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Storytelling, Womanhood

What computers taught me about sex

November 11, 2014 | 5 Comments

This image is the wonderful ‘Erotica’ by Federico Castellon

The most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life, still, to this very day, even more embarrassing than when my dad found my vibrator collection, and even more embarrassing than when I vomited on a footballer outside Frostbites, and even more embarrassing than publishing a poem called “YOU DID THIS TO ME”, happened when I was about 11. I hope my dad doesn’t remember, but I expect he does and just hopes we will never talk about it again.

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Life, Womanhood

What I didn’t learn about feminism from my feminist mother

October 28, 2014 | 3 Comments

My mother doesn’t take shit from anybody. She is kickarse in all the ways available. She is an empowered and balanced and amazing woman. If she weren’t my mother already, I would wish that she were. Probably. No offense to my other, hypothetical mother. As far as role models go, she is the cream of the crop. She is a woman doing things in multiple STEM fields, being a caring and supportive mother and grandmother, and looking young and hot always.

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Actual Work, NaNoWriMo, Parenthood, Womanhood, Writing

So in summary …

November 18, 2012 | 6 Comments

Sometimes life calls for a summary post. It’s not always easy to make the words come out in the right order, especially if you’ve been giving them to NaNoWriMo instead.


Six months ago we went to Georgia’s teacher in desperation, to have a go at figuring out why she’s lonely and sad. Last week we got the results of the school’s monitoring and subsequent assessment. Now we have a list of new people to go and see and ask the same questions to. In the meantime, Lily outstrips her in all social and creative endeavours, whilst Georgia’s various neuroses seem to be overwhelming her (and me).

Lady troubles

I have some. Now I’m going through the rigmarole of specialists and blood tests and ultrasounds and I don’t recommend it very much at all.


I’ve slowed to a halt on NaNo, but I have 18,000 words I didn’t have before, and now I’m investing that energy into a 10 month intensive first drafting course. Hopefully this time next year I will have something of substance. I think you’ll like my main character. She’s insane.

Sam Simmons on Ramsay Street

I finally launched this! It took a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears, and this is the first episode in a series of ten. They get more hilarious and absurd as they go on. I think you’ll like* it.

Now that you’re up to date, go and see what amazing things Eden is doing in India and then make this creme brulee cheesecake because I did and it is like a spiritual awakening disguised as a cake.

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Retrospective, Womanhood

I’ll be there for youuuuu coz you’re there for me toooooo

October 9, 2012 | 13 Comments

I was Facestalking today, as I am wont to do, because I still vie for the affections of people who inexplicably didn’t like me in high school and probably still wouldn’t because let’s face it I’m kind of irritating.

I’m turning 30 in a few weeks, so it follows that a lot of people I was at school with are also at that milestone. And according to Facebook, the popular girls have decided to mark the occasion by all going to Byron Bay together to sit around and look far less tired than I.

At first I was like this: “Those vapid whores! Bitches, the lot of them! I can’t believe they still hang out with each other after all these years! How tedious! How awful! How suburban! Haha they are so Adelaide!”

This is because I am continental and live in The Big City.

Then I realised that one of them was holding a baby. A couple more were pregnant. Three had been married in the past 6 months. And there they all were, sitting together and smiling as though high school was yesterday.

Read the rest of this post at iVillage!

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The Other Things, Womanhood

Breakfast in Armadale – is it worth the risk?

August 15, 2012 | 4 Comments

I sat down for a quiet breakfast on my own this morning, and was rather enjoying myself when a toffee-nosed woman in her 60s sat down at the next table.

“WAITER!” she bellowed. “I WANT A GLASS OF WATER!” The waiter was a very nice young man, bordering on meek if I’m honest, and he rushed to bring her one. “UGH. I DRINK HEAPS OF WATER. GET ME A CARAFE.”

I tried to helpfully explain to her that no one has asked for a carafe since the mid-90s, but she was busy admiring her eyebrows in a tiny gilded pocket mirror.

Less than a minute had passed when her daughter – in her 30s – arrived.

“Sorry mum, have you been waiting long?” Her voice had the lilt of the long-suffering.

Seeing her opportunity, the mother sighed heavily and folded her hands as she would if she were in her coffin in the ground due to neglect from her children and said, “Oh, a little while. Ten minutes or more.”

“Liar!” I yelled*.

“Tell the waiter we have to order quickly,” mother barked. She had the breakfast salad. Her daughter chose scrambled eggs (“Do you really think you should order them after the trouble you had finding a bathing suit last week?”).

“So, Julie** will be in court next week. You know they’re saying she murdered her husband?” Pause. “Did I tell you about my plastic surgeon? He’s moving to Malvern East. Ugh, how vile! I’m going to have to find a new one.”

I felt pangs of pity for the daughter. Briefly.

“Oh, gross. I don’t even go to Glen Iris anymore! Hey, I think I should take these pants back and get the smaller size. She tried to get me to buy the size two, but I said I thought the four was better.”

Laughter. “Sales assistants are bad at their jobs! Anyway, here you go. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted, so I just took out two thousand.” Mother passed the money across the table, pausing for a quick glance around to see who was looking.

“I guess that’ll do.” Long sigh. “I can’t believe the waiter didn’t bring a carafe.”

I cleared the residual cough from my throat. Both women looked at me with fire in their eyes. I met their gaze. They visibly recoiled.

“I think we should move tables.”

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