our pants-off politician

For God's sake Tony Abbott, put some bloody pants on and do your job.

However -Gaga and Donald Duck - you may remain as is...

designer gum

Don't tell anyone, but this "5 Gum" is turning me on.

I can't help but feel a little bit seduced by this sexy designer gum every time a classmate or other aquaintance flips out their sleek pack of "Cobalt", "Flare", "Pulse", "Tempest" or similarly ridiculously-named flavour (mmm... can't you just taste the Cobalt right now?). In fact, I do believe I had to sit down for a bit the first time someone offered me a piece... just to allow my blood to return to its normal positions within the body.

On its surface, it appears to this impressionable young consumer to be some futuristic relic brought back from the future by the Dolorean. However, on closer inspection, it's just naff old Wrigley's sexed-up new foray into gum.

That said, I DO feel like a bit of a superhero every time I pop a piece of 5 Gum... until the flavour evaporates after two minutes.

Now, where did I put my bottle of Evian?

a burning wreckage

Their screams cut through the peaceful suburban night.

Standing barefoot on the recently re-polished wood of our back verandah, I stood silently looking out at the horror movie unfolding from my backyard.

It had been a beautiful night - st

ill apart from a slight, late-Summer breeze. I'd been sitting listlessly in the living room, windows open, when I heard the silence shattered.

"I'll call the fucking police! I'll call the fucking police!" came the woman's defiant voice.

"Fine! Call them, go on, call them!" boomed a male voice in reply. The fury, the hatred and the emotional abandon in their screams drew me out into the backyard.

I was audience to a roaring domestic drama. It was my neighbours from over the back fence, their frantic sillouheuttes visible from a single lit window. I realised, with a sudden twinge of neighbourly shame, that i'd never met these people. Never even seen them. And now suddenly, they'd gone from complete strangers to completely exposed. No over-the-picket-fence introductions, just their dirty laundry flung right in my face, flung right in the faces of anyone who cared to listen.

The yelling continued for ten or so minutes. A slam of a door echoed like a gunshot. Why was I so transfixed? Is it wrong that

I was fascinated? Like a bystander at the burning wreckage of a car accident, I couldn't help but stand there. But then I heard a different voice. I spotted the sillouheutte of a small child... There was a kid involved in all of this.

I knew then to stop listening. I'll just stick with watching "Desperate Housewives" to satisfy my suburban voyeur hunger.

getting to know you, getting to know all about you...

I'm a very visual person (no, not in a weird, perverted "ChatRoulette" kind of way). My brain is a film reel (think Tarantino meets Lichtenstein fucks Japanese samurai flick then has a coffee with Sofia Coppola).
The thought of writing my first blog post is a ball-crushingly daunting one. I'm supposed to be a Journalism student (amongst other things), but the sight of a blank screen - quite frankly - scares me more than death on fire.
So, for a bit of blogspiration, instead of words i'll give you some pictures - a few visual aids that might give you an idea of who I am, what I stand for and what's to come...

Did I say it would make any sense?

Hang in there for my next post - which I promise will contain WORDS!