I have a gorgeous friend who last night celebrated her 36th birthday.

We met almost exactly ten years ago amidst a haze of Ouzo fuelled revelry on the Greek Island of Ios.

For those of you who don't know Ios is a kind of floating Sodom and Gomorrah (so had to look that spelling up) in the Adriatic Sea. A Mecca for backpackers who descend on it's white sands and crystal clear waters to drink themselves to oblivion and shag like the overexcited early twenty-somethings they are.

My then boyfriend and I had decided we were going to leave London's dinge and bask in Grecian sunlight whilst working in one of the squillion bars that fought for patronage for the few months of the year that tourists spawned.

We nestled into the local backpackers for a mere 5 quid a night and set about finding employment and learning that the local word for wanker is Malaka. (For some reason everyone wants to teach you that.)

The most common job on offer was the "fish-hook". This is the person who stands outside the bar and says "Come in, you know you want to" to the wildly inebriated antipodeans who stumble passed, tempting them with drink specials that almost always included a shot of Ouzo and the implied possibility of a root from an equally trolleyed punter.

Though this didn't seem a particularly brilliant use of my Bachelor of Arts I thought what the hell and asked at a few bars.

What I hadn't bargained on was the first old man I asked leering at me through herbaceous eyebrows and asking; "Hev you got a short skert to wear?"

Given I was quite a lot fatter at the time and about as likely to wear a mini-skirt as give Prince Charles a blow-job I declined his offer of employ.

I eventually got a job at Cheers, The Little Irish Bar and for two whole nights stood there from 10pm to 4am attempting to entice punters inside.

Then I got paid.

Or should I say then a paltry amount of drachma was dropped into my hands that wouldn't feed Lindsay Lohan.

So I quit and decided to party hardy for a few weeks then head back to London and make some real money. (Well enough to feed Lindsay Lohan AND Calista Flockhart maybe.)

It was then I met my lovely friend who was single, footloose and fancy free. We became drinking buddies over bleary eyed late nights of Heinekens, dancing to Abba (she's obsessed) and lazing about on the beach during the day.

When I recently figured out that that was ten years ago I couldn't believe it BUT then again when I look at her newly renovated home, two kids and husband, I guess I can.

A lot has happened for her in ten years, and me too but I guess I'm still footloose and fancy free with no home or kids. And luckily we're both more than happy with our arrangements.

SO last night even though I was sober (she's lives in the arse end of nowhere) we had a boogie to Dancing Queen for old time's sake and I was briefly transported back to a breezy Adriatic day and the delight of making new friends on the other side of the world.

Wow that sounded a bit like a Malaka huh.

Last night I couldn't sleep for two hours.

My brain wouldn't let me as it kept yelling at me to do various things.

This always happens just as I am about to do a show. The million and one little things that require attention swim through my mind at 3.45am and keep me awake. Well actually they more thrash about like a toddler in the deep end who never had swimming lessons with no Mummy in sight.

The only way I managed to get back to sleep was to tell myself that is I was still awake at 5.50am I should go to the gym.

I fell asleep at 5.45am.

Miraculous.

Now I am awake when I should be and beavering away at my computer as I finalise opening night invitations, Christchurch technicians, Canadian Tax Waivers, Front of House personnel and Technical rehearsals in Auckland, Advert design for Edmonton, Accommodation for Toronto, Tax Returns for NZ, Air miles to get me to Canada (fucking United Airlines Cheating Bastards), Poetry Idol auditions, going to the gym, eating and panicking that I have no money.

Well actually I am now distracting myself by writing a pathetic feel sorry for me blog, but it's a short one I promise.

You see I am concurrently producing SEVEN season of Hot Pink Bits in two countries over five months.

You're right, I'm a twat.

I mean it beats working for "The Man", whoever he is.....and to be honest he must be making a fortune huh, but well it can sometimes get a bit much for one little girl to bear. (That's me in case you're curious.)

It's about now that the weight of impending financial disaster kicks my ass into publicity overdrive and I shout from the rooftops just how goddam fabulous my show will be, so please come.

So there you have it. A very non-Kiwi thing to say BUT come see my show, it'll be fabulous. It's had great reviews in Wellington and Christchurch and it really is good. So there.

ALSO please come and see it so I don't have a mental breakdown and start getting creative with my poo and walls. Though I guess I could win the Wallace Art Prize if I did, but well, I just don't like poos really.

OK I promise to leave now, I have a meeting with my accountant who will no doubt say to me yet again; "You know these shows you do, they don't really make you any money do they?" And I'll smile again, agree, and plan my 25 seasons for next year.

See you at the Classic Studio, The Harbourlight Theatre, in Toronto, Winnipeg, Saskatoon, Edmonton or Vancouver.

Yep.............twat.

PS There is one silver lining in all this with being essentially single for six weeks. At least I don't have to waste time shaving my legs, cleaning my room or changing my sheets. Nice!

Don't you hate it when when you suddenly realise you have something.

Before you had it you didn't care about it.

If it wasn't there it didn't matter because you didn't know what it was.

If it went away for a while you couldn't give a fuck because you didn't know where it had gone or what its name was in the first place.

If you decided to go away you never gave it a second thought and just looked forward to jumping onto that plane and sailing off to new adventures.

But then all of a sudden something pops up when you least expect it and makes you think about it quite often.

You like spending time around it because it makes you laugh and has a very sexy smile.

You even like to take it away to nice baches in the Coromandel where you watch DVD's, eat fabulous food and hold hands.

Then all of a sudden it takes itself off to Europe for a number of weeks and although you're in exactly the SAME position you were before you met it in the first place, everything seems a little less bright, a little less funny and a lot less sexy.

Don't you just hate that.

Lucky I have a two whole seasons of Hot Pink Bits to take my mind of it completely.

Coz that'll work.

Anytime now.

MMMhmmmmmm

Yep

Wooohooo I just sold more tickets to my show, it DOES work.

For a bit anyway.

Oh and I have more GST.

WOooohooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

And then of course there is writing rambling aimless blogs that never end.

I reckon that might work too.

Or not.

HHHmmmmmm

OK really leaving now.

I promise.

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

COME SEE MY SHOW!

PS this is Abbey from www.thebalihouse.com a great place to stay and hold hands.

OK so with Hot Pink Bits selling fast at the New Zealand Comedy Festival, you'd better get booking so you don't miss out! It sold out completely in Wellington, you wouldn't want to be sad now would you......

HOT PINK BITS

Whatever happened to Divine Brown? Can a phone sex operator get RSI? Do people really have sex through a pizza? Frustrated you can’t look any of this up on your work computer? Then Hot Pink Bits is the show for you.

That’s right everyone’s dirty girl Penny Ashton is back, and in 2007 she’s naughtier than ever. For her brand spanking new show Penny has trawled the ins and…outs of the international sex industry and will tell you all about the lives of the she’s, he’s, and she-males that make a living in the world’s oldest profession.

Resplendent in a hot pink corset, dripping in cheap jewelry and strung up in fishnets, Ashton will sing, dance and pontificate on porn, prostitutes and Lockwood Smith in a burlesque-esque romp through the kickers of the global sex trade. There’ll be a group orgasm, an audience gimp and a very sexy stripper. Songs will be reinvented, fetishes will be indulged and Nana will need a lie down. But of course it will all be done…in the best POSSIBLE taste.

Classic Studio, 321 Queen St, May 14th - 19th, Book at 0800 TICKETEK

Harbour Light, London St, Lyttelton, June 5th - 9th, Book at http://www.harbourlight.co.nz/

Praise for HOT PINK BITS Wellington 2007 – TOTALLY SOLD OUT SEASON!!!
“….this polished and confidently performed show takes an irreverent look at sex that is far from dirty and very, very funny.” Dominion Post

“…Hot Pink Bits is cheerfully irreligious, and delightfully disrespectful of politicians, celebrities and many other desperate wannabes. The full spectrum of perversion is delicately sampled, with a wit that is sharp without ever being cruel.” Scoop

“Ashton was a ball of confident energy; singing, dancing, mincing and prancing her way around the stage and up into the audience.” Lumiere.net.nz

Wellington Fringe Awards – Honorable Mention Best Comedy for Hot Pink Bits

Today is Bad Friday and I feel much more at home on Friday 13th than I do on Good Friday when Jesus SUPPOSEDLY rose from the dead. Funny really, I guess that makes him a Zombie and quite at home today too.

ANYWAY enough religion bashing for today and onto a nice poem.

I thought it was time I posted one and this is an old favourite and a nice counterbalance to all that nasty swearing from yesterday.

Take Two Before Bed

Can I be
Your Vitamin C
Your shot in the arm
Your can of V
Your fizzing fix of Vitamin B
Bubbling Effervescently

Can I be
Your ecstasy
Your Codral Cold
That’s non-drowsy
Your speed, your coke, your Herbal E
That makes your heart beat wildly

Can I be
Your cup of tea
Your trim flat white
Your Diet Pepsi
Your PCP or LSD
A tab on your tongue of TNT

Can I be
Your potpourri
Your essential oil
Your scent of the sea
Your Glade plug-in Pine Tree
With Pheromone Aromatherapy

Can I be
Your vitamin C
Your strength in the face
Of adversity
When I need you and you need me
A dose of love, that’s orangey


AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Imagine my horror when faced with the prospect of driving all the way to Alexandra, deep in New Zealand's South Island, without any musical accompaniment.

I was borrowing my parents car which had had a CD player, but it decided to kark it just before my SIX hour drive.

I was so annoyed I said cunt in front of my Mum! Imagine that.

Relax, she laughed. Possibly a nervous reaction covering her inner monologue of "That'll be her father's influence" but she laughed nonetheless.

Then she said "why don't you check out our tape collection?"

I bit my lip so as not to say; "Actually I'd rather undergo a female circumcision than listen to Richard Clayderman does the Beatles accompanied by the Pan Pipes of James Galway" when I realised that beggars couldn't be choosers and scuttled inside.

And what a nostalgic blast from the past that all was!

First up The Best of Bread. Now you might not imagine that one so funky and hip and down with kids as I might be interested in an old 70's band with frankly a stupid name BUT you see it takes me back to 1992 and to a boy. He was enamoured with Bread and I was enamoured with him, quid pro quo I became enamoured with Bread.

Ahhhh youth.

SO when after a whole intense week of lazing in bed listening to "If a picture paints a thousand words then why can't I paint you...." he broke up with me after shagging Catherine Talbot on the Law Trip, I was devastated. I cried listening to "If a picture....." ahhhhh you get the idea.


Pathetic.

Next up was the soundtrack to Grease Two.

For those of you unfamiliar with this frankly stupid movie from 1982, it is a role reversal on the original concept of "If your man doesn't like you just change". This time it is the girl, Michelle Pfeiffer, starring in her greatest dramatic role as a Pink Lady, who is the cool one and she is looking for a "Cool Rider". Instead she finds geeky Maxwell Caufield who then transforms into a leather clad Lothario just for her. Oh with some singing and dancing along the way of course.


And in 1982 I LOVED it.


Rotten Tomatoes gives it a high 14% quality rating and on listening again for the first time in years I too have had a role reversal, it's fucking terrible!


Next up was Solid Gold Hits 1984 which kicked in with that rollicking classic "Wired for Sound" which I so was. Other smashes included "Tainted Love", "Hands Up" and of course those massive hits....."Chariots of Fire" and "The Hill St Blues Theme."


Not much happening in 1984 obviously.


BUT the best one was "How Great Thou Art" by Sir Howard Morrison. Good fucking grief, a hymn, hilarious.


Anyway you get the idea, there was Eurythmics, Culture Club, Neil Young and ......... Richard Clayderman and I had a lovely trip down to the wedding, which was also very lovely.


So go ransack your parents tape drawers, there's a plastic world of fun waiting to be shared!


Choice.