Kirsten's Blog

So Many Ways To Die.

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 11:05:00 -0400

Australia is fucking magical!

There I said it. I said it with emphasis. Because I mean it. Fucking MAGICAL!

When I was a little girl, my favorite animal was a kangaroo. I had never seen one in real life, but I loved them all the same. I would draw pictures of them, and ask for stuffed animals of them. I was fascinated. They seemed magical to me. An animal with a built in pocket? These are the things little girls dream of! I loved POCKETS! Places to keep things, secret things, pet rocks, notes to self, baggies of raisins, and dried glue art.

And this animal had a pocket that it put a smaller version of itself in. What? AHHHHH! (tiny girl mind explodes with joy!)

So I have to say, I was pretty fucking excited to be going to Australia to see this animal.

And then I SAW NONE! Those bitches be nocturnal. Who knew? Everyone probably… erf (i’m so dumb)

So on my second last day in Australia, the wonderful woman I am staying with took me to the Cleland Wildlife Parks to see said Kangaroos, and as fun bonuses, a bunch of birds, snakes, lizards, dingos, tasmanian devils, and if I wanted I could hug a koala? What? If I wanted? I could hug…. a… koala?

Listen, I don’t want to hug a koala. Okay? Stop pushing that idea on me Australia. Okay. No one in Canada is like yeah, come to a nature reserve and hug this moose, and snuggle with this grizzly bear. IT’S A WILD ANIMAL! It could pee on me, first of all, and secondly, probably rip my face off. And I don’t think it wants my embrace, okay? I can’t even get a boyfriend, do I really need to sink to the level of pushing my unwanted love on an innocent captured animal who has enough shit to worry about? Namely explaining to all those shithead tourists that are holding it, that’s it not, in fact, a bear. Not a bear, nope. Not hugging it still, nope. I would rather just stare at it from a distance and pontificate about how they look like tiny happy David Suzukis. So happy, so stoned, so not worrying about the demise of our planet.

I would like to say that seeing a live a kangaroo gave me such a mind boner that I wrote a symphony right there on the Cleland Wildlife Park atop a pile of wallaby turd. But it was more just like yeah, that’s what they look like lying down. And oh my, those are some huge balls. They didn’t put those things on my stuffed animal replicas. Bow-bowwwm. (Ps. “bow-bowwwm” is the sound made at seeing a huge pair)

The animal I was most mystified at was the Emus. Just charting through that wildlife park like they own the place. No care for the paths, or for the fact that they are fucking scary. Seriously majestically scary. They look like something out of the Labyrinth. I swear Jim Henson smoked a doobie saw an emu, and then got ALL OF HIS IDEAS, EVER!

Holy crap Balls! They have feather fur. Shaggy silvery feather fur. I did get a mind boner, but nothing came of it because crazy tiny ants starting eating my feet off.

The one thing about amazing Australia. Is that there are TOO MANY WAYS TO DIE okay? Most of them by these crazy awesome animals I speak of.

Whilst at the ocean one day, my friends spotted both a blue ring octopus and a sting ray, to which I replied. THAT’S TOO MANY THINGS THAT CAN KILL ME IN ONE PLACE!

At the wildlife park I saw a lot more animals that could kill me. A bunch of bitching snakes. Like real nasty looking ones. Black snakes with red bellies that seem to say to you “I come from the depth of your night meres and we will see each other again… IN HELL!”.

I swear that snake said that, or a zoologist put it in a speech bubble on the glass of the aquarium.

In any case, I’ve had three night-meres about that red bellied snake.

So many ways to die. That should not be an Australian tourism line. Though, it would be accurate.

Australia: So many ways to die.

Canada: So many way to freeze.

USA: So much food to eat to forget your feelings and liberty.

I’ve got to travel more.

"It's Like a Wave Pool!"

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 16:39:23 -0400

“It’s like a wave pool!” the prairie girl shouted to her friends on the beach. The group of Australian artists looked at her as if she was insane. And perhaps she was, having been 27 and a half years old and having never swam in the ocean until three days prior. That is insanity. What sort of life is that? It is the life of a prairie girl. Who knows better the weave of the wind against fields of wheat, not the pull of the rip tide.

The prairie girl ran back into the water, straight into a wave that knocked her on her ass and scraped her knees against the ocean floor. These were scrapes she would be proud of. Ocean scrapes that she secretly hoped would turn into scars. Scars are the tattoos of nature marking memories into our body whether or not we choose them.

She remembers being five years old and her family taking a vacation to Saskatoon. A big city to her memory then. They stayed in a hotel downtown and took a trip to the wave pool. She had always been a good swimmer. The instructor at the Y, where her daycare went swimming, had called her a little fish. Saying she couldn’t go into the deep end only because the other tots would follow her and surely drown. No one could swim like her. But water standing still was one thing. The wave pulled tossed her little body around like a tiny sac of potatoes. The chlorine shot up her nose like two little angry fists punching her brain. The prairie girl cried until her mother pulled her out saying, “I guess you’re too small yet for the wave pool.” Her knees were bleeding from the bottom of the pool. And she wore band-aids for the rest of the trip. These were not scrapes she would be proud of.

The Australians and the others who were more ocean savvy, took to more extravagant modes of pleasure like jumping of the jetty, and boogie boarding. The prairie girl remained solo, playing with the tide like one does a puppy, chasing and jumping and rolling. She couldn’t help but let the ridiculous giggles of a simpleton escape her mouth. She knew she must have looked ridiculous in her awkwardly fitting pink bikini, white blotchy sun-screened face and huge dumbo grin. Though she didn’t mind. It was only her second time in the ocean, and potentially her last for this trip.

A wave crashed against her legs and pulled them right out from under her. She hit the ocean floor with a splash on her ass. And another wave crashed against her face like a powerful right hook, filling her mouth and eyes and ears. “So salty.” she said and thought of the regretted chips she had earlier that day, that were also “So salty, my tongue hurts.” The salt and sun screen mixed together in her eyes to create a “she smoked hash all day long” sort of effect. Though in reality she had only gotten a bit tipsy on one Heineken, and a little whoozy from her swim shortly thereafter.

After a series of excited kartwheels just round the bend of the beach, the prairie girl decided to rejoin the group of artists who were packing as there were some ominous dark clouds and a bitch of a wind pushing forcefully into their paradise day. But the artists remained joyful, even as the wind pelted them with sand, they were chasing each other around with handfuls of peanut butter, reapplying sun screen(cuz it will get you even though the grey clouds) and tossing back Tim-Tam’s like nobody’s watching.

The rain began just as they hopped with sandy feet into the van. It poured rainforest like the whole drive home and the prairie girl felt too tired to keep her eyes open. And too happy to avoid a good back-of-the-van snooze, very reminiscent of the family trips only switch out the Arcade Fire playing for her Dad’s Golden Oldies Tapes.

-kirsten

Vinyards, Oceans and Stand-up, Oh My.

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 00:51:00 -0500

Hello Dear Blog Readers,

So it has almost been a week that I have been here in Adelaide. And oh, have I seen some wonders! South Australia is so so beautiful, even though it has been a little cold. Today is only 22. Oh, le sigh. (imagine now, my shit-eating grin)

In the seven days that I have been here I have performed in eight shows, watched nine shows, gasped at the beautiful ocean at Glenelg Beach, supped wine at many at the vinyards of South Australia, had fish and chips by the Star of Greece (an old ship wreck), learned how to bike on the left side of the road, and eaten a ridiculous amount of olives. NUM NUM NUM.

The food and wine here is amazing, though yes, as I had been warned, it is intimidatingly over priced for this lowly artist pauper from Montreal. How much for two eggs and a slice of toast… what?

Definitely the highlight of the trip so far was the winery tour. My friend Eric asked if I wanted to hop along on the tour he was taking with an old friend of his. And wow, so glad I did. The first place we went was absolutely breath taking! It was called Samuels Gorge, and Eric’s friend Naomi warned us they did “healthy” sized pours for tasting. (SO try to not to get too trashed, you lightweight- that’s me talking to me) As I nodded ignorantly at the descriptions of tannins and undertones, I found myself drifting away looking at the absolutely gorgeous backdrop of and old stone wall, and then a valley of vineyards, with the big blue sky above it. I was feeling pretty loose after that second “taster”. And couldn’t help but feel gushy romantic about the whole affair. But soon before that gushy romance could ferment into the realization of my lonely existence.. here came the third taster of a very BOLD SHIRAZ. So BOLD!

I realize that I know nothing of wine. And my wine distinctions go something like this.

1) DELICIOUS

2) NOT DELICIOUS

3) If I was more drunk… this could be DELICIOUS.

I feel as though this is how I approach many a thing I eat and drink.

The other highlight has been seeing other shows. I do love taking in shows where you have no idea what to expect and then BLAMMO some guy in what looks like a black priests robe and a hijab is mime nailing a hammer into his hand in what I can only call “the half-assed Jesus” sketch. That show was called Dr. Brown, it was phsyical theatre, sort of absurdist clown. I laughed so hard I cried and then afterwards felt so perplexed because I didn’t know what the hell I had just seen.

There are so many venues and SO MANY shows at the Adelaide Fringe. It is easy to feel like a tiny squashable bug. Especially it being my first year, no one has any context for me. Well, I’ll give you some context Adelaide, “I’m funny, believe me.. please.. buy a ticket.. i can’t afford the COFFEE HERE! he he he. cry cry cry.” (then i just grab a parrot right out from the sky and eat it.)

I do have to , and will continue to give such a huge thanks to the amazing woman I am staying with. She has welcomed me into her home and has been very generous and wonderful. I feel pretty grateful for that! And for her delicious hummus. Yum yum. Not forced to parrot-eating yet.

Alright off to prepare for show 2. Hoping tonight I will have atleast 9 peeps. Oooh, raising the stakes.

Kirsten

Flat White- Delicious coffee... (also me)

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 20:44:51 -0500

Hello Dear Internet Readers,

I am in Adelaide, Australia. Or Radelaide as the locals so lovingly call it. And it is pretty rad.

Other things that were rad.

My one day in Vancouver between flights that I jam packed with three separate and amazing girlfriend visits. We caught up, we talked of love and art, we drank coffee from JJ Beans, we watched the Oscars. Full with white wine and dissapointment over Billy Crystal’s hosting job, I headed on the wonderful sky train to the Vancouver airport.

Billy Crystal, why you so puffed up and makin’ crass man jokes? Get out of here, and back to the Billy Crystal I love and remember from City Slickers who pulls calves out of cows and nurses them like his own. WE WANT THE KINDER BILLY BACK!!!! NOT THIS IMPOSTER WHOSE FACE IS PUFFED UP WITH CYNICISM!

Anyhow… then I took a 15 hour flight to Sydney Australia with FREE WINE! and FREE MOVIES! and I tried to watch as many of those Oscar nominated films as I could.

I arrived in Sydney at 10 am in the morning. I hadn’t the energy or will to figure out exactly what time that was for me. And I had stupidly booked my second flight to Adelaide at 4, to give myself sufficient time to get through customs. Boo me. My only other customs experience had been going to the states where the HUGE ARMED MAN asked me questions until I admitted I was a bad person and shouldn’t be let into the states.

Who knew that Australian customs would be just be a friendly pretty lady who asked me ” You got any snacks or fruits… are you sure?… WELCOME TO AUSTRALIA.” I had five hours to hang out in the Sydney airport. (Doop de doop de doop)

On the flight to Adelaide they showed a Crocodile Hunter like show on the telly. I felt both excited and scared for my tiny person in this wild country where everyone dresses SO WELL! (feeling like a schlub)

The first thing I saw upon my arrival into Adelaide was… IKEA! So you know, pretty big culture shock.

That’s all for now. My computer is dying and this cafe is filling up, and there is BO smell lingering around me that I am really afraid is me. I don’t think it is.. but what if it is? Oh god. Keep pit checking like a bogan. (NEW WORD FOLKS) BOGAN! ( hope i used it right… i think it might be offensive… not sure)

More to come about my first days at the Fringe! The shows I’ve seen. The other words I’ve learnt. Etc. Heaps good!

Love,

Kirsten

Count Down to Going Down (Under)

Sat, 25 Feb 2012 23:19:26 -0500

Hello dear internet viewers,

As you may or may not know. I am a lady. I am a lady who does the comedies. The stand-ups, the improvs, the sketches, the faces, the raspberries, and the squirrel impersonations.

And I have decided to “sell my wares” as it were to the good people of Adelaide, Australia at the Adelaide Fringe Festival.

Now you may be my Mom, or another such family member, a dear friend, or colleague. And if you are, and you know me a bit… you will know that this is the FARTHEST TRIP I HAVE EVER TAKEN… and that really in terms of trips… I’ve never really taken any.

So that my first trip be to Australia… is somewhat… INSANE! INSANE AND AWESOME! Which is a combination that I think can be safely said about many of my choices. Or at least I like to think.

In any case. I depart tomorrow morning. And thought it best to start a little bloggey-doo for those who enjoy a good read. And for those who will wonder if I have yes, found myself cuddled and crying into to the warm pouch of a nurturing mother like kangaroo, suckling at her teets trying to retrieve the ego that I lost when thinking it would be a good idea to bring A NEW SHOW to a HUGE FRINGE FESTIVAL oh you know, just ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE WORLD.

I am wondering myself, if I will find myself in that warm pouch.

Here are a list of other things I am wondering.

1) Will I puke on the plane?

2) Will I overcome the urge to yell something ridiculous in the plane out of pure ass agitation? (You know when your butt aches just something awful?)

3) Will the custom agent intimidate my tired and weary soul so much so that I tear up and forget why I came to Australia in the first place?

4) Will I see a platypus.. and how will I feel if I do? Will I think… “Okay God, I see how we are more similar than I thought.”?

5) Will I fall in love with a beautiful surfer, who will at some point save me from a gigantic jellyfish who will completely destroy any beauty I once had, but the surfer will still love me albeit my acidic and scarred face, because we will have bonded over the tragedy and be completely hopelessly in gooey vegemite (sp) love with eachother, until he has to return to the wilds of Australia to save a family of koalas from poaching, and I will understand and tell him he should go, because my love for him and his passions will be so strong, and he will tell me to continue spreading joy through fart and boob jokes… WILL THAT HAPPEN I WONDER?

6) Will a huge spider crawl into one of my shoes without me noticing, causing me to pee a little bit upon finding it’s hairy body with my big toe?

Well, I don’t know.

So keep reading here to find out.

First things first. Get to Vancouver, hang out all day with some awesome friends from Vancouver, hopefully eat the NAAM (num num num miso gravy), and then get on a flight near midnight to Marty McFly my ass 15 hours (but really two days) in to the future. And we all know, the future is Australia!

TO ADVENTURE TIME,

love Kirsten