There are many joys being locked in with a teenager for an extended time. Extra Lockdown 3.0 has given me the time to go on exciting endeavours like delving through my junk mail folder and scoring lovely new online connections. I received this beautiful comment on a Facebook post:

I must confess and thank you so much my friend request. Although I translated to your language and hope you don’t mind, you are beautiful? My new best mate is clearly a high ranking, good looking Army General based in Texas.

I’m filled with happiness when complete strangers with expertise in marketing or real estate sales in their bios try to add me as a connection, and nothing makes me feel more soothed than the comments written by professional networkers on Scotty from marketing’s LinkedIn posts.

I’m revelling in reading long essays by conspiracy theorists with obvious expertise in epidemiology commenting on health professionals’ social media posts; relaxing reading that I highly recommend in the middle of a pandemic.

I’m deeply moved by the inspirational quotes obviously written by Gandhi, Jesus and that lady influenza who promotes yoga pants on Instagram. I feel so motivated now that genuine celebrities are following and messaging me on Twitter. I am focused on success instead of endless hours of TV watching.

And I’m humbled that I’ve secured a large sum of money from long-lost distant relatives in far-flung places who only want what’s best for me.

I can’t tell you how exciting it is to know that I can buy healing anti inflammatory lollies from one of my online mates who did extensive research on YouTube. Honestly, I can’t tell you.

Like, I’m really, really, really like energised by social commentary online, like for reals totes legit like, as the people I gave birth to love me to exclaim regularly in front of their friends in enclosed public spaces while I’m hitting the chardy. Sorry. Like I forgot about the pandemic pandemonium for a second there.

No really, I’m thrilled by your business opportunities, I haven’t left the chat permanently, I’m just having a nanna nap for a couple of years.

Finding it hard to get off the couch?

Can’t find your trackie dacks? Lost the remote? You’ve spent all day sitting in a milk bar and no famous Hollywood agents have discovered you?

I usually have a million things going on in my head, and creatively I’m the sort of person who has 47 projects on the go at any given moment. If I’d lived 100 years ago I would have needed a butler and a maid just to get me to the breakfast table.

I’m a single mother of three kids (driver, maid, washerwoman, servant) professional fool, speaker, writer and stilt walker and I wanted to finish writing my book, go overseas and get back to performing stand up comedy this year. I do not have a sherpa or a chauffeur (yet), so I went to see a life coach. A good one. One who helped me get my shit together (yes, it’s very technical this stuff). We set goals and worked out how I could possibly achieve them in the spare five minutes I have each day. And I now have a mentor for my book, I’m booked to speak at engagements this year and I’ve just been overseas.

So as Molly Meldrum would say, do yourself a favour. If you live in Sydney you can give her a call. If you don’t live in Sydney she’s on Skype. It makes sense to get someone who is very organised help you arrange the mad thoughts in your head (just me?). Especially if you’re a creative type. This is not an ad, it’s a recommendation.


In my 20s I was a sucker for every ology being spruiked on a street corner by a charlatan. It was the 90s after all. I veered between the ‘I don’t give a rats’ slacker culture and the personal growth ‘I want to find myself, that’s enough about me, what do you think of me?’ ethos. There’s a sucker born every minute and at 4am on the 19th of September that sucker was me.

I tried rebirthing, chakra realignment, reading tea leaves, chanting, and I even looked into the bollocks that is numerology. I took a personality course at the ‘church’ of Scientology. I discovered I only had a personality when I drank like an Australian cricketer on tour. I spent thousands on courses and tapes and CD’s and behavioural analysis bullshit instead of investing in cheap Sydney property. Then when I was 29 I embarked on a breeding program. I had big whopper babies, all overdue, so I read lots of intellectual tomes in my fourth trimester, like Get A Life, No Idea and Women’s Monthly magazines. One day I read an article about birthdays and their meaning so I decided to harness the power of celebrity to give my life some direction (five pregnancies will do that to your brain).

I discovered I share a birthday with Twiggy and Mama Cass (I’m somewhere in between them size wise), but my spiritual guru also shares my birthday. George Cadbury. He was a chocolate maker and philanthropist. The charity I work for is sponsored by you guessed it…Cadbury. It’s a sign. So as Oprah would say I’ve found my destiny. I was put on this earth to consume chocolate, preferably the expensive stuff.

Who do you share your birthday with? Maybe they can give your life the direction it needs. Which personality traits do you share with a celebrity?