January 2012

The bookshops are closing down, the Mom & Pop bookshops can’t compete with the online retailers, Borders closed in Singapore and elsewhere, and everyone is talking eBooks – Kindle, Nook, iPad…. Things are changing slowly, quickly, imperceptibly and my panic is starting to rise. Please don’t take our bookshops away from us? I love technology. I’ve been involved in the industry since the mid-90s. It’s exciting. We can do things we never dreamed of five years ago, let alone 20 years ago. I’ve rarely resisted technological advancements, with only one exception – I took ages to switch to a digital camera. That was a change I just couldn’t come to terms with, but I got there in the end and I’m glad I did – although digital cameras do not last as long as the old cameras. But changing to ebooks? That is something I really don’t want to do, although if things keep going the way they are, I may have no choice. I love books. I love the way they feel. I love the way they smell. I love mashing them up, folding the pages and sharing a great read with someone else who loves reading the same stuff. I love writing on the pages, circling the great stuff that touches me deeply so I can remember and savour it. I love reading and I want my boys to love it too. While many women enjoy a massage or a facial for relaxation, true bliss for me is spending a few uninterrupted hours in a bookshop – going through all of the sections, reading the back covers, and usually walking out with five books to devour. I don’t want to read a book review online. I don’t want to read a book synopsis online. I want to pick up the book, turn it over, read the back cover, read about the author inside the front cover, read the comments of the critics and then decide if this is one for me. Choosing my books is random. A front cover may grab my attention, the title, or the picture. It may be in the Best Reads section, or a book might fall off the shelf as I walk past. How I choose books is part of the experience of being in a book shop. I also love the people in bookshops. There is every demographic – young, old, male, female, black, white, yellow, red or brown – we’re all there. Some elegant, some shabby, some stressed and some calm. We don’t talk to each other, but our combined love of books is communication enough – it is part of the experience. I am also intrigued by the sorts of people – especially in the Fantasy section. I’ve loved Fantasy for more than 30 years, and I’m always curious about who shares this passion as I watch them peripherally. Sometimes we actually even speak. I can’t do this online. I can’t find random books to pick up. Sure the technology can recommend things to me based on what I’ve read, but I don’t want to read the same types of books – I want to read every type of book, across every genre and I can’t do this in a virtual world. It also hurts my eyes looking at a computer screen all day – I don’t want to have to do it at night as well, or whenever I get enough “downtime” to read. If you’re with me, head down to your local bookshop and spend money. Don’t do it online unless you have to. We need to help keep these businesses alive. I’m worried, I really am. Please don’t take our books away? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I just thought he was hot! In December I shared my first lesson of parenting – and there are many many lessons to share – but one I’ve dealt with quite extensively in recent years is “Don’t Fight the Fashion Wars.” This lesson came to light recently when a Dad I know and love was dealing with his little lady insisting on wearing her plastic Disney heels everywhere. He wasn’t happy. My journey down this path started when Lex was three. One day, he decided he wanted to wear his pyjamas ALL the time. To start with I said no mate, time to get dressed. But that determined look I know was all over his little face and so I said, sure, you’re not hurting anyone, why not. His Dad wasn’t as understanding as me initially. The reality is I saw it as Lex expressing his individuality and trying to take control over an aspect of his life – a first conscious step towards independence I’d say. I wasn’t happy about him traipsing around town in his PJs but I decided to respect his decision. Yeah I know, one of those new-age Mums, maybe? Within a week, Lex no longer wanted to wear his PJs and that particular battle was over. Since then, there are certainly occasions when Lex insists on selecting his outfits, but in the majority of cases he’s happy for me to choose as well – as long as some red is in the mix. He knows his mind and is very conscious of how he looks – a quality I love in both of my boys – but by not reacting too strongly and trying to force our ideas on him, we seemed to have ridden that storm successfully.   Jax is almost four and he too is a fashion conscious little man. The challenge with Jax is he’s not consistent. Lex loves red, Jax likes green and blue and orange and red and pink and well, you name it. As such I have not been able to successfully offer him clothing options he is happy with. This can be extremely frustrating because it adds a lot of time to the getting-out-the-bloody-door process – a process I do not enjoy. The additional challenge with the Jaxmeister is he isn’t just fussy about clothes, he’s also fussy about his underwear and shoes, and if we’re swimming, he’s fussy about what bathing suit to wear. When we’re in a rush, it can be tedious, but again, by not fighting the war and taking the time to make sure he’s happy, it is much more peaceful in the house. Like I said, I really do like the fact that my boys care about how they look – it’s something I want them to take into adulthood, and the best way to encourage this is to give them the time and patience to choose whatever they want to wear – even if sometimes it looks bloody horrible. But that’s rare. The best bit – by giving into their need for a little piece of independence, I believe we’re helping them to grow and create some identity at the same time. However, we’re also saving our energy for the times when things really do matter. How they dress is not important and it gives them a victory in their primary growing years. The best bit about the victory? Once they’ve won, they don’t care anymore, so we all win. It’s worked for me. With that I ask – what fight have you decided to give up on? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea PS: I ain’t a rabid Twitter user yet, but if you’re interested, you can follow me on Twitter @withoutbollocks

I’ve enjoyed eight wonderful Chinese New Year celebrations in Singapore – a country where approximately 74 per cent of thepopulation is Chinese. It’s the only time in Singapore when everything goes quiet – I mean the shops actually close for a few days, and that is a big deal in a The Lion City where one of the favourite pastimes (and sports) is shopping. Singaporeans love CNY because it’s a wonderful family tradition, and they get four and a half days off, which everyone takes advantage of – I suggest avoiding Changi Airport and the border crossings into Malaysia during this time – its chaos… Right now, Singapore is decorated red, it’s been dragon-ified, the painful Chinese music is blaring in the supermarkets (sorry it just hurts my ears but so does Christmas music!) and everywhere you go, behold the feast of orange trees and other colourful plants. CNY is a very family oriented time, so we’ve never been invited to celebrate, which has meant it’s really hard to grasp what it’s all about and what it means to the Chinese. Until I moved to Singapore, my main awareness of CNY was my animal sign. I’d spent my life thinking I was a Dog, only later realising that as I was born on the first of January I was, in fact, a Cock – so this dog became a cock later in life. This year I thought I’d ask my Chinese pals, some of whom are married to Ang Mo’s, which literally means red hair according to Wikipedia (welcome back, I missed you), and Ang Mo is a term for Caucasians (aka us white folk) in Singapore. I thought it might be nice to get a perspective of CNY from those in the thick of things. My great friend’s Davina (Singapore) and Jamey (US) have been married about as long as we have. A great couple, when I asked them, Davina said “I think Jamey called it a time for family flagellation. Ouch.” To which Jamey replied “Chinese New Year is a ritual where the older generation pick on the younger generation. For example, why don’t you have a boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, better job, baby, etc…” He suggested I add the wahs and lehs (aka Singlish) in where I see fit, but I’ve never been able to get to grips with the local language, so feel free to add it if you know how… Jamey sent in the gambling picture: “This picture is my favourite from CNY!  Close knit family all around a table – GAMBLING 🙂  This, of course, happens after lots of good food.” A more considered response from Davina: “CNY has changed so much. In our parents time it was really special – the only time in the year they got new clothes and not hand-me-downs. Now for the kids, I don’t think it makes a difference. Sure the money is nice (we’ll get to that – Andrea) but the traditions are gone and another dress doesn’t mean much these days. I miss the tradition of cooking together with Grandma, as well as the stories she used to tell when cooking. We weren’t very big on other traditions like massive spring-cleaning. However, even though my Mum was a committed Christian, we could never sweep the house on day one – even if you broke a glass. You could only pick up the pieces. That was by far the biggest taboo. I love the concept of the Reunion Dinner, which is held on Chinese New Year Eve, but they can be painful…really painful if you don’t get along with the extended family.” So far we have gambling, eating, new clothes, and no sweeping… I will elaborate on the traditions shortly.Eugene (Singapore), is one of the most creative people I’ve ever met and a very dear friend. He told me: “In what is typically a very reserved, conservative and insular society, the Chinese New Year festivities sees us toss it all out the window. It’s our annual ‘coming out’ celebration and we like it big. Twelve days of Christmas? Bah humbug. We have 15 days of over indulgence, loud (literally with fireworks) parties and the occasional family get together. Oh did I mention over-indulgence? I you are visiting people during this time, I suggest bringing a couple of oranges, and a hearty appetite.” He’s right, the Chinese do like to feed you. My experience on that so far – even if you’re not planning on eating, have a plate of food in front of you at all times. The Aunties will not leave you alone. It’s even worse if you’re pregnant. Moving on to my great friends Keith (English/Iraqi) and Cara (Singapore). From Keith: “My parents love Chinese New Year – in fact, this is the third time they will come for it. It’s about making a fresh start, so the idea of buying new clothes is a great way to cement that. Getting together with relatives and friends is always welcome – and more importantly, so is gambling :-)” I am noticing a trend here. “I do like Chinese New Year and appreciate the traditions,” said Cara. “I don’t like them all but some make sense, especially now that we have children. I want my children to know that Chinese New Year is just as important as Christmas. In fact, they should think they are very lucky, as they have so many special occasions to celebrate throughout the year. For CNY, I like the idea of getting everything new, clothes (including underwear!), shoes and bags. We also shop to make sure we have plenty of supplies and food for the 15 days of CNY, and we steer away from dull colours, opting more for red, yellow, orange, and green.”I can guarantee that if Cara is buying new underwear for CNY, it’s going to be gorgeous. Cara used to import French Lingerie into Singapore, and even though she’d look amazing in a pair of big beige panties up to her

Friday night I finally saw “Wicked the Musical” – it’s the first time it’s been on where I’ve lived – yip yah!! What can I say? It was brilliant! All except for the fact we were 45 minutes late due to horrendous Friday night traffic – ahhhhhh. Next time we’ll definitely order a cab, although the long taxi line at the end of the night when one’s feet hurt the most is equally unappealing. Essentially Not too many win-wins with either transport option. The reason I wanted to see Wicked is because when I read the book many years ago, it touched me very deeply. In fact, I’d have to say I found it one of the most profound books I’ve ever read. Some may think that’s a bit weird, because it’s just a fairy tale after all, but let me explain. “The Wizard of Oz” is one of the most enduring stories of our time. Most people know it, love it and happily kick their heels up to its famous tunes. Dorothy is beloved by us all, as is Judy Garland for taking on the role, and the essence of every character is firmly set in our hearts. Would you agree? Bring in Wicked, the story of the Wicked Witch of the West, and now there’s a lot more to the story. Elphalba was a confused young girl, coping with being extremely different in her green-ness or “ugly,” smart and powerful, deeply unfashionable, and she had a very strong sense of justice. As it does, life played its hand, she got pissed off about a lot of injustice in her world, and thus a young girl evolves into a young woman that many people do not understand, and she is judged harshly and victimized. The “Powers” in the World of Oz declare her an outcast when she won’t join their crew, and the public blindly follow and accept her as evil. Ring any bells? When I read the book I couldn’t believe it. I was mesmerized by the possibility of a very different Wicked Witch to the one I thought I always knew. It completely turned everything on its head for me, but it was more than that. For many years before, I was already trying to look at any situation, person or news from different angles. I never wanted to accept one truth on anything, without trying to see if there was another way (or multiple ways) of seeing a situation. I don’t know why I did this, although I think it started when I read an article on the Davidian Cult from Waco, Texas (remember that?) in a natural therapy magazine 10 years before then. This article told that story in a very different way to any I had heard before. It shook me then, as Wicked shook me over a decade later. While it is exhausting to look at the world this way, I have continued to always try and look at everything from alternative viewpoints. I need to do it. I can’t accept anything from a single perspective, because there are always more perspectives, but like I said, it does get exhausting. However, it’s also why I believe no one has the right to judge anyone – EVER. No one has every angle of a person’s story. No one knows why someone behaves as they do in a situation they are in. Heck no one knows why people put themselves into some situations! We think we know, but we never do, and for me, when Gregory McGuire wrote Wicked, he was making a very powerful (yet subtle) statement challenging us to look at the world in a different way. It’s a very political book, but for me it’s about how individuals grow based on the experiences life throws at them. I can also recommend his other books – I think I’ve read most of them. But Wicked remains my favourite. I’m bummed I missed the start of the show, but I was more bummed for Steve, because he missed a lot of the context around her earlier life. I know we’ll go again (I’m thinking of taking Lex next time), but before I do, I have to dust off Wicked and read it again. I loved that book. It changed my life, and it remains a reason I buy it as a gift for so many people – I really do think it’s that powerful. Yours, Without the Bollocks Andrea PS: if you’re holding back on going because you think it’s too expensive, please try and think of it in another way. Live musical theatre provides jobs for tremendously talented people – singers, dancers, musicians, stage designers, costume designers, make-up artists, and more. I love the fact we live in a world where people with these remarkable gifts can be the best they can be while earning a living from it. Please support the arts so amazing people can continue to pursue their passions and give us the gift of their talent. It would be a sad world if these types of experiences disappeared because we no longer made supporting it a priority. It’s not a cheap night out, but it’s always a worthwhile experience – I promise xxxx PPS: If you’re interested, you can follow me on Twitter @withoutbollocks

This morning I lost a huge chunk of tooth from one of my back molars. It’s definitely due root canal treatment and fast…. which of course means big $$$$$. Up until this point in my life, I reckon I’ve easily spent $100,000 at the dentist. I have three titanium screws, and just about every tooth is a crown, and the majority have had root canals. I hate the bloody dentist for very good reason – I’ve got ample experience. But why blame my parents? I don’t feel angry towards my parents for anything really. They were shambolic, but as Mum was 21 when she became a mother, and Dad 23, they were mere babies who hadn’t even sorted their own lives out before embarking on the quest of being role models to four very rambunctious children. I don’t speak for my siblings, but I think they did the best they could do with the life experience they had, and I’m appreciative of my childhood for many reasons. With that said, my folks were of the 60s generation, when dreams of plastic homes (now fondly called McHouses), plastic food, and plastic lives became the norm, but also, most of the people they knew got plastic teeth. I always remember Mum or Dad’s falsies sitting in a glass of water in the bathroom or by the bed, and as you do, I figured when I grew up I’d naturally get falsies too. How could I not consider this a possibility when the two most prominent adults in my life had them? But dentists changed. They decided it was more important to save real teeth than take teeth out, and now, I don’t know of anyone getting falsies – a mouth of titanium screws sure, but not falsies. Because my parents didn’t have teeth to worry about, and because I grew up in a town that didn’t have fluoride in the water (apparently), and because no one ever checked if we were ever brushing our teeth properly, and because my parents chose to have a two litre bottle of soft drink with EVERY meal, three out of four of us have expensive mouths to maintain. My older brother Paul got lucky. He had braces and the treatment – including regular fluoride tablets – has meant his teeth are good. Lucky bastard. So here I am, facing a life-long challenge (and the expense) of maintaining my teeth, and if only we didn’t have that bloody soft drink every day? I am always appalled when I see very young children walking around with cans of Coke, or babies/toddlers drinking fruit juice from a bottle, and I want to say to the parents – don’t do it!! PLEASE, trust me! But it’s none of my business, and all I can do is work hard to ensure my lads have minimum sugary drinks and sweets, brush their teeth properly, educate them on how important it is to take care of their teeth and make them understand the potential long-term ramifications of not doing so. I’m planning on framing an X-ray of my teeth in their bathroom so they can see the consequences of bad dental hygiene. Hopefully it’ll do the trick or scare the shit out of them? In the meantime, I’d better call the bloody dentist and prepare to empty the contents of my wallet directly into his account. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I know some of my hippy, anti-establishment, anti-capitalist mates might not agree with me here, but Donald Trump – what a guy. You seriously couldn’t make him up if you tried. I reckon he’d be a pretty interesting person to have dinner with – just think of the one-liners you’d walk away with? Not to mention the fabulous decor he has in his penthouse? Not my style for sure, but you’ve got to admire the garishness. Anyway, I bought Steve “Think Like a Billionaire”and as it has remained on his bedside table gathering dust for nearly a year, I thought I’d give it a crack. I’m glad I did. Being a huge fan of The Apprentice – his, the Aussie one, the British one, the Celebrity Apprentice and soon, the Asian Apprentice – this book gives you a little bit of access to his no nonsense headspace. The chapters are short, you’ll rip right through it, and while I know I will never be a billionaire – crikey surviving on four hours sleep a night is definitely not me – it was definitely a book that got me focused and motivated. He’s a never-give-up-kind-of-guy, he’s positive and passionate, and he walks the talk – not a common trait I’ve discovered. Somehow he got lucky early in his life – not because his family had money, but because he found his path to true success – he really loves what he does and while the billions certainly come (and go) with the role, what comes through most is his love of the game – as well as a love for a few nice luxury brands within the mix, and beautiful women of course. His advice isn’t typical and it isn’t a highbrow repetition of the motivation books out there. It’s a case of find what you love, get stuck into it, don’t accept no for an answer, and whatever you do, don’t listen to other people if it sits right in your gut – well that’s my interpretation of his philosophy. Essentially if you’ve got an idea, go for it and go fast, because great ideas, when not acted upon, die. Aint’ that the truth. He also recommends getting pre-nups and signing all of your own checks.  I’ve missed both opportunities – oh well. All in all, it was a cracking yarn and well worth a read. He’s certainly not everyone’s cup of tea, but he sure has learnt some interesting stuff in this life. What makes him interesting to me is he’s experienced the world in a way I will probably never experience, and that’s fascinating. I like him. I’m not striving to be a billionaire – millionaire maybe – but he’s one of the most intriguing people because under all the bluff, there’s something charming about him. I couldn’t explain it if you paid me. Two qualities I know I like – he doesn’t apologize for anything, and he can laugh at himself – a good quality. Just in case you’re interested, there are now 1,210 billionaires on the planet, with a combined net-worth of $4.5 trillion according to Forbes. However we can expect a new list out soon, and with Rolls Royce having its most successful year in its 100+ year history, I reckon there might be a few more on the billionaire list come March. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea PS: the new Season of Celebrity Apprentice is coming up and the original Hulk – Lou Ferrigno is in it this year – cool!!! PPS: Follow me on Twitter @withoutbollocks

Some Facebook friends made me aware of some exciting news last week – Kim, Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian are going to be made into limited edition Barbie pals – I mean, what next? BUT then I read the comments, and for me, the story starting getting strange. People are up in arms because apparently Barbie is a role model and people do not believe the Kadashians – who made sex tapes, got divorced after 70+ days, etc – would be good ambassadors for the Barbie brand. I think I must have missed that part of my education where Barbie was supposed to be a role model?  I mean, if I physically looked like Barbie, I’d be 6 foot tall, have a 39 inch bust and 33 inch hips. I suppose I got the big tits… Don’t get me wrong, I loved my Barbies. I got my early sex education from them before I even knew what sex was AND I got some early hair dressing experience, only realizing after the fact that their hair didn’t grow back. I was not happy having bald Barbie’s I can tell you, but it taught me a very important lesson – consequences. Mattel have done a good job in recent years delivering Barbie’s with professional careers, and while competing with knock-offs from China, they still reign supreme for little girls around the world. But most importantly, the Kardashians are probably a perfect choice to be Barbiefied. First of all, Barbie definitely bleaches her anus – to the point of non-existence – and Barbie was probably the first “girl” in the world to go for a complete Brazilian – definitely a trend-setter and right in line with the Kardashian’s personal grooming philosophies. Barbie has always been a glamour puss first, and that’s how I spent my Barbie play time – when I wasn’t making her hump Ken of course – dressing her up in fabulous fairytale gowns, just like the K  sister’s right? A perfect match. I certainly don’t join the outrage against the Kardashian’s becoming Barbies. I think it’s a match made in heaven, but if you’re interested, a few years back, a lady got some pretty extensive media coverage for making a life sized Barbie (pictured.) And another article referenced within this article talking about body issues linked back to Barbie. I have to say I find this argument hard to swallow, because within the mix of influences on young girls and body image, I’d say Barbie might be in there, but the real life beauties in bikinis on the front pages of magazines probably had a much MUCH bigger impact on me. I desperately wanted to look like Elle in a swim suit, but knew there was no bloody chance at all. And “Dolly Magazine” – a teen girl mag in Australia – was an equally powerful influence. How I wanted to look as good in those clothes as the models did. Barbie wasn’t even in my body image angst equation…. However, rather than becoming anorexic when I realized I could never look like those girls, I stopped buying all women’s/girl’s magazines, took up body building and started shopping for all of my clothes in second hand shops. I was a beauty, no doubt about it. Hey if you can’t beat them, go the other extreme I say. But that’s just my experience. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I turned 42 on the 1st of January – thanks for all the lovely birthday wishes – but I have to say – it seems really old. While my mind still feels like I’m a ridiculous 18 year old (minus the teenage angst,) my body definitely feels 42. I remember when my parents entered their 40s thinking it was ancient and here I am. Crikey. But I’ve had a lot of fun getting here. If I look back over the decades, the first was fun, free and predominately consisted of running around the streets of Wodonga, barefoot and unsupervised. Sometimes I wonder how I survived that. Next was the confusing decade of the teenage years, trying to work life and me out, as well as adopting some beautiful styles – including my Mohawk (or Mohican as the rest of the world says), as well as making sure I was the hottest chick in town by taking up body building. I had very decent thighs and calf muscles in those days. I finished university in my early 20s and started with a stint as a musician in the Australian Army. It was at this time I had my first foray out into the big wide world via the Middle East, I started a great career in public relations and then I left Australia – a journey I feel I’ve continued to this day. London happened in this decade, and apart from the weather, I really really enjoyed my London days – personally and professionally. Then it was time for my 30s, which saw me ringing in the new millennium on my 30th birthday at my favourite pub in Boston. I loved living in Boston – especially during the Summer – which was followed by a short stint in NYC, but the bubble burst, the planes crashed into the towers and it was time to move again. Central America, Fiji, a fabulous year in Sydney, then I was Singapore-bound. Four months later I met the love of my life – an unexpected bonus in my 30s. As a result, I suppose my 30s have been about integrating my love into my life, creating a couple of little loves, and finding some combined direction. I turned 40 in Noosa with a gaggle of awesome friends, partying into the wee hours of the morning. At that point, I was determined to make Noosa work, but six months later we got some bad news and I knew I just had to get the hell out. Six months after that I turned 41 back in Singapore – the best decision we ever made. And now a year later, here I am wondering what my 40s are all about. You see I went to Holland last October to celebrate my great friend Saskia’s 40th and she stated that her 40s would be her decade of Zen. When Saskia said that I realized I’ve spent most of my life tearing around, experiencing and seeing as much as I can, always wanting more, but there has been very little long term focus. Heck Steve and I have only recently come to the conclusion that Singapore is where we want to be. There is nowhere else in the world that draws us, we have no backup plan and I have to say, that’s not an easy place to be. Practically everyone we know has somewhere they ultimately want to be, or a settled dream they are working towards – something we envy a little bit – but we just haven’t had that. The “normal” stuff has never appealed to me, and thankfully, Steve thinks the same. Direction, in a conventional sense, has always eluded us. However I’ve realised, for the first time in my life, that a little longer term thinking may be in order, and the decision to stay in Singapore is just the first part of the equation. But it’s more than that. We know we will remain open to opportunities that take us in new and unknown directions – because we believe that is the way to live – BUT core to all of this now, and my goal for this decade, is to be happy and content. I want to simplify my life – celebrating the moments, being there for my boys while they need me, spending time with my love, travelling, hanging out with great people, and taking and creating opportunities to help me grow. Being happy might seem like a facile thing to say, but when you are gung-ho all the time, it’s actually quite difficult to be truly happy. When you always have your eye on the next thing to come along or the next thing you want (and I’m not talking material stuff here), happiness and contentment isn’t easy to attain, because frustration tends to be a big part of your lot. Can anyone else relate to that? My 40s started off all over the place, and we couldn’t make the right decisions because we didn’t know what we really wanted, so we’ve learnt a lot these last few years and now, it’s time for a little bit of peace. Happiness and contentment – can I get there? Who knows, but at least I know I want to. That’s the plan. Something I ain’t had before. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea