An Indecent Proposal

I'd like to make a Proposition.

Well actually I'd like to unmake one.  Proposition 8 to be exact. 

Now for those of you unaware in California right now is a debate raging over gay marriage.  It was legalised by the Supreme Court in May 2008 after a long history of nuptials and annulments which included the Governator twice Terminating a chance to make it legal.  (Though once the Supreme Court's decision came through Arnie suddenly decided to invite America's gays to come and be married there to boost the economy.  Ahhhh capitalism.)

BUT the god-botherers and proponents of that old chestnut; "It's not natural" have gotten their chastity belts in a twist and have rallied to have a Proposition added to the Election Ballot that as these marriages are not between a man and a woman they are unconstitutional.

It is called Proposition 8. Eight presumably being chosen as 6 x 6 x 6 = 216, which divided by 27 = 8.  I know!  So obvious....or was that tenuous...anyways I digress.

So cue Hue and Cry with both sides ratcheting up their campaigning leading up to the election. On one side, or shall we say camp, we have the Gaynesses attempting to sway Joe Average Californian that Adam and Steve are just as natural as their botox injections, soy lattes and eco-hybrid SUV's and therefore vote NO.  And in the blue corner are those arguing  that gay marriage will lead to Nanna being defiled by the Devil's pitchfork and Little Johnny fellating a goat.  (Guess which side I'm on!)

Funny how it's considered not natural for men to have sex not for procreation but many think it's perfectly fine to waste their perfectly good seed into a latex sheath or ejaculate into a pink devoid of eggs.  Also funny that many of these same people think Lesbian sex is perfectly natural, though prefer it if their breasts are not, and that the lesbians concerned are called Pandora Peaks and Little Oral Annie.

Given that its America of course we also have the celebrities wading into the ...um breech.  Ellen DeGeneres and Portia De Rossi were recently wed, so was George Tekai (aka Captain Sulu on the Enterprise) to his long time partner and Brad Pitt (though not obviously not gay, sorry lads) donated $100 000 to the campaign.

They have their work cut out for them however as churches rally to raise funds in one of the costliest campaigns in America after the Billion Dollar US election race itself.  The Mormons are taking a break from cycling and getting especially stuck in donating up to 70% of the cashflow and mobilising from Utah by emailing Californians and holding prayer meetings to influence voters.

People have even been quoting as saying this is more important that the General Election itself and that incredibly:

"If gay marriage is allowed to stand, some evangelicals suggest, it would force churches to marry gays, force schools to teach gay marriage, settling off a snowball effect and opening the door to pedophilia and bestiality. "A person could say, 'I love my dog, why should we not be married?'" said Anna Good, a member of the Skyline Westlean Church."  

Holy Fuck.

Yeah that's right, as I said, fellating goats.  

Of course Sarah Palin, (or as I prefer to call her Satan..... though actually no, I don't believe Satan exists and as much as I don't want her too she obviously does so I will amend that to Alaskan Goose Killing Drill Slut) is all in favour of Prop 8.  However the fact she is also in favour of Abstinence Only Sex Education and has a pregnant 17 year old daughter proves how much her opinions are rooted in reality so who gives a fuck what she thinks.

All of this is amusing too in light of the fact that California has previously been very progressive with Marital shenanigans:

In 1948, the California Supreme Court became the first state court in the country to strike down a law prohibiting interracial marriage. It was the only state supreme court to do so before the United States Supreme Court invalidated all such laws in 1967. The California Supreme Court held that "marriage is ... something more than a civil contract subject to regulation by the state; it is a fundamental right of free men ... Legislation infringing such rights must be based upon more than prejudice and must be free from oppressive discrimination to comply with the constitutional requirements of due process and equal protection of the laws" (Perez v. Sharp, 32 Cal.2d 711, 714-715 (1948)). The California Supreme Court explained that "the right to marry is the right to join in marriage with the person of one's choice" (Id., at p. 715).^[7]

BUT in 1977 they added that whole pesky man AND woman things and are now they are looking to set that in concrete.  SO I would like to throw my 2 cents into this debate and say let's all hold hands and form a prayer circle and send negative thoughts to all those Californians who are so switched into the spiritual realm, making them vote NO when it counts.

Then the world's goats can look forward to some seriously good times ahead.

PS I am also a Civil Union Celebrant by the way, this is all an elaborate advertisement for my coupling services so if any of you wanna get hitched in wonderful Civil Union friendly NZ, get in contact!

PPS And now when I think maybe NZ isn't that progressive.... I mean it's funny actually that homophobic California may get Gay Marriage when NZ didn't seem to be able to stomach that either and had to go the Civil Union option.  Just a thought.

Rohypnol Girl

If the amount of posts on this blog this year was equivalent to the number of fence posts in a High Country Sheep Farm, then I'd be to farming what Madonna is to Marriage.

But then again if I was to set about being a farmer I'd lose about as much money to the man as she is about to to the Guy so all is even perhaps.

BUT I have decided to leap back on the blogging bicycle and hope that I don't fall off and scrape my knee and have to go crying to mummy.  I have fallen off two bicycles this year so this again is probably a shit analogy but let's call all this metaphoric twittering me casting off my training wheels.

Both those bikes were situated in Canada, so I will blame the fact I was upside down in the Northern Hemisphere and on the wrong side of the road for my falls from grace.  In the first instance I was in Montreal showing how easy it was to jump up on a curb and in the second I was in Saskatoon attempting to cycle with a swathe of Busty Rhymes with MC Hot Pink Posters under my arm.

Yes, I'm a dick.

I have been back in New Zealand for a whole 3 weeks now after my four month tour of Canada, (where I also visited Canada's famed "Town that Rhymes with Fun", Regina....hehehehe) and predictably I am bored.  I guess I am incapable of relaxing.  STILL as I'm sure everyone outside of NZ is well aware we are in full election mode, like some other country, and so there is quite a lot of political rhetoric to wade through to attempt to find the truth.

Either way I'll still vote for Labour.  I personally am quite fond of Prime Minister Helen Clark and no I don't give a shit what clothes she wears, how she does her hair, how her teeth are somewhat askew, that she is childless (Oh how oh how can she be a real woman....) or that she has a deep voice.  I think all of this is ACTUALLY entirely irrelevant in being the leader of Aotearoa.  Can she govern.  Fuck yes.  End of sexist story.

I also don't think; "It's time for a change" is any reason to vote for anything.  If that were the case then it would be time for the All Blacks to start winning games or TVNZ to start funding NZ Comedy with any regularity.  And is that about to happen, I doubt it.

But anyway.

I am home and have decided to stay in NZ for the bulk of next year touring Godzone.  This may be good timing in the face of the NZ dollars tumble and the Global Credit Crunch, I just hope people feel the need for a laugh from time to time.  Apparently during that great time of a Vaudeville boom in the 30's there was some depression thingy going on, so fingers crossed a good dick joke will keep the populace amused when cheese costs the same as a Breast Augmentation.

I will miss some of North America's peculiarities however.

For example despite their propensity for being very loud and the fact the movie The Aristocrats hails from there, North Americans tend to be somewhat prudish.  Take swearing for example.  If you were to use the word cunt or retard (a personal favourite) onstage in Canada OR America it's like you have defiled Chelsea Clinton onstage with a miniature Statue of Liberty.  There is a collective tightening of sphincter in the room and an audible silence.  As you can imagine I therefore enjoyed using it with reckless regularity.

Their dating habits are also curiously entertaining.

I was in LA at the end of my trip (having just offended a whole bunch of teenagers with the C word) and attempting to get into a Nightclub.  My friend's friend name was NOT on the door as promised and so we waited for 40 minutes before being allowed in.  (Eddie Murphy even got in before us!  I mean really, hadn't the bouncer seen Dr Doolittle AND he was wearing sunglasses at night, twat.)

When we eventually got in I was accosted by a man who was so drunk he could hardly focus on my tits.  He grabbed my arm, pushed it and me up against a pillar and proceeded to read me a pick-up line.....from his cellphone!  What romance in today's digital age.  He was probably an out of work actor sick of learning all those lines that never got him anywhere.

I saw another wildly romantic man in Canada's famed West Edmonton Mall who was wearing a T-Shirt that said: "I may not be Mr Right....BUT I'll FUCK you till he comes along."  Wow, I want me one of him.  I wonder too how often that works out for him as well.  Woman throwing themselves at him saying: "Alright I'm desperate, let's fuck."

Yes well.

BUT the man who takes the cake, muffin and pikelet was the one I encountered in beautiful Vancouver.  A man I met while I was .... asleep.  Yes having imbibed a little too much Fanta I decided my friend's couch was the perfect place to pass out after a bowl of All Bran at 3am.  

So I did. 

The next thing you know I am being awoken ........... by someone kissing me.  Nothing like been woken up by the gentle lapping of a strangers tongue in your mouth to make you feel sexy.  I blinked up at this person WHO I HAD NEVER MET IN MY LIFE and asked him what he was doing.  He replied; "Can I kiss you again?" to which I said, as any self-respecting girl would, "Ok".  SO he did, and then it began to dawn on me that this was a little, um how to say it.... um WRONG.

He pulled back and said those words every girl dreams of; "Uh sorry I'm just really really horny." To which I replied "Ewwwwwwww" and ran off and got into bed with my mate for a night of platonic hugging.

CAN YOU FREAKIN BELIEVE THAT!?!?!

I guess he had trawled the bars and supermarkets all night and found no drink he could spike so came home and was beside himself with joy as there was a girl on his couch, and he didn't even need to waste a Rufie.  I mean if I'm asleep I can't scream right and If "No means no" then I guess "No no, means yes!".  I just wish I'd bitten off his tongue, which actually would have helped with my munchies too.

ANYWAYS I am back in NZ and will soon be trawling bars and supermarkets myself looking for a NZ man who doesn't pack a wad of Rohypnol next to his condom from 1995 in his wallet.  Till then I have Winston Peters to keep me sexually satisfied and highly amused.

Oh dear, I think I just made myself ever so slightly sick in my mouth.

Toodles.

The only person who kisses me when I'm awake.  Victoria Fringe Festival Dressing Room!

I am thinking maybe I should change the name of this to slobspot.com, so has been my absolute lack of blogging.  I have a reasonably good excuse, what with 2 months of 6 nights a week performing in Australia and now again preparing for my Canadian World Domination Tour Version 2.0.  

But really I'm just shit.

So why start up again?  Why defibrillate the dead carcass like Abby Lockhart, why stir the limpid pink dribblings back to vivid hot life, why inject adrenalin straight into the stone cold heart?

Well why not really.

Where else to get I get to use such stupid over-exaggerated language and blather on about things unaware if anyone is even reading.  Where else do I get to assert my opinions like someone gives a toss and where else do I get to constantly say VOTE LABOUR in an election year.

Here.

VOTE LABOUR.

So there.

Uhhhh OK so now I guess I have to say something.

MMMmmmm.

Ummmmmm.

I already said VOTE LABOUR huh?

OK so yeah I'll be back when I think of something, in the meantime.... a poem:

There once was a woman so drunk

All others she met where soon sunk

As the alcohol vapours

Her skin emanated

Where like drinking straight gin from a sump.

That's a tribute to my last few weekends, final night of the Comedy Festival followed by the Final Night of the Auckland Writer's and Reader's Festival culminated in a sore Liver for me. 

I don't think I did anything untoward, but one night I did wake up half naked in my bed .... upside down.  I was thankfully alone and not with a fully naked midget...... (Don't pretend it hasn't happened to you.) 

Bis spater.

Due to unscheduled engineering works we at Air NZ would like to inform you that we are fucking up your day indefinitely.  We know that you got up at 4.45am for a 7.50 am flight but we are taking sadistic pleasure in informing you that it won't leave now til 10am.

This is particularly enjoyable for us as we are aware that you will then land in Melbourne 10 minutes before your scheduled flight to Adelaide and there's no shit show in hell you'll make that.  We suggest you ring Virgin Blue and spend 10 minutes on the phone at a cost of $36 NZ as the man didn't think to inform you that there was an 0800 number from NZ, we hope he'll then try and make you pay an additional $100 to change your flight even though when you ring back and talk to a woman you'll discover you don't have to and needn't have talked to him for 10 minutes at all.

Oh and have a nice day.

I fucking hate people.

HOT PINK BITS RIDES AGAIN!

ADELAIDE FRINGE FESTIVAL – Pastry Bakery – The Old Balfours Pie Factory,  Elizabeth St
Feb 22nd – March 16th (No Mondays) 10.30pm  $22 / $18 ($10 Previews Feb 22nd and 23rd and $15 Sunday Nights)
Bookings at Fringe Tix: www.adelaidefringe.com.au or 08 8418 8666

MELBOURNE COMEDY FESTIVAL – Comedy @ Trades – The Quilt Room – Corner Lygon and Victoria St
March 19th – April 13th $22 / $18 (No Mondays) 9.15pm ($10 Previews March 19th and 20th)
Bookings:   https://www.comedyattrades.com.au/ or (03 9659 3569 Noon - 6pm Tuesday – Sunday)

Well that earlier Dec 2nd wee post is somewhat embarrassing when one is confronted with the reality of ones drinking. For a start one starts speaking like a twat using 'one' all the time as if 'one' was someone else.

So I'll dispense of that now, here's some poetry:

For the holiday season next year
I think I'll just save time
Fill a drip and IV with Festive Cheer
And shoot it up mainline

And another malaise of this season goes like this:

It’s official there is no god
If there was a benevolent one
One who watched over us and secured our peace of mind
One who protected us from the daily dealings with the devil
Then at no time would any woman
Ever have to go
Swimsuit shopping

Yes well, I do need a new swimsuit and believe I found one online. When you are blessed, as I am, with Kate Mosses missing bits from her breasts, finding a swimsuit that doesn't make you look like you're polishing your knees with your mammaries is difficult. All the charming, dainty fabulous costumes are wildly unsuitable unless you simply don't care that your areola pokes out the side.

Therefore Bravissimo.co.uk is an hourglass' 20/20 sight perfect shop. And I highly recommend it.

Christmas and NY's were lovely thanks for asking. Christmas was spent with a great family up the Sky Tower, gorging on a buffet and ripping the heads off prawns which is something I have discovered I don't like at all. I don't like having to prepare my own food in a restaurant, I mean the next thing they'll be asking me to fillet some steak and slaughter a Hummus. Honestly.

NY was spent luxuriating in frankly gorgeous weather on the Coromandel at Whitianga and various beaches surrounding. Matarangi was truly stunning, and not only for being the beach that killed Nicky Watson's dog. Poor wee Cricket, but his demise got more media coverage than Benazir A Buto's so enough of him.

NY's itself was spent pogo-ing at Mickeys The Irish Bar at the School Disco. Yep it was all 70's and 80's so we shook our groovethings, were dancing queens (literally) found our Sweet Dreams and Thrilled the locals. I think the younguns were a bit scared of the crazed townies fuelled by Turbo Shandies which are Becks and a Smirnoff Ice in a pint glass. Sounds hideous, tastes just like lemonade and makes you dance like crazy bitches. Sweet.

Back to the real world now of preparing for the Adelaide Fringe and the Melbourne Comedy Festival. Buuuuut I just might make it to the Coromandel one more time before I go.

Here's paradise............
















Matarangi

A slightly Angry Reaction to a News Story

Lashings of Bullshit

Today in breaking news a man in Saudi Arabia has been sentenced to 200 lashes
For daring to be seen with a woman who was not his wife
And so was set upon by a marauding group of she extremists with a knife
And forced to perform indecencies, as the woman had become frenzied at the sight of his uncovered knees
It was stated in court that he was asking for all he got, that women can’t be expected to be uninfected by their primal urges, that their deity made them that way and their carnal surges are a result of man’s original sin, because when Adam bit the apple, he got a taste for skin, and his whole existence became consumed by tempting.
When the man appealed, that he was the victim in this case, the judge in her wisdom decided that this disgraceful behaviour shall be made respectable, by the removal of the man’s penis and testicles.
That the “operation” shall be conducted by an elderly man with a rusty tin can, that at its completion there will be a small opening where urine can escape, and that if he ever managed to be married and find a mate, his wife and master shall rip it open at her discretion and he shall take it and be thankful because of his transgressions
When Amnesty International appealed for sanctions to be utilised
To try to stop brutality against men in everyday life
The superpowerful women were in fits, entered free trade agreements and awarded Saudi the Olympics
They then winked at their boy secretaries
Told them to wear tighter trousers to show of their knees
Ordered their husbands a nice bunch of daisies
Then headed down to Sexy Love you Longtime Ladies
For lapdances with solo dads trying to feed his babies
Coz their Mum buggered off to sew her wild oats
Left him stranded and pregnant, battered and broke
And convinced he’s worth nothing just a stupid dumb bloke
Then the superpowerful went back to work the next day
And illegalised Abortion, sodomy and foreplay
And homos and dildos and buttplugs and bi’s
Because their deity told them to despise
Difference
But they congratulated themselves that they were superior to the Arabs since
They never sentenced people to lashes
Just slaughtered thousands in black gold-digging clashes
SO the boys were pinched on their tight little butts, and men were raped because they dared to suggest it wasn’t good enough
That women abdicated control of their bodies
Because they were powerless in the face of hot male totty
And men everywhere suffered and their bodies were sold
And at the Olympics America won 58 golds.

GO and see Complexions Dance Show at the Aotea Centre til Saturday, or whatever town it comes to near you.

It's like totally choice.

And has really hot guys in not much.

And amazing girls in not much either.

Oh and yeah social commentary conveyed through an evocative mix of dance, music and multi-culturalism that tingles the follicles and moulds the mind.

But yeah, hot guys in not much.

Wicked.

 

Some minor poetic musings to pass the time, OK so it's a saturday night, so what!

You are like a pinata

Your insides are in doubt

But I think if I bash you hard enough

Some good stuff might come out.

Thank you, thank you.

On watching poetry at the Edinburgh Festival

I find it's the short ones I often like best of all.

And then ...

There once in the City of Sails

Was a lack of all adequate males

So to ease the drought

The women went out

And boosted all battery sales

Mary Mary Quite Contrary How Does Your Garden Grow?

She replies:

As the name suggests,  fuck off.

OK that's enough I think.

Tonight's poetic musings have been brought to you by the numbers 6 and 9 and the letters r.e.d. w.i.n.e.

Choice bro,

OH and one more thing, I was watching two episodes back to back of Californication on sunday, which is apt as everyone in it is generally on their back, or doggie, or being fellated or considering vaginal rejuvenation surgery, and I got really annoyed.

Yes yes yes it's all very funny, but why oh why do they have to try so hard.  I laughed when David Duchovney's (admittedly still incredibly hot) character asked someone if he wanted to be cock punched, oh ho ho, punched....in the cock....hehehehe, but was perplexed when another man was asked if he wanted to be dick punched in the same episode.  Uhhh you already used that joke.

Also AS PER USUAL all the women in the show are naked and jiggling their pert titties, or writhing around on top of Duchovney, whereas he always remained covered up.  Admittedly when he covered his man gristle with a priceless painting that he'd just puked on I gave them points for original loin cloth, but nonetheless it's always the chicks with the skin out.

So far so normal, but what really got to me was when Dave's character mused with despair on why all of Hollywood's women are hell bent on trying to destroy themselves with botox and plastic surgery as if he was some sort of wise benevolent feminist sage.  HHHmmmm I wonder why, maybe so they can get a part on his skinflick show coz there aint no blubber bound pig dogs bouncing on his cock before it gets punched that's for sure.

Wow, anger Penelope.

Sorry Mum.  Better now.

ANYWAYS, and then when the woman who got fired got her job back by playing the porn princess with the Jewish ugly dude from Sex in the City I got sooooo angry I just about turned it off!  

BUUUUT I didn't, I mean Duchovney is just so damned hot!  What.... I'm objectifying him now you say?  Well I never said I was consistent and it's my matriarchal right to objectify a specimen who has subjugated us as a collective voice since time immemorial.  

Or something like that anyways, oooh gotta go, time for episode four, I wonder if he'll Knob Numchuka someone?

Oh my word what you must think of me!   Lackadaisical to say the very least but I promise I have a good excuse.

Well good-ish.

Yes you see I have been convincing myself it would be wrong and wasteful for me to pick up this piece of pretty silver bullshit called a MacBook Pro and biff it out the window to be smashed to smithereens under a passing Range Rover's oversized tyres so that all it's irritating smugness won't amount to a hill of pixels in this crazy PC world.

What, me, having issues switching codes?  

Never.

Ahem, yes.

I freely admit that after roughly ten years of getting under the covers with Bill and the rest of the PC Gang I am pretty down with their way of doing things.  I can twiddle with smtp's, establish flat wireless networks, install patches to rectify glitches and find just the porn I'm looking for pretty adroitly on my XP laptop.  I was reasonably happy with the state of the relationship, sure Bill could lift some weights and do something about his style of glasses, and to be sure sometimes I was worried about what I was catching off the general viral public, but for the most part it all worked for me.

But then I succumbed to the hype that is APPLE, personified by the slightly geeky funny guy on those condescending ads.  

My sister teaches IT in schools and goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on .... about how "amazing" macs are, how "intuitive" macs are, how "sexy" macs are (it's a laptop for fuck's sake) so I figured there must be something in that so I took the plunge.  

Yes well.

I'm sure it may be all of those things but all I am currently is well f****d off with this muthaf***ing piece of s**t.  Apparently as a PC user who knows quite a lot I will get even more annoyed than most converts as I have to "unlearn" so much and "learn" some more.  It's a steep curve to be sure to find out fonts don't work that you've become attached to, half of your music are .wma files that won't work, DVD playing can be problematic and as for importing contacts from Outlook, well, you'd have a better chance of getting Victoria Beckham to swallow.......food that is.  

Yes I know there are solutions to all this that I am currently downloading, converting or stabbing, but it still annoys me.

I had a session today with another Mac Zealot and he showed me some very cool stuff absolutely, and I am looking forward to getting down to graphics and Garageband and stuff but tonight I'm throwing my toys out the cot and saying "It's not FAAAAAIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR".  

BUT I guess unlike John Howard I still have a seat in my house to try and sort it all out from and unlike Victoria Beckham I have a bum to sit on and so here I am now at 12.30am navigating through the mire that is MAC waiting to see the light.  

Well I can see lots of lights under the keyboard, they're pretty, and I can always take a picture of me kissing myself on the photo booth, and I can chat on skype using the inbuilt microphone under the speakers, and I can marvel at the intuitive nature of this sexy machine whilst I navigate it to www.bangamidget.com -  Nice.

 

A Little Celebration of all Things Nearly Summer.....

Jet Planes

I love London, the West End, Leicester Square
Covent Garden, luke warm beer
Prostitutes’ postcard’s in telephone boxes
“It’s my blaaaardy right to tewwwworise foxes”
Culture oozing from foot-worn stones
Westminster Abbey packed with famous bones
Page Three buxom bimbo bints
The Thames twinkling with effluent
Strobe lights pumping drum n bass
Diamond geezers, rain for days
The Sun Screams “Prince Willy’s Orgy with Aunty Anne”
The Guardian “Vegan Gay Whales Saved Again!”
The Tate, the National the V&A
Trafalgar, Regent’s, Kew, St James
New Look, Top Shop, Dorothy Perkins
Lloyd Webber, Les Mis, a bloody great gherkin
BBC, Top of the Pops, ITV
Posh n Becks, kinky Sex with Tory MP
Millennia Domes of culture ……just waiting there
But you know what, right now, I just don’t care
Coz it’s the first warm nearly summer’s day
And London’s half a world away
From my grassy knoll on Point Chev Beach
Clean(ish) salt water drying off my feet
Sucking on the season’s first Pineapple Fruju
As toddlers in Gumboots toddle in the nude
Ozone's hole plugged by Pohutakawa
Wishing I’d worn my jandals, as I gaze out on the harbour
Munching on milk bottles and jet planes
Smiling in the light breeze, coz it’s nearly summer again.

More Snaps to Come When Blogger Stops Skitzing - PS the way photos go up on here drives me MENTAL!














Hurricane Kevin Enjoys a Magharita

Daddy in Cancun

Backpacking Glamour, Mine was the Top Bunk

Isla Mujeres Clings to Its Palm Trees After Two Hurricanes

Tulum Ruins and the Carribean

Hahahahahaha

Well well well all good tours must come to an end, and as I sit in my cousin's guest room on a beautiful LA morning (are there any other) I can't believe four months has flown by so fast.

In 14 hours or so I fly back to the Land of the Long White Cloud and I can't wait to clap eyes on my tired Mitsubishi Galant, my gorgeous red bedroom and all my fabulous friends. I've loved being away but packing and unpacking 34 times in 120 days can take a toll on a girl's nail polish.

In that time I've visited 17 cities from Saskatoon to Cancun, taken ten flights (must buy some carbon credits), performed my show 36 times and drunk more beer than Homer Simpson at a work function.

I've already waxed hysterical on my performance tour, but as I was far too busy sucking back pina coladas and eating chocolate chicken in Mexico, you my three dear readers have remained in the dark about my travels like a mariachi with a too big sombrero, so let's start at the very principo.

I landed in Mexico City a month ago and then promptly failed to meet my Youth Hostels shuttle as I was standing at the wrong bank. In my defence TWO separate people told me I was in the right place so I choose to believe they were retarded and not me.

Mexico City is very cool, it has 20 million people and 40 million statues of Jesus for sale on the street. (Sidebar, in Mexico Jesus is in a lot more agony than other ones I've seen. His crucifixes are dripping in blood and gashes unlike our nicely sanitised ones which makes death by being nailed to a stake as irksome as a wee thorn in the side.)

It also has fine museums, nice parks, thankfully non-rabid stray dogs and men who rip you off when you go punting on the river. Luckily they also have women who float along in weeny boats next to you selling you Coronas on the river so my annoyance was nicely dulled. All in all I had a lovely time there and was bought beer by a group of International Earthquake Specialists who I managed not to ask; "Did the earth move for you," remarkable restraint I think.

From there I bussed off to Oaxaca, a gorgeous Colonial town where I partied hardy at a great Youth Hostel and where I met my travelling husband John. We were to see each other on again off again for three weeks thereby outlasting many Hollywood Marriages.

My next stop was Zipolite but not before a harrowing five hour bus ride on winding roads and overtaking on blind corners with a general cunt of a driver. I believe he has a bet on how many people he can make throw up on an average ride and I fear I was a statistic.

SIDEBAR - In Mexico you do not put the toilet paper down the toilet, oh no, instead you place it in a small bin next to the toilet. As such I anticipated that many toilets would make Quentin Tarantino's language seem clean. BUT I was generally pleasantly surprised at the state of hygiene in MOST situations. However when I tottered out of this bus looking for the Banos in a small cafe on top of a mountain my luck ran out. It was the bathroom equivalent of a teenagers bedroom, disgusting, smelly and with a thick layer of pubes. There was no way I was going to throw up in that toilet as the splash back would have been such a mixture of dysentery, herpes and cystitis that i would have been quarantined from NZ. So I did what any good Kiwi girl would do and barfed in the bushes. All fucking class me mate.

ANYWAY Zipolite was very relaxed EXCEPT the water was trying to kill me, the current in the water was pulling me so hard I should have sold admission for men to take a dip. What I did instead was some judicious swimming and hallelujah I was finally chilling on a beach. This was helped by the fact that a Chicken sandwich and a beer cost a mere $2.50 US. Choice.

Next stop was San Cristobal de las Casas, another gorgeous Colonial town where I go to know the afore-mentioned Nicaraguan Percussionist, and let's just say "He Banged". I also found some lovely jewellery there, ate a Greek meal in a Thai Restaurant, watched a didgeridoo and climbed two sets of stairs because they were there. Edmund Hilary would be proud, there was no other reason to climb them as the view from the top was shit. I also visited a Mayan Medicine Museum here and must remember to suggest using Black Spider Fangs to help my next boyfriend if he has swollen testicles. MMMMmmm.

After San Cristobal I ventured off to the fabulous Palenque ruins and the happeningist hippy place to stay - El Panchan, which is a groovy little cluster of places to stay just outside of town. I laid my hat in an establishment called The Jungle Palace and I loved it. I had a hut with only thick mesh for walls and a little stream tinkling behind it. It was a truly relaxing place to stay with cheap massages, cheap beers and cheap boys. (OK there weren't any of the latter but I was hoping.) It also had Howler Monkeys outside my window at 5am, THOUGH they should actually be called "Wake you up in a panic with their strangled screaming followed by weird guttural grunts" monkeys, and I'm glad I'd been warned about them first because if I'd just heard that out of the blue I may well have lost my refried beans in my pants. BUT apart from mental wildlife and spiders the size of my face living in the pooey paper basket by the toilet, I had a great time. Oh and yeah the ruins were fab too.

From there it was off to Tulum, the most beautiful Beach in Mexico that I saw ANNNND the most expensive. A diet Coke for $2.50 US??? Like fuck, I lasted here two days then headed to Isla Mujeres.

Isla was a special place for two friends of mine as they met there and are now married. I therefore slapped on my best Husband Luring outfit and camped out in the common room 24/7. Ahhhahahahah as if I'm that desperate to be married..........yes well, I did instead drink COPIOUS amounts of beer and cocktails there, and danced til 3 and 4am etc... for five nights and loved it. I made some lovely friends and then had to tear myself away to go and pick up my Dad.

Yes that's right Dad.

You see my mother was away finding herself in South America so my Dad decided, hey, why don't I go and bother my daughter on her Mexican Shag Fest. Luckily the Shag Fest was having as much success as Britney Spears in the Mother of the Year Competition so it wasn't too much of an imposition.

We then hung out for a week travelling to Merida, (fantastic outdoor weekend partying), Chichen Itza (Huge ruins where it pissed down with rain and Dad knocked a pile of T-Shirts into the Mud in a shop then ran away), Valladolid (another cute colonial town with underground caves where you swim in Bat crap as they twitter overhead), Playa Del Carmen (Nasty touristy place with a nice beach) and Cancun (where he had to continually say that I was NOT his second wife!).

I had a nice time bonding with Pops and needless to say my standard of accommodation improved drastically. "WHAT, bathroom in my room you say....air-conditioning you say...over $25US you say....I can flush my pooey paper you say....No WE ARE NOT married I say...." etc.. etc...

And so it wound to an end with our final night being a haze of Karaoke, margaritas and sunstroke, a very fitting end to a four month legendary tour I say.

So that's that, I'm coming home and may I say, I can't bloody wait!

Good on ya mates.

Final Sidebar - In Mexico you are constantly harrassed to buy stuff. "Buy my prayer bracelet...buy my beaded necklace...buy my snorkelling trip...buy my pooey paper basket..." etc etc. A lot of people, my father included, got immensely pissed off and frustrated with this BUT I just kept saying "No Gracias". You see I figured that these people earn so much less than me and I'm a bloody poet, so I don't mind them trying to make a peso off me, because they wouldn't be here if the foreigners weren't. We create the industry that so many tourists seem to hate simply by being there, so if you want to luxuriate on a beach and have lunch for $2.50, suck it up I say.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

The All Blacks lose again.

Bugger.

I on the other hand am now in the Carribean.

Hooray for me.

Well I´m a moron.

I am killing time currently in a ciber (sic) cafe in San Cristobel de las Casas as I missed my bus because I had left my passport and Traveller´s Cheques in my hostel´s safe.

Yes, moron.

At least I remembered before getting on the five hour bus ride to the jungle of Pelanque, but yeah dickhead.

I´m having a lovely time in Mexico, though since I have drunk cerveza nearly every single day since July, I am looking forward to hitting the gym when I return.

This is probably the first time I have travelled in a country where not many people at all speak english and it has made for entertaining charades. I have realised I know NADA Spanish and so have pulled faces, held up numerous fingers, asked Donde Esta xyz only to stare blankly when the babbling answer comes back to me with directions, haggled using a dictionary to get numbers and laughed rather a lot. All bueno fun.

I have been in VERY hot to very cold weather, eaten spicy and not so spicy food, drunk mojitos, pina coladas and corona, looked at Mayan Medicine museums, fought the waters of Zipolite that are trying to kill you constantly with its rip tides, chatted to travellers from all over the world and pashed a Nicuraguan Percussionist.

Life is good.

My Dad is arriving in a week. He decided he´d like to come to mexico and here he is determined to take over the Karoke Bars of the Yucutan Peninsula. It might scare off some more percussionists of Latino descent BUT I have a sneaking suspicion he won´t want to sleep in a dorm and might just pay the difference!

Fingers crossed!

Ahhhh what you people reading this blog search for never ceases to amaze me. Welcome those who were looking for "pink beaver pics", "new zealand slang for tits" and "lindsie ward huge butt". I hope this tickles your fancy even if it doesn't necessarily tickle your pickle.

Moving on.

Well fuck me if it isn't all over rover.

2.5 months of Canadian Touring has flown by faster than a Paris Hilton Jail Sentence. I can hardly believe I've done five fringes, navigated across 5 provinces and performed my show 36 times BUT I have photographic evidence to prove it so it must be true.

I really did have an awesome time all the way across and it was capped off brilliantly with a rollicking final night bash in the Vancouver Fringe Club complete with gnashing of teeth and frothing dance moves.

I am one cool dude.

From Vancouver I jetted back to LA and then for one night I hit the spot where middle America comes to waddle, yeah baby yeah I mean VVVEEEGGGGAAASSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a totally bizarre, totally cool, totally stupid, totally awesome place it is.

I went with my mate Richard who got us a deal at the Imperial Palace. A somewhat low rent hotel with bad 80's furniture and a rash of Dealer-tainers. What's that you ask.....well read on Macduff.

A dealer-tainer is someone who does celebrity singing impersonations BUT obviously isn't quite good enough to make a living doing that full time so deals as well. The result is a croupier who dresses like Gwen Stefani and jumps up to belt out a number between crap shoots. Awesome.

It was here that on my first ever go on a table I turned $40 into $180 in under an hour playing Texas Hold-em Poker. I mentioned I'm a cool dude didn't I?? There is something wonderful about winning money in Vegas because all of a sudden it's play money. You didn't have it before so it becomes ear marked for frivolous purchases like $15US cocktails, Venetian Gondola Rides and a Chippendale rented by the hour. Awesome.

I had a go on some slots too because how could I resist when it's called "Pennyland"! BUT I really didn't do much gambling but rather soaked in the crazy atmosphere.

One thing I will say is that some of those hotels are quite frankly fucking beautiful. I expected it to be more tacky (and hell go to the Luxor and you'll find tacky) BUT the Venetian, The Bellagio, The Forum Shopping Centre and the Paris are just stunning stunning edifices to consumption, themed carpeting and neon BUT in a tasteful way. That may sound ridiculous but I was open-mouthed on numerous occasions and not just with the Chippendale. I especially loved Paris, as it's my favourite city and seeing it in miniature was too too cool, but the mini San Marco Piazza in the Venetian was wondrous too. They also are masters of themed lighting making it always look like dusk in Europe any hour of the day. Tres Awesomeant.

One thing the place lacked though, despite the tricky lighting, was seriously good looking people to go with the hotels.

I realise I'm no Julia Roberts poncing about the Bellagio in my Cowgirl Boots BUT come on people. It was as if Ohio had let their seniors (and their dogs) out for the week with strict instructions to wear a lot of polyester, sweat a lot and smoke in my face.

(YES you can still smoke INSIDE in Las Vegas. You can buy a cocktail at a bar and wander down the street with it AND you can smoke even in your hotel room. We were in a smoking room because our non-smoking room had a view of the rock band til 5am.)

I went in search of some totty to flirt with whilst my mate hit the hay, but eventually gave up sifting through the toupee's like rodents and the teeth like....rodents, so sat at a bar and paid for some drinks. (As opposed to getting those free ones from the girls wearing nothing when you're gambling.) I was soon chatting away to two lovely English lads in town for a 30th birthday and sat there doing that til 6am discussing politics, English pubs and how pissed we all were. Aweshhhhum.

I then passed out myself in my Marlborough Light room before a walk of the other end of the strip the next day. It was here we discovered M&M World. A merchandise store for M&M's that was four stories high, had the smell of chocolate pumped through, had figurines of M&M's for $1200 US and a 3D movie adventure called "I left my M in Vegas".

I think that sums the place up really.

Awesome.

Tomorrow I land in Mexico City, stay tuned for Mojito fuelled treatises on how beans affect my Gringo Stomach Lining.

Not quite so awesome.

In Christchurch in three hours my sister Suzie and Dad will be attending the funeral of Graham Condon who was an amazing Cantabrian.

Graham was the father of one of my sister's closest friends, and he was killed in a road accident on Saturday. He was an incredibly inspirational man who was in a wheelchair from childhood and became a Paralympian World Record Holder and passionate city councillor. He was an awesome father and friend who didn't seem to mind at all that I drank some of their wine when I was pissed at Suzie's hen's night, which was at their house.

I wish I could buy him a drink now and recite a poem, which he often wanted me to do.

SO I'm off to the Vancouver Beach aptly called Wreck Beach, to send love and probably a few tears across the Pacific for Kathy, Andrea and Craig.

Arohanui Graham. xo

DO NOT repeat DO NOT buy cowgirl boots from The Leather Shop in West Ed Mall. After three weeks they have fallen apart! Fuckers.

Why oh Why Canada do you have such huge gaps in

your toilet doors!

Here's to suffragettes and new bras!

Gimme Food Bitch!

The Ferrari Oestarossa

Lake Louise

The View from atop The Cable Car Port, Jasper.

I climbed a mountain!

The Big Rock Brewery Stage. Or as I prefer to call it the little shitty crappy stage.

NZ's Kim Potter excites an audience member.

Fire Wankers

The Fringe Site

The Death Car with Greasy Man

The Free for All Promo Spot.

Thrilled to be here!

Settle in kids, it’s an epic to rival Harry Potter…….

Wow Saskatoon seems like a million miles away from Edmonton Airport Gate 56 and in some ways it is.

I have only one fringe left on my epic Canadian World Domination Tour and I cannot believe how quickly it has flown by.

The Edmonton Fringe was the best one yet for me. I virtually sold out my entire run, got some lovely reviews and consolidated some great friendships along the way. I stayed with a lovely family who distracted me far too often from work with home-made red wine, (which surprisingly did not taste like beaver pee) and went to the infamous West Ed Mall.

For those in the don’t know, WEM is the biggest shopping centre in the world. It has a water park, an amusement park, an ice-skating rink, a sea lion enclosure (the dolphins kept dying) and oh yeah….shops.

As the Edmonton “summer” was more reminiscent of Scott’s expedition, I decided that rather then eat some dogs I should buy some winter woollies.

What a shame.

I also rode the Mind Bender Roller Coaster or as I prefer to call it the Neck Cracker, or as the weird man behind us said - the Death Car.

As my mate Nile and I were settling in waiting for the coaster to chug off into a stomach churning whirly-gig, this slightly greasy, frankly creepy dude behind us told us the story of how the very car we were sitting in once flew off to tracks in mid corkscrew and turned it’s inhabitants into Prime Canadian Mince Meat.

Wicked.

We survived but only just and were both in need of some serious neck readjustment afterwards.

After Edmonton’s madness was all over I had a week off before the Vancouver Fringe so I decided to cheat death once more, by hiring a car and driving on the wrong side of the road through the Canadian Rockies. Just call me Evil Penevil……..or something like that.

I decided to tootle through Alberta as opposed to driving to Vancouver, as to afford a one way hire in Canada is to sell all non-vital organs. SO I made it to Jasper, Banff and Calgary in one piece with only heading off on the wrong side of the road once. I did better than when I hired a bike in Belgium when I was 23 and made it a fair few hundred metres on the left wondering why everyone was looking at me funny. I was lucky I didn’t end up a Belgian Biscuit. (see what I did there….yes well.)

The Rockies really are very stunning, but at first I found it hard to get too excited as really it’s just the South Island but everyone says… “eh” a little more. A few of us hired a house in Jasper and I was perfectly happy to curl up inside with Cable TV, pasta, wine AND wireless internet. BUT you will be pleased to know I did manage to get owt and abowt in the wilderness and even climbed a mountain.

On my way to Banff I made a stop in Lake Louise which is truly stunning though horrendously touristy, scrambled about on a glacier and then settled into a night at the YWCA. Oh the glamour. Banff would be picturesque too if didn’t look like Baghdad. They’re digging up the main street and redoing the sewers apparently, either that or looking for Weapons of Mass Destruction I couldn’t be sure. Canada does have a lot of oil.

HHHmmmmm.

From Banff I made a stop in Canmore which is a cute little town where I decided I wanted to head off on a non-touristy path. And boy did I find one. After following what seemed like a trail, even though I was suddenly envisaging Grizzly Bears at every turn (just what sort of animal crap is THAT!), I ended up stranded when the trail disappeared in a field of nettles and gorse. There was nothing for it so I thrashed through in my new Cowgirl Boots from WEM towards what looked like civilisation.

Yes well. Just as I thought I had made it I encountered a river that I had to forge. OK so maybe a creek, but it was slimy and no doubt filled with Kiwi eating beavers….(um er so to speak.) I managed to get across with only slipping once and dunking my butt.

Did I mention the glamour.

From there I kept on to Calgary where I had arranged to stay with some members of the fabulous Obscene But Not Heard comedy troupe. Downtown Calgary was pretty cool, and even sports a statue to some suffragettes who got a law changed here in Canada that had determined that women were not people and therefore couldn’t run for parliament. Ahhhhh men.

After a night on the tiles I ended up staying somewhere other than expected due to someone getting lucky and me having no desire to knock on his door and say; “Oh sorry if you could just stop pleasuring the lady and let me in I promise to be quiet and you just get back to it….” SO thanks Nicole!

So then it was back to Edmonton to grab the bulk of my stuff, drop off the Ferrari Oestarossa and head here to the airport.

SO Vancouver here I come, I have a couple of poetry gigs lined up and yet another season of flashing my bits, oh and in exciting breaking travel news after V-City I’m going to VEGAS baby. AND I don’t mean Ashburton neither, wooooohooooooooo.

Fingers crossed for some Glamour!