You know when your room is really messy? Littered with paper and clothes, books and notes, debris and stuff that really has no business being anywhere but in the empty rubbish bin in the corner? So messy, in fact, that when you navigated the rare islands of carpet in the sea of chaos to sit on the edge of the bed to pull on your stockings then put on your shoes in that frantic dressing mode of a late-for-work mornings, it takes you until you're half way to the bus stop to realise you've trapped some unsuspecting "something" between your skin and the heel of your stocking? Sure you do - c'mon - you know your room gets that untidy. Doesn't it? No? Just me then. So I spose you've never had to practically undress in the bathroom at work to be relieved that the thing stuck to your heel was only the small square informational brochure they slip into boxes of Carefree tampons and not the empty condom wrapper you thought it might be. I guess then you've not sat in a toilet cubicle and giggled at your own goofiness at having the cross section illustration of the female reproductive system showing correct tampon placement in the heel of your shoe? God. It is just me then. In that case I'm almost positive you haven't then gone home to your exhusband's house and made him sit on the couch, plonking your now bare feet into his lap and suggested in that cute, but uncompromising tone, that you would like a foot rub and he's then found the front page of that same brochure you thought you'd removed from your stocking earlier in the day still stucked to your heel? I suspected as much.

Oh, did I tell you I was going to Melbourne? Yeh, not only am I going to Melbourne, but, i'm actually *here*. I even caught a bus. This whole public transport thing seems to be catching on - everyone's doing it! Here in Melbourne - where I am. If you didn't know - you do now. Oh wow, saw the BEST movie on the plane. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - yeh I know I'm late to it, but I missed it at the Rialto - it's screening fell somewhere in those dark times when the Rialto was being renovated and so I missed it. So, so funny - so, so good. I was barking out loud laughing at times and making the guy next to me wish he hadn't selected The World's Fastest Indian (what was he THINKING?). And Serenity, which I've seen before but like enough to see again (and again?) even if it got cut short by the landing preparations. Right, I'm off to buy pyjamas because I have sneaky feeling I didn't pack any - i have an early morning memory of throwing them off in a fit of dressing and don't think they landed in the bag. the bag i packed to bring to Melbourne. cos I'm here. in Melbourne. in case you didn't know.

I know it's early, but I'm nothing if not organised. Late last year I wrote suggesting a deal whereby you deliver Matthew McConaughey as my Christmas Gift, I would not ask for anything else of you for the rest of my life. As my gift failed to arrive by the due date, I assume we've returned to negotiating terms for my 2006 Christmas Gift. I would like to suggest that, instead of delivering such delectable individuals such as Mr McConaughy to my door, it would make more sense for me to have a little "work" done so I can attract such visitors under my own steam. The major benefit of this solution would be a reduction in your delivery workload, while giving me more ownership and responsibility in the relationships I form. This weekend, my line of thought resulted in a solution: Please Santa, could make it so I look more like Judi Dench and less like Roseanne Barr. Times are a'changin' and i'm nothing if not progressive. I had the occasional pleasure (I watched the entire movie, but the pleasure was not consistant) of seeing Mrs Henderson Presents last night - and while one might initially think that any movie showing Bob Hoskin's penis might be worth $15 - at this juncture I have no comment on that matter. All I'm saying is I'm glad Judi Dench was in the movie as she was worth a solid $12.50 in all the pleasurable bits. Beyond the intial cash transaction, the revelation that I in fact want to be Ms Dench, was simply priceless. Please consider this a serious request. I look forward to hearing from you, or failing that, to wake up on 25th December 2006 with an uncanny resemblance to one of the most attractive, enduring actresses of our times. yours faithfully, Michelle.