oh brad. i'm mad...

for bach activities

I love the idea of weekends away. the bach thing. The house I stayed in on the weekend would be at the extreme home & garden entertaining end of the scale. games galore, cupboards full of HUGE platters and hundreds of WHITE plates & cups & linen. with beachy furnishings and a basket full of straw hats, and a HUGE manicured lawn and landscaped water garden you walk through to the ocean. so yeah nestled in behind the sanddunes, we indulged in late night lawn dancing, sharp shooting, croquet, speed scrabble, knitting & crochet & film pitching. I saw fat pheasants, tui’s and pukekos (we call them water chooks)… & did a bit of swimming in the ocean. which is pretty extreme at this time of year in New Zealand... all very lovely.


I challenge you to write a story or pitch a film using that… or not.


there’s a lie-hite, lie-hite, in the darkness of ev-er-reeeee bodies night… I can’t get this rocky horror picture show moment out of my head… it has nothing to do with the dancing...

LATE NIGHT LAWN DANCING when you discover a lawn like this, outside in bare-feet for the first time since queensland, after drinking Canadian Club for hours & we’ve all just been delighted into dancing by something with a raucous claptrack…well, you dance. especially if you are legwarmer wearing members of the ‘real hot bitches’ TM dance club...
“ what we lack in technique, boy do we make up for in PASSION…We plan to leave no dance stone unturned…only when we're dancing do we feel this free”...on our bitches profile we had to give a song lyric that best describes you, ‘welcome to the jungle’ was the first that came to mind, though I must admit to ALWAYS being unprepared for this kind of question… anyone can choreograph a session… open to all styles, I have experienced the wonder of ‘push it ‘ & ‘hot in the city’ but before it gets too scary I’m wanting to choerograph a routine to some gunners or some country… it’s all about the image, a whole room full of bitches on their knees to some country shit would please me no end…

GUNS & ROSES. I'm a sharp shooter too. the boys pulled out a gun and some targets to place on the lawn and we all had a shot at it. I grew up with guns around and holding one again ruined my fantasy of being a gun-slinging queen of the saloon… she’s a gun, son of a gun… it reminded me how much I dislike them in reality.

super young my dad gave us lessons on how to shoot. the theory that if there are guns around you have to know how to use them, treat them with respect… I remember taking shots at some tins on the fence post from the verandah in true hillbilly fashion… I saw my dad shoot a few king browns. big deadly very territorial snakes. then, when we all moved out of home my dad did pistol shooting for a few years, as a sport, he won lots of trophies… he taught me about the breathing, focus… but I was probably the most surprised when in one shot I hit the target. first.shot.hit.HA.hot.shit. i put the gun down before I had a chance to spoil my perfect record. nick had to get it after that, then the show was gladly over…I don’t like guns.*


I played my first real game of croquet, it was spent mostly on the first hoopy thing tustling it out with jess while the rest of the team made their way around the pitch? trying to work out how to balance beer on the lawn, or place in jeans pocket or make jess hold it, or…I always liked the idea of LAWN GAMES, and CROQUET especially if only because of Heathers. I watched that film maybe too many times during my formative years… back in johnny’s ‘Wynona Forever’ days, before reality bit poor winona, is it y or I??? (I’m not googling winona ryder) lazy bones.

speaking of Johnny, I want to see Charlie & the chocolate factory this week. wonder if I can get a date? this post is all over the shop, just trying to tell you about the weekend… things get out of hand.

*I just watched elephant, Gus Van Sant’s film of a high school massacre. scary film. hypnotic, voyeuristic, no explanation, no resolution. kind of cold, but not as well… I liked it. despite being preoccupied with the distinct lack of all those fat American teens we keep hearing about… or maybe it happens later, the fatness. I dunno.