Australia's Next Top Model...or not.

Evidence that,on some days, being Sarah Murdoch really does suck. (You'll need to watch it to the end, and if you don't know anything about this - I recommend you do as you're told).



Today I am really pleased I am me.

When I grow up I don't want to be Donatella Versace.

S0 I was over at Awful Plastic Surgery (as you do) and look what I found.

A really big reason to not go under the knife.

I know you may not believe me but.... these two people below really are the same person.

And there wasn't even a car crash involved. The only difference between the two is quite a number of invasive facial procedures and a small pile of years.

I have to say Donatella circa 1991 is a dead ringer for Martina Navratilova.

Donatella in the 21st century is just plain creepy. I bet her plastic surgeon loves her, though.

As well as the person who manufactures the poison for her lips. They've struck Donatella gold.

I think this is yet another example of my theory, 'The higher we evolve, the stupider we become'.

Warning: Do not watch this if you're feeling a little squirmy.

Or if you're about to eat.

Brother-in-law sent it to me and, while I was watching it, my appetite went straight to jail, it did not pass go and it most certainly did not collect $200.

So, naturally I'm sharing.

*Runs quickly out of the room*

I think it's the randomness of it that appeals to me.

This is one of the places part of the ceiling in my old office in Christchurch ended up after the earthquake......as well as all over the floor.

I want that cat's number....

...cause s/he's looking pretty accomplished in the art of making people feel better.



Just as long as those claws are filed to within an inch of their life, I am lining up behind Spot for my turn.

I don't even think Victoria Beckham would go near these, or maybe she would ?

Regular readers of this blog will know that there are times that I think Fashion is a nasty, evil type who gently mocks us.

Currently she's channelling Chinese designer Guo Pei.

I never thought I'd say it, but I reckon ski boots would be more comfortable than these puppies.

I surprised there aren't small spinning wire treadmills with mice running around frantically.
The double heel is an interesting concept but not one that I would run with, though.
'Honey, I'm just nipping down to the supermaket, be back in a jiffy.'

Okay so maybe, just maybe, they're intended for an art gallery or museum and not possibly for everyday use but why ruin a good story?

That would be boring.

Okay, she's making a movie and I'm not...

...she could buy small Pacific nations and I couldn't.

She has an army of staff and I have.... my multiple personalities (but we all get along just fine).

However in light of the staff situation, I think one of them could have advised her that perhaps there was a better look lurking in her wardrobe? Maybe?

Cause I reckon one day she will see this photo and promptly fire her staff for failing to say, 'Love, you're looking like a bag lady. Do not leave the house.'

Or am I missing something ?

Someone was 'aving a larf at my expense, I am convinced.

On Saturday I heard Harry Ricketts, an Associate Professor in English, Film Theatre and Media Studies at Victoria University, being interviewed on National Radio.

And it reminded me of a time that I made a sensational fool of myself.

I am talking a gloriously, sensational fool of myself. We're going professional here.

I was doing an interview with him so I turned up at his home, crew in tow and knocked on the door.

And he kindly welcomed us in.

About now I'd like to say that it all went swimmingly to plan, but no. This is me we're talking about.

I led the charge, following him down the hallway like normal people do.... but then proceeded, with absolute no apparent reason, to fall spectacularly on my face.

I was taking 'falling on your face' to a new level.

My dignity took a sabbatical and there I was left, trying to gather myself, and pretend that nothing hurt.

Needless to say, the crew were merciless in taking the piss out of me, falling about in stitches, they thought I added huge value to their afternoon.

Harry was generous about it; vaguely concerned...incredibly polite....a teensy bit embarrassed on my behalf...but I knew, at the end of the day, he thought I was a goose. Just like the crew told me I was.

But the whole irony of the situation, and here's the thing that really gets me, I was interviewing him about.......comedy.

It still makes me squirm.

So that's my morning talk, please can some of you share ?

Dear Mother Nature

Could you please stop bitch slapping Canterbury?

They're really sick of it.

Love from the rest of New Zealand.

At least brickies have got job security.

My Saturday started at 4.43 a.m with my phone ringing.

'Have you just had an earthquake?'

'No.'

'We've just had a massive earthquake'.

'Oh Jesus.'

I immediately leapt out of bed, Googled 'recent earthquakes' and ended up here. There, just above Andreanof Islands in Alaska which registered a measly 2.6 (closer inspection did reveal it was an aftershock, though) was Christchurch New Zealand, with a seven after it's name.

Now, if something is going to make you shit yourself, let me assure you, that well and truly did.

Obviously it was nothing compared the terror, fear and subsequent heartbreak that Cantabrians suffered yesterday morning and are going to continue to suffer for some considerable time.

But since I wasn't dealing with basic things like survival and shock, my immediate thought was - how bad was it going to become? Exactly what was the extent of the damage going to be? How many deaths ?

At first, when journos were still scrambling from their beds, the only information on National Radio was coming from people who were texting in and all I could think of was, 'At least they can text in.'

I was terrified that someone was going to discover a suburb full of dead people.

Thankfully, no.

I immediately started texting people that I care about to see if they were alright. It was interesting how the tone of the texts changed during day as, once the initial terror wore off, it seemed that an adrenalin high then kicked in, then later on, sadness, as reality kicked in.

I'll share a selection.

'Freaked out but ok.'

'Chimney's gone, house like bomb site and strange piles of silt in yard. Cut feet and bruises but, I'm good really.'

'We are all good. Lost the chimney, but we are fine. Bit worried about insertnameofwife's shop, cause we can't get to it.'

I replied: 'Heard about looting on radio, but if it's on the radio, it would have come from police, and if it came from police, they're on to it.'

Him: 'Cool, I will keep my cape and undies under lock and key for the meantime then..'

Me: 'Yes, Superman'.

'Lost lots of glassware and both the chimneys gone but we're all good. I've been doing some shabby brick work on the roof, which I've finished. Now just sitting in the sun being lulled to sleep by the gentle aftershocks. Ah! So restful. Like a hammock, but better.

'A disaster zone, just trying to clean up, very sad. How are you ?'

Hold on a moment, you've just been in a massive earthquake, I'm on solid ground and you're asking me how I am? Wow, that's generosity of spirit.

That shot is just outside my old office. Needless to say, it's fully screwed.

Something like this is Mother Nature yet again (Haiti earthquake, China earthquake, that volcano I can't spell, let alone pronounce, Pakistan floods) showing us how insignificant we are.

I prefer it when she ignores us.

Admit it, it's a bit like a car crash, you can't look away.

Sorry, to do this to you twice in one week but blame Brother-in-law, he made me. More delight for you, this time from People of Walmart.

In no particular order, here we go. Giddy up.

Okay, hands up who skipped deportment lessons.

Oh my stars, I've just realised that's not a brown belt round the middle. It's the flesh component to her ensemble.
Do you think his top shrunk, or his top grew?
I think this man is glorious.
And finally....
...I'm dying to know what shoes she has finishing her outfit.

Happy Friday!

My, how time flies.

I have now lived in Auckland for two jars of peanut butter.

That's all.