How to hide things....

The news today tells me that "Dubai authorities have announced that controversial body scanners will not be used at the Emirates' airports, in a blow to US security authorities who are facing a continued domestic backlash against the machines."

This bothers me!

I can just imagine the pervy wannabe security men in Dubai are bothered by this too. They've probably been filing applications for the position for months! They must now be gutted that there's STILL no way to see beneath women's abayas without marrying them.

Anyway, unfortunately for all, Dubai has announced that such scanners, designed to help security see through clothing "do not correspond with national customs and ethics," and this is what bothered me more than anything. Some of the practices in Dubai don't correspond with innocent, visiting holiday-makers either, like chucking every other drunk or "suspicious looking" person in the slammer.

One bigwig called Brig Ahmed bin Thani says “I do not feel that it is necessary for us to implement such a technology while we are operating different methods and have different avenues that have worked so far.”

Hmmm. Ok, what methods are those then Ahmed? Ooooh yes, that's right, the method of locking everyone up till they're proven innocent. Of course... who are we to impose on that? You've long been ruining happy lives on the assumption that the dodgy looking man with a poppy seed from a bagel stuck on his shoe is a drug mule, harbouring oodles of heroin in his underwear and haven't lost a moment's sleep over it. Great job! Of course there's no need to start scouting for the real criminals who walk your midst,... as that might stop you chasing the people bouncing cheques, which in turn might stop you blaming them for being the ones causing your economy to crumble. Doh!

Dubai's rejection of the technology could apparently prompt other sheep in the Middle Eastern states to follow their lead, like Abu Dhabi and Oman, in spite of the region being the fastest-growing airplane port in the whole wide world!

Amazing.

Google knows me...

Well it doesn't really know ME but it just picked up the provisional title of my new book, which is very exciting, innit! LOOOOK!!! (Click and it shall grow)

Shame I can't actually click on this link as I'm not a subscriber. To subscribe and read it would cost $20, and I'm cheap.

Anyway, oh blog how I've neglected you. Things have been impossibly busy as P and I are planning our next big adventure - a tour around the whole of Australia in seach of the REAL Australian man. We're sorting out trips and cruises and flights and buses and camel rides and everything else we'll need to do along the way, including securing our places on organic farms - wahey! I will come back with a more detailed itinerary once we're a little less stressed. It's like putting a gigantic jigsaw puzzle together, trying to get magazine commissions and places on press trips in return for coverage, finding out where we should and shouldn't go and learning something new every day, concerning what we really shouldn't miss. This is an effing HUGE country. It might just be the biggest adventure P and I have ever had - aside from Dubai.

In other news - I had a date the other week who hooked up with another girl, while we were still out on our date. Yes. Probably the most hilarious online endeavour ever. I took him to a pub with a bunch of my friends and fair enough I was talking to another bloke, but I turned round to find him MAKING OUT with another girl. Haha!! I meant to write it down properly but I'm still processing it. Sydney men are awesome *

*LIE

Back soon xxx

Stackhouse in the house...

I'm officially excited. Jason Stackhouse is coming to the studio on Wednesday, and he just so happens to have the hottest body on Planet Earth. Even better than Taylor Lautner's in Eclipse. I mean.... look at him! It's ridiculous.

If he doesn't want a photo with me, I'm going to grab him in a headlock, force his arm around me and pose for one anyway. FACT. He's not getting away without me touching him. Be afraid.

Jason's real name of course, is Ryan Kwanten. He just plays the character of Sookie's brother in the show 'True Blood'. I've only seen the first season but I reckon Paul and I are gonna have to buy the second one to perv over when we're on our trip. More about that later. I've been so busy lately I haven't managed to blog, but I'll be making up for that shortly. Lots to talk about!

For now though, let's all perv over Ryan some more, shall we....

Oven baked dress...

Last night's mystery party at a secret location in Sydney saw me, Paul and 500 others getting into a fight with holi festival powder, all the colours of the rainbow! Thank God we were instructed to wear black and issued with goggles. it was AWESOME!!!

The thing is, being covered in colourful powder isn't a look most bar and pub owners favour, so we decided to head to a friend's house to clean up afterwards - at which point my dress got washed and then dried in the quickest way we saw possible. With the oven!

Check out our impromptu infomercial, hehe!

Aussies in the red...

Whoooop whoooop!! It’s a good day for Australia! Not only does Oz have its very first female Prime Minister following 26 men, but she’s a read-head. A ginger. An auburn-haired source of hope for the whole country. This is a turning point in my experience of human acceptance. This would NEVER be allowed in Britain. She’d have been egged the second she put her hand up for the job.

Brits are mean though. British people make fun of rangas. Up until today, I’m ashamed to admit I never knew where the word ranga came from. I’d heard it being thrashed about in (mostly drunken) conversation but just assumed it was mean-spirited piss-taking and put it out of my head. However, the fact that we now have a ranga PM, and that people have been referencing this all day on the radio; playing songs by famous red-heads – well that had me turning to Google. Where does the word even come from?

Wikipedia says: “Ranga: a term for people with red hair, possibly derived from the Maori word for blue, rangi, or the animal orangutan known for its red fur.”

Ah haaa. Orangutans, That explains it. Although I much prefer Urban Dictionary’s explanation: “Ranga: Derived from Orangutan… or from the Latin “Orange Utan” meaning red pubic hair, commonly known as Fanta pants.”

HAAAAAAAA! Fanta pants!!! I love that. LOVE IT. Although, technically Fanta is orange, and so are orangutans, and red-haired people’s hair is red. Although…thinking about it, red-haired people’s hair is orange too, isn’t it. It’s just that people call it red, to be polite. Although… if they really mean to be polite regarding these people, they wouldn’t call them rangas. I’m confused.

Anyway, the point is that Julia Gillard is a shining testimony to the power of dreams. She knew she could do the job and she wasn’t about to let a stereotype about her hair colour put her off (like she may have done in Britain). I salute you Australians! It would have been so easy for her to get the bleach out last night and have a go at changing herself before attempting to change Australia, but she decided to charge forth anyway. Good for her.

"First woman, first redhead, and I'll allow you to contemplate which was more unlikely in this modern age," she joked today, proving her sense of humour. Bless.

It is marginally disturbing though, that when you type the word ‘ranga’ into Google search, Julia Gillard news stories appear in the third highest position. Even the search engines are still dissing the colour of her hair! With great power comes great responsibility. If Julia does good, she’ll change the world for rangas everywhere. Ranga will stand for justice, truth, positivity and reform, instead of scorn and drunken mockery.

But if she fucks up… well, it’s back to the drawing board for them all. What’s it gonna be, Gillard?

The most fashionable fashionista...

Nicole Richie was in Sydney to open a new shopping complex today, but she spared half an hour to grace us with her presence at the radio station.

She faked an afternoon tea party with our lovely presenter actually, as her entourage of eight fussed about behind the scenes. I haven't ever seen an entourage as big as hers, except maybe the crew that accompanied British popstrel Alexandra Burke the other week (she even had a hairdresser brushing her locks straight before I could snap her!).

Nicole didn't have a hairdresser... seeing as her weave is probably glued on anyway.... but she did have own photographer. I'm not sure whether he was hired to give the media the impression that she has a permanant pap at her side, but he took a lot more photos than we did, that's for sure. Maybe he uses his photoshopped snaps of her to trade with the media who threaten to print the raw ones - who knows. But anyway, she was very sweet and surprisingly non-Hollywood once we shut the studio doors. I even had a little chat with her. Oh yes I did! It went something like this:

Me: "Hello... how are you liking the Sydney weather?" (it was raining)
Nicole: "It's not too bad, it was sunny yesterday"
Me: "Yes it was much nicer yesterday wasn't it."
Nicole: Silence.

We also shot a video, which we were assured would be fine to post around the Internet... only once we'd spent the vast majority of our respective days editing, photoshopping, faking paparazzi flashbulbs over footage of her smiley, skinny self, we were informed "Nicole doesn't like the lighting" so could we please delete all history of it ever having been in existence. Which was nice.

What was left, after we deleted the parts she didn't like, was this. It's interesting enough in a 15 second, pointless sort of way, and shows her in a reasonably lovely light, but I know, the editor knows, her private photographer knows and now our computer trash folders all know... she's still living a lie.

Bless her.

The Cutlery Crusaders...

I just got a bit of a weird email delivered to my work inbox. Behold:

Team,

A rather embarrassing email to send you. Over the last 2 days, the cleaners fished out of the bins the following items:

• 11 forks
• 8 tea spoons
• 12 spoons
• 6 knives

I don’t know what to say……………………

This is the last email of this type.

Thanks.

General Manager

I thought I left this kind of behavior back in Dubai, where the lifestyle was so very decadent that the disposal of metallic cutlery was understandable… acceptable even: “More where that comes from”, “I have tons of knives and forks thanks to daddy’s silver emporium”, etc. Also, no one in Dubai did any washing up. We all had cleaners to do it for us. If my cleaner didn’t show up for some reason, well, maybe THEN I’d feel the urge to bin my dirty goods instead of tackle them with soap suds and my own fair hands. But the cleaners here come every day. Without fail. And even if they didn't, it's not like this filthy cutlery is cluttering up anyone's home, making it smell bad, putting us off our evening TV shows or making us not want to have sex in the kitchen.

THERE IS NO EXCUSE.

To know that people, in my very office here in Sydney, are chucking away these items… well. It’s not surprising the manager doesn’t know what to say.

It’s not me, by the way. Can I just say, I have never thrown a piece of metal cutlery in the bin (in Australia). Mainly because I don’t use real cutlery, obviously. All my takeaway food comes with its own plastic cutting and stabbing devices, so I’ve no need.

Whoever it is must be feeling really guilty though.