FiFi Jo Goes Out

8.00pm

Kids night off from their mother so am luxuriating in bath (unfortunately alone), when silence interrupted by future husband's dulcet voice on my ring tone. Best friend calling. Sadly, cut off Mr Steve Kilbey (Australia's Finest Rock God and Sexy Lead Singer of melodic art rock band The Church), mid serenade to take call. Best Friend raving about an awards ceremony at the City Convention Centre where a 'rooting tooting good time' is said to be had. Ask what said corporate function is for as she knows I won't crash award ceremonies for the following industries: Aged Care, Health Foods or Crematoria. Functions at the top of the list are: Medical Practitioners (any sort), Oil and Minerals, Fashion, and my favourite..."the Luxury Car Industry!" cries Best Friend. "We'll get in before 9.00pm on this one, they're always drunk and desperate by then. If it was Medical Practioners (any sort) we'd have to wait until at least 9.45pm. Get your dancing shoes on luvvy, we're goin' out!"

8.10pm

Decide to leave Best Friend calling me 'luvvy' unnoticed due to her charming knack of finding ideal free entertainment venues oozing with desperate randy men with more money than sense. As already have dancing shoes on (I always bathe in my Gucci heels - gives me a sense of calm and ostentatiousness), dry off and locate my blackest, tightest, shortest, low cut-est dress and, due to an amazing complexion, high cheek bones, hair that falls in sexy blonde waves naturally, and the fact that I also always bathe fully made up, am ready in 6.5 minutes.

8.30pm

Best Friend arrives in her latest conquests limo (she prefers men in service). As I clatter down mock pebble driveway, hear noise not dissimilar to a strangled cat vibrating from the limousine window. "Cooooo eeeeeee! 'Ow ya goin' luv?!". Am shocked to discover Best Friend has brought her annoying little sister along for the ride. Oh great, have to share night (and drunk and desperate randy men) with Morticia Adams. With her long black hair and straight cut fringe, arms tattooed from wrist to shoulder and black rimmed glasses, she is hard not to notice. Together with Best Friend and her long auburn hair, emerald green eyes and huge bazookas out to party, we look like Charlies Angels on acid.

9.00pm

Arrive at Awards Ceremony a little worse for wear after imbibing a bottle of cheap white wine each. You would think Best Friend's beau could take some pride in his work and keep the limo stocked with quality plonk. Tell him so in no uncertain terms once bottle is polished off. It's not until I try to haul my gorgeous self out of vehicle with all grace and beauty that am aware Little Sister has spilt 'Red Vamp' nail varnish on my black dress whilst finishing off her toenails. Oh well, men will be too drunk to notice and I am too self-assured to care. Make the paparazzi lunge out of limo when hear an almighty rrrrriiiiiipppppp! Dress has been stuck to seat with nail varnish and has been slashed up to armpit! As am modern woman reliant on no-one, have a bag full of resources for just such an occasion...

9.30pm

Best Friend, Little Sister and I in our element making rounds of tables. We throw back left-over dregs from any

half-full glass, leaving shouts of "hey!" and "nice pegs" behind us. I smile warmly and wave my enviously long legs in a thank you gesture. "I think they mean your actual pegs", states Little Sister disinterestedly. Dress now looking

like something Liz Hurley may have put together with clothes pegs used to mend rip in dress.

10.30pm

Little Sister more annoying than ever. How she gets to each eligible bachelor before self is amazing. Realise she has

inside help when see her paying bartender for information. Seems bartender informs her of the 3 Golden Statistics - age, wage and relationship status (doesn't hurt that he also knows how much each gent has been drinking). As am

confident my beauty speaks for itself, do not need to compete. However, a little perspective thrown her way couldn't hurt. Undo pegs and waft coquettishly past the group of five males she is holding court with. Unfortunately, trip over

a chair leg and land on only table that decided on the pavlova for dessert. Fortunately, Little Sister so intriguing to males, no one noticed. Or so I thought....

To Be Continued....

A lIttle Bit of FiFi Jo History

Due to popular demand (OK, one faithful reader's request, but I don't need encouraging!) here is a little tid-bit of FiFi Jo's history;

Straight out of High School, I scored the dream job every parent hopes for their child - a lucrative modelling contract. The fact that, in my case, it was with a mafia run 'dance hall' in Tokyo, Japan, did little to worry my mother. Apart from any real modelling, I learnt how to unlock the door of my tiny one room 'apartment' and make it look like I was always there. The nice men also helped me with my drug smuggling skills, enlisting me as a 'mule' to pay them back the exorbitant rent on said apartment. I did get to see the world as a fresh-faced teen though. I saw Russian airports, Asian airports, and even the inside of a hotel room in Cambodia once. Things were great - I couldn't wait for the losers I went to school with to find out what a success I'd become!

Things got out of hand though, when I met the future father of my children on an overnight flight from Grozny to Belfast. Upon finding myself seated next to a delightful stranger, I couldn't help but feel attracted to his Irish accent, thick beard and red eyes. He told me he was an airline security guard and demand he 'frisk' me in the toilets. Since I was always up for an adventure, I let his hands search my every cavity somewhere over Moldova. By the time we disembarked the flight we were in love. My previously caring and understanding employers were not at all impressed with this turn of events, and demanded my return to the Land of The Rising Sun immediately. Never one for taking kindly to rude, verging on obscene, phone calls (unless one of us is naked), I hung up on my boss mid rant and ran for my life. Fleeing Belfast with my lover, we made it to Berlin where we hid out for a century, drinking vodka, knocking over walls and having babies. Of course, there were many adventures in between - but these will have to wait to be told another day.

Like all loves, we lost out lustre for each other when he began getting itchy feet and I just wanted to start shagging whom ever I wanted, when I wanted. Men with itchy feet are a permanent turn off in my books. So, I returned to my homeland, slightly soiled and worse for wear, but with a hardened heart and a notebook full of Ajax with a street value of nil, which I managed to sell to over-eager teens on the Gold Coast during schoolies week. My Irish Ex followed the children and I, where we have now settled (apart) somewhere quite close to where you are probably dear reader!

FiFi Jo Bites Back!

I awake to find my head in it's usual position - smack down on a bar table. The lights seem to be dimmer than usual for a backwater club, and the shrieks of it's patrons somewhat louder, and not in any romantic way. Wishing I could go back to sleep, I raise my head and look for Veronica (my oldest friend turned rival turned best buddy again). I find her sitting on the stage talking to - no wait! It can't be, but it is! She's doing it again! Veronica is trying to get her buffed and polished hands on Steve Kilbey - MY beloved arch-nemesis (and Australia's Finest Rock God Sexy Lead Singer of melodic art rock band The Church). Hang on, why is she glowing at him like that? And why are her teeth so sharp and pointy and why oh why is her red lipstick dripping upon the stage? I always new she was a vamp, but this is ridiculous!

I saunter over to give her a piece of my ego-bruised mind when I start to take notice of my surroundings. For a full club there seems to be no one dancing and an awful lot of making out going on, and all about the neck. Also, an extraordinary amount of people passed out in what looks like an extraordinary amount of Bloody Mary mix. Will have to take note that Bloody Mary's are making a comeback in all the unhip places. Shake my glossy blonde head (if a little vodka soaked) to clear it. Hmmmm, if the part of my brain still sober enough remembers, this looks like a scene out of 'From Dusk Till Dawn'. Egads! I'm surrounded by non-discriminatory blood sucking vamps! And they look a little pissed.

I have a quick decision to make. Head for the exit or save my beloved (who hasn't returned any of my calls, texts or notes written on rocks thrown through his window lately)? Depart and live or stay and try to stop Veronica's plans to steal yet another not-quite boyfriend? Veronica now has King Kilbey in a headlock, with his neck exposed, his back arched and legs akimbo. I tell you dear readers, if my loins weren't feeling fear right now they would be feeling something very opposite! My ego-bruising wins out and I fling myself at Veronica as she goes in for the kill.

Alas! Phillips, Veronica's Driver/Security Guard, is upon me in an instant and has me in a head lock too. "Don't move" he orders me. I don't. He's glowing like my 80's neon 'Choose Life' T-Shirt and smells like rotten flesh. This can't be the end of my life, I have so much to do! Who will let my mail order Russian boyfriend out of the box when he arrives? Who will keep the bottle shop I live over afloat if I am their only customer (trust me, they can't keep up with my demands as it is)? Who will, well, that's about it I guess. Nothing to live for anyway it seems. Go ahead then Phillips - do your best!

To Be Continued (Bwah ha ha ha!)

FiFi Jo's Bloody Surprise

Oldest friend turned rival turned best buddy again, Veronica Dale and her driver/security guard, have been keeping a bloody secret from me...now it's Veronica's turn to tell the tale.....

VERONICA DALE:
4pm
Phillips is pacing..."Where is she, sun is going down and I am Hungry Roni! I asked her yesterday to meet up with us- Lets just go to that club she's usually at"
Gruffly I say "no, too public. Get out I need to get ready!" And no I can't do it, I could barely change a baby.
Phillips gets out, so fast that my head spins.

7:00pm
Phillips slips in so quietly, sits and stares out into the night. "Alright Roni, lets sniff her out, especially before her blood turns to Vodka"
We slip out into the night....

FIFI JO:
Shit! Was held up by Mutti and 3 of his 'mates' on a bender...have lost whole chunks of time which is not unusual for me I guess. Now Veronica and Phillips aren't at home. Pooey! Will go out to that club they frequent and see if I can catch up with a vodka drip or similar....

VERONICA DALE:
‎"There she is Phillips, just try to be patient and my aren't we glowing - tone it down dude. Hey JoJo I got something new for you to try...hey, hey look up. It's me and look who I brought for you! Get up JoJo. I got a new ride. Let's take a tour of our sweet little town. Yeah I know I'm yelling. Isn't that the guy that mumsy was with in the day? Phillips you stay with her, I know this guy on stage, he just doesn't know it yet. Stop it with the fingers baby... We got the rest of our long lives. You just try to sober her up a bit. Then we'll get her out of this crowd. No, I won't be long...... Just because you are stronger than me doesn't make me your bitch. Sit and do as you are told! (growl show teeth) Hey JoJo, I'm going up to talk to your melodious Australian singer or whatever it is you call him. Now drink your coffee - I'll be right back".

I shake my head as I make for the stage.. I can't believe that she's alone at a table with her face smack down on it. Where is everybody? Ha my mum. It was me! (smile to myself). It's good to be me. I can't stop thinking about Charlie biker. Conquer, it's all I am, well, am now. I can still cuddle but tears are bloody and nobody wants a bloody cuddle(throaty laugh). Hey Steve, it's me, Veronica Dale..."

FiFi Jo's High School Hell

So, my oldest and dearest friend turned arch-nemesis has returned! Miss Veronica Dale aka 'V.D.' aka 'Roni'. Hmmmm. Not sure if I need the competition quite frankly. She was always the pretty one in school. The Mary Tyler Moore to my Rhoda Morgenstern. The Shirley to my Laverne. The Bilbo to my Sam. She is still excessively, stinkingly, wealthy too. You may well understand my frustration! How did she go from Best Friend to Rival? It all started a week before the High School dance...

All through school I was in love with a boy. His name was Johnny James (but let's call him George Glass for security reasons). You know the boy you can never speak to without dribbling, or coughing or giggling so that he thinks you're a freak? The one who's friends you sleep with (and in my case, also his dad) just to get his attention? The one who ignores you all through school and writes rude stuff on the toilet doors about you sleeping with his friends? Well, that boy for me was George Glass. One week before the final High School dance he asks me out. I am thrilled beyond belief. I make out to my Best friend, Veronica Dale, that it's no big deal but elicit her assistance in the buying of new apparel for said big date anyway. I purchase the newest of new acid wash jeans, white sky-high pumps, lacy red blouse and my hair is dry-blowed and flicked to within an inch of it's blonde highlighted life. I'm ready for George to take me out and sweep me off my feet! He arrives in his cool, decked out purple panel van and looks like a teen heart throb. When I hear the front door bell it's not just my heart that is throbbing! Roni answers the door, intending to invite him in and allow me to 'make my entrance'. Instead, she takes one look at him and decides he's worth keeping for herself! Yes! Veronica Dale is a boyfriend stealer! A brazen hussy! A duplicitous minx!

I have to pretend it doesn't matter at all one way or the other to me. With a brave face I allow them to leave together. Except it is not OK! My life is ruined! My best friend and nearly 1 day old boyfriend have betrayed me! I lie in bed all night making plans to ruin Miss Veronica Dale's life....

At the dance I take Phillips, Veronica's driver/security and most trusted employee. She pretends not to notice when Phillips and I make out on the dance floor. Instead, she and George make out on the stage, with a spotlight ensuring everyone sees what a poor lover he is. One year later, I have finally wrangled my way into her father's bed, his heart and her trust fund. Another year later and my plan to set fire to her father's yacht whilst in the Caribbean is a success. Unfortunately, all on board including Veronica, are saved.

Dear readers, would you not do the same? Do you see my predicament? Years later and she has returned, seemingly genuine in redeeming my friendship. I have decided to take the high road, let the water flow under the bridge and be the mature one. I will forget the past and look to the future. I will not succumb to the pettinesses of a High School playground.

I will my arse!

FiFi Jo's Blind Date

Have decided to get Mother off my back and allow her to set me up with her hairdressers, cousin's, best friend (or some such). Made it clear am doing this out of the goodness of my heart as no man should be denied the best time of their life by spending half an hour with me. Also, Mother has offered to cut my mountaining debt with her in half. Still leaves a fairly high hill in funds I owe her though. No matter, can always fake a marriage proposal one day to get rid of the rest.

Have decided on bright pink ostrich feather dress with purple tights. If a man can still hold a conversation with me whilst I sup on oysters wearing this, he may be a keeper. Blind Date arrives at my abode on time - I like that in a man. It shows strength of character (and also an understanding of the time/space continuum). He is tall, skinny, pasty and bookish. First impressions to scale of what a Blind Date should look like. A loser.

When I finally see his eyes through my feathers, I can see they are lit up with undisguised lust. Unfortunately, I have seen that look before, and it's not for me. "Wow!" he exclaims. "Do you have many dresses like that?". Sigh. Obviously, Mother has set me up to fail. I decide I'm better off going with it - could be fun. Graciously guide Blind Date through to boudoir and into walk-in closet/second bedroom. He is agog. "Do you mind if I take a look?" he hesitatingly asks as he fingers a black velvet gown. I know where this is leading and leave him to it with firm instructions not to stretch anything.

4 bottles of champagne later and my newest friend is dancing on my Ikea leopard print rug with all the enthusiasm of Lady GaGa at a gay nightclub. Except Blind Date isn't gay. He lures me forward with one of my Louis Vuitton scarves and has that other look of undisguised lust in his eye.

3 hours later and my newest friend has me in stitches. Literally. We were having such a good time rolling around on the couch I fell off it and onto an empty champagne bottle which had the audacity to break on my firm and pert backside. Ouch! Am at hospital being the world's most sexy and glamorous pin cushion. Luckily, am numbed by 3 of the 4 bottles of champagne plus some local anaesthetic. Blind date was holding my hand but alas, he is now on the bed next to mine with a bandaged head due to it hitting the floor upon his swooning faint. Like the trooper he is, he made sure my cream Chanel suit was not bloodied by ensuring the nurses took it off him before he was moved from the floor. Night nurses seeing the many things that they do, didn't even shake their heads at the sight of my matching Chanel lace underwear covering his nether regions.

Blind date (now New Friend) sees me home in taxi. Invite him in but only to clean up the mess he's made. New Friend states that he will but "only if I can wear a French Maid outfit". But of course.

Saved from the sight of geeky French Maid by former Glam Rock singer Gary Glitter on phone ring tone (it's a dull world without some glitter!). Best Friend calling. Something about V.D. being back. Protest loudly that as I have advised her before I am not interested in her sex life, and less interested on the outcome should she behave like a teen and not use proper precautions. "No! Not that type of V.D!" She lowers her voice into a whispered warning. "The worse kind. SHE'S back". I drop the phone. Am stunned. Shaken to my core. Best Friend is of course talking about my Old School Enemy. The gorgeous, smart, funny and popular - Veronica Dale. I HATE her!!!

FiFi Jo Takes A Holiday

Awake in my sun-filled bedroom to the drunken wails of my current pursuant wafting through my window, a snoring stranger in my bed, and a hangover the size of Mount Kosciuszko. Make immediate decision to change my dull life full of partying, sleeping in, screening calls from desirous beau's and dodging my over-eager stalker. Add my role as 'crazy aunt' to my 2 male offspring once a month and I find it all so very exhausting for my delicate constitution. I need a holiday!

As my income is derived from 5 ex-boyfriends 'hush money', 3 current lovers' wooing funds and 1 ex-husband's 'leave me alone and never speak to me again' cash, I can afford to go where I may. As have been to most places in the world (and have the cancelled visa's to prove it), decide to ring Best Friend for advice. Catch her feeling magnanimous amid post-coital cuddles with current boyfriend (a theatre usher). She suggests we go somewhere together as she needs to 'come up for air'. I tell her I don't need the gory details of her sex life and hang up on her with tawdry visions involving epaulets and tassels.

Decide I'm better off going alone. Find my well worn atlas to make responsible grown up choice of holiday destination. Close eyes, open atlas and point. Hmmmm, have landed in middle of Arabian Sea. Well, nothing there...no wait! A teeny tiny island. I Google it and find that it is owned by a certain Sheik I have already had the displeasure of knowing. Won't be going there again. Close eyes and point to...Baffin Island, Canada. Too cold! El Salvador. Too hot! Mont Blanc. Too high! Greenland. Are you kidding me?! Ugh! This is no use. Try one last time. Perth. Aha! Never been, no passport required, warm and sunny and I know the language. Perfect!

Book flights and private car & driver transfers online. Accommodation offers will no doubt be abundant within the first bar I walk into. I leave tomorrow!

5 days later...
Awake in a Cottesloe sun-filled bedroom to the drunken calls of my newest stalker wafting through the window, yet another stranger in my bed, and a hangover the size of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Goodness it's great to be on holiday!

FiFi Jo!