Wednesday, 30 May 2012

TFTW: You are what you eat!

ice cream!

I am what I eat?  Well then I'm a fluid retentive sponge of MSG and preservatives (could explain why I appear so over tanned at times and why my face never used to move).

I wish I was prime beef.... saucy! 

Monday, 28 May 2012

$7,500 in parking fines?!

I'd NEVER park in a disabled park like THIS 'ducking from my iPhone' camera man, but
NO STOPPING has MY name ALL over it!

I stumbled across a parking fine reminder notice.

Parking fines enter my life with a frequency far greater than I care to admit in such a public forum.  One might be correct in assuming that parking fines find their way to me like a lone nail on your drive way which miraculously, undoubtedly and skilfully will navigate its way into your rear drivers side tyre like a fresh white bird shit to your newly cleaned windscreen.... it's just second nature and a prerequisite of the inner city CBD Eastern suburb lifestyle I chose.

I pride myself on being an exceptionally sensible driver (it takes skill to ALWAYS find that lone nail).

I'm a stickler for the on road rules, an over-user of my indicator, and when our lanes need to merge I'm the type of driver who is more than happy to give way to your car like a seamlessly executed Disney Main Street parade of car lights (shock horror people, if we ALL let in just ONE car, chances are 99.9999999999999% probable we're ALL going to arrive at our chosen destination at EXACTLY the same time, however should we NOT let in that one car I can pretty much guarantee 100% we're all going to arrive at out chosen destinations at EXACTLY the same time BUT with far higher blood pressure and a distaste for the world far greater than my putrid distaste for the fact there quite literally appears be bloody nowhere to park in my postcode and surrounding locale!).

.... end rant!

While I certainly have mastered the fine art of the Sydney road and the metropolitan driving experience, my skill re l'parking d'extravaganza (that's French for "where the faaark do we paaark in the faaarking city mate?") leaves an awful lot to be desired.

You see, I'm that driver who is always pulling into the NO STOPPING zone.

It's not that I don't understand the meaning of the sign.  I have a wonderful grasp of the English word and it's meaning.  English is actually my first language (it's actually my ONLY language, so I genuinely have a finer grasp of the English language than that of say, if the sign was written in Italian, or German or Chinese or...... you get the drift).

So I clearly understand NO STOPPING means: 

"thinking of stopping here darling......? well, the answer unfortunately is literally no, please don't stop here darling!"

But the problem is, while council on paper suggests that the answer should be NO, there appears to be literally no other option available to me as to where I CAN stop.  And it is because of this, and because of a number of other reasons that I am of the opinion that I shouldn't be fined for stopping here and HERE'S some of the reasons why.......

I paid for this road, so I'll stop wherever the hell I wanna stop!  

Remember when you were a kid and your parents said:

"when you pay your own rent and own your own house, then you can live by your own rules, until then while we're paying your rent and you're living in our house you'll live by OUR rules."

Well my tax dollars payed for this damn road!

I actually had to get outta bed, go to work, chase the money via invoice from my clients, allow the money time to clear in my bank account.  After which I had to ensure I didn't spend the money (that's the REALLY hard bit) and then I had to transfer the same money off to our government by their set timeline so that they could use my hard earned cash to buy us some roads.

I'm not exactly sure which roads they used my money to buy, but just like not knowing exactly which road is mine we can't be EXACTY sure which road ISN'T mine.  So there's actually a percentage possibility that the government or council has stuck a NO STOPPING sign on a road I might ACTUALLY own.... without my permission!  I could sue them over that sign for vandalism of my road.

..... but only if I actually knew which road was mine.  But I'm still looking into that.


After I already bought some roads with my tax money, THEY have the nerve to charge me nearly $1,000 EVERY YEAR for some pretty sticker to stick on my car.

I don't really think that sticker is worth $1K (and I spend alot on shoes).  So when I enquired as to why it should be priced so extravagantly, the reply I received was that this was a tax to help fund road construction and maintenance.  Ironic really cause I thought I already paid my taxes to buy the first road.  And here they are charging me AGAIN to pay to build ANOTHER new road and to maintain the road I ALREADY paid for.

And yet they had the nerve to vandalise my first road with that NO STOPPING sign?

.... that's a bit rich!

I hear on the grapevine very soon we won't have to buy these stickers.  But they're still gonna charge me the nearly $1K?!  And I don't even get the coloured sticker?!  Random?!


My name is Adam Williams and having already mentioned my great grasp on the English language, there's a large probability I actually own William Street!

(Adam "WILLIAMS" / "WILLIAM S"treet).

If you live in Sydney you will be VERY aware of this street.  It's a VERY popular street (and if I'm not 100% sure which street is mine, there's a slight comfort in the fact I might actually own one of the more popular streets...... it's an insecurity thing.)

Now a couple of years ago, they took out a number of lanes on William St.  They say this was to allow for parking and to beautify the street with greenery.  More parking?!  How kind!

They lied.  There's about 10 new parks (10 car parks in exchange for two lanes of traffic is NOT an exciting ratio) and approximately 6 sad looking trees (a tree should never be described as sad.... unless you're THESE trees).

Rather conveniently (for some international privately owned company) at exactly the same time William St HALVED in size.... the Cross City Tunnel opened.

How lucky are we??!!  The main route to the CBD became bottlenecked and low and behold we had another way to get there (well strangely, it wasn't really another way to get there, it was a way to bypass our city COMPLETELY.... ironic really considering half our population needs to get TO the city every day.... not PASSED it!  But that's a whole other blog post!)

Unfortunately the tunnel that sorta goes nowhere cost $4.70.

But what's $4.70 between friends?

$4.70 one way = $9.40 return
$9.40 x 6 working days per week = $56.40 per week
$56.40 per week x average of 48 working weeks in a year = $2,707.20

$2,707.20 a year per person???!!!  Starting to look a bit like a tax really isn't it?  Except this tax doesn't go to our government, the rumour mill has THIS faux tax going to a man in another country.  Does this mean I own roads in another country too?

I might be an internationally acclaimed road owner.  Sorta sounds glamorous.  Like everything glamorous, glamorous is appearing VERY expensive!


If you're lucky enough to be able to get where you need to go, once you get there you gotto put money in these little machines and RENT the time you can park there!

But I might OWN this street.  Why should I rent from MYSELF?!

To be honest, I'm actually prepared to put this money in and rent these car parks cause as I've already explained, these parks are bloody hard to find......  but more often than NOT, there isn't a car park available to rent!

So I pull up in a NO STOPPING zone.

And then I get a $201 fine.

Which I am meant to pay to the magic parking God whose job it was to put the parks on the street in the first place (on the street which I might actually own).

And he DIDN'T!

He didn't put enough parks on this street, so then HE fines me $201 for not being able to find a park


It really makes no sense.

So when I stumbled across that parking fine reminder notice and I rang up to see if I'd missed the due date and thus whether it had increased in fee..... the automated voice told me that I could pay up to $7,500 in fines in one transaction.  How convenient for me!

I don't actually have $7,500 in unpaid fines (YET), but clearly SOMEONE does!

So that means someone else out there thinks they shouldn't have to pay their fines EITHER.

Is it you?

Agree or disagree?

Please don't make me feel like a lonely car space in a dark scary corner of an undesirable car parking station.  Please park your arse here and tell me what you really think?!

Sunday, 27 May 2012

VERY muscle Mary un-birthday to you!

It takes balls to do this shit!

At approximately 5.30pm AEST this afternoon, my little baby blog officially turns one week old.

It wasn't a hard labour... it practically just fell out!

fell out of where?

Loose I hear you say?

Loose lips!
My loose lips
I'm widely known in certain circles for my wealth of self proclaimed expertise on so many topics and my verbal diarrhoea has been the star attraction of many a'dinner party (the star, definitely not the romantic lead).  So to commit the crime of having 'too much to say' to paper (or to keyboard in this case) was actually far easier than getting knocked up, waiting for nine months, eating shitloads and pushing, pushing, pushing.
Couldn't include pics of our Top Models getting knocked up, so have included pics of them eating shitloads.... wouldn't you if your best friend kept walking in the Chanel show!
I keep mentioning Chanel.... here's my Karl Lagerfeld impression

Well maybe I have been eating shitloads.... but I far more enjoy 'pulling'.

I look back over the last week with great pride.  Look how my little baby has grown.  I have fed her with words, ideas and random thoughts and in return nearly 2,000 people have popped in to see how she's developed and what she is up to.

Three wise men have not turned up with presents for my baby.

I found one wise man
But two wise blogging women have given me the priceless gift of endorsement (shout out to Mrs Woog and Edanland) and in this current climate, an endorsement from a god like NIKE (or Mrs Woog or Edanland) is far more valuable than the gift of Frankincense or Myrrh..... I mean what the hell are Frankincense and Myrrh?  They're incense, like the ones available at the $2 shop for less than $2, they're those things you burn to make your house smell like a hippie lived there.... who wants to live where a hippie would live (who wants to SMELL like a hippie?)!

I don't love everything my little baby blog has done in her whole week life time, however like a true parent my love is unconditional.

Here I am even loving myself unconditionally
Even I get a little shocked at how transparent she's been on some quite personal topics, but I think in time she will learn to keep some of her thoughts to herself and only share those that won't get anyone into trouble.

I think my baby blog might be a little bit superficial.
Oh the shock!  Are you calling ME superficial? 
I mean pictures of diamond watches, Louis Vuitton luggage, $25K couture dresses and $10K handbags in shocking pink covering private parts and man jewels.... it's all a touch vulgar.  But babies learn from their parents and my babies daddy is just a touch superficial too.

Who's your daddy?!
I'm rather impressed that my baby blog isn't a name dropper.  She has access to some very high profile movers and shakers, but very few names have been dropped in order to impress (if you drop a name, sometimes you gotto bend over to pick it up).
If I began blogging 5yrs ago, woulda mentioned my bestie Paris (she's done a lot of bending over, sometimes to pick things up)
I sometimes wish my baby blog would comment on topics that are relevant and totally current.  But she's only just coming on one week old, who really would care what her thoughts on the current NASDAQ position are, or whether Facebook's unattractive share price is a Morgan Stanley masterminded conspiracy to place billions in Mark Zuckerberg's pocket (I mean are you suggested Master Zuckerberg is a common thief, like he'd steal your idea or something.... what would give you that impression?).

But my baby blog is giving it a go, and if there's anything I've learnt in my 20-something year lifetime, giving it a go is far more important than just sitting idle and waiting for a blog to magically write itself.
Me standing idle waiting for my blog to magically write itself.
Yes, twenty-something!  There I said it!

Spank you VERY much for reading, and thank you VERY much Mrs Woog who taught me if she can be bothered setting up the actual page for you, the least you can do is turn up to your laptop and write something.... anything.  Maybe you won't change a life, but maybe you will give someone some shit giggles for two minutes of their life.... and let's be honest, sometimes the other 23hrs and 58mins can be full of enough OTHER shit!

Hope you enjoyed this two minutes of shit!

Love A x

Thursday, 24 May 2012

Thought For the Week....

looking profound

Profound 'Thought For the Week':

Six inches is only average when you are talking heigh of a shoe! (Author: Adam Fucking Williams)

Part 2 'My 6 inches' coming soon to a blog near you....

My 6 inches (PART 1)

hide the head

It was a fortnight ago on a Wednesday afternoon just before 5pm.  I was heading out the door when my phone rang.  

This is my phone

On the line was my producer.  Just over an hr later I was on the 6pm flight to Melbourne, at a rehearsal just after 8pm and the very next evening at the Malthouse Theatre the following announcement was made:

This is the Malthouse Theatre, however the signage sorta gives that away!

"In this evening's performance, the role of Adam Williams will be performed FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME by.... Adam Williams.  Our stage just got a whole six inches bigger.... eight inches if you're on Manhunt!"

(Manhunt can best be described as or similar online dating agencies frequented by the heterosexual community, except with Manhunt there's no wining and dining and you don't need flowers.  All you need is a rubber and some water based lubricant and you're pretty much guaranteed a hook up within approximately 3mins.... well within two minutes in my postcode.... so I've heard)

The production I am talking about and the show little I was unwillingly starring in is titled:  

'Naked Boys Singing!'

The pre-existing Australian cast of our production 'Naked Boys Singing'

Interesting title don't you think?  

A title aptly featuring three of my favourite words from the English dictionary: BOYS, SINGING and NAKED.

yes...... NAKED!

This is ALL you need to pack in order to perform naked
An actual shot of the 19kgs OVER I travelled with, in order to perform naked (I like options)

Now before I delve right into some organic multi demographic pleasing crap about performing naked like:

"it was such a liberating experience" or "it was all about the art" or "I'm at one with the theatre and my showing off of my nine inch schlonger is between myself and those in the audience that actually parted with their cold hard earned cash to come check out my wanger in all it's well lit, fluffed, meaty unadulterated glory!"....

....we best head back a couple of months and find out exactly how we ended up here.

Me a couple of months ago waiting for the phone to ring admiring my watermelon shorts matching my flowers

I received mail from my agent.  Director Jonathan Worsley was bringing the 2nd longest running off Broadway show in history to tour our shores and had decided it was little humble me who should choreograph the brand new roll out of this show.  Clearly Master Worsley has extraordinary taste, minds of brilliance think alike and I mean even I'd choose me to choreograph!

Just between you and I and the lamp post (the naked and exposed lamp post standing tall in all it's glory lighting the way to a liberating unchartered path ahead) when it turns out the same director is already a multi award winning film maker by such an extraordinary young age, was Baz Luhrmann right hand man and prodigy for over three years and has actually stayed as a guest in Karl Lagerfeld's house WITH Karl Lagerfeld (not sure if you've heard of Karl Lagerfeld and his little label called CHANEL or seen Baz and Jonathan's commercial featuring some actress named Nicole Kidman) but when he calls, you come.

And cum.... I did!

me coming!

(if you read my last post mentioning Ch9's The Voice, Nicole Kidman is actually judge Keith Urban's wife.  Tiny world huh?!  Fancy my director/producer working with my last post's, judges wife!  He hasn't worked with Seal's wife.... but rather ironically, it turns out Seal didn't work with his wife either!  If you've seen Seal on The Voice and the way he 'works' with the female contestants, you might understand why.)

A picture tribute to Ch9's The Voice
Anyway, back to far more interesting topics, naked boys....

Prior to our first meet it was imperative I familiarised myself with the subject matter.  So I continued to sleep with half of Sydney and a quarter of Melbourne and a third of the Lebanese tradesmen community, a few select NRL players and finally I sat down to watch the DVD of the Broadway cast recording of 'Naked Boys Singing'.

My bed, actual location for much of my research

To say I watched the whole DVD is a lie (a big fat, meaty with girth LIE!).  

I tried.  I tried on several occasions.  The problem was, just like actually being naked with boys, sometimes the harder you try.... the WORSE it is!

So regardless of the fact the WHOLE production is about my FAVOURITE topic in the entire universe....

and regardless of the fact the lyric is playfully cheeky....

and regardless of the fact the show has a cult following world wide as the 2nd longest running off broadway show in history....

and regardless of the fact their were eight willies in my living room slapping around in life size on my overpriced oversized plasma....

the mere fact that it was not the first time eight sausages had been in my living room at one time begging in a competitive nature for my attention.... 

the novelty wore off VERY quickly.

A picture of my time going slowly in reference to my quote 'time going quickly'

.... and herein lies both the positives and the negatives about this show.  

Rather strangely, LITERALLY only TWO minutes into the production you simply just do NOT care about the fact that the cast is naked.  Strangely after only two minutes of staring at eight naked men with six average willies, one massive one and one tiny one, you really couldn't give two tugs that they're willies are there at all.

The show's original claim is to break down the taboo of the naked body.  And THIS is successfully proven only two minutes into the show!

But considering the remaining duration of the original Broadway production has them just stand there and deliver the songs in some bland, uninspiring staging and choices, you quite literally are turned off for the remainder of the show.... when really one just wants to be TURNED ON!

(the last time eight men were naked in my lounge room, I was VERY turned on!)

After fobbing off my initial meet with Jonathan many times as I unsuccessfully tried over and over again to watch the DVD (but continued to screw Australia's male population.... in the name of theatrical research) the deadline was looming and it was time to meet face to face.  

So I wrote down the song titles and was just going to have to act like I'd watched the DVD (I've been to NIDA, surely I can act my way around this meeting and navigate this cock fest).

To my utter relief, Jonathan Worsely's opinion of the Broadway production was identical to mine, and it was because of this he felt I was the right man to inject the correct CLIMAX into the production.

I've been known to make cabbage look sexy
Literally old cabbage
Honourable mention to my mum for being my inhouse model on that one (she's not an old cabbage)


After being wined and dined and googling each other over and over again and telling each other how fabulous we both were.... we teamed up!

We teamed up to create theatre, not babies.  Regardless of the female tone in my voice, we are both men so to create babies is actually physically impossible!

After a whirlwind rehearsal period, many disagreements, many agreements and many doodles later we opened at Sydney's Seymour Center looking like this:

and this

and this

and this
And this!

.... with remarkably fantastic reviews.

Stage Whispers:  "Clever and slick choreography, a classy version of the Chippendales with less grunt and more glitz"

Aussie Theatre:  "Adam Williams choreography is not only as risque as the lyrics but also as technically and athletically impressive"

Svens Guide:  "I was not prepared for fantastic Aida with wangs, and I LOVED it"

Arts Hub:  "Jonathon Worsley, Adam Williams and Sheena Crouch have hit all the right notes.  Uplifting, entertaining, groin flapping action"

Considering the story board is quite literally about cock, I was genuinely humbled that audiences had noticed we'd taken it out of the gutter

Oudda the gudder

.... and through some unique, organic and original asymmetrical choices had delivered a theatrically appealing piece, that in my opinion (and gratefully 96% of the reviewers) far propelled from it's original existence.

We were a hit!  In Sydney, then Canberra, then Woollongong, then Melbourne.  

Oh.... then Melbourne!

We were down cast members in Melbourne (no going down on boys in Melbourne jokes) and considering it was my crazy head that thought of the funny shit they did on the stage, you'd think it would be my crazy head that could fly on in and join the show...... the head of my penis was called to centre stage to save the day.

(insert photoshopped overscaled image of Adam's penis picture HERE)



Tuesday, 22 May 2012

....that's SO gay!

think pink!

If I hear "That's SO gay!" one more time, I'm going to explode like a hot pink can of cherry pop that's been shaken and thrown in a prop propelled Susan Stroman inspired group jazz extravaganza purposely choreographed to travel the length of Sydney's flamboyant Oxford Street for the annual parade d'extravaganza Mardi Gras in celebration of all things different (but equal) and performed by woman who love women, men who love men and people who just love people equally (well let's be honest, perhaps some of those men 'explode' over other men too.... just as frantically as that can of cherry pop after being shaken and thrown around for whole duration of that long parade route!).

or do I mean 'root'?

To reiterate what you're already thinking and keep things honest, the sentence above is just a touch melodramatic.... but so am I. 

However, the phrase 'that's SO gay!' is being misused on a scale that is far greater than the misuse of women's accessibly priced sequin high street jackets worn by men at fashion week.

Here is the source of my problem:

On Monday night Charlotte Dawson and I threw on some forward trending attire and headed on down to the Fox backlot for the live recording of Ch9's The Voice.

Note to self: swing set at Fox studios doesn't allow stilettos.  What the hell will I wear if I ever choose to use the slippery slide?

After pre drinks in the 'I Paid for the Show' or 'I'm Famous' or 'I Know Famous People' or 'I Know People who Paid For The Show' SPECIAL marquee we headed on down to the studio and took our seats.

I'm friends with some pretty high profile people and some gosh damn powerful people and may have been on TV once or twice myself so am 99.99% lucky enough to always secure any 'special' area or seat (I hate the word 'VIP Area', just because we recognise a stranger doesn't make them 'very important' and I reckon some of the most important people in the whole world are too busy making a difference where it really counts to go to multiple parties per week and pose for multiple photos of themselves.... with themselves).


The two seats next to me in the 'VIP Area' (groan) were unattended just before filming started so two 'General Admission' standing room only ladies were sat there to ensure no empty seats were shown on camera.  Considering the seat God had initially decided they weren't even worthy of having somewhere to place their lard arses and had now miraculously changed his mind to title them VERY IMPORTANT people and thus should rest their weary legs by gifting them thrones amongst other VERY IMPORTANT people where they can actually SEE what they had lined up for 5 hours to see, you'd think they would be happy!

but THIS is what I heard:

Girl 1 "my phone's running out of battery"
Girl 2 "that's SO gay!"

Now as a raving homo it wouldn't be incorrect if you referred to ME as gay.  And since I actually AM gay, there is NO ONE else in the entire universe MORE of an EXPERT on being GAY than ME!  Cause GAY means.... ME!

Me being gay (pink on blue)
Me on my skateboard not really being gay, but STILL being SO gay!

In the olden days, gay also meant gleeful, happy, cheery, vivacious, joyful and playful so it didn't bother me when I initially discover the term was being used to describe my lifestyle choices.  However with our ever increasing reliance on our iPhone to ensure our ongoing contact to the outside world via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and also all those other applications I apparently NEED to be current, I couldn't for the life of me work out how her iPhone dying could make her feel vivacious!

Usually I incorrectly think I know everything, but in this circumstance I had to go out on a limb and asked the seat filler with the lard arse so clearly made to fill a seat "what do you mean by that?"

Girl 2 "means it's crap"

Gay means CRAP?  I am crap?  My lifestyle is crap?  The umbrella term used to describe me ALSO means crap?

An example of my crap lifestyle
No.  No it doesn't.

For once and for all I'd like to clear this up.  To all of those people using the term 'that's SO gay!' in an urban dialogue to describe something that sucks (sucks.... incorrect choice of words?) I mean to describe something that's bad.... please stop.

Please stop NOW.

(was going to include a picture of me sucking.... but didn't!)

It actually doesn't offend me personally because I have an overinflated opinion of myself and am lucky enough to feel confident and strong in life in general and more often than not, the use of my over accentuated hips in my walk could best be described as 'that's SO gay!'  

However I don't want those still discovering and possibly less accepting of themselves than I to believe the term and title given to them to describe a part of their being (directly aligned to their pursuit of love, relationship, union, commitment and equal partnership) to also be used in an urban dialogue referring to something bad.

Sex is NOT bad (if you know what I mean).

If you are stupid enough to think 'gay' can also mean 'bad' then below is some examples of the correct use of the phrase 'that is SO gay!' (I've kindly used picture examples.... just in case you are uneducated in other areas and also can't read):

Calling your Hermes towel a 'maxi infinity headress' and doing a photo shoot wearing it by your pool
"that's SO gay!"

Driving over the Harbour Bridge in head to toe sequin to make someone happy
"that's SO gay!"
Playing dress ups EVERY time you visit Al at the Alex Perry head office
"that's SO gay!"
WEaring Dolce&Gabbana fur to visit a recycling dump
"that's SO gay"
Your LV bather closely resembles a shoe string bikini
"that's SO gay!"
Entering to host a black tie gala on a ride on mower
"that's SO gay!"
Driving for so long looking for the Artisian baths you think you've made it to the Eiffel Tower
"that's SO gay Paree!"

Doing a photo shoot AT Artisian baths with the Russian tourist who made her own hat and bag out recycled plastic shopping bags
"that's SO gay!"

Now let's all go and be SO gay!

A x

Sunday, 20 May 2012

People ask me strange shit

Voices, voices.... my head hurts!
I know it's only been a minute and ONLY Mrs Woog is reading this, but I have SO much to say (often at really inappropriate times.... but that's a whole other blog).

Come to think of it, so many people have SO much to say!

People have asked me some strange shit:

Q: “Adammmmmmmm! Do I look fat in this?”
Amanda, Gold Coast

A: Oh Amanda,

Thanks for sending in this pic, it's hot and your photo pout is fierce (I always say when in doubt... simply POUT!).  But to answer your question truthfully (and from a definite place of innocent and unadulterated love) have you ever heard the saying “if you have to ask the price, then you probably can't afford it!”? 

Basically it means, if you gonna ask this sorta question.... maybe you already know the true answer.
Yes Amanda, I do think your butt looks big in those jeans!

Love A x

PS Next time you buy jeans, try and make sure they've got simple and plain, medium sized pockets (no tricky patterns or designs) that sit high up on your butt.  This makes your arse look uber fierce! Wear them with confidence and proudly strut with your new look perky Kray Kray butt! I like butt!

Q: “Adammm! I really need to work on my blow jobs. Tips!?”
Tara, Perth

A: Lady Tara D'Perth,

I never tire of GIVING or RECEIVING re this topic! Fellatio, Fellatio, where for art thou Fellatio!

Your question makes me think of my favourite book Twilight.  Heard of it?  Think of your blow job like a good book (it can entertain you in bed for hours and more often then not, can actually be better than the movie!).  Like all brilliant stories, your BJ needs to open with an intriguing first paragraph (a cheeky taste of what's to come) and finish up with a climactic final explosion full of heightened ENERGY, plot TWISTS and acrobatic TURNS.

DON'T GIVE IT ALL AWAY IN THE FIRST CHAPTER.  Use your tongue to set up your story by teasing your reader with a provocative, understated taste of the mind blowing journey in store.  Use eye to eye contact to really spell out sudden changes in mood and remember, you've got two hands.... use them to explore previously unchartered sub-plots (I like butt!).

The best books are part of a series and just like Twilight, as you read on the plots keep getting better and better.  This is 100% evidence that practice makes perfect.... enjoy practice!

Love A x

PS Just like Twilight's super spunk Edward, be sure to keep your fangs away from the meat you really love.... or your story DEFINITELY won't have a happy ending.

Q: “Adammm! He hasn't called me since we hooked up last weekend. No text back. What should I do?”
Teigan, Adelaide

A: Teigs!

Firstly, massive congratulations on what sounds like my ideal weekend! 

Secondly, LOVE that you managed to get his number (a girl with confidence is sooooo 2012 and even turns me on.... well almost).  Thirdly and most importantly.... STEP AWAY FROM YOUR G- DAM PHONE!  Under no circumstances are you to text him again, Tweet or Facebook stalk.  If this male non-communicado text-deficient monkey wanted to play hide the banana.... he would have text you back.

But he didn't... so he doesn't!  Move on.

Love A x

PS Channel that wasted frustration and re-focus that energy into finding the ideal outfit for next weekend. Get yourself back out there and meet someone even hotter, who is NOT a monkey!

Q: “Adammm! He wants a 3some with another girl. Should I do it?”
Claudia, Melbourne

A: Ms C from the big V,

Should you?  Or more to the point... COULD you?

Is this something you are sorta keen on and find just a touch exciting, or does the thought make you a s'mini uncomfortable?  Clearly I've been around the block once or twice more than your other girlfriends, and there's one tres important piece of life advice I always follow – if it doesn't feel right.... don't do it (that.... and always remember to floss!). 

But if the thought DOES excite you (and don't feel ashamed, I'm personally like... the more the merrier!) then think long and hard about how the situation can be just as enjoyable for you as for him.

Since you are the regular star of your bedroom blockbuster, consider casting the guest player just a tiny little bit less fabulous than you.  Also, make sure you've got clear guidelines in place before this one off performance to ensure that as the recurring regular artist, you continue to get top billing!

Love A x

PS Negotiate long and hard on this one.  Be sure to think with your head (not just HIS) and consider getting in writing that the favour may one day be reciprocated.... with you as the ONLY female player in a cast of male admirers (I like males).

Q: “Adammm! A nautical stripe or rural gingham?”
Sarah-Jane, Sydney

A: SJ dear,

Wear.... for where? For an afternoon sail on the harbour with a classically chiselled pool boy who secretly turns out to be from a prominent wealthy Eastern suburbs family, or for a rodeo full of sweaty buff cowboys? 

I'm a know it all.... not a mind reader.

Love A x

PS If you're talking fashion in general, a nautical stripe was so on trend last summer having trickled down from the luxury European fashion houses into our local and accessible stores.  Sooooo, seamen and sailorettesssss are soooo on trend Ssssarah, BUT rural gingham is a definite ongoing classic. 

Hell, if you haven't been lucky enough to roll in the hay with some hot cowboy lately, it's classically cool to dress like you have.  If you manage to hook up with a policeman, leather man, or workman in your rural gingham, then even I'll YMCA over to where You Can't Stop the Music and we can all roll in the hay with the Macho Macho Men together!

Q: “Adammm! My boyfriend seems just as interested in you as he is in me! Should I be worried?!?!”
Jess, Parramatta

A: J'Pazza,

Equally interested in both you and I?..... It's 100% evident your boyfriend clearly has
extraordinarily exceptional good taste!

Are you inferring he might not be 100% on the straight and narrow? Does his exceptional good taste in shoes, his valuable fashion opinion, his wide knowledge of the colour wheel, enjoyment watching GLEE and photographic memory of all things GAGA make you concerned your soft spoken gem of a boyfriend just might be a sh'gay like me? 

Then calm the heck down, stop being so narrow minded and realise that boys today come in all shades of the rainbow (even the straight ones!).

We don't live in the dark ages anymore where boys have to fit into one mould and girls have to fit into another. Life is all about versatility and fabulous individuality. If we were all the same, we would never have discovered GAGA and then how boring would the fashion at Hollywood awards season be?

Be grateful, and stay happy 

Love A x

PS I'm borderline jealous of your rare find. Not only does he sound like the ideal shopping partner..... I bet he's a gentlemen and offers to carry your bags too!