Noelio, why did you have to go? Noelio, we really loved you so.

So I promised a post and here one is... a day late, a surprise if ever there was one.
Also the title of this post is a Boosh Live reference, not just me bein' a creep. Thought I'd clear that up...

So approximately this time last night I was filing into the Sydney Opera House, complete with butterfly filled stomach and flower-crowned head to watch the marvellous comedic stylings of the unimaginable Noel Fielding.

I cried.

Not joking.

Have a look at my face being all excited and flustered;

I know, ew.

It was truly a beautiful night. Noel was almost identical to the Noel I first laid my eyes on half a decade ago when he crashed onto my television screen, Julian in tow, and made that oh-so lasting impression. The support acts were brilliant, just brilliant, well except this one flake who kept making perverted references to his daughters vagina (I really, really don't know), but him aside, just ugh. One of my favourite little memorable quips of the night came from the wonderful (and new to me) Hannibal Buress and went as follows; (when describing getting mugged)

Robber: "I'm gonna shoot the shit outta you"

Hannibal: "What? Ain't my blood enough? Fuckin' overachiever" 

You had to be there.

It was so wonderfully surreal seeing this man I had all but worshipped for most of my tween/teen years leaping about a mere ten metres in front of me. And as always there was a part of me that was begging for attention, my mind screaming "Hey, you, shiny androgynous man there, make a reference/ address that young lass in the audience that you are probably actually unable to see due to lighting but you should be able to sense telepathically because you two are just so alike, unlike all the other peasants here", but that part of me (okay I don't actually think like that, just so you know) was soon won over by the contentment of just sitting quietly in awe of this man. I was okay that he would never learn and then soon forget my name, I was okay that there would be no awkward photo plastered on Facebook of he and I gracelessly side-hugging, and I was really quite okay that I didn't get his name scribbled on one or more of my possessions (hey, I had already done that enough myself).

BUT THEN.

He happened to mention that his nanna used to make clothes for Jimi Hendrix (how fucking cool is that, by the way?) and I couldn't stop myself; Jimi Hendrix certainly deserved a "woo!" of appreciation.

Apparently I was the only one who thought so, and was subsequently the only one who let out a "woohoo" into an otherwise silent Opera House politely awaiting Noel Fielding to finish his joke.

Embarrassment ensued.

But all was okay. Becuase Noel Fielding then said "Damn, only one woo for Jimi Hendrix, woo!"

Guys. He acknowledged my woo.

That pretty much translates to him permitting to me having his babies.

Right guys?

RIGHT?!

Okay, not right. But still that set me up for pretty crushing post-Fielding depression once the lights blackened and the stage was swept. I had foolishly thought that an acknowledgement from a hero would complete my apparently empty life. Yeah, no. But once again, all is okay. He is after all, just a man. And maybe it's taken me a little bit of growing up to admit that, and I don't believe for one second that any of this makes any sense, but growing up is actually an alright thing. Fan-girling is brilliant, but growing up is important, too, otherwise there would far too much celebrity chasing and agony that one life time can handle.

So I guess what I've learnt from this experience is that even though you may think you have out grown that 12 year old  frenzied fan-girl stage in which you experience a fever pitch to rival Beatlemania, it will always rear it's head in one not so subtle way or another from time to time. And it's actually really fun just to go along with the ride, as long as at the end of the night you can be satisfied with just being in the same room as one of your favourite people.

Anyhow, this post isn't making a lot of sense, so at the very least it can double as my very first outfit post (gasp!)
I didn't pre-prepare a photo and I look horrible as I am actually about to hoist my leg onto my friends waist in that douchey pose you often see YOUNG AND CAREFREE teenage girls doing. I'm kind of winking as well, only adding to the douchey effect. So enjoy this ridiculously unflattering photo...

So uh, dress (worn as shirt) was my mothers from the seventies, skirt from Kmart (reppin' the mart!), collar cut from a shirt my brother's ex betrothed to me, fairy toys and gems hot glue gunned on by me (so handy, y'all), both flower crowns made by me, blood necklace from Dangerfield (you can see both collar and necklace better in the first photo), jacket from Dotti or some other miscellaneous chain-store, as are the shoes.

So there you go, a very small taste of le wardrobe, taken on King street, Newtown.

The lovely lady in the photograph with me is Lizzy, my fellow Noel devotee, and (almost) life-long friend. The photos are here thanks to her.

So life is great. TTFN xx

Phase one, in which Doris gets her oats.

A catch-up like no other!

So I started working for K-mart (cue Welcome To The Machine by Pink Floyd), and due to my effort in avoiding buying all the coconut M'n'Ms in the world (trust me, 'twas hard), I actually had some money to go towards buying tickets to see Noel Fielding live.

...

...

...

I really can't describe how excited I am.
Just
ugh
wow.
This is actually something my twelve year old self would be frothing over, but fortunately I grew out frothing and unfortunately kinda grew out of obsessing over androgynous British comedians. That is not to say that I'm not completely and utterly flabbergasted. But hey, moving on;
For those of you who don't know who Noel Fielding is (you're all cultured people here, I expected better (I really don't know who I'm referring to when I say "all", pretty sure I account for 96.238048% of my page views)) he's a man who does shows such as The Mighty Boosh and Luxury Comedy and is just generally great yadda yadda here's some pictures from his various projects;

It's just all good. By the way, how good are the opening credits to Luxury Comedy?

Anyhow, I bought Alice's Adventures In Wonderland and Alice Through The Looking Glass the other day and have come to the conclusion that the movies don't do the book justice. It's just so brilliant. Just give me a minute to catch up with the rest of the world. Also I was listening to The Band's version of I Shall Be Released today which reminded me of this wonderful version  I saw with Mary Travers, Mama Cass and my favourite woman ever, Joni Mitchell. Also Chrissie Hynde does a pretty bad arse version for a Bob Dylan somethingeth anniversary concert but for now here's the other version;

A minutes silence for the sixties, please.
I'm working on two other posts, so stay tuned and we shall meet again very shortly xx

I believe everything I see at the pictures

In which I document some of my favourite movies of all time.

Numero Uno: Trainspotting (1996)

A brilliant movie that covers an array of terrible, terrible subjects, such as heroin addiction, aids, infant death, under-age sex and people just generally being ratbags to one another. But still one of the best movies out there, with comedic gold at every corner and a killer soundtrack, which includes the likes of Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, Blondie, David Bowie, Primal Scream, Joy Division and many others. It's a gritty film that leaves you humorously fearful. Good times.

Number two: Barbarella (1968)

Barbarella is crappy mid-century sci-fi at it's absolute best, with flesh eating dolls, coitus pills, blind flightless angels, evil seductresses and living plasma-like goo. The ridiculous amount of convenient costume changes which occur throughout the movie is completely excusable because it gives us a chance to ogle at the marvellous outfits, which are designed by the incredible Paco Rabanne. The set is flimsy, the plot line patchy and the special effects laughable, but that's the exact point of Barbarella, poking fun at a genre that often takes itself far too seriously. Barbarella is continuously slipping out of trouble and into 'something more comfortable' with the aid of her new-found sexual prowess. So essentially, it's a story of a futuristic astronaut with killer style and a furry space-ship who continuously saves the world through 'making love'. And the starring role of two of my favourite leading ladies, Anita Pallenberg and Jane Fonda don't hurt, either.

Anita Pallenberg and John Phillip Law.

Barbarella, doing what she does best.

Having narrowly escaped the flesh-eating dolls. Time for another costume change?

Number three: Pulp Fiction (1994)

Okay, we all know how great this movie is, I don't need to spell it out for you. And if you haven't seen it already, Jesus Christ, get your shit together, you are missing out. All I'll say is hey, how great is Uma Thurman's look in this movie? Also Urge Overkill's cover of Neil Diamond's Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon is a highly commendable effort, and the scene in which Vince and Mia twist to a spot of Chuck Berry always makes me want to rent a time machine. Or a jukebox at the very least.

Number four: Across The Universe (2007)

Butchering of beloved Beatles' songs aside, Across The Universe makes a tremendous film. The visual feasts, surreal sequences and great music all make me swoon, and while I still cringe at the auto tune on my favourite songs, the guest appearances of Joe Cocker and Eddie Izzard make up for it (Bono shows up as well, but that's not the source of much excitement). Julie Taymor manages to cram a significant portion of the political and social issues floating around in the sixties and seventies into the movie, and while I think it's important to acknowledge that the sixties wasn't all hippies, flowers and free love, it feels a bit falsified. That aside, new meanings are given to songs such as I Want You and Across The Universe, which is nice and refreshing and in the end, it's a colourful musical with great music, so what's not to love?

Number five: Jodhaa Akbar (2008)

And here is where I completely shatter any illusion you may have had about my sophistication when it comes to films. Here's a clue; I have none. Jodhaa Akbar is a Bollywood movie about an Emperor who is forced to marry a woman of a different religion and it's all dramatic etc. and as well as being horribly historically inaccurate and incredibly cheesy and predictable, it is still a truly magnificent movie. Beautiful cinematography of what I assume to be the less inhabited parts of India, wondrous period costumes and two incredibly attractive leading actors make this movie well worth the three hours it takes to watch.  Hrithik Roshan and Aishwarya Rai float around a magnificent palace bejewelled from head to foot, gradually falling in love, and although there is treachery along the way, it's a pretty easy movie to watch. I know not a thing about Bollywood, but I can truly say that Jodhaa Akbar is an incredibly beautiful movie.

Number six: Performance (1968/1970)

Filmed in '68, but released in 1970, Performance is an ambitious film, filled with music, incredible interiors and really long, awkward pauses. Like a lot of films from this period, Performance lacks the pace and sound to drag it from a mediocre mess to a dynamic movie. Having said that, it features two of my favourite people ever; Mick Jagger and Anita Pallenberg, the latter's voice left undubbed, an unusual occurrence in her career. As I said, the interior of the house where the second half of the movie is set is phenomenal, which a bohemian middle eastern vibe. The first half of the movie is a bit of a bore, but for a nerd like me it's just a chance to observe 1960s London.

Number seven: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro playing Hunter S Thompson and his attorney on a drug trip through the desert en route to Las Vegas to the soundtrack of Jefferson Airplane, The Rolling Stones and The Yardbirds? Yes please. And where am I going to find a better excuse to holler "We can't stop here, this is bat country!" at sporadic intervals? Nowhere, that's where.

Number eight: Das Wilde Leben (Eight Miles High) (2007)

Eight Miles High is the biopic of Uschi Obermaier, German model, groupie and left wing revolutionary. It makes for a fascinating story filled with adventures to far away lands via an old hippie bus, rondez vous' with Keith Richards and Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, tragedy and quite a bit of nudity. The people, the fashion, the music, the settings all make my heart flutter in this movie, a must watch for all interested in the seventies.

Number nine: Singin' in The Rain (1952)

The ultimate musical, with catchy tunes, unbelievable dancing, upbeat comedy and fantastic costumes. Cyd Charisse makes a guest appearance to do a stunning scene with Gene Kelly, and Donald O'Conner pretty much charms my socks off. Debbie Reynolds is incredibly cute and Jean Hagen serves as a hilarious dumb blonde. Moses Supposes is a stand out number, Gene and Donald throwing caution to the wind and put all modern dancers to shame. It's hard to watch movies like Step Up and Honey when Singin' In The Rain is fresh in your mind.

Number ten: Bunny And The Bull (2009)

Bunny And The Bull is one of the most aesthetically pleasing films I've seen, it's an eclectic cross between the corner of a dusty old antique shop and a stack of drawings done by a four year old. Directed by Paul King, director of the Mighty Boosh and starring comedy veterans Edward Hogg (Misfits, Alfie), Simon Farnaby (Spoons), Julian Barratt (The Mighty Boosh), Noel Feilding (The Mighty Boosh, Luxury Comedy) and Richard Ayoade (IT Crowd) and introducing Veronica Echegui, a fierce Spaniard with a thirst for misadventures. The movie is absolutely hilarious, foul, and quite depressing in places. You really have to see it to believe it.

So there you have it x