Mendacity

Channelling La Wintour today, with a couple of stacked sparkleneckpieces.

If only I had her job, friendship with Baz and CM, forehand and daily blowdries.

Speaking of polished façades and shiny surfaces, am continuing la quest to spruce up the old girl’s (aka Palazzo Trivialista’s) make up.

Her tessellateds are being redone by the indomitable Frank, tiler to the fine wallahs of the inner-west, but I need to decide on a ‘riser treatment’.

*Note: stunt stairs in use; not the Palazzo’s landing strip (STOP IT!)

No, it’s not a potion to help you spring out of bed, it’s what you do to the in-betweeny bits on your stairs.

Tossing up between these two:

Found them at the venerable Chippendale Restorations, where I occasionally go to fondle heritage artefacts. Always overwhelmed by the acres of doors and windows.

Was slightly alarmed by these instruments of torture:

But fondled them nonetheless.

Whinged on Facebook about my dire blowdry on Sunday. Visited a petting zoo in the afternoon and was, oddly, transfixed by this exotic chook. Couldn’t understand why until I realised it was like looking in a mirror. Obv some mad hairdryer-wielding man had slathered her weeny head in mousse and ‘fro-ed her up, too. See the downward droop of her little beak? She’s Not Happy Jan. And I get it.

Or maybe la beak is downcast at the parlous state of Australian political affairs. The level of discourse is high — NOT. Those trumped-up high school debaters and their backroom boys and girls calling each other “bed wetters“? That’s an insult to developmentally-average three-year-olds. All of them oozing smug self-righteousness as they label each other “mendacious“? (Embarrassed to say I had to google that one, but LOVE it and will deploy it daily.) PaulinefarkingHanson smeared all over my telly, again? I thought that fake-ranga nightmare faded around the same time as the bootleg jean. This go-round the numb-nut’s calling for a “Royal Commission into Islam”. What the fark??? Cripes, I’d rather have a screenful of Cersei Lannister stumping for the High Sparrow (before she fried him alive).

Srsly need to get La Mamma Seriousimo onto those Lithuanian passports. It’s all so sane, La’m sure, in the hallowed political hallways of Vilnius. And I bet they have killer heritage tiles.

Ciao x