Galifianakis gets Galifianakis

Zack Galifianakis has long been producing a small clips for Funny or Die called Between Two Ferns. In these clips, he awkwardly interviews celebs by asking them fairly inappropriate questions. Like this one with his THE HANGOVER co-star Bradley Cooper:

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis: Bradley Cooper from Between Two Ferns

It was only a matter of time before Zack himself was faced with a real-life version of his Between Two Ferns character. It's perfectly awkward and (apparently) a genuine interview:

Just look pretty and read the friggin lines!

For those that don't know, I work for a small domestically produced soap. I'm one of the writers, and as you can probably tell after a couple minutes on this blog, the producers aren't that picky about "ability".  That's especially true of the cast - who are chosen for their looks more than anything else.

If you are relatively attractive and can read, then you're exactly what most casting agents look for on small budget productions. Just get yourself an agent. If you ever find yourself on my set, do yourself a favour: unless you're actually Russell Crowe or Cate Blanchett, just read the friggin lines. Deliver every syllable as written, and be thankful for the paycheck.

Who knows, after years of hard work and constantly working on your craft, you might get somewhere. Here's some acting tops from James Franco:

Acting With James Franco Episode 1: "Sense Memory" from James Franco

Acting with James Franco Episode 2: "Green Screen" from James Franco

Acting with James Franco Episode 3: Scene Work from James Franco

After a while of hard work and training, casting agents may begin to notice more than your good looks. The Director may start asking for your input. The producers may even let you give notes on the script.  But you're not there yet.

This whale needs saving

I went to a friend’s birthday Saturday night in Main Beach (happy birthday Chris!). It’s been a while since I’ve seen this particular group of friends, so I had been looking forward to the catch up. As usual, I turned up late. As usual, I turned up single. I just didn’t know that everyone else would be on-time and not single.

1^st awkward moment of the night: figuring out where I was going to sit. There was a little bit of shuffling around, as my dear friends tried to accommodate the odd number. Eventually, I sat next to Rach and quickly ordered a bottle of Logan Sauvignon Blanc (currently my favourite wine).

“Still single, Kyles?” asked Kate, just loudly enough for everyone to hear but not loud enough to be interpreted as a bitch. It’s hard not to hate Kate: she’s an easy nine who’s as shallow as she is gorgeous; she has a gorgeous husband who looks like he just stepped out of an Abercrombie catalogue; and she’s a ranga.

“Yeah, well, you know me – just hard to catch.”

“I’m sure your Captain Ahab is out there” she quipped with a friendly smile. 

Yep. That bitch called me a whale. 

Rach (being the perfectly socially mannered gal she is) smiled and poured me more wine “you’ll need more of this”. 

One bottle of Sav Blanc later, and I was completely over my initial awkwardness.  As I stepped out of the restaurant to have my first post-meal ciggie, I contemplated how there isn’t one right way to live a life. Sure, they all seemed happy with their settled-down lives –  husbands, children, waterfront homes with a big yards and shiney black SUVs – but I was happy too. Besides, Moby Dick was never meant to be caught.

When I returned to the table, I noticed the boys and girls were separated: girls on one-end of the table gossiping, and the boys on the other mulling over the bill.My instinct was to sit with the girls until:-

“Kylie’s running stag, so we still have to sort her out. I’m not paying for another sheila who won’t be putting out.” Once of the boys said amongst some chuckles… “Is she a lesbo?” jokingly asked another…

I froze as thoughts went swimming around in my head:  Was I meant to hear that? When did everyone start paying in pairs? The girls weren’t even trying to pretend to pay. Should I sit with the girls and ignore them or should I race over to the boys and pony up some money? Dammit... I forgot to go to the ATM...  do I even have enough cash on me? Shit. Shit. Shit. Have they seen me yet?... 

Before I had time to do anything, Robbo plonked an extra hundred down, “My shout for Kyles. Just stop being dickheads because she was never interested in your ugly arse”.

I was saved from being singled out and spared me any further ridicule. And in that moment, I realised how wonderful it would be to have a partner, someone who you can depend on to come to your rescue from time to time. Because sometimes, even the whale that gets away needs saving.

A girl has the right to shoes

Rachel, my bff, couldn’t be more right. A girl does have a right to shoes. She lives by that motto, and  has accumulated a very impressive shoe collection (one even Carrie Bradshaw would be envious of). Luckily, she has a husband (Robbo) who doesn't argue about the closet space.

Not that Robbo understands her obsession. Most men don’t. But the logic is really quite simple: no amount of celery seed pills or Nancy Ganz is going to flatten a bloated tummy, but your shoes will fit. And they will make your feel fabulous (until the paralyzing pain sets in, that is).

Buying on-line is perfect for shoe shopping, especially if you already know the designer and am pretty confident with the way they fit your foot. As someone who's never spent more than $300 on a pair of shoes, I tend to splurge on mid-range locally designed shoes like Wayne Cooper and  Peeptoe shoes:

If buying mass-produced shoes doesn't fit your individual style, try styling your own pair of custom shoes at Shoes of Prey.

But today, since the USD had dropped and the AUD lifted (hooray!), I’m heading to overseas sites. It’s time to give my Visa a good ol' USA workout. Hop Shop Go, here I come...

Wednesdays Night Drinks is the new Black (I Never Liked Black Anyway)

For all of you who aren’t intimately familiar with the Gold Coast, it’s a small coastal city on the east coast of Australia at the southern end of the state of Queensland. It’s pretty. It’s touristy. It’s home.

There’s no other place in the world that has embraced platinum hair and leopard print to unabashedly. Women here have big lips and big boobs. Men have hair. Everyone has a slight orange tinge to his or her skin, and no one ever wears boring black. It’s fabulous. I dare anyone to say anything different.

Local fashion aside, the best thing is the lifestyle. I’ve traveled and lived throughout Asia, Europe, Africa and the Americas… very few places have mastered the Gold Coast’s particular air of pretentious casualness. One can spend the entire day in thongs, sitting at a café slowly sipping a flat white (without ever feeling rushed to move one by the wait staff). Just make sure the café is one worth being spotted at.

To some, the Gold Coast is one big tourist attraction. Those are the people that go out to dinner and bars mid-week. Locals don’t. Locals get up early the next morning for a surf. Locals prefer to drink all their money in one go on the weekend. So when a friend suggested after work drinks on a Wednesday, I thought she was crazy. Did she forget she wasn’t in London anymore?

But I went. And I was presently surprised. Get yourself out there on a Wed night Gold Coast – because going out on a Wednesday night is the new black. Especially if you’re a single girl. Nothing quite beats a perve at a man in a tailored suit. Particularly when that man shouts you a couple of drinks...

Transformers mishap

Poor AD department...

When did Smoking become Un-cool?

I remember when the whole world smoked. And it wasn’t all that long ago… 2000, maybe? Going to a pub with friends meant pints of beer and cartons of cigarettes. I remember ordering a booze delivery service once for the sole purpose of a ciggie run. The best thing was it created this strong social connection – sure, it was bad, but we were all irresponsible together, joining the cool ranks of Marlon Brando, Coco Chanel and Slash. Many lifelong friends were made from bumming a cigarette or sharing a light.

Yes, I realise smoking is bad for one’s health. Yes, I realise people die from it. It is terribly, terribly irresponsible of me. Yes. Yes. Yes. I know.

But isn’t that what being “cool” is? Being irresponsible? At least it was in my 20’s…

Now I’m 30, and I’m the only person still committed. That’s right –I’ve stayed dedicated and true when everyone else has given up. Not bad for a self-proclaimed commitment phoebe. Furthermore, I’m not going to give up just because it’s harder to do. Or less cool. Or more expensive. This is true commitment, my friend.

Though, to be honest, I don’t see myself being an old woman and still buying a couple packs a week, either (nothing’s less cool than a granny coughing up her lungs in a haze of smoke). No – this is a young person’s habit. I’m prepared to give it up for the sake of a child or a partner. I may even give up if LiLo keep “promoting it” (she’s seriously undoing all the “cool” Brando and Dean injected into the brand years ago). But for now, at least while I still feel young and invincible, I smoke for myself. Especially after a couple glasses of wine.