Juji's Blog

Did YA catch the new Aussie tourism ad during last Thursday's episode of Lost? Well, it's created quite a furore (obviously people have little else to do with their lives). The ad features an Aussie chick in bikinis asking, "Where the bloody hell are you?" or in other words, get your sweet arse over here and spend your dollars on stuffed kangaroos. Many people have taken offence to the word "bloody" and the up-their-own-arse poms won't play the ad because of how offensive it supposedly is. Let's clarify a few things:

-Us Ockers (another term for Aussies) would never, ever, ever say this particular sentence. We would be more consistent in our usage of Ockerisms, and it'd be Where The Bloody Hell Are YA? Putting Bloody Hell and You in the same sentence is like mixing scrubbers (or trailer trash) with the hoity-toity elite social set. So, it jarred on my nerves straight away.

-If we were going to be even more consistent in our Ockerisms, we'd say, Where The Bloody Hell Are Ya, Dickhead? (Note Dickhead would be pronounced Dick-ed).

-They're lucky we weren't even more consistent in our Ockerisms, cos if we were we would have said, Where the Fucken Hell Are Ya, Dick-ed?

-Or, even more consistent, Where The Bloody Hell Are Ya, Ya Fucken Dick-ed?

Well, some of us anyway. Just cos our foundations are convicts and immigrants, many of us do know how to speak.

-The foul language I've seen on some English shows makes this line sound like Mary Had A Little Lamb. ONYA...

-Bloody is pretty mild in Oz. I'm actually surprised it got that much attention. Surely Hell should've received some attention too - especially from the religious folk. Anyhow, I reckon the Aussies did the right thing, not 'cos I like the ad, but 'cos it got lots of attention. Publicity is publicity, so maybe the whole thing was planned that way.

-Bloody is so common in Australia, I was watching a dad play ball with his kids on the beach yesterday, and the kids were messin' around, and dad goes, Give Me The Bloody Ball, Willya.

What impression of Australia did the ad leave you with?
I've heard there's a very Ocker bar in New York that serves meat pies and Aussie beer. Has anyone been?
And apparently, there's a chain of restaurants called Outback Steakhouse. Any good?

Just to set the record straight, I eat one traditional Aussie meat pie about once every five years 'cos they full to the max with calories, and I have a coupla beers about once a month. We're not all about meat pies and beer. I guess like with all tourist advertising, they pick up on the stereotypical aspects of a culture and, with my herbal teas, yoga and green salads, I must be some sort of mutant.

How do you really see us?
Juji x

Did you know that Brazil has a national Orgasm Day? We should all move there I reckon. What a great way to elevate sex to the status it deserves and not keep it all quiet and under the rug....Sex....er...rug...mmm...now there's an idea. Where was I? My imagination's running away with me....Mmmm...A fireplace... a great bottle of red...the man of my dreams......I'm all-a-tingle. Blog! Blog! Write your blog! A small town northeast of Rio De Janeiro declared May 9 (I can't wait...only 50 days to go, but who's counting?) official Orgasm Day. Yay and hooray!

What I wanna know is, why is it designed to improve relationships between 'married' couples. I was so elated about the Orgasm Day idea 'cos it's so liberated, so open-minded, so new millennium, and then they go and restrict it to married couples. No matter, I'm gonna ignore that bit. Orgasms are not the sole privilege of the wedded, nor should they be restricted to involving two people. We all know damn good orgasms can be a solo affair. Variety is the spice of life. And speaking of spices, imagine if we had only one type - say turmeric. How boring would the world be without cumin, curry and chilli? While I'm all for good, committed marriages and turmeric, us singles have the added pleasure-producing advantages of choice and variety.

Orgasm Day celebrations include a series of panel discussions by sexologists and a presentation of Eve Ensler's play "The Vagina Monologues." While that's all well and good, HOW BLOODY BORING! Perhaps all of us Friendsationers can make it a tad more exciting by planning for May 9 from now and ensuring we have as many, multiple and magnificent orgasms lined up for that day as possible. Talk about it with your friends, contact ex's if necessary, find new potential orgasm partners ideally. If you've got no one lined up, don't despair and go solo. Here's to cumin, curry and chilli.

I reckon if I suggested a National Orgasm Day to our PM, John Howard, those conservative eyebrows would knit together in a disapproaving frown that would never untangle.

What is it about orgasms that makes them so damn good?

gedeonp.com/fractals/Orgasm.jpg

Personal space. We all have it to varying degrees and the exact amount we need often depends on cultural factors and our own life experiences. When I'm about to blast someone's head off for breathing over my shoulder at the supermarket, I refrain when I realise that it's someone probably from a very crowded country where it's considered okay to stand within an ant's dick of a total stranger.

The family I came across this weekend doesn't fall into that category though. They were Aussies through and through. I was at the beach for the weekend and get a bit thingy about my personal space on the sand. That's 'cos the area between the red and yellow flags (do you have them? Where the lifeguards patrol?) gets really, really packed, and I like to kinda get into my own headspace reading, writing, listening to music, and pondering my navel without hearing mums yell at their kids and listening to people talk general crap about general bullshit. (I could pretend I'm a super hot swimmer who knows the surf and conditions well enough to not have to swim between the flags - it's certainly much cooler. But I ain't. If I got caught in a rip, I'd scream, swallow mouthfuls of water and undoubtedly die a very wet death). Anyhow, I spread my gear out really wide. Between towel, boogie board, chair, small esky and other general crap, I can take up a fair bit of space. I then left it all there and went for a walk. On my return, some family of forty thousand had set up their gear right in front of mine about two inches from the foot of my towel. Slow breathing so I didn't start hyperventilating, I decided I wasn't gonna move, so I planted my butt on the towel, and took a long leisurely lie down - so my feet were just about in their face. They gave me strange looks and started glancing at each other as though I'd invaded their space, and I remained as nonchalant as ever. Given they were lying on their stomachs, their direct line of view was me. I even parted my legs slightly to make them feel even more uncomfortable. Get a look at that, you lack-of-personal-space-awareness-freaks! I stubborned it out for a while but did end up moving later. I prefer to look at the waves rolling in and see who's catching what, rather than become a temporary member of someone else's family. One family's bullshit is enough.

When I went to Brazil, it was very okay to say hi to just about anyone, have a chat in an elevator and so on. At first, being the somewhat restrained Aussie I was the, it unnerved me, then I got used to it and slipped right into the friendly vibe. If you say g'day to someone in Oz, unless it's in a bar or club, people look at you strange as though you're gonna kill them or something. Where I actually walked when I left my gear spread all over the sand at the beach was a few k's along the beach. As luck would have it, there was a dead seal with its head bitten off lying there. I pondered a while about why a shark would bite a seal's head off and leave the rest intact? Did he see amore attractive seal comin' in on the next wave? Did the first seal taste bad? Did the shark die of food poisoning? Did a bigger shark come and bite the first shark's head off? But all that's a whole other story. Anyhow this chick took a look at the dead seal and started to walk away looking pretty upset. I said to her in a friendly, nice way, "Maybe you shouldnt'a looked". She looked at me like I was an alien from Mars about to abduct her in some spaceship I had parked amongst the sand dunes. Like all I was doin' was being kinda nice and sharing a human-to-human moment in the sombre face of death, and she looked more scared of me than the bloody headless seal all abuzz with flies. I tell you!

Everything I've written above about needing social space can be null and voided in the event you're a very cute, hot guy. I don't mind if you sit two inches from my towel, I don't mind if you sit on my towel. Come to think of it, I don't mind if you sit on me.

What sort of personal space rules apply where you live? And what's the worst space invasion you've ever experienced?
Juji x

Yeah, I know it's a cliche, but 'tis true. I'm watching a girlfriend being toyed with by an emotional commitmaphobe, and it's painful to watch! He's the windsurfing, guitar-playing superhunk I may have written about before. Girls kinda go all wobbly and ga-ga in his presence - except me 'cos I already been through that stage with him and am pleased to say I'm over it. Pleased because I used to be attracted to emotionally dangerous guys who would incur enough damage to require hours of therapy - and now I'm not. I can sniff em out pretty quickly and piss them off into the wind before they have time to say, "I'm gonna chew you up and spit you out real bad".

Anyhow, my best friend and the gorgeous one are sort of seeing each other, but no one knows about it. If you ask me, keeping it a secret puts it in a shitty space - people keep things like STDs secret, don't they! He justifies it by saying it's not good for his musician image to have one girlfriend. I say it's a wanky excuse for being able to dilly-dally with lots of chicks. Maybe he has a harem and they all keep it a secret from each other.

Anyhow, a week will go by and he won't call. She'll be mightily pissed off for a coupla days, and then jump when he finally does call, rationalising that it's not set in concrete he ring her a certain number of times per week. He had a dinner party a few months back. There was a bunch of us, including my girlfriend and he also invited this chick who's got the hots for him. This gal with adoring eyes played a sort of wifely role all night. It was pretty obvious to all that there was somethin' going on and yet he invited my girlfriend too! It's bizarre behaviour if you ask me. It's kinda like he likes having lots of girls hanging around the edges but plays all these little games to keep them unsure of their position and basically in limbo land. It's starting to make my puke! He upset her so much over the weekend she sent him a text questioning whether their relationship can continue at all - pretty strong stuff. After not hearing from him for the next 24 hours, she sent him another one - a kinda smoothing over, friendly one. Aaaarrrggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

Yeah, she's my friend. I gotta listen and support her. I can't say to her, he's an emotionally damaged individual, who likes to use you to stroke his very needy ego when it suits him, she has to work it out for herself. In the meantime, it's starting to bore and frustrate me to death. There is hope for her though as she does question whether she's too nice, too obliging, etc. As for another girlfriend of mine, there's little. She still chasing after a guy, who happens to be a musician as well, who deserted her twice through pregnancies and subsequent abortions, and then again to live with an Indian girl who's baby he'd just fathered. He's drug fucked, and I almost wish my friend was too as that would explain her behaviour - but she doesn't do drugs. She believes that she's the one she really loves. Der! It's been 18 years. GET OVER IT!!!!!!!!

What the hell is wrong with these chicks? Juji x