My Weekend in 7 Pictures.

They say that there is no rest for the wicked, which in my case was true this weekend. It was packed full of fun and events and moments of quiet reflection interrupted by kids birthday parties.

On Saturday, Jack and I went to the Equal Love Rally which was terrific. I loves me a good rally. The supporters were a passionate lot, and I was particularly impressed with the amount of gay youth protesting the Governments objection to legalising Gay Marriage.

I went to support my main hag-fag, Media Publicist Supremo St.Murphy. His passion for equal rights is infectious. He also provided a shoulder so Jack could peer over the wave of rainbow flags.

But then St.Murphy got a little weary and spied a cute guy who had wandered from the flock, so Jack went up on a bigger, taller, stronger and straighter option in Adam Zammit. Best seat in the house. That dude it tall.

The gang left to march up Oxford Street and then onto have beers at the Beresford Hotel, but Jack and I went to check out the Barbies at David Jones. I spied this and wet my pants a little bit. Jennifer Beale goes plastic, complete with leg warmers. What a Feeling!

And then I realised,  I want myself replicated in Barbie form. I wonder what it would look like………
Later that night,  I prepared myself to catch up on some stimulating tv. Before that,  I got my Masterchef on and cooked up some dinner.  Harry came into the kitchen and asked “What smells like vomit Mum?”

Well that would be the roasted chicken stuffed with Parmesan and prosciutto. You little turdburger! And for the record, it tasted far better than any vomit I can recall.

Pardon the gratuitous porn shot. Am obsessed. And if you hate it, then I do not want to know you………..
And then to top off my weekend of rallying, eating, wondering what I would look like if I were turned into a Barbie, pretending not to care that Mr Woog bought a new stand up paddle board, watching crap on TV, cooking, looking at things, making new friends and thinking about where I might have left one of my black ballet flats, I got to spend Sunday with my pussy posse.

Celebrating Uberkate’s birthday with Mrs Finlayson and the Divine Ms M was the icing on the cake of a tops weekend. We drank a long lunch, ate cake and assorted goodies including the most amazing Chicken and Tarragon pie you could dream of and laughed until we cried. Real belly laughs. Laughs that have you running for the toilet. Laughs that leave you weak with exhaustion. Laughs interspersed with begging for silence, so you can catch your breath.
You know what I am talking about? I fucking love it. Best drug ever and cures all what ails you.
Did you have a great weekend? (Or did it suck balls……)