Controlling clouds

Cloud Control are packing up their guitars, soaring harmonies, drums, ambient synths and folk sensibilities, for the blustery Britain.

I feel like a lovesick teenager, harping over a lost love and pondering deep meaningful thoughts about how to pull off a pensive (yet alluring) pose. Tricky stuff.

Why must you leave the Blue Mountains Cloud Control??

At least they're setting sail in style and not sneaking off with their tail between their legs.

They're throwing a going away shindig - "incorporating bands, DJ's, arts and video over multiple stages inside and outdoors" at The Factory Theatre.

Sounds like an opportunity to re-inact "Pretty in Pink". Perhaps along with my dancing shoes, I'll wear my heart on my shelve and declare my love for Cloud Control during the 'end of school dance'?

Rotten Apple

I pity the fool.

In this case the fool is not the male "model" in the apple suit, but me. I unwittingly broke my sister's Apple Mac. Unfortunately the warranty does not cover stupidity.

It'll be another couple of days until i can get it back, in the mean time i've been running amuck at gigs and impostering Shirley Temple.

My hair is so ridicuously short, i've given up on anyone comparing me to Molly Ringwald from the Breakfast Club. Perhaps i need to employ some of those hair growth tips i posted earlier....

Lost in Translation

For all my hype about Halloween I forgot that I’m one lazy Susan.

Instead of painting the town red in Dracula Spectacular makeup and madness, I followed Scarlett Johansson’s lead in ‘Lost in Translation’ and wore a pink wig.

It would have been so much more fun to dress up like Bill Murray. Next year perhaps.

Donning the blushing bob has inspired me to visit the hairdresser today and chop off my hair.

When i was younger i was jealous of girls with straight glossy hair. It would shimmer and glide over shoulders or be swept up in high ponytails with ease and grace. I had a frizzy, mousey mop of tangled curls.

I was oblivious to hair products except when used in toxic amounts by Boy Band members.

I eventually tamed the frizz was tamed, a few years after I took a punt and dyed it red. Oh happy day.

I want an avant garde hair style, like in the Kaaz Yearbook. I want something completely unattainable unless maintained by an army of professional hair stylists, enough hairspray to crave another hole in the ozone layer and a blowtorch. Or at the very least an industrial strength hairdryer.

But ruled by reason and a lazy streak, I settled with a bob, Molly Ringwald style.

Now i just need to learn the lipstick trick.