foolishness and fervour

So my local paper contacted me for a profile piece interview since I am a finalist in this year's Australian National Youth Week. I happily obliged like any bona-fide publicity junkie, and made arrangements to meet the journalist lady in my natural habitat i.e. my house. This idea was met with parental disdain and I was told to 'meet elsewhere'. No sweat, except for an easy phone-call to change arrangements, right?

WELL KIDS, this is where you luck out on a story, on account of I am a very foolish lady! I rang the office, only to speak with the editor, explaining that ah-well-I'm-supposed-to-be-interviewed-but-I-uh-foolishly-forgot-to-note-down-the-reporter's-name-and-well-I'd-like-to-speak-with-her-please. And the editor was accommodating... after she burst into a spontaneous chorus of hysterics. I'm not talking obligatory polite chuckle after the supermarket checkout man cracks an unfunny comment about your vegetables ('What do you call epileptic lettuce?' -What?- 'Seizure salad', ba-dum-ching). I'm talking the kind of laughter only reserved for Flight of the Conchords and really inappropriate moments. I like to think conversation with me was the single-most defining moment of her career. So yes, I may be old and obsolete in a month's time, but I will still have relevance as pathetic entertainment value!

Back to being an ANYW finalist, clearly it's something I can add to my list of potential reasons for why I am a great catch, sitting in between 'I am not allergic to your cooking' and 'I can consistently look like I am in need of sleep'. I don't intend to win, and I did not ask for votes this year (Voting closed two days ago). Some of you loyal readers may recall me being in the same position last year, and extending a plea for votes. YouTube responded kindly, I won, and I was and am still very much appreciative. This year though, I didn't have any insatiable burning pride for my composition, so I didn't bother asking for support. I don't want to be someone constantly dependent on the support of her subscribers, so please, please give me a decent roundhouse kick to the face when and if I become that way.

Just in case you care, today marks my two year anniversary with YouTube. I thought it would be lovely to have a video up for today, but my intentions are as weak as Stephanie Meyer's writing flair (oh I went there!), and they invariably fell flat of materialising. I haven't been prolific in video-making this past year, but I feel recharged and inspired to give my channel an overhaul. I have been putting something together, a re-introduction of sorts, which I will put up within the next few days. Still shots from said project:

To attest my seriousness in a channel overhaul, I opted to forgo the trusty webcam, and actually filmed with the DVcam. Jump cuts will be banished! Sequences will be utilised! Final Cut Pro will prove victorious over iMovie! Water will taste like badly fermented beer! In short, I don't wanna be an amateur no more.

Aaaand I've been playing around with image post-processing lately, as can be seen on the new blog page banner and the following image:

As I am the most accessible and practical model for, my post-processing frenzy has undoubtedly lent itself as a valid excuse for cam-whoring, mmhm!

I even lookbook'd:

Also, my stomach is currently purring like a whiney cat. I think the acidity (lime, baby, lime!) of my dinner is not being especially kind. Yes, I discovered that lime, pepper and salt make a decent salad dressing. Lime is deliciouuuuus, mmm.

Time for goodnight, si?
Buenas noches.

Oh, post script, if you're keen, I made an mp3 of 'I am giving you a chance to walk away' available for download. But that's only if you want. I don't want to be accused of cyber-bullying!

another gratuitous post

So, I'm currently editing away at another project Hannah and I are working on. I won't say more than it starts with a "p" and ends in something that rhymes with "tornography". You wish I were kidding*. And true to my ever-generous fashion (that, or my gross-inability to keep things to myself), I have decided to bombard this space with some still shots from our shoots, most of which came from yesterday.

You may or may not see an appearance from my favourite Min. Now peruse:

*I really was kidding.

Love, etc.

I am sipping Muscato from an ikea glass as I type up this blog entry. Drinking by myself in the presence of HTML is clearly the most redeeming aspect of my life. Since university is done for the semester, I have nothing but infinite relief and a desire to kick children. Some parts of aforementioned sentence may or may not be false.

I was watching The Burning Plain, typical of Guillermo Arriaga's screenplay style (Babel, 21 Grams), & I am now compelled to divulge my love for J.D. Pardo.

Now I realise, I disclose new loves about as frequently as I fulfill the necessary function of pissing, but let this habit not detract you from noting how real all my loves are. I also love having minimal cellulite and un-chapped lips.

Oh...AND HAYLEY G HOOVER. I love Hayley G. Hoover!

She's so beautiful... she could be a part-time model.

And I digress!
Yesterday, I accompanied Dad to his workmate's wedding, for the purpose of flexing the photographic muscle.

We weren't commissioned or asked, so this was purely for the practice. Goran and Michelle, the gorgeous couple:

Aaaaand, I leave you with a moneyshot that the papa took:

Sorry for a verbally-uninspiring entry. I'll attempt to man up, and blog about real issues next time. Real issues like sneakers not costing that much cheaper even with little kid slaves making them!


My mother loves her chocolate more than most things in life. If she had to only save one between her chocolate or her firstborn in the event of a fire, I might not have a promising further life expectancy. The point of this is she loves her chocolate, and she keeps watchful tabs on her stash of favourites.

Currently, there is a box of (my mother's) Lindt chocolate balls hiding in the corner of the lowest shelf in the pantry. It's delicately savoured, painfully rationed, and heavily accounted for.

Stepping into the kitchen this evening, I was greeted with, "Nikki, why did you eat four of my chocolates?!" Such is the peril of being the fat kid of the family - the default of eternal blame for missing food rests on my shoulders.

Anyway, I didn't eat them and Isabelle denied knowing anything about the box being opened. What I am alluding to here is not the fact that my family is a throng of hungry liars. What I am alluding to is the fact that I AM NOT LYING WHEN I SAY THERE IS A GHOST IN THE HOUSE.

Seriously. Things routinely go missing, and by 'things' I specifically mean delicious, edible things.

On the topic of delicious and edible things, I had an orange and a mug of green tea for dinner tonight. I briefly reflected on how proud I was of my ability to flex the willpower muscle, and I even thought, "For once I have the meal plan of a skinny girl!" Then I smelled the tempting aroma of pizza on Isabelle's plate, and I caved like house of cards after a nearby sneeze. I ate a slice, and I hang my head in shame because I am now devoid of any inspiring anecdotes about willpower and conquering the beasts of the gut! Sorry guys.

To break the monotony, here is a picture of some girls in an assortment of vivid clothing:

It was my dear Marcus's superhero/villain themed 21st. He made an absolutely convincing Wolverine:

Aaaand this is a picture where I attempt to kill my first ever human through suffocation. Joe was no unwilling volunteer (<- double negative; english fail) :

Aaaand, in an effort to continuously push remaining uni final assessments from my mind, I will continue to waffle on about things that don't remotely interest you, such as the state of my fingernails (newly-cut, unpolished) as well as the fact that I watched (and enjoyed) two Pedro Almodóvar films (Volver, Habla con Ella) yesterday with mein papa.

He deals with such heavy themes in a brutally casual light, at first I didn't know whether to be offended by his almost dismissive handling. Then I remembered that I only ever take offense to the people in front of me walking slowly and being called sane, so I quickly abandoned any initial feelings of offense for aforementioned movies. If you like your irony seasoned with quirks and served on a bed of black humour, I absolutely recommend them.

Yeah, I think that's my quota of words for the day.

Night, loves


& if I die today, I'll be the happy phantom & I'll go chasing the nuns out in the yard