GOLDEN GOOSE

My father Roald rang me from the Big House at about 5pm yesterday to say that a greyhound called GLAMOROUS DENISE won race 4 in Melbourne & paid $9.50. He has a little system in gaol where a mate from his colliery days Frank,(who after a reassignment now lives very very happily as Frances), comes in weekly to run a mobile TAB. It's not generally accepted but the guards don't seem comfortable frisking women who were once men so what Frances can take in or out for Dad is nobody's business. She took in a blanket box for me once that I wanted Dad to renovate & so in it went completely undetected. Dad took it to the woodworking compound at CCC (Cessnock Correctional Centre) & out it came - bright pink glitter paint, gold hinges & containing more mail & packages for the 'outside' than Australia Post on a public holiday. And if you want drugs or 50 litre bottles of Jim Beam, apparently Frances can carry them in between her well developed thighs like a frozen turkey (which she once shoplifted from Mayfield Woolies quite successfully I might add...had a funny taste though even after 3 hours in the Fisher & Paykel on 220 degrees C).

So GLAMOROUS DENISE was a bit of a mystery to Roald, appearing in the field like that AND being named after his firstborn daughter (me)...after all, having been raised by parents who had greyhounds, Roald is no stranger to the anorexic canine & thought he smelled a rat. Sure enough, after making a few calls on his mobile 'phone (smuggled in & camouflaged as an oxygen canister for his emphysema) the goose was cooked. Turns out Brain Drain Wayne from Abermain (Dad's protégé) had removed some seminal fluid from Dad's prime dog back in 2005 (when Dad had just gone back IN after being OUT on parole) & was now letting the progeny of his thieving of body matter & tissue earn him some money! Always from the shallow end of the gene pool Wayne had decided to name the hounds after our family so he could keep track of who's who. 

Wayne should be getting a little knock on his door around...about...*winces in anticipation* now...

The moral of the story is "If you're gonna mess with the Golden Goose (Roald Gold)...expect to get cooked"

There endeth the lesson,

Lots of love & fake rabbits on sticks whizzing around a track, Denise (VERY glamorous) xox

(broken) GOLDEN SLUMBERS

*yawn*

Doncha hate it when your neighbour gets a new girlfriend? I'm all for the world spinning around full of love in its many guises but I draw the line at losing my beauty sleep. I don't get this way overnight folks & Steve next door has just found himself a new 'lady friend'. Her name apparently is Rhonda. Well that's what he screamed from about 10pm...I think it was 4am when Steve finished off his best work (his last record was 2.47am, with Charlene from Bonnyrigg) & with only two hours shut eye I may be feeling a little less tolerant & perky than I usually am...curiosity has gotten the better of me & I just put up the periscope I bought from Mrs Mangles when she left Neighbours (a union issue) to see what I could see.

Through Steve's smoky bedroom I just spotted a woman with a figure that once could have walked the finest catwalks in Cessnock, with hair like a mad woman's breakfast...I don't mean to be cruel to my sister, but let's not split hairs - Rhonda has a face like a dropped pie. But as my father always says "when you're stoking the fire you don't look at the mantlepiece..." Wise words indeed from Roald Gold. Oh dear, now I can hear her serenading him, oh that is lovely...'do that to me one more time, once is never enough with a man like you hoo-hoo whoah...what a man, what a man, what a mighty mighty big man...hit me baby one more time...'

Great - Rhonda has a medley going in there..best be off - I'm heading to the recycling bin to get some egg cartons to insulate myself from the noise pollution..& perhaps a little diversion next door to knock & say "Here's your Zovirax back Steve, thanks!"

If you need me I'll be in my boudoir with this Gold Mask super glued to my face...love & some vague grizzles about needing more sleep, Denise xoxoxo

DEAR DIARY...

Last night was my first monthly & as with all new things...the day started out with a challenge.

I had planned to sing & perform high jinx in the alleyway of El Nonno but as I parted the pink holographic curtains in the morning a drizzle that looked like it was setting in met me square in the eyes - that's right Goldmembers - Golden Showers...But there is always a Gold lining on every cloud (except possibly the Hiroshima mushroom) & so I let my Goldfingers do the walking & called the Kent Hotel in Hamilton. A very nice manager Tony, who had NO idea of who I was (doesn't he remember Miss Newcastle Showgirl 1985? geesh!) checked out my website to ascertain that I wasn't really a) a criminal wanting refuge for the night, b) a stripper or c) going to be selling party plan from his environs. He offered me the back room so I sent Flash in with the Gold backdrop. Then Tony rang to say he hadn't realised the kitchen had taken a booking of 40 for the restaurant...would I mind having upstairs? Now my sound man Tinno has joints like a well oiled machine after years of lugging gear up stairs so in spite of an initial hesitation I said "by jingo Tony, why not!"

So there in a room with leather lounges, a grand piano & a bitchin' mood courtesy of my lighting designer Cam Junor we shared my monthly. Mr & Mrs Whitetrash marched in Saturday's Mardi Gras with their HAPPILY MARRIED banner so I dedicated a lovely little tune 'Let's Stick Together' to them & wore a white feathered number to make me look virginal, new & innocent, a lofty ambition indeed. Personally I thought I looked like the biggest bird in Swan Lake but they seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. Another highlight was the audience singing-a-long during Rod Stewart's 'I Don't Wanna Talk About It'...it reminded me of the time Rod & I shared a bottle of whiskey in Edinburgh & his kilt caught alight, but that's another story...

Thanks to everyone who came along & helped make my Inaugural Monthly a success, I do hope the businessmen who kept wandering through the show to go out onto the balcony to light up (a thin ruse to keep watching me the sly buggers) have recovered from the sight of my booty pressed against the window at eye level. As Bertolt Brecht said, "always keep the audience wanting more..."

Flash went off to his day job today with some glitter lodged in his whiskers...I didn't have the heart to point it out...

I'm thinking of skipping next month, being Easter Monday, but will be back with a vengeance May 3rd hopefully better & heavier than ever, love & some more love & then some love on top, Denise xoxox

GOLDEN MARDI GRAS MEMORIES

I remember my first Mardi Gras as if it was only yesterday...when things got a bit ho-hum at home in Abermain cum this time of the year my mother Mary would say "that's it kids, get your ports packed, we're going to Beverley's!" Bev was Mum's friend who lived in Kings Cross ekeing out a tidy little living performing at a lovely night venue called the Pink Pussycat. She lived in a small apartment behind the Coca-Cola sign & let us crash there whenever it was Mardi Gras Festival time.

June 24th, 1978 was the very first Mardi Gras held in Sydney & I was there by the grace of Gold when coincidentally we happened to be enjoying a gelato near the El Alamein Fountain on one of our Sydney sojourns. Mum & Beverley had popped out to do a dance at the Pink Pussycat & left me & my cousins Mark & Jane with a nice man called Shirley who arrived to babysit us in a backless mermaid green fancy dress costume. At around 9pm when there was still no sign of Mum or Bev he said, "Kids, I hate to have to do this but there's a very important function I have to attend on Oxford St & I guess you have gotta come with me," which was fine with me as I always was up for a bit of adventure & mayhem. The memories of that night are a wondrous blur of streaks of colour & celebration marred only by the arrest of Shirley on Darlinghurst Road...in hindsight it was totally uncalled for - a nice man had approached Shirley & asked if he could have a better look at his fantastic outfit in the Mens toilets in the park as the light was better in there. Next thing you know the boys in blue were handcuffing Shirley & took him back to the cop shop leaving Mark, Jane & I to wander back up to Beverley's flat. I remember walking past sequins, taffeta, glomesh tops like Judy Green wore on Sale of the Century & thinking "when I grow up...I wanna be JUST like them..."

Years later I was lucky enough to be on a float for Newcastle celebrating this night of revelry, glamour, laughter & 3am kebabs. I wish you all the happiness & sentiment that Mardi Gras brings us...life is too short to care who people choose to sleep with, how many or how you like your eggs done in the morning.

Love & glitter bombs with a rockin' disco beat, Deniiiiiise Gooooold

GOLDEN TOPS

What.

A.

Week...

So many things happened that I don't know quite where to start...it probably began at the Gold picnic last week when no barbies were working due to the flood through Lane Cove recently & no-one had brought anything to eat except raw meat & hard liquor. It made me wish I could have had some of Mother Mary's Golden Top soup, the one she always made for me from mushies in the paddock behind us whenever I was feeling a bit anxious. Took all my worries away it did...those were the days.

From there the week went downhill with the letterbox blowing over, my left thumbnail breaking & Cherry off to get something reopened in Thailand that apparently had closed up (she didn't give me the full details) but being a Pollyanna I found things to be cheerful about...but really...maybe it's the full moon in Cancer, but I just CAN'T seem to be getting past the revelation that Kirstie Alley has "gone berserk" & had a "Fat Farm Freak Out" - it's just too painful...I mean, never having had a weight problem myself I find it hard to fully identify with her plight but she is a sister & I worry about her. So I ask that you my Golden Friends join with me in sending the Big K our love & strength to stop at just the 'one side of beef' as reported in that excellent tome of journalistic integrity Woman's Day.

I'll be talking at length about this & other urgent current affairs issues at my Monthly on Monday. Maybe Flash can video it & we can send a copy of the tape to Oprah...Kirstie needs to know that alot of us have battles too & she is not alone. Cherry can NOT be left alone with a packet of Cherry Ripe minis & I must confess that I just can't seem to be able to stop collecting male fans. It must be just the creative slash addictive spirit in all of us entertainer types...might call Kirstie later & see if she's up for some ping-pong. Anything to get her mind off the grits.

Love & a mouthful of Golden Top soup (that Flash just found in the freezer!), Tra-la-la, Denise xoxoxoxox