-
Raising a gifted child.*
*fingers crossed. It’s hard having a gifted child and I should know this better than most, because, recently I’ve discovered I have one myself. He’s about yea high, and about so-so wide, he has eyes, a nose, a tongue and not to boast, but two ears – which I’m happy to announce have found an ideal home on either side of his head. At age two he’s already packed so much into life that it puts mere mortals to shame – he’s slept for most it, defecated for a large portion of it, learnt to say ‘cock’ when he means ‘chicken’ and managed to make my once pert breasts now…
-
Breastfeeding for the well-endowed woman.
I’ll be honest. Breastfeeding didn’t come easily to me, in no small part due to the enormity of my breasts. At 42HH it wasn’t like I could just drop a silky camisole strap while chatting over a latte, no my breastfeeding experience was far less social and a whole lot more Bad Boy Bubby. To give you an idea of what 42HH looks like – sure you could Google it (be warned that breast size seems to appear alongside a lot of people who have had concrete ass implants for some reason), or you could imagine two 4 kilo twins dangling from your neck as they punch you repeatedly in…
-
Road Tripping with a baby…
How I survived* a road trip with a 10 month old. (*barely) Six hours in to our return road trip from Sydney to Melbourne when HE started to grumble. It was a slow build at first. A disgruntled 10-month-old baby, uncertain of where He was, why He was there and understandably annoyed with having to face backwards when all the fun seemed to be happening in the forward-facing seats of the car listening to My Dad Wrote a Porno (what! He’s 10 months old! It’s not like he knows what a taint is any way or how to even put it to good use!) But within minutes’ whatever revelry –…
-
The Truth Behind This Photo.
(totes click-baited you) It’s still an odd feeling, getting out of bed, getting everyone out of the house and then sitting down to write…for money. Odd because even though I’ve written nearly every day since I was 18 and even though I’ve been paid for my work and often, it has taken until I turned 37 to actually acknowledge that this is what I do, it’s how I pay my bills, shit it’s what I write on my immigration card when traveling. I was lucky enough to have a bit of success early on in my career, at 18, but it…
- Mums and their sons, parenting, People I don't want to know, Relationships, The Adventures of Mum and Dad, Uncategorized
Worlds Best Parent. Ever. Full Stop.
I have to admit I was riding high, thinking I was the best new mum in the world when I went to my second maternal health check. Sure we didn’t have it all figured out, but from where I stood, we were smashing it – bub was still alive, we were yet to drop him (on a very hard surface) and I’d started vacuuming our carpet at least once a month in anticipation that he might, you know, one day crawl and the last thing I wanted was him choking on the remnants of a truffle flavoured potato crisp from our earlier, decadent child-free days. There was no hiding it,…
You May Also Like
Best Birth-Day Ever
-
Warning: Toilet Humour (or How I Learnt To P** Again)
I read once that a guy was so constipated that he took a hot shower, bent over and tried to spoon himself out. It was a success and that spoon is supposedly still in circulation today. A true hero’s journey. Why do I mention this? Because I too once thought the idea of removing a shit with a spoon was beneath me, that is until five days after having my son, I found myself hunkered over a hospital toilet, toothbrush in hand, contemplating a similar fate. Here’s the thing. No one tells you that your first shit after having a baby is going to quite possibly be a worse pain…
- An adequate mother, Lady stuff, Mums and their sons, parenting, pregnancy, Relationships, She got in trouble again, The Adventures of Mum and Dad
Best Birth-Day Ever
By the time I reached 36 weeks, I think it’s fair to say, I was not the poster girl for pregnancy. I was the pregnant woman anyone thinking of getting pregnant needed to avoid at all costs. There was no glow. No increased libido. No ethereal photoshoot by the seaside with my partner’s arms wrapped around my naked belly. Wheelchair-bound thanks to crippling back pain, vaginal spasms (yes, yes it’s completely ok to be aroused by my writing of ‘vaginal spasms’’), a 35 kilo weight gain and a constant flow of discharge – I looked like and felt like a creature you’d find living under a bridge, picking at an…
-
With All Seriousness
‘You’re a mum now Lou’ my friend informed me as I sat before her, tea in hand, despair draping my face. ‘You’re going to have to learn to deal with it.’ I silently opened a packet of Teddy Bear biscuits as she continued. ‘You’re just won’t be able to be funny anymore. Happens to the best of us. I use to be fucking Conan O’Brien till I had kids. Now everything I say comes across as if I’m giving a speech at the Hague.’ And just like that, she had confirmed my deepest fears – that now I’m a mum, everything I say and do will forever be read and…
-
Hello Leakage, my new friend.
Date night. Soft candles – check Billy Joel love-making soundtrack – check Dog locked out – check Temperature just right – check Billy Joel love-making soundtrack destroyed in mysterious house fire – check Incense…lots of incense…because we can’t quite seem to shake the smell of – ‘Urine’ my partner confirmed. ‘The whole room smells like urine.’ Then he sniffed me. ‘It’s you. You smell like wee.’ ‘That’s ok’ I cooed ‘it’s just a little leak, we can push through.’ I burped – ‘wasn’t me’ I giggled ‘it’s the baby. They must be awake.’ And with that, my partner rolled off me. ‘You really smell like wee, it’s quite intense.’ I…
-
Where’s My Murphy Brown?
Last week as I wandered the streets looking for purpose, I overheard a woman and her friend bemoan the current state of television. ‘I miss family shows you know? Like, The Cosby Show and Hey Dad.’ Her friend nodded in agreement as if she too had been stuck down a mine shaft with her companion for the last three years… I watched as they continued on their way, no doubt going home to old VHS recordings of The Jimmy Savile and Rolf Harris Variety Hour while eating Subway sandwiches. Nostalgia can be a powerful thing. It makes us reflect on more ‘wholesome’ times, even if most of the time we…
-
Dream A Little Dream
I’ve always been a firm believer that if someone, even with all the best of intentions, feels the need to unburden last night’s dream on you over coffee, it’s ok to end the friendship there and then. They’ll understand. If not, in time they will. They will. But being the massive hypocrite I am, I’m now that friend, the one with the dreams, and I just have to talk about it. The other night I had a dream where I had to mediate the Weasley Twins from Harry Potter as they navigated a polyamorous relationship they were in while identifying as pansexual and admitting an attraction to each other because…
-
Diary of An Adequate Mother
A few months ago I found out I was pregnant. ‘How did this happen?’ I asked legs spread atop the toilet seat, testing for the third time that morning. ‘You pretty much did that’ my boyfriend replied smugly, motioning to my legs akimbo. Now to be perfectly candid, we had talked about having kids for while, even getting a rescue dog at one point and naming it ‘training baby’* but talking is theoretical. I’m the greatest mum in the world, theoretically. A Full House remount is great, theoretically. The new Milo bar was meant to be great, theoretically! My point is, lots of things are great theoretically, but the actual real…
-
I love you, just not what you’re into.
Since we nearly broke up a few months into our relationship after I told my Lord of The Rings loving boyfriend (JK) that ‘I didn’t care for fantasy’ I’ve made a concerted effort to champion his interests while remaining detached and uninvolved. Like he’s really into historic drama TV shows – Vikings and Hell on Wheels type stuff. Sometimes he even insists we watch them together so I try and make a game of it, guessing how far into an episode I’ll see a woman’s breast, or her rape or perhaps her sale to a wealthy landowner. He’s also really into reading books about dogs, which is cool, if that’s…
You May Also Like
22 isn’t too young if they have arm hair. Fact.
-
An update.
-
Give So I May Brunch
Dear Reader, It’s not often I ask for help. I’ve never been very good at it, what with being a lone-wolf, renegade adventurer, blogger. But today I out to my friends, I can call you that right? You see, the other day I went for brunch, dressed in clothes that I would come to realise, could also function as a cloak of invisibility. As I entered the well-lit inner city café/bookstore/ carb intervention centre, for a moment I thought perhaps I’d made a mistake and fallen upon the sign in booth at the start of a triathlon or at the very least, a competitive Mother’s Day power walk. For as far…
-
It’s been 132 days since my last diet.
After over two decades of being on a diet, yep 20 years and I’m only 35 (I could’ve raised a teenager in that time, or at least two primary school aged kids), quitting dieting is like deciding to stop brushing your teeth. It’s gross and there was the chance that giving up on brushing my teeth, like not dieting might also make me less desirable. I mean if I wasn’t lemon detoxing I wasn’t living. That makes me come across like a superficial bitch but you’ve got to understand, for years I’ve seen myself as one of those women that come across like they might be on a diet, could…
-
To all the one handed typer’s I’ve loved before.
Alas, no blog this week as I smashed my hand up after seeing James Patterson talk last night and I’m a dreadful one-handed typist. I blame James. But to make up for it here is a video of Bella the Staffy Pup who doesn’t want to wake up. See you next week dudes x
You May Also Like
The Reader: Your Literary Career: Choose Your Own Adventure by Lou Sanz
-
I’d F**k A Funny Woman Any Day.
I find women funnier. I just do. There, it’s said. It’s out there. For years I’ve taken a diplomatic stance – funny is funny no matter what the gender, no matter who is telling the joke, but who was I kidding, give me an Amy over an Arj any day. Now by no means is that meant to be taken as a disparaging comment on the Arj’s of the world, it’s just that my pen is inked from a different well, um, a well of ladies. I was born this way. From the moment I came into the world, as my mother looked at my tanned skin and joked between puffs ‘oh look, she’s nicotine stained’…it…
-
The Importance of Being #beautiful
Dove recently launched another of their ‘every women’ campaigns with #choosebeauty. Their campaigns successfully work on the self-deprecating, self-hating woman, you know, the one that doesn’t know they’re beautiful, like really beautiful inside and out until a major advertising initiative tells them so, all set to muted tones of blue, cream and other unobtainable minimalistic basic design shit. It’s important being beautiful isn’t it? Like really, really important. Forget health, forget love, forget kindness, it’s all about beauty and if you’re not conventionally beautiful that ok because we’ve got you covered – unconventionally beautiful? Or maybe you’re big and beautiful or better yet- beautiful on the inside? Oh man, we’ve…
You May Also Like
The Reader: Your Literary Career: Choose Your Own Adventure by Lou Sanz
-
‘What is your story?’ – a much more rewarding question.
When people ask me what my cultural background is I like to set them at ease by telling them I’m half second generation Australian. If you put the word Australian in there it makes them feel better like they could be friends with you. I bring this up because it’s something I’ve been thinking on since Australia Day and whether you celebrate it or not, I think we can all agree on the same thing, being Australian means different things to different people – like to racists it is a day to drape a flag over your car and drive around yelling out to people like myself to ‘go back…
-
How being Confirmed only confirmed I couldn’t be Catholic anymore.
‘The day of my Confirmation arrived and I marked it by wearing a brand new pair of floral culottes and a cream gypsy blouse. I knew how to play the game and had dressed accordingly – as an adult virgin.’ It’s not easy been 12 years old at the best of times but for me in 1991 things were tough. I’d lost out on the school captaincy by one vote because my rival had strategically asked one of the more influential voters of my year out on a date prior to the election, and as such, defeated, I’d been relegated to Vice School Captain. They didn’t have a badge for…
You May Also Like
Best Birth-Day Ever
-
It’s a Straight Issue.
‘As far as I’m concerned, everyone – gay or straight – has the right to be as unsure and skeptical of the institution of marriage as I am.’ I watch wedding shows. Heaps. Say Yes to the Dress, Four Weddings, anything with David Tutera in it. I watch them to see how the other half live. They’re my version of Animal Planet. When a bride turns to camera to share with us that they’ve dreamt about this day since they were a little girl that to me is the same as David Attenborough telling me that male Koalas have two penises. WFT? Mind blown! Really? And there is where I…
-
What The Big Bang Theory Can’t Teach You – To commit.
I found myself looking at my fiancé last night thinking, that if our relationship had played out on a TV sitcom we would have broken up at least 500 times by now. In truth we haven’t broken up all, not even once, haven’t even got close. Even through all the long distance, the late and complete out of sync work schedules and meeting the parents, we’re still together and happily. That didn’t stop my thinking though that if we were Leonard and Penny in any episode of The Big Bang Theory (TBBT) none of our struggles to stay with the one you love would count for anything, especially if, lets…
-
I’m a good person. I’m a dog owner.
I’m a dog owner. When I say it like that it sounds more loaded than it actually is. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, society says I am because I’m a dog owner. To give my position in society more gravitas I can also tell you that my dog is a rescue dog. I can also tell you that I wrote that line whilst sipping on an almond milk latte in Brunswick. I bet you can tell what sort of person I am can’t you? If I let you know that she’s a staffy and I named her after a lesbian bouncer I once met called Roxy it…
-
Martha Arthur (a short film I co-wrote/directed)
-
Man it’s hot in Melbourne.
It’s really hot in Melbourne at the moment. You might have figured this out from the barrage of Tweets from Melbournites proclaiming it to be ‘f**king hot.’ A heat wave in any major city is a great test to see how your fellow residents might react in say an armageddon. The Family Have you seen or read The Road? If you have it will give you a slight indication of the harrowing desperation a family displays in a heat wave. If you haven’t, someone eats a baby to survive and the way I saw a mother push a young Goth out the way for the last remaining bottle of coconut…
You May Also Like
Road Tripping with a baby…
-
Teaching Your Lover to Drive by Lou Sanz
Over the last few months I’ve been teaching my boyfriend to drive. Life got in his way and he never got around to getting it. I’ve learnt to accept this excuse as an ingrained narrative of how his life has played out thus far. Relationships I’ve learnt, for the most part are a lot about letting things slide. I’m good like that. The first thing you’ll realise when teaching a lover as opposed to a child to drive is that deep down you still have a need for them to not leave you and to like you, really like you. You also have to make sure their self-esteem is…
-
2014: I’ll probably fail, again.
It’s New Year’s Eve and I’ve still got a script submission to finish so I’ll be brief. I’ll try to be brief. Look I might fail to be brief and so what? Who gives a fuck about failing? I do. We all do. I failed a lot this year. I even wrote a show about failing. That failed too. 2013 was not one of those years that I’ll look back on and think ‘that’s the year that defined the Sanz legacy.’ It is most likely a year that I will look back on and need reminding that it fell between 2012 and 2014 – ‘Oh that 2013….!’ But of…
-
Being fat in the ’90s.
I was fat. See this photo. In this photo what you see here is me, sitting, being fat. I was probably being funny too, cause that’s what fat girls do best, funny. You can’t see it, but I reckon everyone in the room was laughing at something I’d just said. Somebody probably peed his or her pants. So back to the photo and me being fat in it. I know I was fat because at the time this was taken I was constantly being picked on for my weight whether it be by ‘friends’ in the playground, or ‘friends’ of my parents commenting on my ‘full figure’ or my grandmother…
You May Also Like
Where’s My Murphy Brown?
-
What Would Miranda Kerr do?
I’ve started keeping a gratitude journal. I’ve been told it’s something Miranda Kerr does. The idea is that you find at least 5 things to be grateful for each and everyday and by keeping a list of them you can reflect back on the good things in your life, making the bad things, well trivial and in making them trivial give them less power in your life. It sounded right up my alley so I was eager to get the gratitude ball rolling. Before I started though I had to give myself some rules so that my daily entries didn’t read like an ode to just ‘making it through the…
You May Also Like
With All Seriousness
-
Everyone can’t love us and on occasion we can barely be liked.
Everyone can’t love us and on occasion we can barely be liked. I finished up a new show I performed on Saturday night. It was the funnest (yep I’m using that as a word) show I’ve ever done. It was also the bravest as I made a decision not to use my usual safety net, to try something different, to do a slightly different show each night. I was immensely proud of it. It got a really lovely response. People contacted me via my website and other social networking to let me know how the frankness of the show spoke to them – that was a first. It also got…
-
Review of latest show ‘Lou Sanz Speaks Easy’ Melbourne Fringe 2013
I decided to do a show without a safety net, something that was different every night. It’s the show I’m the most proudest of. This is a review from Crikey written by Patrick O’Duffy. Review: Lou Sanz Speaks Easy | Melbourne Fringe Festival Patrick O’Duffy writes … Eighteen months ago, Lou Sanz was sitting pretty thanks to the success of her award-winning comedy show Neverending Storage. It should have been tours, yachts and rent boys from that point on. But the thing is, when you’re on top of the world you have further to fall, and instead of moving on, Lou found herself paralysed by anxiety, fear of failure and crippling…
-
Sanz Surprise Birthday by Lou Sanz
It’s my birthday tomorrow and what I’m doing for it is a surprise. Yep, I’ve been told to just wear something that makes me feel good. ‘So I can wear my new fluoro pink tracksuit then?’ I asked. ‘Sure.’ My boyfriend replied. ‘Really?’ ‘Yes, but understand, you’ll be more embarrassed than me.’ Well played, well played sir. The first surprise birthday I ever had was when my sister was born, the day before my 8th birthday. As such my party and life as I knew it was cancelled – SURPRISE! This naturally brings me to the second surprise ever thrown for me. In an effort to make up for…
-
My mother kept her maiden name and I didn’t lose my sense of identity
I’ll admit, I have a complicated name. I’m one of those people with two official sets of ID but that’s not the worst of it – my mother you see, kept her maiden name and so I also have a double barrelled surname, but not a hyphenated surname, because my mother argued, even back in the 70’s, that her and my father were two separate people, with two separate names. The government however did not agree, and made my mother make her maiden name one of my middle names. So for the first few years of my life I was Louise Marguerite Woodruff Sanz. My mother however stood by…
You May Also Like
The Reader: Your Literary Career: Choose Your Own Adventure by Lou Sanz
-
How You Made Me A Bad Person
I’m going to write something in a moment and straight up it’s going to come out sounding like I think I’m a better person than you. It’s not the case, trust me, I’m so self-deprecating that I still don’t think I’m ever going to top this one day in 1984 when I received the ‘Best Cursive Writing Award’ in primary school – an award I had to make and give myself, an award deserved nonetheless. So here it goes: In recent months my partner and I have given up gluten. Yep, notice how I used the partner as opposed to boyfriend and yep, we’ve given up gluten, as in, this…
-
‘A Letter to the photo I never wanted taken.’ (published in ‘Sincerely’ – Woman of Letters compilation by Penguin Publishing)
A traditional school photograph, me with my two black eyes, alongside my brother and his sexually ambiguous haircut (I can say that because we’re related). This photo once represented my scamp-like nature. When people looked at it they would often remark, ‘Oh my, how did you get those two black eyes?’ And I would laugh and say, ‘Oh, that’s just a result of my scamp-like behaviour, of course.’And then we’d all laugh, and their general delight in me would flow on further throughout the night and well into the morning. It was a photo that sparked conversation. It was a photo that ignited a thirst to know more in all…
-
Tropfest Official Trailer 2013 – written by Lou Sanz
-
How it feels to be dumped by a Friend by Lou Sanz
(This article first appeared on the Daily Life website www.dailylife.com.au) As women, we’re often bombarded with music, literature and movies about break-ups with lovers. But when it comes to being dumped by a friend, we often struggle to find a way to articulate how devastated we feel and how to go about reconciling this loss in our lives. I know all too well the pain that comes with losing a friend, for I myself am a veteran of the friendship wars. A few weeks ago as I left the bathroom at a local pub I ran into a woman who up until 12 months earlier, I would have considered…
-
Neverending Storage takes out Critics Choice Award at Sydney Comedy Festival
Nevending Storage ‘*****’ Time Out, Sydney Winner ‘Time Out Critics Choice Award 2012’ There was a surreal moment right at the beginning of the night in which one audience member audibly groaned and started animatedly discussing with her partner whether they should stick around, after Sanz made what would have otherwise appeared to have been a throwaway joke about how her show wasn’t actually about the 80s family movie classic The Neverending Story. But take heart, audience member: you may have been disappointed by the relative lack of sweet, sweet Falkor action, but at least you got to see one of the best shows of the 2012 festival. Sanz is a writer by trade…
-
As appeared in The Lifted Brow – The Summer Magazine , January 2012. COMMENT Lou Sanz Recently, I had the terrifying feeling that I’d run out of things to write about. In my panic, I found myself attempting to convince an ex-boyfriend to get back together with me, say only for three months—you know, just till he hit that bit where he could turn into a cheating wanker and I could become an irrational thespian, shredding his prized Pixies t-shirt by a freeway alongside an open flame. There’d be no hard feelings and after three months, we could simply walk away with just enough damage done to fuel my…
-
‘Fish gotta swim, Girls gotta try’ – yes, it’s nearly Valentine’s Day (the story they rejected)
I’ll be honest; I’ve never really had a proper Valentine’s Day. It’s through no fault of my own because god knows I’ve tried. Dressing up as boxes of heart shaped candy, yelling at random men in the street ‘ ok who wants to eat me; I have a soft centre, taste of strawberries I’ve been told, or you could pick a flavour, I’m cool with that too…oh god, look at me! Why won’t someone love me!…look at me!’ So like I’ve said, I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried. Having recently been dumped by my boyfriend, less than a week ago to be exact, I’m expecting this Valentine’s Day that…
-
The Day I Met the ‘not Karen character’ from Will & Grace and the woman who peed with her pants on.
I spent some time in the US this year mainly performing, mainly spending a lot of time on Skype trying to make myself still an attractive propspect to my boyfriend back home at 2am in the morning, mainly trying to smile at the passive aggressive remarks of Midwest men like ‘ you know, your stuff would be funnier if you weren’t a woman…you know your stuff would be funnier if you didn’t have that Australian accent…you know your stuff would be funnier if I found Mexican’s attractive…you know your stuff would be funnier if you didn’t write it yourself…your stuff would be funnier if I wasn’t attracted to you, but…
- An indulgence of sorts..., I'd read this if I was you, I'm not 'special', People I don't want to know
Australia, the land where wog brown isn’t real brown.
I read an article in The Age recently, because yes, the newsagency had sold out of Grazia – BAM! No, I was really reading The Age and no it wasn’t something I’d already read a week earlier on the Guardian Newspaper website and then was re-reading syndicated as ‘our’ news in ‘our’ newspaper, no this was proper Australian news, an entire article devoted to the ‘perish the thought’ idea that Australian women are more likely to list their ‘absolutely cannot live without beauty treatment’ as spray tanning over leg waxing, like I said my brain is actually perishing at the thought. I mean imagine the site of it, furry…
You May Also Like
The Reader: Your Literary Career: Choose Your Own Adventure by Lou Sanz
-
‘The Girl Who Looked Like a Man’…as read by Lou Sanz
Here is a reading of my story ‘The Girl Who Looked Like a Man’ from my show ‘Not Suitable for Children’.
-
‘Let’s Get Wet Together’…as read by Lou Sanz
This is a reading from my new show ‘Not Suitable for Children’. A collection of children’s stories not at all suitable for children.
-
I’m not a slut but I do like to walk.
‘Hey slut!’ my girlfriend yelled at me as I greeted her for a coffee. ‘I’m reclaiming the word’ she informed me as I sat down opposite her in my denim-on-denim ensemble. ‘Yeah, I gathered as much’ I bemoaned partially because I knew where this conversation was headed and in no small part because the cafe she’d insisted on meeting at didn’t do soy milk. ‘It’s fine’ she said ‘I don’t know why it’s such an issue for you. Just get skim milk. Same, same Lou.’ This is why I needed a boyfriend, not for any other reason than to avoid these type of catch-ups. I imagined friends of old…
-
Matt Day Homewrecker aka Australia’s very own Angelina Jolie
Last night I was woken by an anxious friend calling me from overseas concerned that her boyfriend was on the verge of cheating on her. ‘It’s horrible, like I know he’s not right now cause he’s making me a smoothie but when he asked if I wanted avocado I just thought of my god that’s her vagina and him making me the smoothie well that’s just him metaphorically f**king her.’ ‘With the avocado?’ ‘No, she is the avocado. Don’t you see?’ ‘He’s not going to cheat on you with an avocado, there’s not enough room’ I mumbled as I rolled onto my side and was greeted with my flashing clock…
-
Adventures with plastic babies and other things I’m not allowed to play with
Dragging a discarded bassinet through the streets of Brunswick I couldn’t help but marvel at the wonder that is ‘hard rubbish day’ as I yelled out at no one in particular ‘has anyone seen my baby? I told her to hold on…damn babies.’ My housemate said nothing as I dragged my latest find into our house. After a moment the tension got too much. ‘Do you really think we need more bassinets in the house, you know given you don’t have an actual baby?’ ‘You say that like I’ve got a hidden stash of bassinets hidden under my bed, like some sort of crazy baby lady.’ We both said nothing.…
-
I prefer to handle my own dishes
I’m never good at buying Christmas presents. I always seem to get outdone. Like the year I got my friend a double pass to the movies and then his girlfriend rail roaded me by giving him a baby. It’s not that a Hoyts cinema pass can’t compete with a new born child; it was just the way she did it, all legs akimbo screaming his name. I went for a more a dignified approach having placed his tickets in a carefully chosen Wrongside card which featured the adventures of a dog trying to teach his owner how to roller skate. Classic Sanz. I remember months later he rang me up…
-
I’d prefer a gift voucher over you for Christmas, no offence.
I’ve never been one for Christmas parties, or parties in general. A lot of forced conversations with people I wouldn’t normally make eye contact with on a tram, who make remarks about nuts, giggle at the word nuts, have a few drinks and then later in the evening ask you if you like nuts, giggle when you say you’re partial to a cashew, then pull their own ready-packed nuts out and ask you to sit on them. Over the years I’ve become a virtual hermit when it comes to the festive season, I’ve also developed an acute allergic reaction to nuts. But this year I changed my mind. I decided…
-
The Reader: Your Literary Career: Choose Your Own Adventure by Lou Sanz
Ok, so someone once told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Harper Lee and you thought yes, yes I do, and so of course the only logical thing would be to become a writer. And so that’s what you’ve decided to do. Great. Welcome. Pull up a chair. Can I get you a drink? No? Of course, me too, I never drink before midday either. Now before we go any further I’m going to get you to grab a pen, because to be a real writer you’re going to need a few things: latent carrier syphilis, a cravat and a Twitter starter account for writers (follow Stephen…
-
22 isn’t too young if they have arm hair. Fact.
‘Is 22 still too young?’ I asked as I watched the object of my distraction lie naked say for a few well-placed bubbles, in a bathtub on my local Hoyts cinema screen. My friend heaved her fist back into her popcorn for one/ for both of us to share. ‘Yes, she said, in this case it is.’ She took a sip of hers/ mine diet coke. ‘We’ve known him since we was like 13 years old.’ ‘But surely if there’s grass on the wicket it’s kosher to play cricket?’ I glanced at the now ex-Harry Potter actor on the screen, dressed in nothing but a samurai sword and a belt,…
-
Sexy adventures with Cankle Lady
Coming home from a gig on Saturday night realising that if I managed to make it home by 9pm The Bill would be in full throttle and even with my comprehensive knowledge of back-story I’d struggle to keep up, I stood waiting for the illustrious No 19 tram. Not to worry, I wasn’t alone. I had the luck of keeping company with a couple of teenagers/burgeoning football team and when I say a couple I mean not enough to terrify me into a gang bang, but enough to have quite clearly justified their purchase of two slabs of Jim Bean & Coke. Not that I’m a snob in the traditional…
-
I like my friends, conditionally.
I like my friends. I find it helps. However sometimes I get the distinct impression that if faced with a ravenous mega crocodile in a swamp they would throw a bucket of fish guts over me and then run for the hills watching from afar as I get torn limb from limb, stopping only to remark to each other ‘poor Lou, she’s just always in the wrong place at the wrong time.’ This thought came about after a good friend of the ‘I just met him at the gym and he was the one and now we’ve bought a split level apartment together in Woollahra and I thought I knew…
-
A minor faux pas
Standing on my train station platform I thought about my new financial year resolution; to move away from meeting men at arts industry based events such as music festivals/ library borrowing queues / openings/ other festivals/ readings and the video store. So far it was going well; I hadn’t left my house in over a month. Eventually however, after advice on airing out my bedroom I found myself on a train station platform with a good looking young man standing next to me. Sure it was a crowded platform and one could argue there were really no other options as to where he might stand but in my mind what…
-
I’ve started wearing tracksuits
Often when one thinks of romance we conjure up images of young, nubile (look, maybe that’s just me and my penchant for being able to bounce things off walls) creatures, fornicating on a deserted beach at sunset, declaring a love that need not speak its name, unapologetically crushing the pink tinged roses he’d bought her at the start of their date… To be honest though, after years of getting sand in my crutch and never been given flowers, when I think of romance it’s slightly more evolved, having changed from whispers of sweet nothings to something more along the lines of that if I’ve been seeing a guy for a…
