Has the 2010 Sydney Mardi Gras gone too corporate?

Until Saturday 27th February, the closest thing to attending a Mardi Gras parade was seeing my maths teacher on the news - wearing a fluro yellow bow tie, fluro pink tutu and a glittering wand. Not to mention he was prancing along Oxford Street like a happy lamb.

While that image has now been burnt into my retina, I was still curious to see how a Mardi Gras parade unfolded. As my friends and I were walking along the streets on Sydney, we saw a plethora of costumes and the energy was intoxicating.





By the time my friends arrived at Oxford Street at five o'clock, the street had been transformed into a colourful catwalk, with several parade participants dancing around with the trademark flag. Not to mention, the street was crowded. As my friend puts it correctly, "I felt like a human sausage".





I had to stand at the crowd for three hours before the parade began. After that, the parade started off with the 200 'Dykes on Bikes' riding up on Oxford Street. As the parade continued, I was expecting to see some witty visual commentary on their political opponents featuring in the floats. Instead, I saw advertisements for State Transit, Legal Aid and a few other corporate sponsors. I felt like the Sydney Mardi Gras was more interested in corporate relationships, then community values and local activism.

While there were a few costumes that stood out, like the Thai representative group which showed off their exquisite cultural costume - it saddens me that the parade now focuses on profit. Sometimes, I feel like they've forgotten the days where a parade couldn't go a day without a protest.

For those who attended the Mardi Gras this year - what did you think of this year's events? Am I being naive or have the Mardi Gras have gone too corporate?

Happy reading!
5ft0

*Photos courtesy of Kym Huynh

Another Blatant Attempt At Self Promotion

Huzzah!
I'm about to do it again!

Feel free to slap me if I become a show-off.

Over at The Punch, I've written an article about banks. It is a topic that most people roll their eyes over whenever they hear that word. I can reassure you that this piece won't bore you.



I can't believe my article is working alongside with David Koch's article about finance! Oh gosh, I'm definitely going to get slapped any minute now.

Another thing, I received an award from Sam on Things, Just Things.


When I first started blogging over a year ago, I thought I would be another blog that was being cool and indifferent, shuffling along cyberspace like a deck of cards. So here's seven things you don't know about me:

1. There was a time where I thought Kindergarten was the only grade in school. This was shattered when I returned from my six week summer holiday and my Kindergarten teacher at the time said, "You're all going to year one today! I won't be your teacher anymore."

As I was trying to grasp this concept, I cried in front of the whole class - because I didn't want to accept there was no such thing as year one. Eighteen years later, I can see how stupid I was.

2. I dislike mushrooms - except if it's chicken and mushroom pide or in pizza.

3. I like the small cases by Pretty in Pink. I have a mobile phone case, iPod case and vanity case in my bag from them. Friends find it hilarious. I prefer to think these as an investment.

4. There was a time where I spent my pocket money on magazines, instead of recess and lunch. I always wanted to read the latest issue of Australian Cosmopolitan - for the witty editor's letter written by Mia Freedman.

5. I love the beach. But I'm always scared of the creatures that lurk in the waters. Australia is a dangerous place, if you're not faced with snakes - you'll be faced with sharks and jellyfishes that wouldn't mind wrecking havoc on your day.

6. I'm currently learning how to play the flute and my cheek muscles are more toned than my tummy and butt.

7. I never understood why people use the phrase "Same, but different". It's useless. It can't be both. It's either the same, or its different. Another phrase I cringe at it's "Definitely maybe". Definitely means you're sure about it. While 'maybe' these days means you're not sure or according to Facebook - you're not going to the party that John Smith invited you too.

I'm going to give the awards to the following people:

Kym Huynh at Kym Huynh
Siobhan at Facets of the Fabulous
Alex at Shut Up Vita
Kate at I'm the worst blogger
Sam at I've never been good with titles
Rob at Go Forth & Blogeth
Gigdiary at Gigdiary

Happy reading!
5ft0

Remembering how to use most obsolete gadgets

I usually have a good memory. If I hear an inkling that a new technological device or trend is about to invade to Australia – I’ll snap it immediately and use it until it completely falls apart or becomes obsolete. However, I can still remember how to use years after it becomes obsolete. My short history proves this. Here I go:

When I was Year Three, I discovered Windows 95. Being 1995, my first foray into technology was using Encarta Encyclopaedia to do my homework, playing Carmen Sandiego and marvel the fact that a CD-Rom could hold so much information. Today, I’m amazed that I remember how to use all these products.

When I was 10, I got my first Sony portable CD player. I was in awe of a machine where I could listen to music while I was eating lunch at the school playground, as well as carrying a folder of CDs to listen to my music. Today, even though my portable CD player is collecting dust up in the antic, I still remember how to use it.

When I was 11, I was obsessed with Pokemon and in particular, Pikachu. Who doesn’t find the little yellow monster adorable? Today, I still remember the motto “Gotta catch em all”.

When I was 13, the 90s were coming to an end. Backstreet Boys were popular and I had a huge crush on Nick Carter. I had posters of him in my bedroom and prayed to the almighty above that he will come down to Australia and ask me to go out with him. Today, whenever a Backstreet Boys song is played on the radio, I still remember the lyrics to “As Long As You Love Me”.

When I was 15, my parents finally got a 56K modem. It took three minutes to load up eBay. Songs took about twenty minutes to download. Image websites took ten minutes to upload and downloading movies was impossible. Today, I currently use broadband but I still remember how to use a dial-up internet.

When I was 17, I received my first iPod. The screen was black and white. However, I was gobsmacked when the device had a 20GB memory, holding approximately 2,000 songs. Today, I still remember to use an iPod – even though the little gadget has been upgraded around sixty-seven times.

When I was 21, Facebook bursted into the scene and I no longer needed to manually show to my friends pictures of my recent trip to Melbourne. Today, I remember how to use Facebook – even though the widget has undergone changes than Heidi Montag.

But a few days ago, I had to use a technological device that I hadn’t used since I was ten.
I had to walk downstairs to pick up this device from the antic:


I took it down to the lounge room. A friend of mine gave me a video titled ‘The Big Gig’ video as a gift and I was bursting with excitement to watch it.

However, as I placed the VCR down, my mind went blank. I turned around and asked my sister,

“So, where do you put the video tape?”

Happy reading!
5ft0

Slow Times at my 5 Year High School Reunion

After my previous post, I decided to attend my high school reunion. I had my doubts though: would everyone think I'm still geeky? Would people think I'm a loser because I'm still finishing off my university degree? What am I going to answer when people ask for the one hundredth time, "So, what are you currently up to Tina?"

Dreading these thoughts, I had a plan: I'll hire a double D breasted hooker with lots of make-up and pretend it's me. Only problem was I didn't have $3,000 lying around my home to do that. My friends however, were against this and didn't see why I wanted a hooker to impersonate me. Though they did warn me to not wear a blazer because it would look as if I was trying too hard to impress my classmates. I haven't done anything remotely impressive, but apparently, the blazer was pushing it too far.

When I got to the function room at the Shamrock Lounge in Sydney, N.S.W - perhaps the perfect adult way to reminisce my high school memories - there were people in the room. The lounge was dimly lit, so I didn't recognise anyone.

With $300 tugged into my handbag, I decided to buy a drink. As I glanced around the room, no one's face looked familiar. This was a bad place in finding out what people I knew as teenagers looked like, if they were married, what they do for a living, who went to jail for a while. All the important questions.

Then a man aged in his latest forties came towards me,
"Oh hey Lizzie! What have you been doing since we graduated from med school?"
I couldn't move. My feet were cemented to the floor. I'm in the wrong reunion.
I answered the man anyway,
"Um hello!" I left my hand in a friendly little wave, and smiled around the room.
But nobody smiled back.
"Errm...I've just got to..." I started backing away. "Just go to..."
I turned. And I ran.

As I arrived back down the foyer, I'm panting slightly. Which is not surprising, since I've just done a half marathon along endless corridors, trying to get out of this place. I pressed the button for the lift, then paused to catch my breathe. I straightened my dress, transferred my handbag from one aching shoulder to the other, and began to walk calmly across the foyer towards the door. All I can think about is getting out of this function before anyone can...

"Tina!" comes a voice behind my head, and I froze. Shit. They've got me.
"Hello," I gulped, turning around.
It was a classmate of mine, standing right in front of me.
"Hi Tina, I'm just here to tell you that we didn't book a venue for 5 year reunion - so come down to the bar next door".

This day is unbelievable. Completely and utterly unreal.
I followed my classmate, clasping my beige tote bag tightly. I gave a nervous look to my classmate and I'm already having worrying about this reunion. What if everyone thinks I'm still pimply Tina? What if everyone thinks I'm a trumped-up unemployed uni student with no aim in life?

As I arrived at the bar, there were a few people sipping drinks. To my surprise, I realised a lot of the people attending the reunion had the same nagging thoughts as well. However, I didn't expect to feel that I could happily go back to hanging out with these people. After high school, I was able to seek out friends who had similar interests and ambitions, instead of those who happened to live a walking distance away.

I left at ten-thirty, when most of my friends had other parties to attend. We left the potent mixture of nostalgia and beer behind, realising our futures don't hinge on this reunion.


Happy reading!
5ft0

Heinz - Chicken in a Can

When Jessica Simpson uttered the famous comment, “Is this chicken what I have, or is it fish?” The workers over at ‘Chicken of the Sea’ must’ve shook their heads in disappointment.

Recently, I’ve been shaking my head in disappointment with Heinz’s new product – Chicken in a Can. Their new tagline? "Real chicken just got interesting again."
To me, it's gotten a whole lot disgusting.

I’m use to eating a succulent roast chicken which has been cooking away in the oven for an hour. Not from a can. I don’t even eat tuna in a can – so chicken is beyond me. The only meat I buy in a can is dog food. There’s something unsettling about chicken that’s been shredded to eternity, resembling more like cat food than chicken.

At the same time, I feel I am being hypocritical. Chicken has been in tinned cans for yonks, think Campbell’s chicken soup, or any tinned can soup with the ingredients chicken mentioned in the list. Or the well-known Spam, where people either like it or hate it. Why should I be turning my nose up when Heinz decides to put pure chicken in a can?

Maybe it’s the ad. It’s awful. I couldn’t think of anything worse that the possibility of chicken nail clippings in my food. Either way, I prefer a good roast chicken over a can any day.

What do you people think about the concept of chicken in a can?

Happy reading!
5ft0

Double Standards for Double Ds

Sometimes, I don't understand why society imposes double standards for double Ds. In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that Heidi Montag had ten cosmetic surgery procedures done on her, including upgrading her breasts from a double D to a triple D. What was more astounding is that people applaud Heidi for showing off her surgically enhanced cleavage.

Then you get Jessica Simpson, whose cleavage is au-naturale, is ridicule for showing her boobs in public. Recently, Jessica Simpson went out to dinner in a low-cut dress, leading to instant drama in Twitter. To make matters worse, Simpson often posts a picture of herself displaying a lot of cleavage, which caused a serious Twitter backlash. Let's face it, we're obsessed with breasts. You only need to glance a copy at the latest issue of Ralph magazine to realise that.

Though the question is, would people have been offended and insulted if Simpson's breasts were fake? I mean, women with small breasts feel shamed and are presured into having cosmetic surgery to increase their breast size. If that scares them, they can walk into in a lingerie store and purchase a push-up bra. Once they do either of those things, they are allowed to display them for all the world to see - like they're an investment.

Meanwhile, women who are blessed with big breasts are ridiculed and are pressured to wearing high cut dresses and blouses to avoid any attention.

Why should we celebrate one young woman who decides she needs ten different surgeries to make herself look perfect? While another is content with her body, but is punished. How is any lady in today's society expected to feel good?

Happy reading,
5ft0

The Lost Letter from Parliament House

This letter was found at the footsteps of Parliament House. Before the letter was discovered, witnesses spotted a scantily clad young woman being escorted from the premises shouting incoherent babble.

However, an unnamed source sent the letter to Five Foot Nothing and here it is:

Tony love,

Remember me? It’s Amelia. I’m at Parliament House now. The place is filled with security guards. I’ve only got five minutes to write this letter and not get caught.

Anyway, I was THAT young lass from the Motherland. I think you said you had some sort of promotion in your government job. I want to congratulate you on that. I can’t remember what it was though; I had one too many pints of cold beer to recall anything.

When I first met you, you were coming out of Bondi Beach, looking hot and bronzed. Those pair of budgie smugglers just sealed the deal. I always imagined Aussie lads to be fit like you.

I’m the woman of your dreams Tony dear. I’ll make you breakfast every morning and I’ll save myself for you. I’m glad you’re not a priest. I use to fancy a priest down the road. He was a good-looking lad. It was a pity he only had eyes for Jesus though. He also started talking some nonsense that women should only have sex after marriage. I couldn’t stand a lad who treated women like farm animals. I would kick him into the gutter and give him the finger.

Oh sweetie, I heard you got a little bit of bad press recently. They said you were out of touch, conservative and religious. A night with me and you can easily solve all three of those problems, I promise. The press also said the Aussies prefer that Ruddy sot over you. Blimey, people here prefer Mr Sheen over a bronzed handsome man like you? Unbelievable! I can’t believe they aren’t besotted about your good looks.

I found the press so biased; I decided to conduct my own survey. I know the media can misconstrue things so I made my own survey to put my heart at ease. This task wasn’t as easy as I anticipated. Some of the people I asked to do a survey threw sticks at me. It was humiliating. Someone like you should teach these barbarians some manners! You don’t throw things at people.

While I’m at it, it seems like people think you don’t have any strengths. Silly colonials, everyone has their own strengths. I do too. I have the ability to down five pints of cold beer in eight seconds. It helps when Happy Hour comes to an end. Your strength Tony dear, is your Aussie accent. I fancy a man with an Aussie accent, it makes you manly. Also, I’m glad to hear that you Aussies are still loyal to the Motherland. Good to see you colonials are even more loyal than we are to the Royal Family.


Before we commit to the next step in our fairytale relationship, please tell me that what people are saying about your views on climate change isn’t true. A lot of people I did survey said this. Please, tell me it isn’t true. How else do you explain Antarctica is becoming smaller every year? Think about those poor little penguins! There is such a thing as global warming. I know deep down sweetie, you believe this is happening. Poor thing, this survey makes me realise you cop a lot of flak from the Aussies. Don’t worry dear; people bully other people for no apparent reason.

I don’t want to upset you Tony darling, but here are some of the responses the surveyors wrote:

Ruth, 71, Mona Vale

I find Abbott a hypocrite. He’s a Christian, but does un-Christian things like condemning migrants for embracing their own values.

Larry, 54, Kings Cross

He’s old-fashioned. He’s a homophobic prick who dislikes change. How can you be a good politician if you can’t embrace new ideas? It scares me that the Liberal party voted a leader who is so out-of-touch with current issue.

However, a few people had nice things to say. Here is one:

Amelia, 21, England

Tony Abbott? That man is sex on legs. You Aussies produce good-looking lads. Keep it up!

Oh bollocks! The guards are coming towards m-