unicorn that had recently vommited up a rainbow. All over me.
I liked colour okay?

I remember there was this one song in which there was a guitar rift so perfect to my ears that I actually went to the trouble of figuring out how the hell to use a music editor to cut it out and play that 10 second snip over and over and over again.*

So it makes me wonder what other people have as their little quirky interests or how far they will go to persue that perfect ideal or scene in the movie where the cheerleader just dumped Brad, the sportiest, sexiest boy in school because she really loves Nigel the school nerd.








*It was Dave Navarro's Avoiding the Angel at 3:13 if you're wondering.

I'll Pay You To Take Your Clothes Off

On monday I started the first day of the next four years of my life. At Art School.

I am no longer a little embarrased to say it in front of my parents friends and scornful adults alike that I go to such a place and really, I shouldn't have been in the first place, it's pretty effing amazing.

Now this fateful monday leads me to write to you as one of the ladies who was luring us into being members of art clubs stood up and as an after thought added "One of the most enjoyable and worthwhile things I did when I was at Art school was life modelling. It gave me great confidence and good money. You also get to go all over Canberra for it!"

Now, I know what you're thinking '"Life modelling" is that a new word for prostitue or something?' and as much as one might assume such lude things, I assure you it isn't.
Although you get paid (quite handsomely) to go around Canberra and exhibit yourself to a room full of people while they violate you with their eyes and hands (stricly to paper of course) I was interested to know that there is a shortage of female models and there's a rumor going round about $50 an hour.

So I wondered to myself - Could I be so bold as to take my clothes off in front of a room of art students? And perhaps not even budding artists but the general public?

I put myself in my own shoes and know that I don't, or try as hard as possible not to judge the life models, they are afterall amazing, confident people. Then I thought about the fact that i'd be nude infront of my peers... and thoughts strayed to how long the course is...

And four years is just a little too long for everyone you know at school to know what your vagina looks like.

My Last Name's "Yomumma" Like The Woman I Had Sex With Last Night...

For a long time I thought if I ever became famous I would use my mum's maiden name, Bortolussi, which is Italian and back then, far more appealing to me than Orme.

I think at least once in a lifetime one goes through a stage where they don't particularly like their name. Be it their first, middle or last name. I was fortunate enough to go through the stage of not liking my middle or last.

Now over the years i've had to explain how to pronounce my last name to the friends, new teachers, boss's etc etc I meet.

I've been called Alex Ormie, Orm-ay and my favourite "ohm" like that symbol in buddism for meditation.

But no - my last name's Orme, like Warm."

I was wondering recently how other people would discribe their names. Like "My name's Ward - like a hospital ward" or "My name's "Yomumma" like the woman I had sex with last night."

And what about those really unfortunate people with both their first and last name creating something like "Ben Dover" or "Dick Hertz"? I guess it goes without saying that these are either the really genuine people in life who have laughed their way through school and out into the real world and are shaking their heads and saying "thanks mum and dad for thinking I could be so strong!" or they're in jail for murder.

At least the only clarification they'll have to give is after a slap to the face or "Are you okay?". (and maybe if Ben is lucky someone will oblige)


Alex Orme isn't the worst thing to be called... compared to some, i'd say i'm pretty lucky. I also thought it was pretty cool when my boss said she liked it because it reminded her of a ball.

I guess my thoughts have changed in the name department but I still want to be famous.

Valentines Is Coming, Have You Got Your Man/Woman?

I've never really liked Valentines day. The day most single ladies and gents out there would rather forget and hunker down with a good horror movie than see all the lovey dovey couples flaunting themselves out in the more often than not, bright sunshine.

I could blame it on the minor detail that i've never had a significant other to share the experience with, except once, four years ago. (and i'm definately not saying that was a bad time) But four years on and four Valentines days to watch progressively more gorey horros or my friends getting roses and chocolates and doted apon, perhaps all my tolerance has run out and maybe I am a little jealous. Maybe.

Honestly though, I don't think it has anything to do with my lack of love but the pressure that's put on the day to be the most romantic. I think romantic would be doing somemthing special the day after or day before if you're greedy. Celebrate everyday rather than have all the pressure on that poor Febuary 14th to shower your girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband/mistress/gardener with what you feel.

Do people really need the day to remind them that they actually love someone and should probably show them?

Which reminds me -does anyone have a place free for me to watch a DVD? My parents have kicked me out of the house for sunday...

The Poorly Pallid

I finally got a chance to earn some money last week and watch the cricket at the same time. Would be pretty good if I actually enjoyed cricket but at $20 an hour, I wasn't complaining.

Now generally I wouldn't call myself pasty, and even though I have just spent the last four months rugged up to my eyeballs in Europe, I think I got a chance to change at least one shade darker in the three weeks I spent in Thailand before I came back here.

Look at me flaunting my travels.. what a wanker.

I digress. I came home to be compared to my mum who, fair enough, had just spent two weeks at the beach and doesn't believe in sunscreen "It'll give you cancer before you get skincancer!" So of course I was of pallid complexion in comparison, but if you looked at my brother i'm not sure the sun likes him that much, if you catch my drift.

So I was standing watching over my two corporate boxes and was next to another girl from the catering company when our boss man comes up and goes "Are you guys sisters?"

"Uh no..."
"Oh you guys look alike... Although you're (me) pasty. Wow, you're like the sick version of her."
"oh.. thanks?"

He laughs and walks away and the girl and I find ourselves a little confused and I'm feeling a little offended.

I was listening to a radio article on how the tan is still a popular thing to have being a girl. Only 1/3 of girls said that they'd rather be pas- i mean have no tan.
Would this encounter, for any other girl mean that they'd go out and get a tan?

If i'm anyone to go by, I'd say yes.

Do You Have Snow on your Christmas Cards?

Writing this after the festive period and being privileged enough to have had a wonderful 8 months travelling, I somehow found myself in England for Christmas. I got asked the usual questions “Do you ride kangaroos in Australia?” “Do you have snow on your Christmas cards?” and although I wasn’t lying when I answered, “Why yes! Yes we do!” (Well, to the second one anyway) From what I can remember in Australia, Christmas has always been associated with a Barbequed ham or turkey and the only “snow” we’ve had was the stuff mum scraped from the freezer.
So it got me wondering – why do we have snow and Santa in a heavy red coat with fur lining when clearly it’s hot at Christmas time?
The fact that I can buy a card depicting a toasty fire with stockings hanging precariously above it or that a snowman will come alive, dress up in my mum and dad’s clothes and fly me all over town* just seem a little pretentious to me.
Why are we trying to spend Christmas the way we can’t?

Perhaps Santa is self conscious in swimwear? He knows he can’t watch his weight because that mince pie slash biscuit slash beer (yeah, I used to leave Santa beer) is just so tempting and fair enough – it’s not every day the whole world leaves you free food.
Perhaps he couldn't bring himself to take off the love handle hider to make himself more easily believed by the people here in the southern hemisphere.
But you know those Christmas cards with Santa in swimming attire?(gawd forbid if he ever sported budgie smugglers), I’ve got my money riding on the belief they are the work of elf insiders wanting to make a few extra bucks on the side – (the cheeky buggers) - and what better way then to sell them to the countries which report how much dirt has fallen over the last month, rather than rain, which normal countries seem to receive on a considerably higher average.
And perhaps, in the light of the world financial crisis, that’s what it’s come down to -Candid shots of the jolly old fat man.
Either way, even they, true to our weather and time of the year, are far and few between, snowed under an abundance of winter themed rivals.

In reality I’m sure is that it’s just plain cheaper to import Christmas cards from the other side of the world… but where’s the fun in that?



Santa, if you’re reading this, I’d like a pony this year.