Less Dolce, More Vita

So I have a wedding to attend in a fortnight and it is very (bold, italics, underline) important I look presentable. We won't go into all the ignominious reasons here, suffice it to say it will be populated with eidolons from the past and it is depressingly important to me that in the game of, 'whose life is better', I don't take out the wooden spoon in an uncontested walk-over. A nice dress will help enormously with this objective (she says somewhat falteringly).

A sale at Myer provided a frock from a rather fancy designer I wouldn't normally let myself look at, let alone try on. It was a size too big but in my desperation to get this major hurdle out of the way I rationalised that it was perfect in every other respect and given the enormous savings I had made on the original tag price (highway robbery!) I could certainly afford to get it taken in by a tailor - in fact, wouldn't that be better all round - almost a bespoke creation!

Enter Mr Ricci. At a well-traveled 88 years of age, it would be facetious to claim he shows no signs of slowing down, but he still sits in the large window of his Carlton shop most days and deals with the steady trickle of clients with an energy I know I'm not capable of at 33. His curriculum vitae is as astonishing for this corner of the world, as it is glamorous. During the dizzy days of Italian neorealist film's ascendancy his hands crafted costumes for Gregory Peck, Sophia Loren & Anthony Quinn - can you imagine!? And this is the absolute duck's nuts for me - he worked on Roman Holiday. ROMAN HOLIDAY. 

On exiting the change room in my voluminous number I immediately clutched at the thigh area and apologetically mumbled that obviously not as much adjustment would be required in this region, to which he immediately replied, without skipping a beat, 'no it would just make your bottom look bigger.' At which point he also tugged at the back panel and nodded, 'or here either, it would only draw attention to the...' (insert gesturing hands making large air-buttocks in repetition of his point).

I thought I took it all quite well - charming foreign men seem to be able to say mostly anything to me without raising too much ire. Mr Ricci did take a step back at this point though and, gently checking to see he hadn't wounded any feminine pride, cajoled, 'but you are no silly girl, huh? You know how these things work. Now Sophia Loren -you know her? - she was crazy! And so much trouble with the husbands! (cue open palmed tap to the head in exasperation). The first and no doubt last time this short, white, flat bummed and small breasted lady will ever be mentioned in the same sentence as Sophia Loren - by a man that had taken the literal measure of us both, no less.

I will bicycle over tomorrow to pick up the dress and I do so hope he will be there. He mentioned that his son or daughter sometimes man the shop when he isn't feeling well and, whilst I'm sure they have inherited much of their father's graciousness, I want to ask him about Greg Peck; he was dreamy. 

I miss Aggie!

Read this terrifying article today and went into a slight spin.  The kitchen sink has been bleached and all sponges, dishcloths and scourers binned (with firm resolution to repeat task weekly).  Given we live in a small terrace house, space in the combo toilet-shower-bathroom is at a premium, so was in a little bit of a quandary as to what to do with the toothbrushes.  Eventually resolved issue by deciding they would now live in adjacent laundry annex. Blue Pie Piece not overly pleased as maintains (quite accurately) that we are very good at making sure seat it down before flushing... but I just don't know, you don't mess with Myth Buster results. The knicker kicker is still being workshoped.  Due to the, errr, delicate nature of some undergarments, washing at suggested temperatures will just not fly.  But a steam cleaner has been booked to sanitise every carpeted and upholstered surface next month.  I will sleep the sleep of the just tonight.

Look, I'm naturally predisposed to obsess over all things cleaning-related, so very aware I'm officially this author's target audience and as such, performed just like the tightly wound monkey I know myself to be.  Really, I do get the manipulation inherent in the fear-mongering tone these pieces take, and I acknowledge that I have survived living in far dirtier environs than my present situation just fine (hello share house with 5 Irish lads in their mid-20's), and going back further still, probably ate my fair share of kindergarten sandbox filth with gay abandon.  But God-damn!  It's like a trigger to some repressed specter of my mother, who rises up from my gut and turns me into a Pine O Clean wielding Carrie (but working the projectile vomiting thing in reverse... kind of... ok, I need a better visual metaphor here).  Issues; got 'em in spades.  

It follows then that I'm also the key demographic for a gem of a program called 'How Clean Is Your House?' and have just been acutely reminded that I miss it TERRIBLY!  Not only does it feed my obsession for industrial grade solvents, it also allows me to indulge in my second favourite pastime, judging people.  Oh please, please, please Australian TV programming executives - put it back on the schedule!  Promise to pop by and hover your house if you do.

BPP's Favourite Things - The 2013 Edition

Well, if it's good enough for Oprah...

Based on past versions of the great lady's annual inventory, I assume all items must be available for purchase, hence the omission of Chris Hemsworth. 

• Starburst snakes

• Anything from Alpha60

• Riesling

• Mad Men

• Aesop hand wash

• Tiki torches

• Ken Unsworth's sculptural work

• Lemon blossom

• MONA (not suggesting you buy out Mr. Walsh; invest in a ticket, hipsta)

• Grub food van

• This Suzanne Harward wedding dress

Princess Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Mackrelmint Longstocking

"I am a Thing-Finder, and when you're a Thing-Finder, you don't have a minute to spare."

- true dat.

Hey lady! Step away from the fridge.

It seems I will do anything to avoid completing this assignment... at the expense of sleep, at the expense of physical health, at the expense of friends, at the expense of my sanity, at the expense of The Blue Pie Piece's sanity.

Let's face it - I'll even indulge my epic procrastination impulse by blogging - things must getting out of hand.  Would you be terrifically disgusted if I confessed I have been in such a major study funk that I haven't changed my shirt in two days?  OK fine, my shirt or my knickers - OH JESUS/KYLIE, SAVE ME!!  

Why must I torture myself so?  I have officially completed all 'Achievements' in Zombies vs Plants (come on, you're a little impressed), washed all the throw pillow cushions & curtains in the house (you know you just never think to do them, do you), obsessively read every Daily Mail story that has been posted in the last 7 days (gad-zukes I wish still had access to ITV player - quite sure I'd enjoy it even more if I actually recognised the people I was ogling in their orangeness... oh hang on, that's right, I don't care.  I'm just reading this eternal ticker-tape of drivel in order to avoid actual productive pursuits), trawled the Domain website for houses eeeeeennnnndleeeeesssssllllyyyyy, thought about witty-but-not-too-needy-for-attention status updates for Facebook then read too many other people's status updates and decided such a thing does not exist, and ate chewy-sour sweets (like a lot.  My teeth actually hurt the first few days but now they're kinda just tingly... I'm no dentist but I feel this does not bode well).

But my FAVOURITE ALL TIME meaningless and time-sucking activity is to pace the length of the house, glancing at it's sleek figure slyly each time I pass, shortening my orbit gradually, closer & closer... until thowp!  I've got the fridge door open again and am staring at the same assortment of half-finished, potentially toxic condiments, a bag of bird's eye chilies, a 4 week old avocado which I'm not yet prepared to give up on (ever the tight-arsed optimist), a supremely uninteresting block of own-brand cheddar, the flat dregs of a bottle of tonic and the ever cheery nest of riesling, vodka, vermouth & gin.  And here I remain, as if hypnotised by the wonder of the built-in egg tray, for a good 3-4 minutes, before sternly calling myself an unpleasant name, slamming the door and heading... outside to look at those gutters.  You just never think to do them, do you?

Enter the fairy god(less)mother

I've been asked to be a godmother for the first time. Am quite chuffed! Doesn't hurt at all that the godchild-to-be is just about the most adorable boy to ever don a pair of Ben-10 floaties. So you might imagine my disappointment when I learnt that I do not in fact qualify to be a godparent...

DISQUALIFYING AS A GODPARENT

13. What follows is a list of personal characteristics that disqualify a person as a godparent:

13.1 the person has no intention of fulfilling his obligations as a godparent.

13.2 the person is younger than the age that has been stipulated by the diocesan Bishop, usually age 16.13.3 the person is not a Catholic.

13.4 the person has not received the Sacrament of Baptism in the Catholic faith.

13.5 the person has not received the Sacrament of Confirmation in the Catholic faith.

13.6 the person has not received the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist in the Catholic faith.

13.7 the person is not living his faith in accordance with the teachings of the Catholic Church. (Example: The person has not been at Mass for 2, 5 or 10 years. The person employs birth control methods.)

13.8 the person belongs to a religious Order (preventing him/her from making this commitment).

13.9 the person is the spouse of the one seeking Baptism.

13.10 the person is a biological or adoptive father or mother of the child.

13.11 the person has incurred an official excommunication or "latae sententiae," by the very commission of the offense. (Example: involved in one or more abortions.)

13.12 the person is a member of a condemned society.

13.13 the person is a public sinner. (Example: Prostitution, living common-law.)

13.14 the person is a heretic. "Heresy is the obstinate post- baptismal denial of some truth which must be believed with divine and catholic faith, or it is likewise an obstinate doubt concerning the same."

13.15 the person belongs to a schism. "Schism is the refusal of submission to the Roman Pontiff or of communion with the members of the Church subject to him."

13.16 the person is involved in a mix-marriage and believes his/her children should choose their own religion when they grow up.

13.17 the person believes that all religions are equal or that other religions are equal to the Catholic Church.

13.18 the person is involved in an invalid marriage. (Example: Justice of the Peace, marriage outside the Church.)

13.19 the person is not registered with a parish, not belonging to any specific faith community.

An epic fail on at least 6 of the 19 requirements - possibly 7 as I'm no longer sure I'm not a member of a condemned society. Best work rubber soled shoes into my baptism outfit.

Stolen Identity!

Ok so it was then, and is even more so with the passing of time, excruciatingly clear this blog was a vanity exercise. A means of purging my mid-twenties cleverness (and by cleverness, I mean the self-satisfied drivel which sadly preoccupied much of my thoughts). But I was disappointed, nay alarmed, to learn that my eponymous little word play had been 'appropriated' by another in the blogosphere...

In Pursuit of the Trivial is the op-ed website of multimedia storyteller Nathan Mattise. Mattise enjoys many things, but at the top of the list is pop-culture. He’s an avid reader of many blogs, listener of various podcasts and watcher of even the most absurd television for this reason. Can any of this ever help him achieve something in the professional realm? Probably not. But it did lead to the creation of In Pursuit of the Trivial in July 2007.

Now if I'm going to look at this dispassionately, with great objectivity and good humour, I could commend the author for putting some time, energy and skill into the design and layout of his blog, for regularly adding content, for doing cool extra stuff like podcasts, for having a Wikipedia entry, for writing about things of interest to more than say, one person on the planet... all things glaringly absent in my little offering, but dang, I'm still a little peeved!

Oh well, live and let live. He may well have come up with it himself after pondering the plays of Brecht (hmmmm), or perhaps it's a considered post-modern gesture - history is dead, after all. But just so we're clear, for the record, I hung my shingle in October 2005 kids!