No Wifi! No Internet connection! Can I survive?

I've just broken out in a cold sweat.


Just learnt our next destination on my little holiday tour of Thailand has no WiFi or internet connection. I feel like I'm in an episode of the Flintstones.


I ache for the witty Twitter banter and knowledge of world events I know I am gonna miss. To say nothing of internet porn.


I am genuinely nervous this could send me crazy. Thank god I've got some sleeping pills to calm my nerves.


So forgive my absence from all good on-line society for the next 5 days. I'll be back with even a more desperate need to overshare than ever before - be warned!


But don't feel too bad for me, this is where I'll be.

I think we have an outside toilet.

Lots of love from the islands of Thailand, xoxoxo


St. Murphy

A Singapore Fling!

I love food. I love food in Singapore.

I love shopping. I love shopping in Singapore.

In 48 hours I had 4 of the most beautiful meals and each time I ate myself to six-months pregnant. Passers-by were sure my stomach must have been an immaculate conception cause, you know, I don’t have a uterus. After each meal I looked a lot like E.T.

The first was Italian, a rather posh restaurant called Senso in the cutest little area on Singa’s. The lobster lasagne was the absolute highlight. And some very strong vodka’s and a spectacular bread basket. Really regretted not getting a simple pasta with truffle oil for entrée, that rocked the table. Wait-staff assisted me and my stomach from the premises.

The second was a ‘best of’ the hawkers at a set-up called “Gluttons Bar” down on the harbour. Well I have never been so gluttonous in my life. ½ kg of pork belly (that’s how it was listed on the menu, no joke!), chicken wings, noodles, satay sticks, some omelette thing and a fried carrot cake that disappointingly had no carrot but goddamn delicious. One of the best meals I’ve ever eaten, ever, and I think it was well under $20 bucks.

The third was dumplings. So many dumplings. So many delicious gorgeous beautiful sexy dumplings. I clapped at the end of the meal much to the horror of Lady M and Mrs Daffy. I could have gone another round of dumplings but my t’shirt was already stretched. I miss you already my beautiful dumplings.

The fourth was a big ol’ chicken fry up at the airport. Lady M and I were quite frazzled by this point as we had just discovered that between us we had over 50kg of check-in luggage and were still carrying about 15kg as carry-on. We are not sure how this happened. We just spent only the one day shopping….

Anyway we could see the KFC, we dreamed of eating the KFC but be fucked if we could get to the KFC. We gave up when we again found ourselves on the wrong mezzanine so settled for KFC’s bastard child Texas Chicken. It was only a 4 out of 10 but still I ate 4 pieces and a large chips. Nothing like a crispy skin fry-up at an airport when you are at the end of a long day.

I love food.

I’m still not sure what the hell went on at Orchard Rd today. It is a labyrinth, a giant maze of underground tunnels, just rows and rows of beautiful shops. SO MANY SHOPS! There were 3 Louis stores within 200m. Surely no one needs that much Louis. And Chanel. And Prada. And Gucci. All my favourite things to look at in kinda a sado-masochistic “you can’t afford any of this shit” sort of way. Damn my self-control though, just picked myself up some little trinkets…

But so many fab things that I wanted to buy but thought better of it. Novelty shopping can not be afforded on my current budget restrictions. I really wanted this Douche Wash.

Now where I come from Douche means something that I DO NOT associate with a face wash.

And some Man Spanx for the middle-aged gut! Every once of self control I had to be employed to not buy these. If maybe I used my gym membership I wouldn’t need these Spanx. But at least I know they exist if my gut-crisis gets any worse.

Now this one is for Aschappelle. Wanted to buy this for him but buying presents for your ex-Boyfriend should surely not be a priority when you already have a dwindling budget. Aschapelle loves a smokey eye, and he’s been known to dabble in make-up artistry with our female friends. I thought this genius little kit could have saved himself and his female victims a world of pain.

Ahhhh Singapore, you were brief but spectacular! I gained 5kg around my waist and a good 7kg in my luggage. All in only 48 hours. Now that’s impressive.

Now off to Koh Samui.

Just the biggest and most sincere thank you to Mr & Mrs Daffy for their unbelievable hospitality and for being the best tour guides in the business.  And of course their little angels Emma and Zara. Thanks so much for having us guys! xoxoxo

There's a Bear in there!

Oh dear. I am a princess after all. I thought being nearly 40, carrying a few extra kg and not shaving as often meant that perhaps I was manning-up in my older age.

No. It does not. I am as big a princess as ever.

My friend The Sculptor has found a community he loves hanging out with, the Bears. They are a community-within-a-community of the Gayers. In a nutshell, and with sweeping generalisation, the Bears have lots of facial and body hair, tend to be large, wear lots of leather and flannel. And drink beer. And they love to party together.

Bears are hairy. Fact.

I’m sure there is much more to it but as I’ve only just dipped my toe in at this time I am far from an expert.

The Sculptor roped me into going to one of the Bears annual dance parties this weekend, I was dead keen at the time. Never really found my clique on the gay scene even after being a professional gayer for so many years. Hardly a Muscle Mary or a Gym-boy, indie/alt inner-West scene is completely foreign, Drag Queens scare me and I am two decades past Twink. I was excited / scared about this party. There ended up being a clash of dates with my little resort holiday with Lady M so had to pull the plug on The Sculptor. SI instead I took baby-steps into the forest full of Bears.

They're recruiting! But do they really want me?

Instead of the big dance party I went to a warm-up Bear gathering on Friday night with The Sculptor. He was up from Melbourne and staying with me at Man pit. He practically dressed me. 90% of my wardrobe was not Bear-attire. What, a low-cut disco top, skinny jeans and a dress boot don’t cut? No.

After about 4 costume changes I’d never looked or felt so butch! I had to take all my jewellery off and use as little hair product as possible, can you imagine? I felt primitive. Then the cruncher – no frangrance. “What, no Chanel??? Are you fucking kidding me?” I would have no friends The Sculptor assured me. I was willing to risk it, I snuck a quick spritz as we walked out the door.

Talk about fish-out-of-water! I had no idea so much facial hair existed. Did I miss a memo? And tight t’shirts filled with either huge muscles or beer guts. Why was everyone so tall? Once you get over the incredibly intimidating look of these gents it was a delightfully friendly crowd. For an aging-wannabe-twink like me this was a whole new world. After 15years on Oxford St I’m still spreading my wings.

The Sculptor is sooooo in his element. I went to a bar with a  similar crowd in Melbourne and one of his friends said to me “he’s this years IT Girl!”. So true, The Sculptor is on Fire. He knew loads of gents. I even had some friends there, but sadly they weren’t wearing leather. Granted, I got very little attention. They could see through my fake wardrobe and probably smell my Chanel, they could tell I wasn’t one of them.

Me and The Sculptor

So at a very respectable hour for me I packed my self off home with only a slight wobble to my step. Smiling. Very glad that I went but even more glad I’m not going to the big dance party. I think that would have been too much for my virginal ways. Dance parties for me are mini-skirts and tassled arm braids, not leather harnesses and chain mail.

Well not yet anyway. But if you see me with a beard and ripped flannel shirt than you know all bets are off. 

One of The Sculptor's sculptures and yes that is a giant penis.

If you want to know more about the work of The Sculptor, head here!

We're going to make a difference.

Gay marriage, marriage equality, rights of homosexuals, blah blah blah. Yeh, you’ve heard me rant on this topic so much here at St. Murphy. It’s probably the subject I am most passionate about in the world.

Well last night I finally did something about it. After boring everyone with my grandstanding, debating and arguing I’ve finally backed this rhetoric up with some action. I think I’ve officially become an activist. I’ve joined up with Community Action Against Homophobia.

CAAH are the organisers of the Gay Marriage rallies in Sydney. I reached out to them after the last rally, along with some fantastic friends of mine, and offered up our services. See, we are all a bunch of PR/publicity/marketing peeps who felt we could really give some support to the next important rally on Dec 3. And CAAH have welcomed us.

I feel like I have purpose now.

I can’t believe it has actually taken me so many years to get involved with a group like this. I’ve been a very slack hummer-sexual. Have been very happy to reap all the benefits of the gay lifestyle without actually giving anything back to the community. I’m what you would call a very selfish gayer.

But now I’m unbelievably excited to be a part of something that could bring about great change. I met with the CAAH guys last night to see what PR stuff we could do for them. We came up with some great ideas that you’ll hear about shortly. More importantly it was absolutely brilliant to meet people who are so smart, and committed, and passionate about this cause. It was inspiring.

December 3. Mark it in your diaries now. December 3 there is a march from Hyde Park to Darling Harbour. The march is aimed at having an impact on the Gay Marriage debate at the National Labor Party Conference. It’s also a great show of solidarity and community support for marriage equality. I’ll be working with CAAH, along with my activist buddies ShaunHeron, TheFlack and Arrjaydub, to spread the word and raise the profile of the event. We are gonna help get feet on the streets.

You’ve been warned! I expect fabulous support from all my friends at St. Murphy.

I’ve had quite a few twitter and blogging friends offer up support and assistance too. Will be calling on you guys soon. I hope as many of you Sydney-siders as possible join us on the day. We want to have as broad a cross-section of society as possible represented at the march. Everyone has a gay friend, a gay family member or a gay workmate who is discriminated against by not having the same choices available to them as heterosexuals.

That’s what I see as central to this issue. I do not have the same choices available to me as the majority of the population. The law does not recognise my relationships the same way it does heterosexual. The messages this sends my community is that our love is different and not as worthy. I am here to tell you it is. The law must change. I hope I can count on your support. It would mean so much.

Together we can make a difference.

Thank you so much CAAH for giving me the chance to work with you.

Join the Facebook page NOW!

Last minute holiday and man-kini panic...

I’m in the throws of a last-minute holiday panic! While holidays are the most brilliant, amazing thing in the world – especially resort holidays! – I always find that there is a shitload of stuff to do in the final days so that you are holiday ready. And man-kini ready!

Resort 1

First of all there’s the longer-term prep. I’m just days away from 2 weeks of sunning myself poolside with a cocktail in hand on the islands of Thailand (I know, tough life!) so for a resort holiday like this I need atleast 3 downloaded TV series and 4 books. Finally my books arrived today and I’m just getting a start on iTunes. But how dumb is this, I bought the York crib notes of The Great Gatsby rather than the actual book. Guess it makes for easier reading.

Next up is the man-scaping. To be exposing your body in the briefest of Speedo’s like I’m about to requires significant self-maintenance. Yes, I’m gay. I really should have concentrated on weight-loss some months ago but I got distracted. Nothing I can do about my gut-overhang now. Instead I’m going to disguise it with a full-body clipper for easier tanning and a touch-up eyebrow wax.

Which reminds me… need to pack nail clippers.

Now I can be incredibly anal and I like to know where, when and how I am doing everything before I head off. Staying at 3 different resorts so bookmarked all their websites today for a thorough examination. My beautiful friend Miss Melbourne, who I am holidaying with, has expertly booked the whole trip. No one knows how to resort-holiday better than Miss M. So I have some catching up to do with insider knowledge.

Resort 2

I like to prioritise hotel restaurants and also beauty treatments at their day spas. I consider this critical. I’m not one for wasting time reading hotel room info packages when it can all be done beforehand. I also like to know something about the local nightlife cause you never know when a beautiful dinner followed by a Duty Free nightcap can turn into a night of disco-dancing. And it goes without saying I like to know when the gays hang.

Always my last minute panic will include the boring and mundane household shit. So much washing, cleaning and setting of the IQ. I have enough trouble taking care of Man Pit and Little Sammy when I’m here let alone when I’m not. Good thing I have Little Sammy’s step-dad on stand-by, he will take my little man. Bills are paid and up-to-date, and I’ve cancelled PT. Just have to remember to deoderise the carpet as I exit Man Pit so it doesn’t smell like a kennel when I get back.

Last, last, lucky last thing I do before a holiday is go shopping. Usually at one of my favourite stores in the world – PRICELINE! You need your sunscreen, your giant pack of Nurofen Plus, spare ventolin, Zantac, Nicobate Lozenges, deodorant, blah blah blah. This is a full shopping basket skip around Priceline. Nothing worse than being stuck in a foreign country and not having enough mouthwash.

Anyone feeling sorry for Miss M?

Luckily she knows me oh so well after many, many years of friendship. She is Inner Circle. Strangely we’ve never travelled together before but we know it is going to be the easiest thing in the world. Our benchmark is ‘hung-over days’ and we do them brilliantly together. So in-tune. We famously move the mattress from the bed to in front of the tv and always stock up on supplies the day before so we don’t have to move. We are going to travel BRILLIANTLY together.

Resort 3

So I will be telling many tales about Miss M over the coming weeks. I’ve decided, for no particular reason, to changer her name. A bit like Prince does. Miss M will now be known as Lady M, like an upgrade. Maybe one day she will become known as ‘artist formerly know as Miss M’ but from today she is Lady M.

I promise our adventures in Thailand will entertain. 

All this 'work' is so gonna be worth it even for just 5 mins poolside. It's been a looooooong year!

What do you hide on a one-night-stand?

Of course I would never have to worry about this because I am like the Virgin Mary and pure as the driven snow. It’s true, some even call me angelic. But if I was to have a ‘gentleman caller’, what is it in Man Pit that would cause me embarrassment? This is what I am thinking about today. And sadly not because there is any action on the horizon, more just about being a good boy scout.

If you had a 15min window before a new ‘special friend’ entered your home for some ‘adult cuddles’ what are the things that you would run around and hide? As I’m sure many of you would know, some of the best relationships can come out of a one-night-stand. You should always put your best foot forward on night one just incase. Here are the things I would make sure they never see if ever my morals lapsed.

Jackie Collins books

I went through a serious Jackie Collins phase in my late teens, in fact it was Jackie who taught me about sex. And drugs. And Hollywood. She has huge sentimental value for me. Subsequently I still have a few of her more infoamous titles on my otherwise esteemed bookshelf. Not sure what others would make of them...

My hair bands

My gorgeous long flowing locks are obvious to anyone. But what I’d like to hide is that my guilty pleasure when I am at home alone is to wear a fetching head band. Not very butch I know but it makes me feel very glamorous on couch-nights.

R M Williams boots

Not that I’m embarrassed by them but to try and explain how a boy from the bush and a wearer of R M Williams boots comes to be ‘seducing’ a manly man is terribly unromantic. It’s just best to avoid the telling of that story.

Medicine cabinet

I’m a pill-popper. There is no ailment I can’t cure with a few pills from my overstocked medicine cabinet. Any gentleman caller could momentarily think I’ve brought them home to St Vincents Hospital if they caught a glimpse of my medicine cabinet. Only drug I'm missing is Viagra which would probably be the one they are looking for.

Scarves

And when I say scarf think Jackie Onassis. Like the square, soft, feminine ‘sailing in the Mediterranean’ type scarf. It’s a recent thing. I love them, buy them, but can never find an occasion to wear them. Also, I now question if it’s ever appropriate for a man to wear such a scarf.

Ashtray

Its full. And disgusting. Even though I’m currently describing myself as a non-smoker. Surely a non-smoker is anything less than 20 a day??? No one likes a liar or a smoker.

Collection of recycling bags

Some may call it a fetish, whereas I call it environmentally friendly. Every time I go to the supermarket I buy another 1+ of those gorgeous green bags. I now have a whole shelf full. I should really learn to recycle my environmentally friendly shopping bags. Just plain weirdo.

Yoga dvd

Now this would just be false advertising. I did yoga for exactly two weeks and still giggled every time they asked me to do a downward-dog. I have absolutely no idea where this dvd came from even. Its never left its case. If they thought they were potentially up for some yoga moves from me they’d be sadly disappointed. Lucky to touch my toes.

More dog food than human food

Not sure why any one-night-stand would be in my pantry but I’m sure if they took a look they’d be mightily concerned. I have more dog food and snacks than I do human. I make no secret that I take better care of Little Sammy than I do of myself and there is no better demonstration of this than a quick glimpse in my pantry. Let me be clear... I don't eat dog food.

Rotted teeth

I’m a hoarder. Sad but true. I also have a box of particularly precious items. I have some extracted teeth in there. Say no more.

Puffer vest

Please god, no one tell Mrs Woog! My puffer vest is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my wardrobe, but exemplary of the issues it could cause me. I just can't be sexy 24/7, 52 weeks a year.

Ok, now I realize if that I was to have a one-night-stand I would need far longer than 15mins to clean up Man Pit. “Just wait in the hallway will you love, be back in 30.”




Now, most importantly, what is it that you would hide??? I'm aching to know!

A Family Album

Spent a fantastic weekend in Cobar with my beautiful nieces and nephew. And the best tasting rissoles ever. 


Featuring Miss 7, Miss 5, Mr 2, Miss 1 (her 1st B'day!), Bro, Sis-in-law and the biggest kid of all, St. Murphy. Rissoles hand made by Sis-in-law.

THE END!