Wednesday, April 28, 2010


So yesterday I bought this beautiful coat:

Okay, it is purple. It is a little short in the arms, but with something with a long sleeve underneath and maybe a black leather glove, I KNOW IT CAN WORK. it's all about the Jackie O drama-collar and a big pair of shades right?

When I bumped into my girlfriend Luke, I asked him if he thought it was (and it's a favourite question of mine) "TOO FAGGY?".
Pausing for a moment, and mustering a dead-pan manner that you would never imagine possible for someone with PURPLE HAIR, he responded: "well, it IS a ladies coat...."


Throughout my life, as many of you know, I have worn many a woman's garment, with varying responses. Who could forget, at a friends birthday drinks around 6pm at the Gaslight, I showed up in a red satin, leopard printed "secretary" blouse complete with Pussy-Bow, and was subsequently surprised when my entrance to the pub was greeted with an uproar of laughter?

There was also the year or so where I firmly believed a coloured stocking with a matching wig was a veeerrryy good look. At a Auckland Sunday Star Times shoot for "Sexiest Aucklanders" (lol I'll NEVER GET OVER THAT ONE!) I wore an exquisite hot pink silk kimono by Miss Crabb.

I've fallen down stairs in thigh-high lace-up patent leather stripper heels. I don't think I've EVER bought a pair of men's jeans, and most nights of the week, my face will have at the very LEAST a lick of bronzer and a smokey eye courtesy of MAC.

It seems to me, in an age where we should know BETTER, there still remains a stale whiff of meaningless rules regarding what sex can wear what clothing. It doesn't make sense to me. So with that in mind, I'm going to continue to wear WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT, regardless of whether the garment was designed for someone with a cunt or a cock.

Because lets face it. You don't need a Pussy to wear a pair of heels.....You just need the feet to put in them....


Tuesday, April 27, 2010


There is a belief, amongst boring arseholes, that fashion is superficial. I suppose it is easy to form this opinion, given that a lot of the core values of the industry are based upon an obsession with beauty, glamour, youth etc. I guess the reason that this belief has always surprised me, is that it seems to bypass the pure joy of living that fashion celebrates, and the rebellion it stokes against the often dreary, depressive factors that comprise day to day living.

When I was seventeen I went fruit-picking in the apple and pear orchards in the South Island of New Zealand for three months (!). Tripping on Acid for most of the time, and WELL AND TRULY OUT OF MY ELEMENT, I picked up a copy of Marx's Materialistic Conception of History in an op-shop. Marx argues that the basis of all laws and moral codes is the construction of a stable, functioning economy, not any innate willingness of people to do "the right thing". For example, The seven Commandments "Thou shalt not steal" was created so that people would be proactive in creating industries, because they knew that no one would take their shit (protecting the investment of their personal labour), and that if they wanted shit they had to work for it themselves and not steal it.

This had a profound affect on me. Though I had already suspected it, it sealed my belief that the best reason for living was to create Art. For, if we are not put on this earth to tally-up good deeds to ensure entrance to "heaven" (lol), and everything we know about right and wrong is built on the formation of a functioning economy, then surely the best way to spend the brief 75 years or so we have on earth is wrapping ourselves in the world we have created: Music. Art. Film. Literature. Fashion.

Okay so obviously that was a bit of a fucking ramble. My point is, Fashion, I feel, is the least superficial of all the human faculties. The reason? like it says in The Devil Wears Prada: "We Live Our Lives In It". There is not a SINGLE person on earth who is not touched daily by fashion. The first boy you kiss, The first time you fall in love, the first time you have bum sex....all of these things are connected, at the very least physically, to the clothing you were wearing at the time.

Wearing clothing is the easiest way to impact the world around you. It is the quickest way to express who you are, without words or actions. It's true that what we wear is only on the surface-a picture....but that picture can speak a thousand, million, words.....


Monday, April 26, 2010


Look I realise it's Tuesday, and we're almost half way through the fucking week. It's just that I have a well established tradition on long weekends to absolutley trash myself beyond recognition, as some of you probably know.

Last weekend was rather more hectic than usual as I had my first solo stylist gig on Sunday, with photographer Morgan Hyslop, dressing the girls from They were really cute and totes HOT and I layered them like nobodies business in truckload of feathers and rags and shit. Naturally I'll post a couple of pics up when IM ALLOWED....

but back to last week......

FABULOUS: what I loved last week:


Spring 2010 is heavy on crystal worship (the legal kind) and this little number is the perfect piece to channel your inner pagan goddess or shaman....HAIL TO THE GUARDIANS OF THE WATCHTOWERS OF THE WEST I INVOKE THEE! Think Fairuza Balk in THE CRAFT (the one that goes crazy but wears loads of excellent dog-chokers) and Cher in The Witches of Eastwick....


These two are the owners of new venue HUNKY DOREY SOCIAL CLUB above that seafood Restaurant "the Balkan" on Oxford Street. SWOON!!!! They look like surfers from the 1970's responding to a dare to be hotter than the Kings Of Leon... I managed to get a sly peak at the place, which is under construction, mid last week. ITS OFF THE CHAIN! there are three intimate levels, with an amazing balcony covered in potplants with a mezzanine on top of that with views to the city....I CANT WAIT....


In my fantasy, Mark Ronson is wearing nothing but these shoes, a big grin and telling me he's going to produce my debut album then flicking on his ipod to the song that he made for me with Lily Allen and making love to me for 48 hours.....Seriously is there nothing this man cannot do????? love the polkadots. It's time to get DANDY boys...


Okay IT'S ACTUALLY STARTING TO HURT TO LOOK AT THIS BITCH. She can do no wrong. Shes a satiny Oasis of pastel blue with a touch of Lawrence of Arabia, all held together by a perfectly coloured Birkin and kick-you-in-the-cunt platforms straight from Studio 54. Kill Me.

VILE: what i loathed last week:


So. I was pretty excited about the re-opening of Flinders, especially when I found the majority of the owners are the boys from KSUBI. It was a bit of a let-down. I knew that the crowd would ve-ry Bondi, but figured what with historical hijinks of those boys it would be a special night. It wasn't. Admittedly I didn't stay for long. But essentially the place is a pub. It could be so much MORE! Of course, I will give it a second chance, so hopefully I just got a bad first impression....


Oh, Sheryl. This is a fucking floral dish-rag. NEVER teem a three-quarter dress with boots, it makes you look like a dwarf. Get back to me when you've got a LITTLE RELEVANCE, be it music or fashion.....


oh god how gooood does it look?

GET ON MY SCREEN!!! The original Grey Gardens documentary on the lives of American Aritsocrats and dishevelled Fashion Icons "Big" and "Little" Edie Beale is far and away my favourite doco. HBO has long hyped the release of it's TV series based on the film, starring Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange. I'm so looking forward to seeing Drew in something that isn't a Rom-
Com train-wreck, she actually rules. I CANT GET IT ANYWHERE! surely if they are watching it in the states it must be available SOMEWHERE? Can anyone help?????



Okay, Okay so obviously I've been a little absent blog-wise of late. It's just that, what with alllll of the insanity of the long ANZAC weekend, the truth is I'm still recovering from a vvvvverrrryyyyy big weekend.....

Anyhow I awoke to find M.I.A's new music video "Born Free". It's kinda a little more gutsy and almost punkish than a lot of her other stuff, and even though the story for the clip is about Rangy Gingas, it rocks me to my very core:

Gimme a coupe of hours, twenty coffees and a half pack of Peter Styvesants to get what's left of my mind back, and I'll post my list of The Fabulous and the Vile of last week. ...


Thursday, April 22, 2010


As has probably been established, I'm a total whore for a fur coat. I'm talking a spread-my-legs, pillow biting, eager little hussy, who's more than happy to DO ANYTHING in pursuit of a good fur. Actually scratch that. The fur doesn't even have to be particularly good. The tattier, more fucked-out it is, the more I love it....

I know there are those of you out there who disagree, in light of the cruelty necessary to produce a fur coat. I shudder at the logistics myself. But fuck it, millions of animals are slaughtered annually for everything from food to acrylic nail glue SO WHATEVES BABES, in for a penny in for a pound, YOU GOTTA MAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES, and if they they're gonna be killed anyway we might as well get something really pretty for our wardrobes right????

In celebration of the beauty, the glamour and the downright GENIUS of fur, I'm gonna share with ya'll two of my favourite clips involving chicas with Fur...and, YES, they are both black AND WHAT NIGGA?


What is that Diana, Like 50 minks? Then you just throw it on the stage like it ain't no thang? GOOD GIRL!


Okay so she's not technically WEARING IT, but she has covered every conceivable surface in the pelt of a very rare jungle cat, THAT"S GOTTA COUNT FOR SOMETHING....PS this is like, my favourite song ever, obviously.....


Wednesday, April 21, 2010


So yesterday I assisted on this AMAZING beauty shoot.

The story was about these trashy rich bitches in furs and Armani and Cavalli and Barbara Hutton-esque jewels (as in the woolworth heiress who, in the depths of the 1930's Great Depression inherited $150 mill only to die 50 years later with $2000 in her chequeing account after pissing ALL of her fortune away, mostly on jewels that she then gave away to strangers, INCLUDING a tiara made for CATHERINE THE GREAT!) and loads of slutty latex and silky lingerie.

Here's a lil' sneak peak.

After we wrapped, Cassie and I realized that we (like most in the fashion industry) were STARVING!!! In a stroke of genius, she suggested we get some Singaporean Mudcrab at this dodgy little upstairs restaurant with pussy-pink muslin curtains and a big happy chinese lookin' guy on the sign outside:

who's a happy crabman???



Congratulating ourselves on discovering a new hidden treasure of Sydney Dining, on the way out we were confronted BY THIS:


Sometimes it feels like you can't even scratch your fucking arse in this town without the Ronnies having already been there, done that! You gotta give it to the girls though, they know a thing or two about was!


Tuesday, April 20, 2010


Everything is re-he-he-he-hEALLY hectic right now.

I've just worked my balls off assisting on a film shoot, on 12 hour days starting at 5am (!) with only plunger coffee and NOT EVEN a hint of crystal meth. I have entered a kind of whoozey, shrunken eyed, half alive state that I imagine my bonghead friends (you know who you are) inhabit constantly....

Tommorow I'm working on a shoot for Noise Magazine. The stylist I'm assisting ( Cassandra Scott-Finn ) is the kind of girl that has more furs than Elizabeth Taylor, more shoes than Imelda Marcos and more feathers than Big Bird. I'll let you know how it goes......

Anywho, a couple of weeks back, I discovered this chick:

BUNNY HOLIDAY & POP LEVI: "teach me how to bunny"

She's just the sort of bitch I have mucho respect for. She's slutty-lookin'. She like's a fur. She's starving-looking. And even though she has no talent to speak of (other than being able to give bangin' fellatio to record company executives) she's gonna release her own music. And THEN just to spite those haters, she's gonna be sooo bored she barely opens her mouth to sing ANYWAY MMMMKAY!

I thought I'd share. It's so fucking good hey.


Monday, April 19, 2010


I've always been hysterically fond of Grace Jones. An unflinching beast of a performer (in a good way), not only does she always look the bestest, she's even more off the chain and unapologetic in her advanced years:

Through the blaring mindfuckery of her album covers and the odd paparazzi picture in the media, I've always been aware also that she is completely psychotic. I even once read in a magazine that our Grace went to a party in the late '70's entirely NAKED aside from a necklace made FROM THE SKELETON OF A MONKEY! GENIUS!

Today on, I read that this raving looney has ACTUALLY TURNED DOWN THE GA to collaborate on a song that would probably make her sssssssqqqqquuuiiiiilllllliiiiiooooonnnnssss!!!!


"Grace Jones is not a fan of Lady Gaga. Mostly because she is pissed off that she is making her gig work payoff twenty years later. Grace was the 70’s-80’s avant-garde equivalent to Gaga. She was a Studio 54 star back in the day and a one-time Andry Warhol muse…and she is not amused that Gaga is cashing in on the weird girl schtick better than she ever did.

She is so not amused that she refuses to collaborate with her.

“I really don’t think of her at all. I go about my business,” Grace told the UK’s Guardian newspaper.

The singer/model/actress and all around legend told the newspaper that the reports were true – Gaga had asked to collaborate with her — but Grace turned Gaga down.

“Yes, she did, but I said no,” Grace said. “I’d just prefer to work with someone who is more original and someone who is not copying me, actually.”

When asked if she thinks Gaga borrowed style ideas from her she replied, “Well, you know, I’ve seen some things she’s worn that I’ve worn, and that does kind of piss me off,” she told the newspaper. “I wouldn’t go to see her,”

Fair enough Grace, though shame about the truckloads of money from the duet that she could of used to buy WHOLE CONTINENTS worth of animal bones to make into jewellery.

I have to wonder though, why, after Lady Ga was savagely upstaged by Beyonce in both "Videophone" and "Telephone" filmclips, she wants to place her skinny southern-fried-chicken-starved body next to yet ANOTHER bootylicious homegirl?

Don't get me wrong, I love the Ga. We All do. But Beyonce and Grace? THOSE NIGGERS GOT SOUL..... Ga Ga needs to learn to leave well alone.......

Saturday, April 17, 2010


FABULOUS: what I'm loving this week....

Die Antwoord-"Beat Boy":

I was only just exposed to this hot mess and it's fair to say I'm completely losing my shit over it. If ever there has been a moment when I've wanted to uproot my life and move to a South African trailer park with a twelve year old blonde hooker IT IS NOW!

Faux Fur:

So I got this for a song at Mr Stinky on Cleveland Street. It's all about giving Leon Andre Talley a run for his money and teeming it with a brightly coloured pant and a shirt and a tie. Alternatively, a slouchy boot and some sloppy trackies would be a verrrrrry good thing.....

Food Fabric:

The endlessly talented (and basically the only heterosexual man I know who isn't a complete pig) Paulie Bonomelli is making something out of this fabric at the mo. It's TOTALLY AMAZEBOMBS! He works heaps with Romance was Born, but he makes his own shit too and it's NEXT LEVEL.....

American Apparel BUTT magazine tee:

LOVE IT! the peachy-salmon hue matches perfectly the sweet little ring of every boy you've ever loved (or rimmed).....

Wearing clashing patterns:

Dare anyone NOT TO LOOK AT YOU by smashing their eyes with hypnotic, clash-fash patterns....

Rainbow Hair:

Now that you're a grown up, you can dye your hair ANY fucking colour you want!....As merciless style icons Emma Mulholland and Luke Sales illustrate, ANY means EVERY!

VILE: what I'm loathing this week....

Jlo "Louboutins:

Jlo is soooo over. It's kinda sad. What is she doing trying to copy Beyonces "very bad bad girl gaga" line???? Even if she's being tongue in cheek it SMACKS of desperation. At least she's still got, ahem, her acting career....oh, wait.....

SJP on the cover of Vogue:

No. I'm really, truly sorry, but I will NOT accept SJP as a style icon. We all have our guilty little Sex and The City moments, and yes, Patricia Field IS an amazing stylist, but this dried up, veiny-handed ole bag o' bones (and not in the good way) has gotsda go....

The only people going out are fucking hens:

With what feels like SECONDS before the start of Sydney Fashion Week, everyone is staying up all night pulling together collections, shooting, assisting, calling their mum and crying and just generally FREAKIN' OUT and staying locked up in studios instead of taking pingas and going out till 2pm...

Toy Watches:

Remember when everyone had a Baby G? You can't go to the fucking convenience store these days without seeing twenty million Toy Watches on the wrist of funkster losers AND I'M SICK OF IT!!!!


Friday, April 16, 2010


I used to be really fucking hot. Ask anyone. I went to a personal trainer twice a week (a crazed hair weaved Indian-British woman with a boob job and a Posh accent), frequented the tanning salon, and had really lush natural looking foils in my hair. I was dating a celebrity designer. I HAD MADE IT!

Then somehow, I went from this:


These days, Let's face it: I look like fucking Courtney Love. On Heroin. In Fancy Dress. As you can see, I'm totally embracing it. I may have lost my lovely toned figure, but there is a silver lining. Im totally skinny now. AND NONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS WILL EVER TAKE THAT FROM ME......

Thursday, April 15, 2010


She prances, she dazes, SHE STARTS ALL THE CRAZES, shes kisses shes cuddles, SHE DANCES IN PUDDLES

Shes Glitter, Shes GOLD, She Colour-Blocks BOLD....A printed pant that's her thing, ACCESSORIZED WITH TONNES OF RINGS

You'll never be SOLEMN with EMMA MULHOLLAND!!!!

I first met Emma Mulholland late one seedy Taylor Square night at Aaron MacDonald’s 90’s party at Taxi club. It was a good friend of mines Birthday, and also happened to be the night she finally found the woman of her dreams, became a lesbian and never looked back, but that's another story.In the midst of all this sexuality swapping, M People (and a fairly robust consumption of illegal stimulants), I was introduced to a sparkling jewel of a woman:

Emma Mulholland.

With enough bleach in her hair to sanitize several hospital wings, a pair of monopoly printed Moschino satin pants, and a hat fluffy and furry enough to make Blossom jealous, I knew we were to be fast friends.

And so I present, in all her fearless fuck-you-fashion-i-know-better glory, a photo-essay on the genius of Yemma, Emma, Mulholes, Mulholland.......




Pretty in Punk: Fuck Anarchy, she wants Romance through Ruffles, chiffon and sequins.....


Baby got Back, get ready to swoon, it's a dancefloor attack,GIVE HER ROOM TO BLOOM!!


Luscious in Lanvin....




Gravity is optional, and mostly accepted by boriiinnnnggg people.....


The Poetry of Pastel....

With a fine-tooth comb, a bit of a hard-on and postively SIMMERING with green-eyed jealously, I asked a few questions about the priceless treasures of Emma Mulhollands wardrobe.....

-The piece of clothing that epitomizes me :

its hard to pick, my monopoly trousers I wore when I first caught your eye....... several pairs of high waisted shorts i wear on high rotation.... pastel designer blazers....

- My favourite item that I’ve stolen from a friend :

It wasn't really stolen but I think the "trade" i made with luke for the ying yang top traded with those really inappropriate slutty shorts worked out in my favour.

-The biggest piece of shit I cant bear to get rid of :

all the rings that constantly make my fingers go green, the denbo load of friends that constantly play drinking games in my courtyard......cheese..Reese Witherspoon,

-When I want to pick up, I wear:

a terry toweling Romance Was Born terry toweling pink rabbit playsuit normally does the trick, but if all else fails......a really big hat.

-What makes me most feel like a whore:

a maxi dwess and a spray tan Size 10 kitten heels

-My biggest out-fit regret:

I regret nothing. Except maybe everything i wore from 2000-2006. Puberty hey.

-If I could keep only one piece it would be:

my chanel bag and my fwiends

-The wardrobe I’m most envious of:

that would have to be Chers in clueless.... the computer, the technology, the leopard prink backround...the plaid. Obviously also the Ga.

-My most Epic wardrobe malfunction:

When i showed up pantless to the VMAs............I mean that vodka halloween party.

-It’s controversial, but:

I don't care what Dion Lee says .....I don't mind those miu miu clogs. Or wedges. . Madonna is really good. I liked lady gaga before most of you. Im really drunk. Shauns not a natural blonde. Neither is Luke. I am but. So sucked in.

-In my coffin, I’ll be wearing:


And with a tap of her canary yellow Givenchy jellies, a bedazzling flash of costume rings, and a momentary straightening of her salmon-pink, fused silk Dion Lee jacket, Emma is Outties, presumably plotting her next earth-shattering, so-good-it-makes-you-stagger look, all the while laughing in the face of the rules of fashion.....


Wednesday, April 14, 2010

#4 New Season Romance Was Born

So I had a really fabulous, fascinating post concept for today.

And then I managed to get so fucking boozed last night at le Oxford that I seriously can't be bothered. It was the kind of shitfaced where the people I was drinking with were ordering cider at the bar and I was screaming for a vodka-rocks AND a tequila shot. Fast forward to three pm today and I awoke on a mates balcony-daybed with a bottle of Zubrowka (bone dry aside from the bison grass) and cigarette filters strewn as far as the eye could see. It has become obvious that my love affair with liquor will eventually turn sour(er) and I WILL HAVE TO GO TO REHAB someday in order to live any sort of fulfilling life, but that day is not today, so I'm gonna play my fucking violin while the Titanic goes down and drink myself silly until I find Jesus or a good heroin dealer or whatever it is those losers that give up the sauce do.....

Anywho, before I completely wrecked the shit out of my liver, I went and picked up my new, fucking excellent Romance Was Born bag:

I also managed to get a sneak peek at one of their new prints. Needless to say, former Queen of Brilliant prints Josh Goot is gonna shit his pants. Its so good hey.

Think psychedelic Dinosaur nightmares in vulgar, thrashing colours and your kind of getting the picture. Of course, I cant publish a photo because Luke and Anna would tear me a new arsehole, but I can show this pic of work being done on a really shithot incredible one-off dress that's going to be in the show:

Actually, the R W B studio looked kinda like a sweatshop. The chicas were embellishing the shit out of padded bits of fabric, and they had that crazed, starving "twelve-year-old-Indonesian-working-for-two-dollars-a-day" look. Then Nella explained that she'd given up carbs, we high-fived, and the rest of the night is any ones guess.


Monday, April 12, 2010

#3 Ugly Shit In Shop Windows

In keeping with Sydney shopkeepers apparent unquenchable lust for really foul clothing, I've documented a few store windows that make me really wanna scratch my eyes out.

Shockingly, these businesses are located within a ten metre stretch of "premiere" Paddington retail Real Estate. I'm all for equal rights for cripples, but honestly, letting blind people dress your window is simply going too far.....

When you're a hundred and fifty years old and you've accepted that you're more likely to survive being plunged into an active volcano than ever, ever having sex again, this is where you shop......

Why bother sourcing new material season to season when it's just as easy to rip down the moth-eaten, mildew-ravaged curtains of abandoned government housing estates and use those for your collection instead????

Now, come doesn't matter HOW much you love your own Vagina, there really is no need to start shamelessly copying it's whole look. Can anyone else just smell the fishmarkets when they look at this?

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

#2 Sticky Fingers: A Commentary on Clothe-Stealing

This morning I felt pretty fucking cute:

Fully Stoked with my outfit, and patting myself on the back for yet another Little Edie Beale-Saluting look for the day, it hit me.

I did not own or purchase a single garment on my body.

Of course, clothes sharing between friends is an ancient and sacred ritual. When confronted with the limits of one's own wardrobe, it is most sensible to replenish what one has, temporarily, with items from the wardrobe's of the people you love. In celebration of this, and in the interests of figuring out where the bloody buggery hell I GOT ALL THIS SHIT, I've tracked the begged/borrowed/stolen stuff I'm wearing today:

HAT: For legal reasons, I cannot mention how I obtained this hat. Use your imagination.......Oopsie

TEE: I don't know if he knows I have it, but Luke Sales of Romance was Born (a dear, beaaauuutttiiiffffuuulll pal whom I have vowed never to attempt to out-drink again) lent this tee to his cousin whom I was flatting with at the time. I then borrowed it, moved house without returning it, and live in fear that one day will be busted sporting it in his company. Christ it does wonders for my collarbones.....

SPECS: A short term loan from Nikita, who got them at a market in Columbia, a trip she insists was not embarked on for the sole purpose of hoovering cocaine.....I beg to differ.....Even though wearing faux "nerd" glasses is the quickest way to look like a douchebag, these are good coz they look wooden, somehow making it okay....

TROUSERS: Looted from the personal "dress-up" bag of Dion Lee (which is a whole world more faggy than you would think from the way he dresses), which, for a time, served as my day to day dressing resource. There really is nothing not to love about a poorly executed "Versace" print. They make feel Filthy Rich.

BOOTS: On an Easter Weekend bender I ended up in Alexandria at 10.30am missing the sole off one of my shoes. Hobbling to a mates later that evening for a divine Holiday Dinner, her friend Cassie Scott-Finn lent me these little pieces of genius. Lucky, as i needed SOMETHING on my feet at 5am the next morning on yet another nosebag pickup mission in Botany....

Finally, Oh The Horror:

UNDIES: Left by the former tenant of a room I moved into. Shit, I didn't even know the guy. Now that I think about it, it's kinda hot......

In short, Keep the clothe-loans comin'....I'll probably never return them, but I probably look better in them anyway babe.....


Tuesday, April 6, 2010


The creation of this blog is the result of a recent realisation about the nature of my personality.

After an incident involving an ex-boyfriend in which I drink-threw, physically assaulted AND posted a ficticious facebook headline regarding his STD status, it came to my attention that I have a reputation for being a bit of a pyscho....

Go Figure?

Furthermore, whilst visiting my hometown of Auckland, some friends from Sydney found themselves at a houseparty playing a game of Guess Who?. The game involves two players with a board each, and each board is covered in tabs with animated pictures of different people on every tab. (Thats me with the moustache)

Each player chooses a person on one of the tabs, and is a process of elimination through the asking of questions to discover which person the other player "has". For example ( bear with me): "Does your guy have red hair?" if the answer is no, the all the flaps with pictures of people with red hair are flicked down, eventually leading the player to the discovery of the identity of the person your competitor "has".

As you can see from the above pic, this particular game of Guess Who? had been customized with the faces of Auckland scenesters, one of which, of course, was me.

One of the players "had" me. The game-deciding question was:

"Is your guy a complete pyscho who tried to ruin such-and-suches life?"
"Is your guy Shaun Thomas McGill?"
"Yes...godammit that was toooo easssy!"

Naturally, when this story got back to me, I was MORTIFIED. And then I momentarily paused. Reflected. Hell, I even took a second away from stalking an ex-friend through facebook to really think about it....

Had I actively pursued the destruction of another's life? YES.

Had I hated the hateable with as much irrational passionate vigour as I could muster? YES.

Had I jumped on the back and tried to gauge the eyes out of an enormous, butch, tattooed ex-con Lesbian in a gay bar after she called me a Fag? YES.

Christ, the more I pondered, the more it dawned on me that I am perhaps THE MOST pyscho person I can think of, Courtney Love included....

And so, with that in mind, I made this blog to share with you all a view of the world from the slightly dilated, twitching, magpie eyes of a TRANS TASMAN PSYCHO.