Spoonicula

Spoon went on quite a rampage yesterday. Since Spoon was spayed and all of the bitchy hormones have finally dissipated from her system she has been a lot less aggressive toward other females, all with the exception of other Border Terriers. She and other female Borders who cross paths will immediately engage in mortal combat like Highlanders or male Siamese fighting fish. I took the dogs on a walk on the beach yesterday and we came across another Border Terrier named Zellie. Instead of giving each other props and acknowledging the kinship of their common breed they murderously attacked each other. I had Spoon leashed so I managed to pull her off, but while she was in berzerker mode she bit my inner thigh. Spoon's 'friendly fire' caused two fang puncture wounds and a large plum sized bruise there. It looks like my leg was paid a visit by a 20 pound Nosferatu.



My cousin Fisher lives downstairs and moved his dog Dixie in from Texas yesterday. She is a beautiful, sweet Lab who, although 5 times Spoonie's size, is half blind and defenseless. Spoon has only tried to kill her once. They were introduced last night and things were going well until I left the room for a moment. I immediately heard savage screeching and howling. Fisher ran in and saw Spoon dangling off of Dixie's haunch by her teeth, latched on like a gila monster. Fisher somehow managed to pull her off without injuring Dixie. We tried getting them together again this morning and all was peaceful and the dogs were on their best behavior because Fisher was frying bacon and they were trying to charm some out of us. Spoon sat coiled on one of Pam's visiting friend's lap like a snake, pretending to be relaxed, but the entire time she was jealously monitoring whether Dixie was getting any more bacon than she was. I'm hoping that Spoon's bloodlust and aggression will end soon so all will be harmonious again. Breaking up dogfights is even worse than breaking up fist fights over the public internet terminals.

Spoonicula

Spoon went on quite a rampage yesterday. Since Spoon was spayed and all of the bitchy hormones have finally dissipated from her system she has been a lot less aggressive toward other females, all with the exception of other Border Terriers. She and other female Borders who cross paths will immediately engage in mortal combat like Highlanders or male Siamese fighting fish. I took the dogs on a walk on the beach yesterday and we came across another Border Terrier named Zellie. Instead of giving each other props and acknowledging the kinship of their common breed they murderously attacked each other. I had Spoon leashed so I managed to pull her off, but while she was in berzerker mode she bit my inner thigh. Spoon's 'friendly fire' caused two fang puncture wounds and a large plum sized bruise there. It looks like my leg was paid a visit by a 20 pound Nosferatu.

My cousin Fisher lives downstairs and moved his dog Dixie in from Texas yesterday. She is a beautiful, sweet Lab who, although 5 times Spoonie's size, is half blind and defenseless. Spoon has only tried to kill her once. They were introduced last night and things were going well until I left the room for a moment. I immediately heard savage screeching and howling. Fisher ran in and saw Spoon dangling off of Dixie's haunch by her teeth, latched on like a gila monster. Fisher somehow managed to pull her off without injuring Dixie. We tried getting them together again this morning and all was peaceful and the dogs were on their best behavior because Fisher was frying bacon and they were trying to charm some out of us. Spoon sat coiled on one of Pam's visiting friend's lap like a snake, pretending to be relaxed, but the entire time she was jealously monitoring whether Dixie was getting any more bacon than she was. I'm hoping that Spoon's bloodlust and aggression will end soon so all will be harmonious again. Breaking up dogfights is even worse than breaking up fist fights over the public internet terminals.

We've been having troubles again with a certain homeless patron overstaying his 15 minute limit in the bathroom. This vagrant is in pitiful shape and I suspect that he is not intentionally abusing his bathroom privileges - it's just that his malt liquor and cheap fortified wine diet has ravaged his alimentary system and now it is too crippled for the demands of such a narrow time constraint. Since we only have one bathroom and patrons are complaining my manager is going to have to tell him to use the bathroom in the park, where there are no time limits. He and Loretta will have to work out some equitable stall time arrangement.



My friend Helen had a friend growing up whose mother was addicted to laxatives. Because of her debilitating dependency she would spend hours and hours on the toilet, so much so that if her children wanted to spend any time with her they would have to visit her in the bathroom. While she would hold court on the toilet her children would file in and sit on the edge of the bathtub and tell her all about their day at school. Helen's friend's warmest childhood memories are of time spent with her mother in the bathroom, where she would talk out her troubles with boyfriends and problems at school. These heart to hearts would end with the daughter giving her mother a big hug on the toilet. I guess if you grow up with it you don't think it's all that strange.

We've been having troubles again with a certain homeless patron overstaying his 15 minute limit in the bathroom. This vagrant is in pitiful shape and I suspect that he is not intentionally abusing his bathroom privileges - it's just that his malt liquor and cheap fortified wine diet has ravaged his alimentary system and now it is too crippled for the demands of such a narrow time constraint. Since we only have one bathroom and patrons are complaining my manager is going to have to tell him to use the bathroom in the park, where there are no time limits. He and Loretta will have to work out some equitable stall time arrangement.

My friend Helen had a friend growing up whose mother was addicted to laxatives. Because of her debilitating dependency she would spend hours and hours on the toilet, so much so that if her children wanted to spend any time with her they would have to visit her in the bathroom. While she would hold court on the toilet her children would file in and sit on the edge of the bathtub and tell her all about their day at school. Helen's friend's warmest childhood memories are of time spent with her mother in the bathroom, where she would talk out her troubles with boyfriends and problems at school. These heart to hearts would end with the daughter giving her mother a big hug on the toilet. I guess if you grow up with it you don't think it's all that strange.

Loretta: Back on the Boulevard

My favorite homeless regular/informant told me that Tom, a park nuisance, was picked up and sent to jail again for trespassing in the park. Tom is a football enthusiast and during the football season he cradles a football around in his arms and pretends to hurl it right in people's faces. He is built like a linebacker and when he mimics throwing it he does so with such aggressive force that the impact would surely break someone's nose or give them a concussion. When his targets understandably cower or scream he tells them to lighten up - he's just kidding around, like he's just a misunderstood but loveable comedian who is trying to brighten all of our lives. He is banned from the library but will occasionally pop his head in and pretend to throw his football at the terrified circulation staff. He also likes to stand in the middle of the road and direct imaginary traffic. After he was banned from the park he began taunting the police by putting one foot in the park, screaming "Nyah, Nyah" and then running away. The police tired of his obnoxious childishness and threw him in jail.



Sad news on the Loretta front. The street socialite has been evicted from her third city provided residential hotel room. She was incapable of complying with the most elementary house rules, not to mention basic tenets of decency. Her noisy entertaining of a succession of male callers, whose numbers surpassed even those of which Amanda Wingfield boasted, was grounds enough to have her put back on the street. I predict she will drift back to the park and stake out her traditional corner near the public bathrooms soon.

Loretta: Back on the Boulevard

My favorite homeless regular/informant told me that Tom, a park nuisance, was picked up and sent to jail again for trespassing in the park. Tom is a football enthusiast and during the football season he cradles a football around in his arms and pretends to hurl it right in people's faces. He is built like a linebacker and when he mimics throwing it he does so with such aggressive force that the impact would surely break someone's nose or give them a concussion. When his targets understandably cower or scream he tells them to lighten up - he's just kidding around, like he's just a misunderstood but loveable comedian who is trying to brighten all of our lives. He is banned from the library but will occasionally pop his head in and pretend to throw his football at the terrified circulation staff. He also likes to stand in the middle of the road and direct imaginary traffic. After he was banned from the park he began taunting the police by putting one foot in the park, screaming "Nyah, Nyah" and then running away. The police tired of his obnoxious childishness and threw him in jail.

Sad news on the Loretta front. The street socialite has been evicted from her third city provided residential hotel room. She was incapable of complying with the most elementary house rules, not to mention basic tenets of decency. Her noisy entertaining of a succession of male callers, whose numbers surpassed even those of which Amanda Wingfield boasted, was grounds enough to have her put back on the street. I predict she will drift back to the park and stake out her traditional corner near the public bathrooms soon.

A Scary and Cautionary Story for Halloween

Imagine that I have a flashlight under my chin...



A girl I knew back in Birmingham was from the city's wealthy suburb Mountain Brook. She was the adopted only daughter of an established old family and she was their darling. She was very pretty but had a lot of learning disabilities and was drifting in college. She soon failed out and moved back home and began working as a waitress in a restaurant in the bar district. She was beautiful with classic features - she looked like Madeline Stowe - but didn't put on airs and was a generally good natured and sweet person, although sometimes lacking in judgment. She started socializing and partying with all of the restaurant staff, including the dishwashing and kitchen crew. They adored their little rich girl mascot. Her new friends and colleagues began offering her cocaine and she started doing a lot of it to keep with the fast pace and late hours of the food service lifestyle. She quickly developed an expensive habit.



One night about 3:00 AM after the restaurant closed she started driving around with one of the dishwashers, a man in his 40s, in search of cocaine. They bought some and then went back to his place in the projects to do it with the man's wife. They soon ran out, and he brought out some crack. She was extremely high and her judgment was out the window so she gave it a try. (She didn't want to be rude to her host, after all!) Before she knew it a couple of hours had passed. Her colleague then sat next to her and with great earnestness calmly said, "Now, I'm going to run something by you. My wife and I would like to have sex in front of you. We're not asking you to join in or do anything you're uncomfortable with, but we would really like it if you watched." She sat there on the couch, high beyond belief, trapped in the projects without a car, and watched this creepy middle age couple go at it.



She said that they were soon on the floor sweating and grunting like animals, and finally she couldn't take the performance anymore and ran out of their apartment. Even though it was 5:00 AM, she called her brother and said that he needed to come get her and drive her straight to treatment, NOW. Most people I've met who are in recovery have a good hitting bottom story but this is by far my favorite.

A Scary and Cautionary Story for Halloween

Imagine that I have a flashlight under my chin...

A girl I knew back in Birmingham was from the city's wealthy suburb Mountain Brook. She was the adopted only daughter of an established old family and she was their darling. She was very pretty but had a lot of learning disabilities and was drifting in college. She soon failed out and moved back home and began working as a waitress in a restaurant in the bar district. She was beautiful with classic features - she looked like Madeline Stowe - but didn't put on airs and was a generally good natured and sweet person, although sometimes lacking in judgment. She started socializing and partying with all of the restaurant staff, including the dishwashing and kitchen crew. They adored their little rich girl mascot. Her new friends and colleagues began offering her cocaine and she started doing a lot of it to keep with the fast pace and late hours of the food service lifestyle. She quickly developed an expensive habit.

One night about 3:00 AM after the restaurant closed she started driving around with one of the dishwashers, a man in his 40s, in search of cocaine. They bought some and then went back to his place in the projects to do it with the man's wife. They soon ran out, and he brought out some crack. She was extremely high and her judgment was out the window so she gave it a try. (She didn't want to be rude to her host, after all!) Before she knew it a couple of hours had passed. Her colleague then sat next to her and with great earnestness calmly said, "Now, I'm going to run something by you. My wife and I would like to have sex in front of you. We're not asking you to join in or do anything you're uncomfortable with, but we would really like it if you watched." She sat there on the couch, high beyond belief, trapped in the projects without a car, and watched this creepy middle age couple go at it.

She said that they were soon on the floor sweating and grunting like animals, and finally she couldn't take the performance anymore and ran out of their apartment. Even though it was 5:00 AM, she called her brother and said that he needed to come get her and drive her straight to treatment, NOW. Most people I've met who are in recovery have a good hitting bottom story but this is by far my favorite.

How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale

"If you could overdose on autobiography, this book would be lethal."



NY Times Book Review



Here's some Thursday readers' advisory for you. Jenna Jamison's autobiography (written with generous help from Rolling Stone writer Neil Strauss) is so riveting I could hardly put it down to write this. When I left off she was a stripper in Las Vegas, down to 85 pounds from meth, writhing hysterically on the bathroom floor of her trailer, inconsolable because her drug dealing, tatoo artist biker boyfriend just left her. How does she overcome all this to become the acme of the porn world, the most downloaded woman of the internet? I'm a sucker for against all odds success stories, especially ones written like the author is on a meth jag! Added bonus: lots and lots of photographs, plus sage advice about the pitfalls of the biz, which she learned the hard way. You might have trouble finding a copy at your local library, though.

How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale

"If you could overdose on autobiography, this book would be lethal."

NY Times Book Review

Here's some Thursday readers' advisory for you. Jenna Jamison's autobiography (written with generous help from Rolling Stone writer Neil Strauss) is so riveting I could hardly put it down to write this. When I left off she was a stripper in Las Vegas, down to 85 pounds from meth, writhing hysterically on the bathroom floor of her trailer, inconsolable because her drug dealing, tatoo artist biker boyfriend just left her. How does she overcome all this to become the acme of the porn world, the most downloaded woman of the internet? I'm a sucker for against all odds success stories, especially ones written like the author is on a meth jag! Added bonus: lots and lots of photographs, plus sage advice about the pitfalls of the biz, which she learned the hard way. You might have trouble finding a copy at your local library, though.

Act Disruptively and Carry a Big Stick

The other morning I was walking the dogs and was stopped by the sight of a flock of feral parrots that had completely taken over a berry tree. A crowd soon gathered to watch the parrots devour the berries. To my left some tourists were busy taking photographs. I was dismayed to notice standing right next to me on my other side was one of the most problematic patrons in the system. I run into a lot of my patrons outside the library in unexpected places, sometimes so much so that I suspect that my reality is just one goddamn giant computer simulation and that the program is running low on memory and is having to recycle its characters.



This patron comes in to use our internet and is infamous for his histrionics when the computers aren't working. He is also notorious for carrying a large quarterstaff. He uses it ostensibly as a walking aid but it could easily double as weapon and it terrifies me. One of the side effects of his psychiatric medication is a dry mouth, a condition that makes his breath poisonous and causes him to smack his mouth in this maddeningly rhythmic way. This sound has almost driven me to tears more than once. Supposedly he had a large trust fund which has been bled dry by stays at mental institutions. He's abrasive, demanding and entitled. He likes to hover over my shoulder while I look up obscure titles for him on the interlibrary loan database and slowly smack in my ear and poke my monitor with his grimy index finger.



I first encountered him on the rainy night when the police came in to question the old homeless man who had been killing and roasting pigeons on a spit outside the library. He began to complain loudly to me that the interrogation was disruptive and that the police should have removed the suspect from the premises so as not to disturb the other patrons in the library, all two of them. I was frankly overjoyed to have the policemen there and couldn't care less about how much noise they were making. I wasn't about to go shush them and interfere with their job. He began complaining and fussing about how he was this serious scholar who had spent a lot of time at the British Library, an institution that would never have allowed this sort of disturbance. I told him that every system has its own unique challenges and that there was nothing I could do.



The last time he came in the library he was apparently off of his meds because he was wild eyed and agitated. He had used up his allotted time on the internet and the system wouldn't let him on again. He began to flail about in distress and I was terrified that he was going to start smashing the monitors with his cudgel. To calm him down I gave him a pass on the internet and he settled down. My favorite homeless man who gives me all of the background on all of the characters that wander into the library said that he has been kicked out of every shelter in the city and, although he is universally loathed by homeless and social workers alike for being so obnoxious, is basically harmless.

Act Disruptively and Carry a Big Stick

The other morning I was walking the dogs and was stopped by the sight of a flock of feral parrots that had completely taken over a berry tree. A crowd soon gathered to watch the parrots devour the berries. To my left some tourists were busy taking photographs. I was dismayed to notice standing right next to me on my other side was one of the most problematic patrons in the system. I run into a lot of my patrons outside the library in unexpected places, sometimes so much so that I suspect that my reality is just one goddamn giant computer simulation and that the program is running low on memory and is having to recycle its characters.

This patron comes in to use our internet and is infamous for his histrionics when the computers aren't working. He is also notorious for carrying a large quarterstaff. He uses it ostensibly as a walking aid but it could easily double as weapon and it terrifies me. One of the side effects of his psychiatric medication is a dry mouth, a condition that makes his breath poisonous and causes him to smack his mouth in this maddeningly rhythmic way. This sound has almost driven me to tears more than once. Supposedly he had a large trust fund which has been bled dry by stays at mental institutions. He's abrasive, demanding and entitled. He likes to hover over my shoulder while I look up obscure titles for him on the interlibrary loan database and slowly smack in my ear and poke my monitor with his grimy index finger.

I first encountered him on the rainy night when the police came in to question the old homeless man who had been killing and roasting pigeons on a spit outside the library. He began to complain loudly to me that the interrogation was disruptive and that the police should have removed the suspect from the premises so as not to disturb the other patrons in the library, all two of them. I was frankly overjoyed to have the policemen there and couldn't care less about how much noise they were making. I wasn't about to go shush them and interfere with their job. He began complaining and fussing about how he was this serious scholar who had spent a lot of time at the British Library, an institution that would never have allowed this sort of disturbance. I told him that every system has its own unique challenges and that there was nothing I could do.

The last time he came in the library he was apparently off of his meds because he was wild eyed and agitated. He had used up his allotted time on the internet and the system wouldn't let him on again. He began to flail about in distress and I was terrified that he was going to start smashing the monitors with his cudgel. To calm him down I gave him a pass on the internet and he settled down. My favorite homeless man who gives me all of the background on all of the characters that wander into the library said that he has been kicked out of every shelter in the city and, although he is universally loathed by homeless and social workers alike for being so obnoxious, is basically harmless.

Best Part of Waking Up...

I have been fascinated with chanting ever since I saw the Buddhist cremation scene on Six Feet Under. During the funeral ceremony, a group of Buddhist monks begin ritually chanting. The sound is stunning, like a cosmic punch in the gut, and I have never heard anything like it before. I ordered a CD from the library and was listening to it this morning. It was raining and I was drinking coffee and looking dreamily out the window at the incredible view of the city when I shifted my foot slightly, right into a large pile of cold dog vomit, which brought me crashing back to earth in a hurry. I guess the rib bones we gave Billy or Spoon last night didn't agree with their little systems.

Best Part of Waking Up...

I have been fascinated with chanting ever since I saw the Buddhist cremation scene on Six Feet Under. During the funeral ceremony, a group of Buddhist monks begin ritually chanting. The sound is stunning, like a cosmic punch in the gut, and I have never heard anything like it before. I ordered a CD from the library and was listening to it this morning. It was raining and I was drinking coffee and looking dreamily out the window at the incredible view of the city when I shifted my foot slightly, right into a large pile of cold dog vomit, which brought me crashing back to earth in a hurry. I guess the rib bones we gave Billy or Spoon last night didn't agree with their little systems.

Other People's Children's Keeper

A little latchkey girl was acting rowdy and when I went to quiet her for the fifth or so time she was unrepentant and insolent so I kicked her out of the library with a stern, "Go play outside in the park, NOW!" I then spent the rest of the afternoon agonizing in a hellfire of guilt, certain that she was being sodomized in the park bathroom by some skid row vagrant. When I went outside on an errand I saw her skipping along across the street, carefree and unmolested, but still unsupervised and on her own. I waved her back in the library, where she spent the rest of the time we were open reading quietly in the corner.

Other People's Children's Keeper

A little latchkey girl was acting rowdy and when I went to quiet her for the fifth or so time she was unrepentant and insolent so I kicked her out of the library with a stern, "Go play outside in the park, NOW!" I then spent the rest of the afternoon agonizing in a hellfire of guilt, certain that she was being sodomized in the park bathroom by some skid row vagrant. When I went outside on an errand I saw her skipping along across the street, carefree and unmolested, but still unsupervised and on her own. I waved her back in the library, where she spent the rest of the time we were open reading quietly in the corner.

Wigfield: The Can-Do Town That Just May Not

This book from Amy Sedaris, Paul Dinello and Stephen Colbert, the triumverate who brought you Strangers with Candy, is definitely not for everybody. I thought it was brilliant, though, and not just because the subject matter - the Deep South, strippers, white trash, and the dismantling of environmentally destructive dams - is close to my heart. Here is an excerpt that I find particularly insightful about the relationships between the sexes and how they are formed in the family.



An interview with Fleet Hollinger, the Mayor of Wigfield.



I'm also a family man. I have a son, Fleet Jr., who is at the military academy up in Shell Knob, hopefully getting some of the pussy kicked out of him. And I have a beautiful daughter by the name of Carla. She is just the apple of my eye a la mode. I can't believe how fast she is growing up. Soon it will be time for her to meet a fella and settle down. Now, if this hypothetical fella knows what's good for him, he'll treat her right. 'Cause I'm gonna be lurking in the shadows, keeping watch every minute. And if he so much as sullies, or stains, or soils the innocence of that angel who came straight from God, I swear to Sweet Jesus hanging out on the cross, I will mount his goddamn head on the grill of my 4x4. I shit thee not.



It doesn't take much bad influence to ruin a woman. Case in point, that gargoyle who lives at the edge of the woods who I used to call my wife [Now a lesbian Wiccan named High Priestess Thea]. I never saw it coming. She had the perfect life here. All she was required to do was sit in the comfort of the home I built, keep an eye on the kids, have my dinner ready, and keep her yapper shut. I barely even forced her to perform her Wifely Obligation, seeing as how I was having it taken care of it over at the club. Now, I'd call that pretty light lifting. But what you gonna do? I never professed to try to understand women. They're like handguns. You try to keep 'em clean. You try to keep 'em oiled. You take 'em out to the range every so often, fire 'em off. Then one day you forget to put the safety on, and when you're swabbing out the barrel, blammo it goes off in your face. But I can't waste my energy thinking about women, I've got a town to run.

Wigfield: The Can-Do Town That Just May Not

This book from Amy Sedaris, Paul Dinello and Stephen Colbert, the triumverate who brought you Strangers with Candy, is definitely not for everybody. I thought it was brilliant, though, and not just because the subject matter - the Deep South, strippers, white trash, and the dismantling of environmentally destructive dams - is close to my heart. Here is an excerpt that I find particularly insightful about the relationships between the sexes and how they are formed in the family.

An interview with Fleet Hollinger, the Mayor of Wigfield.

I'm also a family man. I have a son, Fleet Jr., who is at the military academy up in Shell Knob, hopefully getting some of the pussy kicked out of him. And I have a beautiful daughter by the name of Carla. She is just the apple of my eye a la mode. I can't believe how fast she is growing up. Soon it will be time for her to meet a fella and settle down. Now, if this hypothetical fella knows what's good for him, he'll treat her right. 'Cause I'm gonna be lurking in the shadows, keeping watch every minute. And if he so much as sullies, or stains, or soils the innocence of that angel who came straight from God, I swear to Sweet Jesus hanging out on the cross, I will mount his goddamn head on the grill of my 4x4. I shit thee not.

It doesn't take much bad influence to ruin a woman. Case in point, that gargoyle who lives at the edge of the woods who I used to call my wife [Now a lesbian Wiccan named High Priestess Thea]. I never saw it coming. She had the perfect life here. All she was required to do was sit in the comfort of the home I built, keep an eye on the kids, have my dinner ready, and keep her yapper shut. I barely even forced her to perform her Wifely Obligation, seeing as how I was having it taken care of it over at the club. Now, I'd call that pretty light lifting. But what you gonna do? I never professed to try to understand women. They're like handguns. You try to keep 'em clean. You try to keep 'em oiled. You take 'em out to the range every so often, fire 'em off. Then one day you forget to put the safety on, and when you're swabbing out the barrel, blammo it goes off in your face. But I can't waste my energy thinking about women, I've got a town to run.

Foxy Travel

In keeping with my opinion that blogs are the ultimate vanity press, we have posted a link to Foxy Travel. There you'll find some old travelogues from the Philippines, Australia, Indonesia and, if I ever get off my ass, Russia.

And move over trend forecaster Faith Popcorn! Look with what eerie prescience I predicted back in 2000, although like Cassandra, no one believed me.
From December, 2000. Dateline: Perth, Australia:

Fair warning: Kylie Minogue did not sink into obscurity after her one
American hit, the lame & annoying remake of Locomotion. She is big here - bigger than Madonna. Australians practically tear up when you mention her name she is so beloved. Prepare & brace yourself NOW for a US Kylie comeback. She's ready, and she has all of Australia behind her.

Buried in the dispatches also is the secret of life that the dolphins whispered to me when I swam with them in Monkey Mia. You'll find it if you look hard enough. All right, all right. I'll go ahead and tell you here: Life ain't nothing but bitches and money.

Foxy Travel

In keeping with my opinion that blogs are the ultimate vanity press, we have posted a link to Foxy Travel. There you'll find some old travelogues from the Philippines, Australia, Indonesia and, if I ever get off my ass, Russia.

And move over trend forecaster Faith Popcorn! Look with what eerie prescience I predicted back in 2000, although like Cassandra, no one believed me.
From December, 2000. Dateline: Perth, Australia:

Fair warning: Kylie Minogue did not sink into obscurity after her one
American hit, the lame & annoying remake of Locomotion. She is big here - bigger than Madonna. Australians practically tear up when you mention her name she is so beloved. Prepare & brace yourself NOW for a US Kylie comeback. She's ready, and she has all of Australia behind her.

Buried in the dispatches also is the secret of life that the dolphins whispered to me when I swam with them in Monkey Mia. You'll find it if you look hard enough. All right, all right. I'll go ahead and tell you here: Life ain't nothing but bitches and money.