Bella’s blog

Hey guys,

Check out a recent interview I gave on 4zzz book club ( despite being hungover as hell)

http://warispeace.podbean.com/2011/04/14/bella-vendramini-interview/

What an’ awesome thing!  I’ve been nominated for the Fun and Fearless Woman of the year by Cosmopolitan magazine again, I’m  totally smitten. If I win I get a lifetimes supply of free tampons – soooooo if you vote for me – then I’ll share my booty with you – what could be fairer?

Vote here as often as you like until May 2011

http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/fun-fearless-females/2011/bella_vendramini_inaked_in_publici.htm

I’ve made it back to sunny Sydney and am doing press and things for Naked In Public – I did a radio interview yesterday, the presenter saying she felt ‘disturbed and delighted’ by Naked In Public…

‘Huh’? being my oh so eloquent response

‘Disturbed because I suffered with you and delighted becasue you made me laugh hard while doing it’

Indeed!

*grin

A friend sent me this from the internet, it rung a couple of bells. Not that I’d ever admit that mind you. Enjoy -

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your ‘Always’ maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core or Dri-Weave absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts.

But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from ‘the curse’? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my time of the month is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body.

Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call ‘an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.’ Isn’t the human body amazing?

As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers monthly visits from ‘Aunt Flo’. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying, jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy!

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants… Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: ‘Have a Happy Period.’

Are you —— kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness – actual smiling, laughing happiness, is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James?

FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything ‘happy’ about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreen’s armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory.

For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like ‘Put down the Hammer’ or ‘Vehicular Manslaughter is Wrong’, or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull sh*t.

And that’s a promise I will keep. Always!

Good news – I’ve (finally!) finished the next installment in my memoirs, after Biting The Big Apple…

Written and set in Sydney, New York, Los Angeles, Berlin, Prague, Munich, Bolzano, Paris, Dresden, Dublin, Birmingham, Nice, Cannes, Florence, and Rome (drawn breath) oh and underneath the kitchen table after a fairly torrid night on Mai Tais, it’s called…

Naked In Public (a memoir of love, divorce, travel, oh and donkey shows)

and is due out in April 2011, just in time for mother’s day!

Hope you guys enjoy it as much as Biting The Big Apple

xBella

A gift from the gods of song, I was gifted a ticket to see Leonard Cohen play at the Acer Arena in Sydney last night. The man was fantastic. I think he’s around 207 yrs old by now, but his voice is still the most air-crackingly rich sexy baritone this side of heaven. He’s got the veracity of a twenty year old who has just dropped his balls. Masculinity doesn’t sum it up. The man, rather the voice, is pure testosterone.
The woman sitting next to me, after arguing with her husband over the ‘hideousness’ of the rosy cheeked country-ish warm up act, began to cry.
His solo stuff was amazing – a warm, incredibly intimate poetry reading made me feel voyeuristic as if I were listening in to something I shouldn’t have been. His battles with depression, with his family and women – all beautiful well laid nuggets in his voice, ripping and erupting for the still and watchful audience.
His voice kind of reverberated inside me. I’m not sure whether I wanted to dance in the air, jump off a cliff or offer to have his babies. Maybe all at the same time. A heat builds at his voice, a steady accumulating heat. His extraordinary lyrics ‘the hinge of her thighs’ ‘dance me’ ‘In the Chelsea Hotel’, ‘A thousand kisses deep’
His band was fabulous too. Masters from all over the world, some young and shaven haired, other’s old as their guitars themselves. Sharon Robinson the co-writer on most of his songs was there too, a female equivalent of Cohen, she had notes that went deep down into you, a pathos and a dark humor discernable.
Two other women, sisters, sang and even though they were good, really good, they were distracting – because it was all about him. Nothing else existed, not even his worn face, his blue jacket and pork pie hat, his voice made everything else seem unstable and transient.
After the argument with her husband, the woman next to me, would turn to me and whisper at me like a mother. ‘Oh don’t you like that’ ‘Oh what a voice, now this is what I’m talking about’ Her husband listened and pretended not to. She ignored him further, a stonewall only an old wife can achieve so adeptly. Toward the end, came her tears. She clasped the hand-rest which was actually my arm, yet didn’t seem to know the difference ‘I think I love him’ she whispered to me. I couldn’t work out if she meant her husband or Leonard Cohen.
But my sentiments were just the same. Leonard Cohen that is, not her husband.

I’m living in Costa Rica for a bit, down south near the Panamanian border on the sunny Caribbean coast line. I have a gorgeous jungle house near the beach, and am working on my next book – a novel – eeek.

There are sloths, howler monkeys, toucans and vivid fish in the clear aqua waters, it’s completely paradisaical here…more updates soon