I love Japan.


I love everything about it from the most venerable and holy Hello Kitty ( which I have inked on my outlaw hide,if you are lucky I might just show ya where…)  to its dirty knicker vending machines.Its mysterious mist shrouded mountains and giggling schoolgirls sporting too many crooked teeth wedged in tiny chirping mouths. But most of all I love the food. Oh the food!  Show me a back lacquered platter of sashimi the size of a football field with a Kilimanjaro of ginger by its perfect side and I will purr like a 385. hemi….

Japan hates me.


It treated my stomach and lower colon like Pearl Harbor on Sunday morning. Torpedoed by sushi eaten before work on Saturday night.I made it to the bathroom at 7am in agony,fell off the toilet unconscious and when I came to I had Jackson Pollock-ed myself and the entire room in crap and vomit. It was epic. It was disgusting. How can anyone be full of that much crap?

Well,if you have been reading this here page for long enough that there question pretty much answers itself….


I am terrible at being ill.I mean really bad.Its a control thing ( duh!)  not only that but I am loud,really operatic about it. Food poisoning is the uber pits not to mention the ultra shits. My bones have only just stopped aching.Aka: Errol Flynn sweetly offered to come over and take care of me.Such a kind lad. Between dizzying trips to the rain-room to re-lose my guts yet again,I informed him that it would be a cold day in Hades before I would let anyone see me looking like a pack of sadistic saber toothed tigers had been using me as a chew toy.

(“Vanity! Thy name is Michele!”)

I then informed him that I would never eat again.Which turned out to be a bold faced lie as I am now surviving on flat Sprite and rice pudding.


I barfed so hard at one point that I think that I have damaged my right eardrum.Not too happy about that.I also think that I may have crapped out a five cent coin that I swallowed in the second grade which is rather impressive if you ask me. Stoked  to have lost about ten pounds though even if that  did include one of my lungs.

I have to be well enough to face the zombie like hordes of fauxhemian fucktards of Newtown tomorrow night as big brother is returning to the stage at The Sandringham with The Hard-ons for the 1st time since he was assaulted. I can’t wait to see him ,Ray and Murrey back where they belong. My ol’ mate Matt Skitz will also be up from Melbourne which always leads to a good time. Matt calls me “Michellica” and it makes my heart crack a big rubbery one. One of the last of the good guys and also one of the worlds greatest drummers. Check out the band Damaged if you want to hear just how good…We are going to see Captain Cleanoff at the Hi-fi bar on Friday night and I cant wait!

Get my metal on and so forth…

Besides almost shitting myself to death over the weekend life is actually looking pretty damn sweet. I have been astounded by all the support I have been shown in the Miss Inked competition considering that my work is not really the “norm”. I prefer to think of myself as a wayward Victoria’s Secret angel by way of “Exile on Main Street” and a fist full of Quaaludes hanging out with Iggy Pop and Michael Des Barres at Rodney’s English Disco on the Sunset strip in the early 70’s rather than yet another tubby blunt fringed maybe spilling out of a too small corset wielding a  feather fan ( yawn) …Goes to show that people can dig on quality and can get behind via la difference and may Elvis bless them for making the fine distinction! I like it. Makes me gain a little faith if you know what I mean. I think the voting finishes next week and the its all up to Elvis.

Can’t lie,I would really dig that title.

I have been campaigning like JFK with tits. I am also going to have all my compadres who have been tireless on my narcissistic behalf over for a candlelit feed when its all done and dusted to thank them. Just have to make sure the retard flatmate is out that night wooing fat chicks at the pub with his double digit IQ or whatever it is that he gets up to.

Aka: Errol Flynn asked me if I am worried that he reads this. “You are assuming that he can read.” I dryly parried back.

Beloved Miss Nina is heading stateside for Burning man and then two months of additional tomfoolery and even though she is lending me her bass rig her absence will be felt most profoundly.Big brother goes on tour soon too. I think that I may be in the grip of abandonment issues here. Not to worry. I have much to do in their lamented absence. Which includes spending quality time creating with my beloved band and whittling 20kgs off my corpulent frame.

Summer is looming and I am not having those ass-clowns from Greenpeace covering me in wet hessian sacks and trying to roll me back into the surf when I am minding my own business while working on my melanomas and crows feet at the beach this year.

Pollexia and Penny,my rock fueled partners in crime have a bitchin’ summer planned and I am going to be war ready. Was also thinking about heading home to LA before the year splutters to a close but I may have to put it off. I really miss my friends and my hound. Shame I can’t sell my other kidney as well…..

So let it come to me I say. I love summer here because all my friends come out on tour. Hearing that OFF! are on the BDO made me grin like a loon. Got mates tagging along with A Perfect Circle as well.And The Chilli Peppers….And its not just the bands. So many of my friends tech and its always a joy seeing them and going out for long gossip filled feeds. That alone will get me through the next few months of shit weather and living with a fucktard.

Muy interesting is the rancid news that my flying monkeys bring me back from the hallowed and much missed West Coast. Some people make it darn hard to give a shit about them in the long haul I gotta tell y’all. I really do have to check my head and my battered ego for that matter.Some days are easier than others.

Seeing my bro back on stage tonight is gonna make it a good day.

Rock and Roll solves everything.