Friday, April 13, 2012

THREE FREAKIN SECONDS... or how I was upstaged by a Bongo calf.

This morning, I got up late, and booked my son and I in to see the 12.45am session of Pirates – Band of Misfits. I also planned a quiet afternoon of blogging, spending time with The Child, having fish and chips, maybe some wine. Sleep. A simple, slow day with no work commitments before The Child goes back to school on Monday.
The morning went as planned. We bummed around the house for a while then headed out nice and early as I was planning to visit Sussan on the recommendation of a couple of blogger friends (you know who you are!)
Alas, the cape will have to wait.
While driving to Chadstone my phone went, then I heard the burbling of several texts arriving.
I stopped eventually in the Chaddy car park and checked my phone.
Text and phone message from the PR guy: Can you do a phone interview this evening with Ross Greenwood on in-person customer service versus the internet?
Me: Sure!
Text from client: Before you do interview, call me. Business apparel.
Me: Why? It’s radio...
I’ve done a HUGE amount of radio work. I’m a MASSIVE RADIO TALENT.
OK, I’ve done two interviews with a community radio station in Sydney. So I wasn’t too thrown – go see movie, come home, prep, go on radio, get fish and chips, drink wine, and go to bed. Easy. And I knew from my vast experience that my apparel had minimal impact on how the interview would go. (Just as well, since at least one of those interviews was done in my pjs).
Text from PR guy: It’s definitely to camera, and now they need it by 3pm.
Me: Oh… (heart falls through chest cavity, dodges a kidney or two, a large loop of bowel, a femoral artery and enters shoe).
3PM?! I glanced at my reflection in the rear vision mirror of the good ol’ family Camry and nearly cried. It looked like a seagull had pooped down the middle of my head, and I was in desperate need of a cut. I looked at the clock and did some quick maths.

So what do I do? Go home? Disappoint the child? We’d just arrived at Chadstone. I’d paid for the cinema tickets. Gah!
I drove home, handed child to my wonderfully flexible and kind partner so he could take him to movies, rang producer who confirmed they could get a camera crew to my house at 2pm.
Wonderful, I lied through gritted teeth and litres of sweat.
Called Larry from D’Alton Hairdressing on Burwood Highway. TV interview. Grey roots. Unruly mess. Deadline 2pm. Help!
He told me to come down straight away.
Thank you Larry, you worked through your lunch break making me more presentable. I felt so special when he and his assistant were both working on my hair AT THE SAME TIME. TV star, quipped Larry, in a hurry. Funny man.
While I was washed, coloured and cut I was shitting myself. This is me, half way through the colour:

This is me, 45 minutes before the camera dude was due, running down the street trying to get home STAT. Still shitting myself (and trying to take a self-portrait while running down the street. Yes that slight smile is ironic).

This is me, 19 minutes before the camera dude was due to arrive. Shitting myself in my condom dress, and lipstick. Sans seagull poop strip.

The camera dude arrived and was lovely. Thank you John, from Nine News Melbourne, you are a doll. I explained that our house was suffering from end of school holidays chaos so shooting inside was out of the question. So he set up on the street at the front of my house. He rang Ross Greenwood and we did the interview.
I was still shitting myself, while I was trying to hear him on the phone, ignore cars driving by, my cat’s meowing, trying to look and sound knowledgeable and erudite. Jonesy decided to pop over to see what we were up to. I was thinking, that’d be right, my damn cat will upstage me.
As it happened, I reckon a Bongo calf upstaged me. It definitely got way more airtime.
If you saw the clip, hope you didn’t blink or you’ll have missed it. As is common with this kind of thing, a day turned upside down, $125 worth of haircut and colour, a ten minute interview and a lot of angst… 

… became a three second sound bite. It hasn’t been uploaded to the Nine News website yet. I’ll update this post if it gets there.
A story on a Bongo calf got more airtime than me. Did it go to the trouble of getting its hair done? Agonise over an outfit? Know what it takes to delight a customer? 

I don’t think so.
From this day forth, that effing Bongo calf is my nemesis. I don't care how cute it is.
Typical, that’s me, upstaged by an antelope named after a sweet potato.
This was not what I’d planned to do today.
Did your Friday turn out the way you expected?


  1. That's really a cute story! If it's any consolation, you lookd Gorgeous in the last pic shown, with the sexy makeup and your condom dress. :)

  2. Ohh you poor thing. Hugs. You look great!!!

  3. Thanks ladies. Got to find the funny side ;-) x

  4. I warned you....IT WAS FRIDAY 13TH
    You do loook lovely tho.....we appreciated the effort.

  5. Lol! Michaela... The photos say it all. At least you're prepared for next time and, hopefully, there won't be calves to distract! Still reckon you will have done really wee.

  6. Thanks Karen, your faith in me is lovely! x

  7. So many thoughts running through my head right now! Don't even know where to start so will simply say, you looked lovely!

    1. Thanks Louisa. Damn Bongo calf LOL