And now for a relaxing program!

Welcome, lads and lasses, to Baku 2012.

I hope that all of you watched the main event; if it somehow slipped past you, know this: Eurovision this year broke new ground. Exciting host nation, brilliantly talented performers, songs that are destined to become classics. It was a true demonstration of the talent that overflows from these many great nations.

Of course, I'm lying. None of those things happened. It was the usual commotion of big hair, dramatic fans, and displaced gays. Lyrics were poorly translated. Dance moves were poorly coordinated. England was... poor. You all know the drill.

And that's why we love it.

After failing to get last year's viewing and recap off the ground, I was determined to make this year something special. I therefore organised a small gathering of my favourite local smartarses, and to drive the theme of the evening home, I had them all bring a Secret Shame food. (The performers aren't proud, why should we be?) I therefore introduce to you my...

Special Guest Bloggers

Colleen: Lawyer, girlfriend, and person in her own right (TM Stop Podcasting Yourself), her repeated accusations that this is 'the gayest shit [she's] ever seen' somehow became both less AND more true with each passing performance. She is a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma, full of boxed mac'n'cheese.

Karen: Flattie extraordinaire, The Bitch Of This House, and single-handedly responsible for visiting the curse of these delicious little fuckers upon me.

Alison: Highfalutin' chef she may be, but she still knocked it out of the park with pizza rolls. Also, every time she went to refill her wine glass it turned out to still be half-full. Whether that's a good or bad sign is largely open to interpretation.

Megan: She arrived in full cycling gear, ready to speed away from whatever vile nonsense the breakaway republics decided to spew at us tonight. She also brought wine to help make staying easier.

Caitlin: The lone other Eurovision veteran amongst my ragtag group, she came bearing a cheese Danish and her vast knowledge of the region, which she used to fill in some blanks about, for instance, adjectives. Turns out it's 'Azeri', not 'Azerbaijani' as I would have assumed and wasted a lot of time typing. Thanks, Caitlin! She had to work so showed up a bit late, but it wouldn't have been Eurovision without her.

Amy: The Silent Assassin was also late because she came straight from the airport, which shows a level of devotion that is only more remarkable when you remember that she had no fucking idea what Eurovision was. Her trust in me is frankly disconcerting.

All right kids, it's time to break some shit down. Click-clack front and back: we're off to Baku.

*****

Introduction

Opening performance

Karen: 'It's the Russian Michael Flatley!'

Elena: 'Michael Flatski!'

Presenting... the presenters!

Karen: 'He is the gayest thing I've ever seen. I can hear his hair.'

Performances

United Kingdom: Englebert Humperdink is... you guys, he's old as shit, I'm not even going to try to beat around the bush here. We found out later from Caitlin that he's older than 22 of the countries that participated in Eurovision this year. And this performance showed every one of his 486 years.

Megan: 'He is... really disappointing.'

Karen: 'I'm changing my band's name to Humperdink.' (As I recall, Eddie Izzard had something to say about that....)

Hungary: Here's a tip: all the lasers in the world can't hide the fact that you couldn't find a single recognised key to sing in. Or that your keyboardist is Friendly John From IT.

Colleen: 'Do you think people laugh at him in Hungary?'

Megan: 'I think this is the '90s.'

Albania: I had high hopes for my people this year. Given that Ireland had put Jedward forward, I knew that one of my nations-of-origin would be reducing me to cringing sobs; I was praying that the Albies would come through with something not-awful. And as has already been announced, I will be booking my ticket to Tiranë the second I know they're hosting, so I have a big vested interest in their success.

Let's just say that I won't be going there anytime soon.

Alison: 'She's like Björk and Barbra Streisand crossed.'

Karen: 'Björbra Streisand!'

Colleen: 'Is that your cousin, Elena?'

Elena: 'I wouldn't admit it.'

Lithuania: An early entrant in the I Learned My Song Phonetically Division, young Donny Montell has the smooth moves and sincere emotion of one of your lesser mid-morning television hosts. He was born to segué awkwardly from very serious discussions of bullying in schools to promo spots for small appliances.

Colleen: 'Did they front-load all the ballads?'

Elena: 'Well, a ballad won last year, so....'

Alison: 'Oh, I have a bad feeling about this.'

Megan: 'Crazy Lithuanians. Crazy, crazy Lithuanians.'

Interstitial: One of the curses of having a small, little-known country host Eurovision is that the interstitials tend to.. how can I say this politely... okay, so Azerbaijan has some beautiful countryside, and Baku has some very interesting buildings. And over the course of the night, we got to see all of them. Many times. From lots of different angles.

This interstitial was the second to feature the local horses and horsemen, who are, to be fair, very well-known and well-respected in equine circles. Where serious men gather to talk seriously about horse breeds from obscure corners of the Caucasus, Azeri stock will feature prominently. Trust. But when you broaden your audience to, say, 125 million worldwide, many of whom couldn't give a rat's arse about matters equestrian, you might not want to highlight them twice within four segments, you know? People might start to... notice.

Elena: 'Oh, it's the horses again!'

Megan: 'They are literally a one-trick pony.'

Boznia and Herzegovina: Maya Sar is going to win the shoulder pad award if it kills her. Or anyone else who stands to close to her. She's the first of tonight's singers to also play an instrument, though given that it keeps playing after she stands up, I think it's safe to say that there may be some trickery going on.

Karen: 'Oh my god, it's Tori Amos.'

Elena: 'And not Tori Amos then, Tori Amos now.'

Colleen: 'Oh, she's getting up! Oh shit!'

Karen: 'You gotta get up to get down, Colleen.'

Colleen: 'She has a huge grill.'

Karen: 'I think I saw her in the horse interlude.'

Russia: Ah, now. The Babushki were the story of this year's competition: tiny grandmothers from the official Frozen Middle Of Nowhere, some of whom had never even been outside their village, were flown to the other side of the continent to participate in a singing competition that prides itself on shiny, laser-lit excess. Everyone was waiting to see this, and you guys? They did not disappoint. They were so fucking delightful it was almost painful to watch. I've saved this link under 'Things To Watch When Tony Abbott/Mitt Romney/Any Stupid Jerk, Ever Says Or Does Something That Makes Me Want To Kick Puppies'. (As you might imagine, it's a big folder.)

Karen: 'Loosely translated, it's "please, give me some toilet paper, and a loaf of bread...".'

Megan: 'It's a party for everybody!'

Karen: 'I'm not sure I want to be a part of that.'

Alison: 'No, it's for everybody.'

Karen: 'It's six Sophia Petrillos!'

Iceland: So here's where I admit to some embarassing mistakes. I thought that this Icelandic Jónsi was the same Icelandic Jónsi who's in Sigur Rós. I also thought that he had performed at Eurovision many years ago, where he became one of the recipients of the dreaded Nul Points bitchslaps. Turns out I was conflating three different fjord-hoppers there: the Eurovision Jónsi and the Sigur Rós Jónsi are two different Jónsis; the Sigur Rós Jónsi has never performed at Eurovision (though according to his Wikipedia précis, '[h]e is also blind in his right eye and is openly gay', so that's something); the Eurovision Jónsi has performed at Eurovision before, in 2004 (without tonight's pal Gréta Salomé), but was not the Nul Pointer; the Nul Pointer was Daníel Ágúst, in 1989, who later went on to become the lead singer of GusGus.

And the fact that I spent that much time unravelling those threads and inserting accents everywhere should indicate exactly how riveting the performance was.

Elena: 'Well, that was dull.'

Megan: 'Yeah! Russian grandmas all the way!"

Interstitial

Megan: 'I don't think that showing a pool counts as 'Land of Water'.

Cyprus: This is the first serious choreography of the evening, though as often happens, the back-up dancers have the unwanted effect of making the singer look a bit unco. Also, epileptics beware: the lights are very excited.

Karen: 'I've noticed a theme: there are lots of black suits and white dresses. No one's in, like, red.'

Alison: 'Except the Babushki, who were wearing carpets.'

Colleen: 'Wow, everybody gets their hair blown, huh?'

Karen: 'That's part of the agreement: "You get five minutes of stage time and your hair blown. A second hair blow costs extra."'

France: Wary of Cyprus's missteps, Anggun is backed up not by dancers but some strapping male gymnasts. It was also noted that the gymnasts might not be the only ones strapping, if you get me.

Alison: 'Oh, it's the guy with the unit.'

Colleen: 'This is amazing.'

Megan: 'Is that... hair? What is that?'

[crotch shot of Anggun]

Alison: 'Oh wow... now I'm not sure either.'

Elena: 'Yeah, I feel like she was trying to prove a point and not doing a good job of it.'

Italy: Nina Zilli bore a striking, if entirely manufactured, resemblance in look and sound to Amy Winehouse. Only the fact that she was not singing from a gutter with a spike in her arm reassured us that we weren't watching a Tupac-style regeneration.

Elena: 'Uh-oh.'

Megan: 'Is that a kazoo?'

Karen: 'Hey, she's not dead after all!'

Estonia: This was an entirely competent performance by an entirely competent singer of what I expect was an entirely competent ballad; I'll confirm that once I've finished my Estonian In 12 Easy Lessons package. For now I can only tell you that whoever or whatever Kuula is, he/she/it stirs some deep feelings in young Ott Lepland.

Karen: 'Oh my god, it's Chris O'Donnell!'

Norway: More gymnasts! In... kilts? Okay, fine, whatever. You're named Tooji, we can't expect you to play by our rules.

Megan: 'It's the Justin Bieber of Norway!'

Colleen: 'Oh, you're a big homo.'

Elena: 'Who's that 112-year-old guy dancing with him?'

Alison: 'One of the girls didn't make it and they sent him in.'

Elena: '"No one will notice!"'

Karen: '"They'll be distracted by that guy's gay!"'

Interstitial: Interview with everyone's favourite disintegrating pile of rubble, Englebert Humperdink.

Elena: 'He looks like his trousers!'

Colleen: 'He looks like a vampire!'

Karen: '"QUICK! DISTRACT HIM WITH FLAGS!"'

Azerbaijan: So you know how there's always talk about countries throwing the competition because they can't afford to host it the following year? Yeah.... I'm not sayin', Azerbaijan, I'm just sayin'.

Karen: 'Oh, that top lip was a bad idea.'

Elena: 'Who's that yogi sitting in the corner?'

Karen: 'He's holding her cocaine.' (And as we later found out... well, we'll get there.)

Karen: 'Oh... that red is not a good colour to put on a white dress in That Area... quick, more flags!'

Megan: 'Upon reflection, Celine Dion seems like she was born out of this.' (Again: not wrong, and fuck me if she isn't the spit of Robert Smith in that introductory bit. Gah.)

Romania: Mandinga's putting in a strong multilingual effort here, but it's hard to pay attention to the words when the visuals are so outstanding. Moonwalking with a child's bagpipes? Yes please!

Elena: 'I told you we were going to see weirder shit than the Russians.'

Karen: 'So far, this band seems to be the tightest.'

Megan: '...They're not moving around and those aren't real instruments.'

Denmark: This is one of two songs from the night that I could call to mind without having to re-watch it first. (The other, suckily enough, was the winner.) The production was ridiculous, but fuck it: I like this one. I could totally hear it as a Veronicas song, and that's not a bad thing - though I assume the Veronicas would know that it's the Sahara.

Karen: 'Oh here we go: Sheila E!'

Colleen: 'She needs a sports bra.'

Alison: 'Oh, she's the captain.'

Megan: 'Did they get to choose their clothes or were they assigned them?'

Karen: 'What worries me most is that the sounds I'm hearing? Are not coming from those instruments.'

Interstitial

Elena: 'Hey, it's Baku again!'

Megan: 'I actually don't feel like I need to go there anymore.'

Greece: In an interesting twist, this number doesn't so much feel sung by someone who doesn't understand the words as choreographed by someone who doesn't understand the words. On the other hand, the chorus does include the lyric, 'You make me dance like a maniac', so maybe it's just meta.

Megan: 'They're very enthusiastic.'

Elena: 'Yeah, Greece always is.'

[Caitlin and Amy rocked up about now and we all settled in for the home stretch. Pizza rolls were discovered anew.]

Sweden: Caitlin and I had both been spoiled on the winner, but neither of us had heard the song or watched the performance. I did know that it had already been a number-one hit in several countries, and all I can think is that their national consumption of ecstasy far exceeds the average. Re-watching the performance, you can clearly hear where she's singing over and not syncing up with her own vocal track; you can also see that she was choreographed by a t'ai chi master with a bone to pick.

Caitlin and I kept the spoilage to ourselves, and it was interesting to note how rapidly and vehemently everyone took against this song. They all wrote it off immediately, though Amy did later tell me it had sounded familiar and that she'd worked out that she'd heard it on Gaydar Radio (to which she'd been listening to prep for the event). I can't say that I have come to like it any better after multiple listenings, but I reckon I can hear now what other people would hear in it. I suspect there are some very good trance and house remixes of it too, but I'm fucked if I'm going to look for them. I have my limits.

Colleen: 'Oh yeah. They're dirty little bitches.'

Alison: 'Wow, where did that come from?'

Caitlin: 'Deep-seated feelings about Sweden, apparently.'

Elena: 'Whoa, what the hell?'

Karen: 'She needed extra fan for this.'

Colleen: 'Why is she squatting?'

Caitlin: 'Oh, I was just about to complain that she didn't have Prop People. I much prefer my Eurovision with Prop People.'

Megan: 'My life will never be the same after tonight.'

Turkey: A crowd favourite: we were 50/50 Russia/Turkey after this. The song... I've watched this performance seven or eight times by now, and I still can't call it to mind; but come on, they turned their capes into a boat! Who the hell needs vocals when you can do that?

Karen: 'Oh, I'm liking this already - it has all the things I'm looking for.'

Caitlin: 'I don't think the lead singer is wearing enough guyliner.'

Amy: 'I can't believe this happened this year.'

Elena: 'This happened 24 hours ago.'

Karen: 'They're on the open ocean!'

Caitlin: 'They are buckling swash.'

Interstitial

Karen: 'Is this frosting or butter?'

Caitlin: 'Any party where that's being asked is a good party.'

Spain: Dull dull dull. They weren't helped by having to follow the Turkish powerhouse (powerboat?), and she's got a great voice, but it just wasn't a big enough performance for Eurovision. Even when she hits the power note and the back-up singers are revealed, it just lacks. Put her in a small, dark club, wreath her in smoke, and give her a hat-wearing guy on an acoustic guitar and you'll have a fucking moment, but this wasn't it.

Colleen: 'Spain is boring me.'

Caitlin: 'She is scary.'

Colleen: 'And boring.'

Interstitial

Karen: 'Look at our boat! Is on fire!'

Germany: This little fucker caused rage throughout the room. I don't know what it is exactly, but something about him made every single one of us want to hold him down and punch him until our arms got sore... at which point we'd ask him to open his mouth and sing again so we could get the energy to punch him some more. We hated him.

Elena: 'He's feeling some shit.'

Karen: 'Yeah, he has his period.'

Colleen: 'Get that man a tampon.'

Megan: 'Look at that back-up band: they are ready to jam.'

Karen: 'How many hours did he spend in the mirror going, "Hat? No hat? Guys, hat? What do you... is it slouchy enough? Is it too slouchy? What do you... guys?"'

Colleen: 'So far, the theme of Eurovision has been pain.'

Interstitial

Colleen: 'Um, their building's on fire.'

Malta: Kurt Calleja does the handshake-and-blow-up thing with his DJ, so you know he's one cool motherfucker. Which is lucky, because without that he could have easily been mistaken for a mild-mannered singer in a cover band who's just a smidge too old to be doing this kind of song.

Elena: 'It's Devo!'

Caitlin: 'The guitarist over there? He's my boy. The one in the Buddy Holly glasses. He's ready to have a good time.'

Amy: 'I am amazed right now.'

F.Y.R. Macedonia: Naming yourself after the muse of poetry is always going to be a risky move. It's also a big-ass warning shot fired across humanity's collective bow. Proceed with caution, I beg you.

Elena: 'I have a bad feeling about this one, guys.'

Elena: 'Is he just standing with his hands in his pockets?'

Caitlin: 'It's not his turn yet.'

Ireland: Oh man. Jedward. So embarrassing that even the Eurovision website has hidden their video under another name. (And to really make the point, it's Kalliopi.)

It's not their success at Eurovision that's baffling. In many ways, they are the epitome of Eurovision, at least at the pop/dance end of the spectrum: big costumes, goofy dance moves, simple lyrics, catchy tunes. And to prove how effective the costumes and dance moves are, after watching the video several times, I only just now actually heard any of the lyrics - and that's because I'm looking at what I'm typing, not at the video. It's like you can watch Jedward or listen to Jedward but you can't do both. It's the Jedward Uncertainty Principle.

What is baffling is that they have a career in the real world. They are a deeply beloved Irish boy band, and both of their albums have gone double-platinum there. Interestingly, a number of us commented that felt like children's television - comparisons to Teletubbies abounded - and I just read on their Wikipedia page that they have had a couple of children's shows and will be making another. But while that makes sense, I also learned that they have an estimated combined net worth of £4.5 million - £, not $ - and that one of their singles was '"Under Pressure (Ice Ice Baby)" (a mash-up of "Under Pressure" by Queen and "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice)'. How one could conceivably 'mash up' two songs that are so similar that the performer of the latter got sued for stealing the former, I really have no idea. If any of you brave souls wants to listen to it and report in the comments, you can find it here.

Megan: 'If you're their mother, are you proud of them or slightly ashamed?'

Amy: 'I think it was probably cute when they were 10, and now it's just like, 'what the fuck do I do?'

Alison: 'Oh, it's the Jedward money shot!'

Megan: 'I could die tomorrow and be happy.'

Serbia: Whither after Jedward? Only downhill into the stern (but sturdy!) arms of Serbia. We're back into the world of Feelings, and for some reason, a bodhrán. I don't know, you guys. Jedward broke me.

Karen: 'AHHH! IT'S KENNY G!'

Ukraine: Fortunately, Gaitana steps up with some kind of... Polynesian number? I mean, why not. Once again, we're not totally convinced that the gender being portrayed on stage is the one the singer was born to, but fuck it, she seems like she'd have good booze. We'll be her guests regardless of what's happening under her frock.

Megan: 'She is the Kylie Minogue of Ukraine.'

Colleen: 'Those are some strange crotches on those screens.'

Megan: 'Oh look, they're skirts. That explains the crotches.'

Amy: 'No, it doesn't explain everything.'

Karen: 'That is the exact dance they do in the Wii commercial.'

Moldova: Pasha Parfeny finishes things off with a flourish, taking out the coveted Triple Crown of Phonetic English, Nonsense Lyrics ('this trumpet makes you mine, girl'?), and Terrifying Choreography By Which Even The Singer Looks A Bit Disconcerted. At one point a dancer falls around each of Pasha's feet in an arc like he's suddenly become a rocking horse. What the fuck am I meant to make of that?! I must have been numb by this point, because there is no way I would normally have let a number this overwhelmingly weird go past without lots of comment and possibly some screaming. It just goes to show, order does matter.

Karen: 'It's Colin Farrell!'

Colleen: 'It is Colin Farrell, but also with a weird crotch issue.'

Karen: 'The one in the pink is really good. Don't take your eyes off her.'

Elena: 'Did he just look down and present himself to the audience?'

Colleen: 'What, like his penis?'

Tabulating the Votes

'EUROPE, STOP VOTING NOW!' shriek the daft hosts in unison. We giggle madly and discuss the various political ramifications of such a command, and I demand a t-shirt. But we aren't left to giggle for long....

'And now for a relaxing program!' claims a she-host, deftly moving us along. This brings the house down, especially once we realise that this means an extended video tour through Azerbaijan that is simply a compilation of all of the clips we've already watched four or five hundred times tonight in the interstitials.

Alison: '"And now for a relaxing program: more of the same!"'

Karen: '"And here are the buildings! You love them!'"

Caitlin: 'Three Flame Towers, four horsemen, check....'

Karen: 'Maybe there'll be a trivia round at the end!'

We then go wandering through the 'Green Room', more accurately described as a series of pod-like private booths on the floor where the performers and their entourages sit. Some suitably dodgy exchanges occur, most notably when the host asks hometown girl Sabina Babayeva how she's going and the singer replies,'Iiiiiiiiii feeeeeeeel gooooooooooooooood!' Seriously, Karen was not wrong when she said the yogi was holding.

Colleen: 'I've seen a lot of teeth tonight.'

Karen: 'I feel like you'd approach Jedward like you'd approach Macauly Culkin: kind of scared, but also feeling bad for him, and you'd understand... just don't overdose in my house.'

Amy: 'Who sent the memo to all of Eurovision saying, "Awkward shoulder pads. Do it."?'

Karen: 'Interestingly, Azerbaijan is the world's leading manufacturer of shoulder pads.'

Reporting the votes
According to the Wikipedia page for Baku 2012, when organising the order of vote reporting, 'an algorithm was used to add as much excitement as possible'. From this we can deduce that Eurovision has not only broken national boundaries, but also maths.

My lounge room quickly works out that Sweden is going to win, and cursing ensues. I don't feel the same Hulk-smash rage toward her that I felt toward Germany's Lena in 2010 (or Germany's Roman Lob tonight, for that matter), but I don't think she was the best of the night by any stretch. We skip to the end of the voting to see the final result, then wrap things up by showing the Babushki's performance to Caitlin and Amy, who missed it the first time around.

To my great delight, the Babushki clip - along with Turkey and Jedward - was shown to a number of people at a barbecue at Colleen's house the next day; Colleen, Karen and Amy all spoke glowingly about the wonder that is Eurovision, and plans are already underway for an extravaganza next year. We're converting the world, one dumbass dance number at a time.

Baku OUT.  XOXO

Excitement, adventure, and really mild things

There have been some interesting developments in the last few weeks or so:

Australian invasion!
Sophie came for a visit, and it was so effing good to see her and have an excuse to eat with abandon at all my favourite restaurants. I look forward to learning more about her interesting developments in the coming months.  :)

I also learned that Anthony will be coming for a visit in July, and watching him take on Boston in full summer swing should be good for many, many laughs.


Moving on!
Colleen-the-Lawyer, Flattie Karen and I found a house! This is extremely exciting, not just because I'll be moving in with the G-word (!) but because it took us a fucking lifetime to find a place. We were actively looking for a solid three months; if you think the real estate situation in Sydney is bad, well, I'm not even going to start on the mess here, but please believe me when I say that it is much much much much much worse. This was not helped by our minimum requirements, which included being near public transportation while also being near the highway; two full-sized bedrooms; outdoor space; extreme pet-friendliness (two dogs and a Buster among us); and a maximum rent that was fully $600 less than pretty much anything of a decent standard that fulfilled all of our other requirements. (If we would have been happy living in a hovel, we'd have been golden.)

It is also much much much much much more expensive and involves massive deposits: landlords are allowed to (and almost always do) demand first month, last month, and security (= 1 month) in advance, PLUS the renters cover the real estate agent's fee, which is usually another full month again. This is standard operating procedure: it doesn't matter who you are or what your situation is, you're expected to front four full months' rent before you can even sign the lease. We lucked out in that we only got charged a total of 2.5 months' worth, but even that was a big ask.

But it was all worth it in the end, because the house we found is awesome: it's a row house, but unusually for Boston it's divided vertically, not horizontally/by floor, so it feels much more like a house of our own than a flat. It's sunny and spacious, and the location is fantastic: slightly less public transportation-convenient than I've been spoiled by in Dorchester, but in exchange I'll be back in a neighbourhood that has an identity - Inman Square, which is part of Cambridge - and is chockers with cute shops and good food and some of the best ice cream I've ever had in my life. We're one block back from the main street, and as happened in most of my Inner West houses, that's enough to mean that we're isolated from the street noise and cars while still being right in the heart of stuff.  And to top it all off, we'll have a guest room, so there is a standing invitation to you all that won't include sleeping on the couch or sharing my bed. It's so good!


Happy hemiversary!
Colleen and I had our six-month-iversary  a couple of weeks ago. That is, of course, six months from when decided we were officially dating, not from when we first started the whole ridiculous process - which was almost two years ago now, if you can believe that (I can't). The day passed pretty much unremarked upon, but it's nice to know we've made it this far, because god knows most people weren't sure we would (I wasn't).


Dance for your life!
I performed my first drum solo the other day. I've done lots of them before, but I don't think I've ever performed one, and I know I've never performed one by myself. Drum solos are notoriously tough: they're fast, and sharp, and they tend to be short because they're hard to maintain for more than 3 minutes. My whole performance was about 5 minutes long, but that's because it starts with a short sword piece (that's actually way more like a drum solo itself than it is a traditional sword number; they tend to be slow and dramatic, and this one is quick and flirty) and goes into the drum solo. They fucked up my music a couple of times so you'll see some weird pauses, but it's pretty fun just the same, I reckon:



(In other news, I need new dance pants: they're not supposed to be baggy!)


XOXO

A Short Play about the Things You Can Get away with When You're far from Home.

I'm not sure how common they are in the Antipodes (pronounced 'anti-podes'), but I am signed up to about a dozen different e-coupon/deal notification services. Groupon is the major one, but there are heaps of smaller ones and sometimes they send pretty amazing stuff.

I started and erased three different descriptions of one I received today, but have decided that I can give myself the night off and let the jokes write themselves. Enjoy - it's champagne comedy from the headline on down.

Smokey Robinson Presents Human Nature: Australian Vocal Sensations Perform Motown Hits Orpheum Theatre (Boston, MA) FULL PRICE: $61.50 OUR PRICE: $15.00 - $31.75* Smokey Robinson presents Australia's most popular vocal group, Human Nature. They are coming to the Orpheum Theatre as part of their first ever U.S. tour. Formed originally as a doo-wop band, Human Nature have become huge pop stars at home, soaring up the charts with multiple top ten hits, as well as three multi-platinum records. Their success attracted the attention of Smokey Robinson, who recorded the song "Get Ready" with the band. Robinson then brought them to Las Vegas, where they've played sold out shows for more than two years. Their show, billed as "The Ultimate Celebration of Motown," showcases the distinctive, dynamic harmonies of members Toby Allen, Phil Burton, Andrew Tierney and Michael Tierney as they perform Motown's greatest hits, including songs from The Temptations, The Four Tops, The Supremes and more.

XOXO

The Best Day of My Life.

I use Twitter pretty much only to keep up with Australian goings-on via the rantings of Wil Anderson, Hannah Gadsby and Tony Martin. I never send anything myself, but today Tony Martin was tweeting about adding your own background music to old silent films. This prompted me to tweet him the YouTube link to the original '70s theme music for 'Monday Night Football'.

A few minutes later, this popped up in my inbox:

Tony Martin @mrtonymartin retweeted to 28,846 followers:

YoshiBoston Elena Cotto @mrtonymartin Try this truly amazing background music, courtesy of gridiron in the '70s: tinyurl.com/7fzl9xk Apr 05, 7:28 AM via web

Thank you, Interwebs.


XOXO

Everyone knows it's windy!

Just a quick one today: I did my first veil performance on Sunday and it went really well, so I thought I'd share the video.



It's from a show my teacher Zehara organised called 'Elementals'; all of the performances had to be inspired by one of the four elements, and mine was wind. Considering that I once managed to nearly garotte myself with a veil in the middle of King Street (really), I reckon I've made some good progress. Just for the record, it's an Australian band but Zehara picked the music for me, so the didj is not my fault. :) Also, look how long my hair's getting! I'm quite handy with the flat-iron these days.

While we're at it, here's another piece I did a few months back:



This one's a double-cane piece, which is... well, not many people do them. You have to be a bit ambidextrous, and apparently I am (?). It's a more traditional saidi (Egyptian folk dance with cane) piece, and I'm wearing the proper outfit, by which I mean I'm dressed as Elvis's cabana boy. I did it more recently in a more modern costume and wish I had a video of that show instead, because saidi dresses are not what you'd call flattering, but there you go.


XOXO

P.S. At 0:14 of the first video you get a quick shot of Colleen in the back row - she's all the way at the end, in the white hoodie. None of you will be in the least surprised.

Tartling Tatties

A couple of new things have come to my attention recently.

One is the awesome and reassuring word tartle. This comes to us from the ingenious Scots, and refers to that thing that happens when you're introducing someone - someone whose name you absolutely know and have no right to forget - and completely blank.

This happens to me all the time. No, I mean: All. The. Time. Like, to the point that I don't even try to introduce people in a group anymore, because if there's more than three names involved I am guaranteed to seize up and have to pause in an awkward and completely unmissable fashion.

As useful as it is to have a word to put to that phenomenon, I am more relieved to know that it happens often enough to enough people that it deserved a word of its own. I Am Not Alone, you guys.


The other thing is lavender-scented potatoes. This is, apparently, a side dish that happens; it was brought to my attention by my friend Alison ('The Chef'). Last week she took over as Chef de Cuisine at a local restaurant that's been around for many years and is in need of a shake-up. When we were out to dinner the other day she was filling me in on her first week, and suddenly she started raging - with a fury I have never, ever seen in her - about the lavender-scented potatoes that were being served as a bed for an innocent piece of fish that had done nothing to deserve such treatment.

Cut to a totally separate conversation I was having with Caitlin today, in which I mentioned Alison's new job. The following exchange ensued:

Caitlin: Someone needs to take a stand against the scourge of lavender-scented potatoes.

Me: Comin' over here, stealin' our jobs....

Caitlin: Dude, if one more lavender-scented potato beats me out for a Middle East Program Associate job at a DC think tank, I swear...
Me: Actually, I think 'lavender-scented potato' would be a great term for someone who gets something undeservedly. Like, they seem fancy and decorated and whatnot (lavender-scented), but underneath are just plain and no better than anything else (potato).
Caitlin: I like it. Putting it that way, I think I really do get beaten out for jobs by lavender-scented potatoes.

me: Oh, I'm sure you do. There's no other explanation for it.

So yes. Two new entries in the Yoshi Lexicon. I would encourage all of you start using them as well. After all, I now get to tease Colleen on a near-daily basis for using Australianisms she's picked up from me, and I still take credit for the introduction of the word 'hoodie' to Sydney (no really... I do), so we might as well keep it going.


XOXO

P.S. A quick update I keep forgetting to give you: I mentioned a few months ago that I was going to be participating in the Climb for Air, a fundraiser in which I would walk up 789 steps - that's 41 stories - to raise money for the American Lung Association. Well, the Climb was almost a month ago now, but that doesn't mean I still don't feel a bit proud when I think about the fact that not only did I complete it, but I completed it in 11 minutes, 46 seconds - not bad for my first time, I reckon!

I will definitely be doing it again next year, when my goals will be to run at least part of it and to make it in under 10 minutes. It was incredible to do it, and even more incredible to get to the top and realise that I wasn't tired or even especially winded - the only physical side effect was that for the last 10 flights my legs had been a bit wobbly and I was really having to think about where to put my feet down; apparently your body gets a bit weirded out by doing something like climbing that many stairs in that short of a time and starts asking you if you're 100% sure this is the thing you mean to be doing. But other than that, it was actually fun to do, besides being incredibly exciting for me to know that I can do that stuff now. A win, definitely a win.