June 1, 2011
November 28, 2010
August 23, 2010
A weekends’ work is never done in just one weekend so I have taken a large portion of this morning to finish up what I wish I had time for between Friday night and early Monday morning. I feel justified cause last night I had a dream I was at work and was docking everyone’s wages because they all stopped working at 4.30pm every day to play cards or mess about with video editing software and I refused to pay them for the privilage. I was roasting tomatoes on giant baking sheets and one of the girls was saying to me “But it’s already 5 o’clock” and I was saying resolutely “But you finish at 6…”
This dream seemed like it when for hours so I am just recouping a little of what I lost by creating a public figure page for Hobart on Facebook [want to be her friend? You know what to do]
I went to the doctor this morning and she got blood out of me like she did it every day. Last time I went to the nurse it was really traumatic and I was lying on the lino about to faint crying after he tried three times in the backs of my hands and got nothing. I wanted to puke over that actually. Then that night I went out with He-Man for Japanese food for dinner. I took him to Chisou on Princes Street off Hanover Square and we had LOVELY stuff.
This weekend coming up, we are going to P.A.R.I.S.
C A K E S
Oh and I forgot to mention Venom was around on Saturday with a music pal and with God Of Manly Love Personified the three of them got on like a house on fire [or like a bottle of lube in a Gay Bar] making a track together. It was so lovely. I practiced my Cantonese homework in the bedroom only getting up to mix them another round of cocktails and check they werent all fingering one another they were getting on so well and went back to my bedroom to vibe with all the friendly testosterone in the living room. Hobart loved it too. Then on Sunday coming back from The Dove which had great beer but weird air, I did a little strip show and took my knickers off from under my dress to cheer my pal up. A little bit of sauciness always works.
July 13, 2010
The easy answer: SOMETHING FABULOUS
But it is taking a lot of work!
There is a guy who has been emailing me a lot, sending me all kinds of compliments. Which is great right? Only I’m not sure how much of his fabulous life is real. I’m naturaly suspicious and I think the worse. It makes me feel like I am being groomed by some internet paedo stalker. I can just see my picture now in The Metro as the embittered woman who has been swindled out of millions by some chancer who leads more than a double life.
I have a date tonight with someone else. After waking up in a quite excited mood, by the time I left the house I have switched into being a mini Phil Thompson on a bad day and have been lashing out at everyone in the office, the other IT guy not the fruity IT guy. It is quite likely I will tell this guy that Im going to “fucking get you, you fucking cunt” all on my own.
Even though I brought in a chicken and fennel quiche and a raspberry cake, the girls have shut me in my own room to listen to Snoop Dogg all on my own and a screensaver of my number 1 girlfriend which keeps comming on because I am sitting her staring at the screen totally vaguing out.
July 1, 2010
Hi everyone, it is Hobart with my latest “ON THE LEVEL” feature. This week I am going to talk to you about one of the most important things in life: TRUE FRIENDS. I personally don’t have many friends, in fact I can count all my friends on one paw, but the ones I have are good to me. I want to highlight that I don’t hate The Cardinal that much any more after the plushy sushi she brought back from Japan for me. That thing is some seriously good shit and I love to lick it for hours, take a tumble with it, bring it to bed etc. Seriously good shit.
Basically, TRUE FRIENDS give you a good hearty scratch in the morning, make sure you have enough food on the plate, if you have a funny looking thing on you they grab you and check it out even if you dont really want them to touch you because you feel awkward but really they want to make sure you are okay, TRUE FRIENDS DO NO PULL YOUR TAIL, they let you do your thing and love you for it. They mean even let you lick their armpit [well maybe not "let you" is the right word, maybe they are actually asleep and you wake them up that way for example. Which maybe sounds a bit gross but between TRUE FRIENDS this kinds of things can exist in a happy friendship.]
My good friend Dora tells me that A FRIEND CAN BE A VERY DANGEROUS THING. I agree with her. Sometimes people close to you can really fuck you up – brush your fur the wrong way [uggghh] for example. This is seriously not a spiritual way to be.
My advice is, if you have anyone in your life that is not a TRUE FRIEND, just cut them loose. They aren’t even worth pissing on if they are burning.
There are too many cushions in the sunshine to spend time with than fuck about with people who don’t care if you live or die.
June 13, 2010
A new feature by Hobart the cat.
- where does the food come from?
- where can i sleep?
- where can i shit without getting my face rubbed in it?
May 31, 2010
I’m a horder. In the last two weekends, I have put out into the trash no less than 5 large garbage bags full of crap that has been stuffing up my house. The majority of it is non-recyclable clothing – pyjamas I had worn to the last unth because flannelette after 100 washes is so soft, shit I had made to wear out to raves in the Rephresh / Rephlex days at Heaven [1996!], odd gloves, vintage things I had bought as rags in the first place and now after getting worn and pinned together for long enough and not able to be turned into a patchwork quilt. Pepper that lot with jars of spice I think I was born with, bags with no handles and the most useful of all – presents from the ex husbands parents.
What is also so disturbing is the large cardboard box of stuff that I just can’t bring myself to part with just yet because it is either a] recyclable or b] historic value or c] or personal priceless value. I ask you though – how many Silas cyclepath jackets are normal? How many Helmut Lang vests did one girl ever need? Can we add to that X-girl & Milk Fed t-shirts, hand made a-line skirts… Clothes I had bought from TOPSHOP or H&M before I stopped… Actually it is too embarrassing to go on. BECAUSE WHAT IS LEFT IS STILL AN ABSOLUTE MOUNTAIN OF CLOTHES CRAMMED ONTO MY SIX FOOT RAIL AND FOUR SIX FOOT SHELVES.
I cannot be described in any way as a minimalist. And there I was going on about how happy I was after visiting my favourite second hand clothes shop and buying more. No wonder I don’t have a boyfriend, there isn’t physically any room for one in this house with all the china, vintage clothes, baking tins and African barbershop signs.
And of course there is the question of Hobart. At 2.20am last night this is how a certain little someone could be found IN my bed, ON HER SIDE of my bed. Today, she has been loving all the activity. A little annoyed that her secret hiding space behind the laundry basket was pulled out, Hobart has had a great time disembowelling skirts that she liked the smell of [my boss has given me the greatest English Eccentrics skirt from under her bed!] and then grabbing the dustiest things she obviously though had greater value than I did and ferreting them off in the deepest corners under my bed. So helpful!
I am dreading cracking open the cupboard in the hallway. That is where the deepest sins lie. Plastic bowl caked full of plaster anyone? So before that, I am going to watch my buddy Jess Dickenson’s movie “Where the Dust Settles” I will report back later.
April 18, 2010
Every day there comes a moment where you find yourself in a very deep spiritual moment with your pet. I hear it all the time from fellow pet owners. Obviously, even in the olden days they did it – these two are so close I’m not even sure where the dog tail ends and the scarf begins. It is a love that is of course not normal even though we all do it. So intense. And not at all embarrassing…!!!
My flight to Hong Kong / Melbourne / Hobart [the city] has been delayed because of volcanic intervention. I can’t say I am not a little bit glad because I get to spend a little extra time with Hobart [the cat] in the lovely London sunshine. Shortly I am going to make some macaroons. I asked Hobart if I should make a cake and she gave a kind of small weak miaou. Then I asked “macarons?” and she went crazy. It is great to have a live in Spiritual Advisor. Then Dora the Ignorer comes once a week and we talk about other stuff like immigration, stupid people and money. This week I got to see pictures of her Mum Abena and her 5 children. I have to tell you all, TALK ABOUT BABESVILLE.
Anyway to get formalities out of the way – sorry Beniah Brawn – I don’t know why I can’t post directly to this blog from Flickr cause I could before and I can on the Lektrotour Food blog. I hope I cover all necessary post backs for you here.
If you want to find out who this lady really is and where she comes from, check Beniah Brawns amazing Flickr stream here.
April 9, 2010
Memories of Ice and Fire on A Journey Round My Skull.
Just to tell you Mutts has had her operation and she is fine, although pissing quite a lot. Then Mutts and I went on to talk about the old lady who had our house before us. My sister believes she died in the house and is terrified alone there at night. Of course the story is all wrong and the woman died in a home as I learnt from Ma today. ALTHOUGH I can tell you that other people visiting our house have seen things late at night. My exhusband saw an old woman at the end of his bed. He was so convinced it was real he thought it could only be Muttsie dressed up in an old sheet who appeared. But then he blinked and she was gone. Tasmania is very very dark at night. You can see stars for infinity. I think sleepy eyes in the pitch black will make out any shape they can.
Another thing to tell you that makes me happy is when my alarm goes off in the morning, Hobart races down to my bed to alert me to the fact it’s time to get up. She sits there waiting until I turn it off. Whether I am by the alarm ringing or not, she definitely is.
P.S. Not looking forward to work today. Big accounts day.
March 21, 2010
I’m to start thinking about superfluous hair ladies and gents! Last week’s weather was so fabulous that I felt rather disappointed that today didn’t feel such a waste screwed up on the sofa with a rather hairy little Hobart chilling and watching episodes 11 & 12 of Flashforward that has started again. The WORST SHOW EVER and Joseph Fiennes is really shockingly bad. Still – LOVE IT.
Of course, a day on the weekend does not pass when I don’t give something a go in the oven.
Today I made a green tea and white chocolate cake inspired by someone else’s that I didn’t have a real recipe for but I made it up anyway. All in all a fair effort BUT not as banging as the green tea macarons. Tomorrow, I am going to give a green tea pavlova a go. Yes folks you heard it here first. With whipped cream and chopped nuts on top.
But for now, it is back to the sofa to the HUG A THUG zone.
March 14, 2010
November 10, 2009
Sorry about that – I’ve have been off the radar!
But, I went to a big gay sweatbox on the weekend with some friends and found myself in the middle of the dancefloor after giving birth to Ed Hardy next to a guy in an Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt and three girls with a bottle of poppers. Spiritual moment of Mare Street and I find myself reborn.
The old me was in a terrible shape. I was a caterpillar of duvet and Namelesses old hoodie he got from the guy who ended up sleeping with his ex even though he said “Bros before hoes”. I was watching endless cop shows nourished by cups of tea and phonecalls from my lady friends who wanted to see me through a dark patch.
The Italian, after coming over on Friday night and leaving me with a kiss and a see you later love and feeling all happy in my stomach, sent me a text on Tuesday saying “I don’t need a new job, a girlfriend and friends take months even years. Please do me a favour and give me a break.”
- He was calling me asking me how to teach him something.
- I had already told him twice “I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now” [meaning HIM in particular but hanging out and being friends with him was super fun, though he didn't know that directly.]
- And I have known this guy for about 2 years.
Then AIR PIE from him for the whole week after trying to find out WTF that was all about!
My cleaner Dora settled me down to a few home truths:
- You dress like an African woman.
- God took this man out of your life because you have everything – a house, a job, a computer, the internet, money, your things, friends, you are a nice person – and all you need is someone to love and care for you. He is too stupid to even do that so God took him out of your life.
- You need to have more fun. Look at your friends [meaning The Cardinal cause she goes round there too.] She always is having fun. I see all the wine glasses. You need to have fun.
- The man you are looking for is out there searching for you.
Then the two coolest people in Paris arrived.
Hobart unfortunately turned into a shit machine all weekend. Unbelievable.
September 8, 2009
From: John Davidson [mailto:XXCENSOREDXX@XXCESOREDXX]
Sent: 08 September 2009 05:06
To: Emma Davidson
Subject: RE: MORE MACAROONS!
You could make a million bucks making macarroons like the ones in the email pics, Hotels, restaurantsets all the eating holes roundthe state,muckin fagnificent, mate. Even on the mainland. BUT w.t.f is a macaroon with pig init? IO have never seen macs with tomato etc in them.
I’m glad you told me it was a dog, I thought Hobart had gone through a sex change?
You must admit thise emails make more sense, relative to cost , for sure? My cost is at least $30′00 a month, 360 for the year, if I send you the money yeary the total saving would pay yer fare in two or three years. Nah. you’ld spend the money on a gold lead for the little free-loader.(free-UNloader on the carpet. Though I do remember the attachment I had for my Siamese cat (HYPOLYTE) when Iwas living on my own in Burnie. Also had me hound, Labrador, Sally. Effin idiot but they were good mates
They cot more than you think, when you add it all up. Vets fees, sleeping gear, best of foods. They prolly live better than us?
The Boss, Neree, just got back from African holiday. TODAY SHE GAVE ME A CARD SHE COULDN’T SEND THROUGH THE POST/ oNE ZEBRS READY TO SHOVE ABOUT A HALF YARD OF SNORKEL UP HIS MISS OF CHOICE. She coild be right. The old tarts would have had a heart attack, and some of the blokes a similar event, dying with envy. DISGUSTING!.
Cheers matey. Since when have you ever considered me the’boss’? That’l be the day you disrespectful shitpot.
\I got a pair of socks and a handerchief from the Sal Army. The card said You will be redeemed, for He knows your name.
He has to be pretty bloody good, mate I’ve had a few. Names that is, Johnathon Browne. John Alexander, Michael Patrick Byrne Long story mate. Stopped the law trackin you down. Sidestepped shielas who wanted to sue you for maintenance(maintainance)
etc.etc. Like I said, long stories, mate.
Cheers. Keep yer socks on. Treading in ’stuff’ can be nasty. Luv yer. S’Ted Pa.XXXXXX. 3FOR U 3 FOR PUFFY BUM.
Subject: MORE MACAROONS!
Date: Sun, 6 Sep 2009 18:26:10 +0100
The dog belongs to my other mate Mrs Kipling. Her dog is called Frieda.
September 7, 2009
You are possibly the most hideous person I have had the misfortune of knowing and I knew right from the second I met you that you were vile.
Speaking of other mean girls, after trying to walk the kitten on a lead [that is to say get the collar on her and drag her on her side to the back door with it] Hobart has decided payback comes in the form of clawing my new rug which I just rolled out about 15 minutes ago. All the bushels of wool that she is digging up she chews up. My payback will be laughing when she coughs up a fur ball. Then her payback will be my broken heart as I sit and watch her all stressed and worried that I have to call the Pet Ambulance. And when she is okay again I will feed her some THRIVE freeze dried shrimps.
I had a funny evening this evening with Mr 40something who had obviously had a very boozy lunch and was telling me how life was so horrible and depressing and stressful. He also said that I did nothing but take the piss out of him. But that I was also the person who was the most polite and respectful to him as well. [Aussie humour.] Then he asked me if I wanted a glass of wine. Worried he might have a sex den in his basement I said that he was welcome to bring the wine upstairs. He said he would be 5 minutes. After 35 I finished what I was doing and went home. Poor fella. He had splits in the crotch of his pants where they had worn through.
Oh – and Lady Gang alert – I’m double dog baby sitting with Mrs Kipling on Saturday night at the most luxurious flat in town. Anyone else want to come and watch the Nollywood channel and polish of a few bottles of something? The Booyah Cook may or may not make an appearance. Depends how much we want Pizza instead.
August 15, 2009
I got up with a hang over and at some hummous and crackers with my little cobber Hobart on the sofa. Then I did some dished. While I was washing with my marigolds on, I was day dreaming about getting a really terrible disease and having to stay in hospital for a long time and wondering if my friends would be allowed to bring Hobart in to sleep on the bed with me. My mind wandered further and I imagined tell my friends how ill I was and how I would have to live on the ward for a long time and my friends were rallying around offering to take care of Hobart and who would watch the flat etc etc. I considered letting my ex live in the flat on the one condition he didn’t root anyone in my bed – but on that point he can’t be trusted. [He apparently returned an earring to a lady friend that she had left at his apartment ONLY IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE'S EARRING. WHAT A DOUCHE.] Anyway so back to me being critically ill in hospital. Finally I agreed with myself that it would be best if Mrs Kipling and The Cardinal took it in turns to take care of Hobart as I know I could trust them both. I ended up thinking about my Granny Barbara who ended up hanging herself in the New Norfolk hospital in Tasmania with a shower curtain and the big pool tables they had in the recreation room there we had to hang out in when Mum and Dad when to visit her before she died.
Then I caught myself – WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT – and remembered my dream. In it I was bestie friends with the ex girlfriend of The Rubber Band Man!!! How this happened I don’t know. We were chatting away in French. In my dream her face was very soft and friendly. I don’t think this will ever happen though. She called me a whore once for sleeping with her ex. Such is life.
Speaking of life, The Frenchman left a bag of figs on my doorstep the other night.