New Address: stmurphy.com.au

From Thursday, November 3, 2011 I have a new blog address...

stmurphy.com.au

Please visit me there, would love it if you did!

xoxoxo

St. Murphy

It'll be like an ad break!

Cause I'm all inspired and shit, good ol' St. Murphy is getting an Oprah-like make-over! About time I hear you say.

Yes I am very aware of how daggy this page looks and how even with my best endeavours I haven't been able to make it do what I want it to do so I've called in the professionals. The very lovely Kelly Exeter in fact.

Kelly is gonna make me look all ProBlogger rather than AmaBlogger. And give this page some cool shit to play with.

So I won't be posting for a few days which I know will just be devastating for you but the wait will be worth it. When I'm back I'll be shouting it from the rooftops.

Have a fabulous weekend!

xoxoxoxo
St. Murphy

My childhood Fabio dream crushed!

Ever since I was a small little boy growing up amongst the oranges and grapes of Griffith I've dreamt of having long flowing locks.


I've always thought boys with long hair, in particularly ponytails, are the coolest thing in the world. Do you remember 80's icon Fabio? I would've killed to have hair like him. I gave it a red hot go in my early 20's when I was also going through a bleached blonde phase - it all went horribly wrong, almost perm-like. I never knew I had curly hair. It scarred me.


I've finally built up the courage to try it again. I figured I only had 18months left to try as a ponytail on anyone over 40 is ri-cock-ulous! So since about Easter I've been growing my hair with great determination. This is hows me looks today!

I don't actually wear it like this, for dramatic pictorial effect!

I absolutely love it. Love it more than I can tell you. I am fully aware it looks crap but I could care less. I have long(ish) hair! At least 3 times EVERY day someone says to me "Oh, you're growing your hair?" which we all know is code for "What the hell are you thinking?". The more direct I come into contact with give me a "So when are you getting your haircut?". I happily reply I'm not, that I'm growing it so I can look like Fabio. 


I literally spend all day playing with it. I've become very comfortable wearing headbands when I am cruising around Man Pit. I have a selection and choice is based on mood. I've bought those giant pump action shampoo and conditioners (before a travellers pack would last me a month!). I have more hair products than I know what to do with. They have their own shelf...

So you can probably tell I am rejoicing in having long hair which is well on its way to becoming a long bob - a LOB!


But this is where the crisis hits! Last week I found a long grey hair. Over the weekend I found more! Now I think every time I look in the mirror I am more and more like Santa Claus. Now there are very clear rules in the Gay Men's Handbook. The moment you start receding or turning grey then the whole lot has to come off. A buzz cut. And you know what this means - THE FABIO DREAM DIES FOREVER!

Love you Fabio!

I am absolutely torn as to what to do. I've got 8 months till my 40th and in that time my hair could become spectacular. I have visions of an elaborate up-do with a glittering headpiece for the big night. But if I am to follow the Gay Men's Handbook, which I passionately believe in, then it is time for a Remington once-over.


My gut tells me hold off. My new headbands say hold off. My shelf of hair products shout HOLD OFF. So, for the moment, I am going to hold off. I'm gonna be a rule-breaker. No buzz-cut for me just yet. 


What do you think? Is this the right decision?

Nothin' butt Shits and giggles.

I have warned you before, I am prone to over-sharing….

Ever since I got back from ProBlogger in Melbourne on Saturday I have had the most ferocious diarrhea. Even for me a new benchmark. At one point I was at the toilet every 15mins. I had to sleep with a drop sheet.

And gut-wrenching stomach cramps. Horrific. Thought I was about to rupture.

I love you, and your Missoni mat

Now the reason I feel comfortable sharing this story is I bet every person reading this will know EXACTLY what I am talking about. There ain’t nothin’ pretty about diarrhea! And it needs to be discussed. 

Diarrhea makes you feel so disgustingling dirty. It doesn’t matter how much Cottonelle you use or how much Domestos you spray around you still feel like you’ve bathed in whatever you just squirted out. At one point I considered Pine'O'Cleen'ing my ass.

And the sweating, combined with the squirting, just makes me feel even more dirty and disgusting. More disgusting than it would voting for Tony Abbot. Or catching a glimpse of an erect priest. Or stuck in a spa with Paris Hilton and Pamela Anderson. Just revolting.

I’ve gone through 3 AirWick’s and 2 Dove Mens cause I am sure the smell still lingers long after the last flush. At one point, in the midst of gripping stomach cramps, I was dead sure it must have been smeared on me. Thankfully it wasn't. That would have been the end of me.

Thanks big guys, you got me through a tough time.

So here’s my theory on diarrhea – the actual dealing with the diarrhea makes having diarrhea so much more dramatic And ten times worse. And that you should be able to buy diarrhea kits at the chemist that come with lovely soft cleansing wipes, air freshener and toilet cleaner.

So of course I called my beautiful Doctor O who over the years has dealt with more embarrassing ailments from me than one poor man should have to suffer through. He’s poked, prodded and scraped near every organ in my body. I called Dr O cause he is the very best at dealing with my ‘boy who cried woof’ mentality.

I was certain he was going to tell me I have bowel cancer as this is how the darker, more vicious side of my mind works. I am rather fixated on cancer. A headache means I’ve got brain tumour. A grey hair means I’ve got cancer of the scalp. A toothache is sure to be gum cancer. Thank fuck, I’ve never had cancer. But I digress…

Turns out my ‘increasing susceptibility’ (yes, this kind of shit happens to me all the time, pun intended) to stomach bugs is due to the bacteria infection I had this time last year. Boring! That’s not even a time-off-work offense. What it does mean though is that I have to go through that whole testing process again, for about the 5^th time in as many years, where you have to shit in a bowl, spoon it into cups and keep some of it in your fridge. Lucky I don’t keep food in there.


I also have to buy some probiotic over the internet. Wow! That's v. cool. Combines medical supplies with shopping. You just know this discovery is gonna get me into trouble.

But be thankful people, the Imodium Advanced and Buscopan Forte have finally kicked in now. It’s been hours since I’ve done the crazy-poo-dash. Thank god!

Now I just need someone to come round and industrial clean Man Pit's toilet.

Turns out I ain't such a Pro

Spent Friday at a brilliantly organized ProBlogger conference in Melbourne.

Turns out though… I ain’t no ProBlogger. In fact, I reckon you’d be hard-pressed to even call me an amateur blogger (or as I now refer to myself, an AmaBlogger). 

In a room full of people who love blogging and who are very good at it, I quickly realised that it is perhaps a little too early for me to be attending a Pro event. While there is no question I am a Professional Homosexual, it is very clear I am quite some way off being a Professional Homo ProBlogger. Which is my desire, my niche.

I did put out the call via Twitter during the conference to see if there were any other ProHomo ProBloggers attending. I was secretly hoping they would be cute, single and ready for an ‘email exchange’ at post-conference drinks. Sadly, there was not one other. It appears I have this niche market cornered. Oh the pressure.

This is how I rolled at ProBloggers! Coconuts courtesy of SylingYou, pic from Mrs Woog

Back to the conference; they kept they kept using words that I didn’t really understand. And concepts that where too big for me to grasp while recommending tools I had never heard of. There was even this talk of ‘your 12 month blogging plan’. Well my plan at this stage is that I wait until the next weird-shit-thing happens to me than I write about it. Yes, I am firmly in the AmaBlogger camp.

But that is absolutely fine! Does not matter at all. Cause what I did get out of ProBlogger is that blogging can be absolute anything to anyone. Which is very cool. Very cool AND very encouraging. So here is what I am, my blogging mission statement:

I am a time-wasting Professional Homo over-sharer who posts when weird shit goes down, which could be once a week or 8 days straight. I will also type loudly about gay issues. And gay dating. My audience is whoever the fuck wants to read my babble – gay, straight, amputee, Kiwi, single-mums, circus acts, cute boy at cafe, lonely dads, geriatrics, bankers – absolutely anyone. While I am sure to offend some people, which worries me little, I will hopefully amuse others. I will make fun of myself. 

And I will do it for as long as I find it fun for me.

The other very cool thing I got out of ProBlogger is lots of new friends. Very cool indeed. It was a fantastic event for networking. And I haven’t told them yet but it is all my new cool friends who I will be calling on to fix up my blog! And answer my questions. And explain all the things I didn’t understand. And help make this AmaBlogger a little more professional. Suckers! Bet you wish you hadn’t of been nice to me now.

But of course I have stories from ProBlogger!

My buddies ‘in transit’ where Edenland and Woogsworld. Well, you would never have thought it was so difficult to get 3 people on a plane. In fact we didn’t, we all missed our flight. At one point our comedy of errors became so farcical that I went from being on the verge of tears at the Qantas counter to near wetting my pants with hysterical laughter. Please don’t tell either of them, but I wouldn’t have changed a second of it. Only our dear Eden could accidently park at the International terminal and demand to fly to Brisbane, and then to have Woogsworld proclaim “we’re having own ProBlogger at the Qantas terminal in Sydney” was just too much. 

And can I be very clear about this, none of it was my fault!  Some are born to be personal assistants, others are born to have them. Eden and Woog are firmly in the second camp, while I am in the first. I love them dearly because they are so fucking funny, smart and genuine – I will never ever turn to them to help organise my diary or plan a trip. Love you skanky bitches! Read Eden's account here....

Now my new bestie LadySmaggle got me drunk! One her post today she describes me as ‘a hoot’. Well honey, you are much more than a hoot! After knowing each other for all of 5 minutes she, along with Mrs Woog, accompanied me on a Twitter-date with DillonPete and then kicked on with us at a fabulous Melbourne glitterati-party. After far too many double-vodka’s she then came back to the very un-glamorous apartment I was sharing with Woog, Eden, StylingYou and SawHole. Thankfully StylingYou and Eden were still up chatting otherwise we would have had to tell our drunken stories to a passed out Woog and SawHole. Yes, Smags, we are hilarious, there is no question about it.

And my last story from ProBlogger can only be told by one person and that is the divine SawHole. She tells it over at MadamBipolar with THIS POST. I so sincerely believe that SawHole is changing the world one post at a time with her incredibly sincere, open, insightful and groundbreaking blog. I am so proud to call her my friend, and a friend for the past 20 years. She inspires me!

Which is what some blogs can do. Me, a proud AmaBlogger, is just hoping that some people will laugh, others will back Gay Marriage and just quite possibly someone will want to shag me.

Sorry for no pics, so un-me but I forgot to take any. xoxoxo

Are you a Grindr or a Blendr???

I often feel sorry for the straights. They miss out on all fun stuff. I’ve often thought this while I’ve been tapping away on Grindr looking for the next boy to flirt with. It’s such a gay-boy thing to have a GPS-based messaging system on your phone to meet new people. It’s possibly the laziest app in the world.

But I can feel sorry no more. The straights now have their own little hook-up app! Its called Blendr. And I’m sure it is going revolutionise straight-dating just like it has gay.

I’d heard Blendr whispered about but wasn’t really sure what it was. Then last week this whisper became loud talking. It seems all of a sudden it was catching on. Then I caught up with a dear girlfriend – a sexy, sassy, smart, independent woman – and she was all over it! The straights have gone Blendr crazy.

About time! The gays have been at this for years you know. But then again we are known as ‘early adopters’.

I am a busy single-guy-on-the-go. I work kinda hard and irregular hours. I socialise a lot. I’ve have spent a lot of time the last few months in various queer establishments catching up with friends. I lose hours just tapping away on this laptop or watching Law & Order. The brilliant thing about Grindr is that all this activity just continues on as normal, and because your flirting takes place on your phone you can do it anywhere, anytime as you go about your life! Driving to work, on the couch at night, while your walking your dog, wandering the aisles of Coles.

It literally means you can be socialising every minute of the day. Now that’s revolutionary!

And if you hook-up amongst all of this socialising than it’s a WIN-WIN. Everyone can take home a prize.

It was fascinating talking to my girlfriend about Blendr. It seems the mating rituals of the gays and the straights aren’t as different as we thought. There is no doubting that two men looking to date is a much more direct and open discussion than when it’s a man and a woman. Gays can be harsh, blunt and far too honest. On Grindr it can be brutal! It seems that on Blendr the straights take better care of each others feelings while still having the same goal in mind.

On both apps you can be very clear about what you are looking for – dates, relationships, hook-ups, friendship, or just a simple chat. You can chat until your gums bleed or get straight to the point and send a nudie pic. You bump into people you know, you make new friends and you open yourself up to a whole new world of meeting new and interesting people.

And you can get laid!

I think social networking apps like this are truly brilliant. Dare I say it, I’m a little obsessed.

But a few little pieces of advice for my straight brothers and sisters cause I’ve learnt a few things in my time on Grindr:

1. Don’t drink and Grind! Or in your case Blend. Just like in a bar, alcohol can impair your judgement. It seems beer goggles effect you online as well. Oh dear, the amount of times I’ve embarrassed myself on Grindr after too many vodka’s. Or woken up the next morning to look back at some chats and just cringed in shame.

2. Never be embarrassed that you are on there. It’s human nature to want to meet people, date, have relationships. There is nothing shameful in putting yourself out there. I’ve chatted to boys to then find out we know each other or even work together. Some get real embarrassed by this. Unless you’ve been a real dirty little tart then what’s to be embarrassed about? I wear my flirting like a badge of honour.

3. Get your friends to help chose your pics. Its amazing how different those who know you well see you. My girlfriend and I both had completely opposing views as to what our best photos were. And she was right about me, and I think I was right about her. We’re now hotter online.

4. It may be an app on your phone but you still need to use and trust your instincts. A creep is a creep is a creep whether they are online or at the pub. And if someone is wearing a leather harness…

5. Don’t be afraid to ask for more information, especially pics. I don’t care what anyone says, attraction has to be physical as well. If you need to see more to make a decision you need to see more. Just be warned that at some point you are likely to end up with a nudie pic coming your way. Or maybe that’s just the gayers.

Ahhhhhh…. Such good times! You’re gonna love it.

There is another whole other story on this which is about how these apps have changed the club and pub scene. I have this theory that Grindr has made Oxford St less sleazy. But that will be for another time.

Go forth and Blend you beautiful straight people and one day you too can hope to grind like the gayers. 

I don't mix well with celebrities and alcohol.

I don’t have a very good track record of mixing celebrities and alcohol.

There was the incident at Mardi Gras quite a few years ago when I was the publicist for the broadcast. Spent the whole night working up the courage – and downing the vodka’s – to ask for a photo with Dannii Minogue and Lucy Lawless (Xena Warrior Princess) in the VIP area. Just as I was having a friend take the much-prized pic, out jumped a paparazzi and the resulting shot ran in the Sunday Telegraph and New Idea. I was mortified!

Found it on Google Image, too funny!

It was the first of many times that my boss hauled me into her office for the “the publicist is never the story” lecture.

It was also a dark night when I was chaperoning a very talented, very young, now international actor and I thought it was a good idea to take him to Arq. I lost him. There was another separate incident at Arq, in the DJ booth, but again that one will need to be legaled first and then only for my tell-all memoirs after I retire.

Then there was the time I ‘borrowed’ (some say stole) Delta Goodrem’s Logie and then danced around a Melbourne nightclub punching it in the air like it was mine. Congrats to me.

Yes, yes, its my very old Twitter pic.

This one doesn’t involve alcohol, but it is top of mind whenever I think of embarrassing celebrity moments. I accidentally bumped into/met Simon Baker one morning and I got so flustered by his sheer beauty that I dropped the stationary I was holding and then had this incredibly awkward moment as I stumbled around his knees to pick it up. 

Speaking of stumbling… Was once in a stairwell of some dirty Kings Cross nightclub staggering between floors with a double vodka in hand. I was able to open my eyes just enough to see Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman coming down the stairs. Freaked so much I tripped and almost spilt my drink! And trust me, I never spill my drink.

So you can imagine my fear when at a function this week my Plus 1 Lady Marmalade turned to me and said “I want my photo with him!”

She was referring to the breakout star of the brilliant new TV drama Killing Time, Richard Cawthorne. We were at cocktails after the premiere screening so we’d just been enthralled by this guy on the big screen for the last two hours. Now he was standing beside us - in the flesh. Too much! And too cute!

I tried to explain to Lady Marmalade that I wasn’t very good at this sort of thing, that it always leads to embarrassment. It’s the whole stopping of celebs and asking for a photo that makes me real uncomfortable. Lady Marmalade understood, I mean we are established career gals, confident, smart, we’ve got our shit together. We are well past being 14yo screaming schoolgirls at a Beiber concert.

But by now we were slightly socially lubricated, and Lady Marmalade started to share how she finds photo-bombing (or as she called it photo-blitzing) hilarious. Which gave us a brilliant idea. While we were too embarrassed to ask for a photo with him, there was nothing stopping us from getting a photo of Lady Marmalade and his back!

Can not tell you how funny we thought this was. We’d become fascinated by this actor so we loitered real close so that we could enjoy being in his presence without having to embarrass ourselves. Yes, slightly stalkerish! Then something weird happened that can only happen in a crowded room at a social function. The crowd just all of a sudden dispersed and left us standing face-to-face with said actor in an awkward silence.

Lady Marmalade covered well. “I just think you were fabulous! So fabulous. But I just heard that you get killed. Were your tattoo’s real? Can I have a photo?” I nearly choked. But hey, it’s a great shot. Certainly better than the one of his back.

Literally 20 seconds after this shot was taken he bolted. 

With such a great result we felt our confidence rise. Next on Lady Marmalade’s hit list was Vince Colosimo. Thankfully after a handful of canapés common sense and our dignity prevailed. So instead of asking for a fan shot with Vince we got one of his back instead.

That’s how we roll.

Lady Marmalade, I love you! You are fucking hilarious.