Sh*t Experience at the Melbourne Internation Comedy Festival

Published April 15, 2025 by helentastic67

Shit toilet experiences at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival

In general, this topic would live outside that of the festival, but it could definitely be its own blog. Frustratingly, these experiences are far from rare. I’m part way through my festival events for this year despite my lack of time to write and post about it but at times you have to, live when the opportunities exist, write, recuperate and replenish spoons over the hibernation of winter months to come.

Last night I saw two comedy shows very carefully booked, curated and logistically arranged by my event booking genius carer who is one of my heavy hitter admin chicks.

My first show was at the Arts Centre to see Danny Bhoy. I saw him the last time he was here as after my father’s passing back in late 2022, I decided the comedians I always wanted to see I would just start doing it.

Since making that decision, I’ve prioritised not only Danny Buoy, but Kitty Flanagan. Nath Valvo and Ivan Aristeguieta. To name a few and my accessible toileting experiences are always super not fun.

The Arts Centre despite the beautiful venue, the helpful staff, the frosted glass doors to the accessible toilet on the third floor closest to the ticket booking office, I locked the door, checked it. Locked it again, checked it, again. Ah, success.

Removed my cuff and collar, my bag, walking stick, and hoodi top. I know, over sharing and obviously my pants, to use the facilities, to do what I was there to for. I heard an older lady’s voice! “Here! Come in here!” and the door opened. Like I had not locked it. Now, I had hung my bag on the door handle which would not interfere with the lock, I might have thought could be seen through the frosting. Should someone bother to look. At least I was not mid-poo or mid-wipe. I had just managed to get a few single ply tissue squares from the selfish T.P. Dispenser. More importantly, the door remained open in this awkward unnecessary social INTERACTION.

It’s odd that the elderly love to imagine the accessible toilets are their domain and only theirs. I think they see me on their throne as a young person. Thank you! And not in need to use these toilets. I actually had to ask her to close the door with a polite “Do you mind?” It was more than she deserved considering the length of time she stood staring at me unsure how to solve this social quagmire.

I guess I should follow up this incident with an email to the venue, or just forward them this post when it goes live.

After this show, a short walk, a tram for two stops and another short walk to our next destination a toilet stop, this toilet had an ambulance toilet although I didn’t realise until I was ready to depart. I had used the lady’s facilities this time as I can often do and will. If that porcelain had been any lower to the floor, I might not have made it up again.

The second comedy show this time at the Melbourne Town Hall. To see our very own Ivan Aristeguieta. OK, He isn’t originally ours but, he’s seriously Australian now. He migrated from Venezuela thirteen years ago and originally settled in Adelaide. He divorced and had in the last year married one of ours. So, he’s ours now. It’s hilarious to see our culture through the eyes of a new Aussie.

This is my fourth time seeing his show in the ten years he’s performed here. Wish I’d been able to meet him at the meet and greet he announced he was doing. My friend sadly departed after my last bathroom experience as he had a train to get to home.

My second bathroom experience, younger people more prominent in the audience but not completely I chose to check out the accessible bathroom. Lock. Tick. Hook on wall, tick and toilet not close to the floor. Tick! However, things fell apart a little when I encountered the again “selfish” paper dispenser. Or it could have just been the previous occupant as I could not for the life of me find the end of the roll. I hate those big commercial toilet roll dispensers that have the ability to not be so big they either hold two rolls with the plastic sliding thing to allow access to the other roll or there is a big roll that allows them to not replace it for days. I don’t know, it’s nice that they think it’s not important to check. I checked my boob-pocket for a tissue and would have made do. But alas, I had neglected to stash one for such emergencies and I was forced to frustratingly continue with the roll. Eventually, leaving a shredded confetti protest on the floor after managing the squares I’d required.

At least on this occasion I’d not had an audience. I can’t decide which was the better experience.

Bring on winter so I can make like a bear and hibernate.

Fifty-Two

Published April 7, 2025 by helentastic67

Fifty-Two

I just wanna say this is not what I thought fifty-two would feel like. The brochure lied lately.

I’ve been learning a lot about symptoms that are based auto to blame on menopause or dehydration. Oh, my fucking God, so thirsty. Kinda know how Vampires feel.

Also, things have been hurting lately, I’ve been asking carers who I treated my Oracle of life finger. My fingers hurt.

“Could that be arthritis”, she looks and says “it’s this age” and I’m like “It’s too fucking soon, too soon!”

A Morning Person, I am Not

Published March 31, 2025 by helentastic67

A Morning Person I am not

Guess what time Helen’s carer is arriving tomorrow? 8.15AM!

Someone did not get the Memo that Helen is NOT A MORNING PERSON! It won’t be the carer, but someone might be getting killed over this one!

I’m going to direct the carer whom I’ve only met once to my blog. I think she will laugh.

R.I.P. D5

Published March 24, 2025 by helentastic67

R.I.P. D5

I would suggest this is happening too often already. You would think fifty-two years old, would be considered middle age as I don’t know I’m going to make it to one hundred and four years old, nor would I want to. However, people I love are falling off the perch already and it’s too soon. If you don’t know, falling off the perch is the elderly term for dying.

Apart from the passing in late 2022 of my father’s death and the recent departure of a very close friend, she’s not dead just not in my weekly routine anymore. I learnt a week ago a friend from my clubbing days in my twenties had passed. He worked for me back in the day.

I think we bonded because we were from a similar part of the Victorian countryside. While I moved to Melbourne at nineteen to study and work, he moved to Melbourne without the same kind of plan. Not in place anyway. When I asked him why, he responded with “I looked around and just said No!” with a little shake of his head. Like me it was just an instinct to get the fuck outta town.

Around 2000 I had moved back to the country, not born in my hometown but to a more isolated community where my mum and younger sister had moved to. I needed a lift to town and a V-Line bus to go anywhere further. It was hard.

Every few months I’d get back to Melbourne and couch surf for a few days, to go clubbing and catch up with as many people as possible. Going to clubs was the easiest way.

Standing in a goth club I heard this song, looking around at how many people were dancing and not recognizing it, I found D5 close by and he asked that I didn’t know who it was. I was like, “No! I’m living back in the country where you get fuck all exposure to new music” let along anything else. This song will always remind me of him.

I guess a warning might be in order. But the beat is really good.

I’m sure for most it will be a lot, but her wiki page is interesting, if you dare. If you don’t follow my blog for a little different, you are in the wrong place. Teaches of Peaches – Wikipedia

So, around the time of my fiftieth birthday, I sent D5 an invite for my gathering in case he thought to join. My father had passed earlier that month and for years we had drifted, but I always send him a birthday text as he was born on Valentines Day. Bit hard to forget that one.

He came to my birthday and we caught up a few times, I cooked him dinner, my single girl dinner reminiscent from my twenties and that Christmas he gave me a lift to my father’s house in my home town on the way to his hometown. So, we had a three-and-a-half-hour road trip to chat and for me to own the CD Player and have him guess what I’d put on.

Moments after he had left me at my dad’s there was a knock on the door. He was there holding up the black thumb cast for my trigger thumb. “Good luck thumbing a ride without that?” He was rather reserved and shy but when he shared his wit it was a treat for your soul.

While I didn’t see or hear from him often and there had been years in between when he had been married and doing his thing it was always a comfort to know he was out there walking the earth. He is survived by his twin and his cat.

He told me his marriage had ended like many during the Covid 19 lockdowns when couples were confronted with being around each other in close confines 24/7 apparently, they looked at each other and just both said No.

Now, alas, the world is bereft from his passing. He had chosen to fight his battle with cancer with only a small few aware this was his fate. He had told me he was dealing with something but not what. He was about seven years younger than me and the younger brother I never knew I needed. But our world forever better for the time he had been amongst us.

R.I.P. D5.

I am too young to be saying goodbye to friends

* D and the number there after referring to the number of Dave’s in the club days, I’ll cover that another day. D5 was a longstanding Dave and not to be undervalued despite not being D1- D6+ ceased to exist. Obviously, finishing today’s post without my regular cheer.

Honesty is a Blessing – Part 2

Published March 16, 2025 by helentastic67

Honesty is a Blessing Part 2

Honesty amongst friends is a beautiful thing. It brings wit and humour even in dark situations. If you don’t have friends, you can do this with you need to surround yourself with some.

A friend was going to holiday in Japan with her husband, but it was possible the relationship would end before this event. I asked what might happen if the relationship exploded before the planned holiday? Quickly suggesting another friend and I would go with if she needed the company. There was no mention to Pony Up some finances, but I like to imagine its implied. Alas, the relationship survived as you would hope so.

A catch up with my plus one, that the friend was on the arranged vacation and plus one stated “It should have been us!”

Oh My God! And I laughed.

I don’t even have a passport right now as I let it lapse back in ’04 and clearly the right people went on that holiday, but it could have been us.

Honesty is a Blessing – Part 1

Published March 10, 2025 by helentastic67

Honesty is a Blessing – Part 1

I made a statement to my carer today that I think I’ve already offended a new neighbour. She bluntly asked what I had done? I snorted a laugh at her not even looking at her. I told her it’s not that I had gone out of my way to do so it would have been unintentional. I then played out how much easier it would be if I actually intended to offend people. I mean, I’d just go outside, point to the first person I saw and ask…” You know what you looked like when you left home today?” And you still left!

A snort laugh I then shared with my carer, then further examples. Same tone, I then suggested they would definitely be the days I should self-isolate. Don’t answer that! Not a question, apply filter!

Lock that shit down hard.

I Don’t Know Who Needs to Hear This – Part 2

Published March 3, 2025 by helentastic67

I Don’t Know Who Needs to Hear This – Part 2

So, it was 6.30pm Friday evening and I was literally writing this post in my mind. My scissors (mentally, I pronounce them with a Q after the S and before the U). My scissors that live in a vase with cutlery on my kitchen bench have gone missing.

Did they go walking with:
A) 7.15am The Askol Delivery guys?
B) My Carer.
C) My handyman guy
D) My friend that came to collect the old washing machine at about 5pm who will give it to someone he knows through all the charities he deals with? Or
E) As I mentally write this sitting at the dining table, I see something black sticking out from some paperwork on the dining table only to discover the scissors.

Sometimes, there’s a really good reason we did not buy another pair of scissors today while shopping although a spare pair of scissors never goes astray.

Also, while people think I cope really well, this is on an average day of late. It could also explain why this day having made three trips to my car parking space in the garage on foot mostly without my AFO or walking stick (my aid’s) I have a very lazy left leg.

I just realise today where I picked this up, I don’t know who needs to hear this is. Shout out to “Shabaz Says”.

Circle Back to 2024 – Part 2

Published February 24, 2025 by helentastic67

Circle Back to 2024 Part 2

So, 2024 was weird also cause money became a huge topic and while I’ve always had an income from somewhere and five cents to my name it’s a weird space to find yourself in to have some actual money and options.

I wanted to blog about it last year but was up to my eyeballs in all the things, so had to let things play out and play catch up. This ergo-case-in-point is the catch up.

I guess, women of my generation, didn’t get educated about how to manage money. I’m Gen X remember. I did grow up with coins and handling money. My first paid job I picked up a yellow envelope with cash and coins in it. I had a paid job from around fifteen years old.

As an adult when you have household expenses you learn you need to have more coming in than going out. Sure, but on bigger expenses women my age was taught that we would marry and our husband would take care of it. Do you see me writing about a Husband? I have an Italian surname so it was largely assumed I would get a husband. Not bitter. Just making a point.

Some of the groups I’m in, some women will see and ask a friend who seems to manage her finances well and when asked she will be told “Oh, my husband does all of that!” So, it is to say I did consult a financial advisor. He’s in his late thirty’s, lovely man who I have not made proud. Yet. He wanted me to continue renting forever.

But as my next post will context women like myself when I reach sixty, are more than likely find themselves homeless. I’ve had to educate younger men on this topic.

I mean, C’mon! Do I have to do everything?

Circle Back to 2024

Published February 17, 2025 by helentastic67

Circle Back to 2024

So, I thought I should circle back to part of why 2024 was such a shit show. I started the year with a really good support coordinator. I thought no issues on the horizon so why not bring in a third carer agency to take the pressure off one of my other two, so I get some more variety with carers.

Since the start of Covid I was getting one carer for four shifts per week which I worked out quickly was three too many.

Having carers over the year you work out over time and pretty quickly who you mesh well with, who you can rely on and who you can be flexible, because sometimes it is me and my expectations. Can I work around different personalities, or should I not need too? When I asked if I could have less of this carer, I was told it was her or no one. I was also told they were recruiting. The number of times, I’ve been told they are recruiting in the last fifteen plus years, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve been told that I would be living in a house not an apartment.

Alas, my support coordinator No.1 for 2024, set me up with a new agency, we did the three-way zoom intro meet and greet thing. (Never done one of those before) Then I went to the countryside for about four days to help clear out my father’s house in late January. WHEN I RETURNED TO PULL THE TRIGGER ON THE NEW CARER, I WAS TOLD SHE HAD TAKEN EMPLOYMENT ELSEWHERE! Then, I was told they had a lack of carers in my area and would keep me on the books. You bet I was told they were recruiting in my area.

Just a FYI. It’s now a year later and I’ve not heard from them again. So, I digress, my really good support coordinator was promoted to Team Leader. It is the only progression for that position in a company, so I think it was my third in about five years I’d lost my Support Coordinator to being Team Leader. Although they always moved on, I gather soon after.

AND YES, IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EVERY TIME I’D BEEN TOLD THEY WERE RECRUITING MORE SUPPORT COORDINATORS ID HAVE A GOOD HANDFUL OF GOLD COINS.

The new support coordinator, in July we were already discussing and planning a request for a review of my NDIS funds.

As Promised

Published February 9, 2025 by helentastic67

As Promised

This is as promised my fifth post in a session of writing. I’m on a roll. I might even try to finish open a more positive note. No promises see what I can do?

So, to give some context from all the things regarding my previous posts. For the last seven years I’ve rented an apartment through an affordability scheme. It was to take people off the public housing list but help landlords more than the tenant’s long term. The scheme ran for ten years, of which I benefited only the last seven. The landlords of new developments for a period were asked to offer up several properties to be managed by the government in exchange for cheaper rent to the tenant and what they lost in rent they got back at tax time. You gotta have money to make money, right? It is to say, I got to live in a complex with normal people not in a public housing silo. It is also the time to say when I got into this housing arrangement some bright spark, (Note sarcasm) despite my telling him not to, he had me removed from the housing list.

Every year I had to sign a new lease and provide financials and income statements to prove I was the only resident and I still qualified as low enough income to qualify for the scheme. What a MOTHER FUCKER. Mind you I had to do it every year for the seven years I was there. Honestly, it’s a different mindset. Remember the days you just needed to prove you could afford the rent?

In the time I’ve been on the Disability Support Pension I’ve had rent assistance which despite my rent going up every time, mostly initiating me having to relocate. It’s like the government that decides how much rent assistance needs to be doesn’t pay rent, or live in the real world, or care to learn how much rent is. We know the answer to all these things. No, they don’t!

In the last twenty years, I’ve rented houses for 4 years, each HOUSES WITH HOUSEMATES and at the end of the fourth year I’ve not been able to negotiate out of a rent increase, the landlord situation changes and I’ve needed to pay exorbitant rent or move. So, I’ve moved.

The house I rented the first time I moved with my disability. I struggled to find something in my price range and I was literally paying someone’s mortgage. I only had housemates for four months of the year. I stayed there and even asked my dad, who helped me a few times to cover the rent even though I’d bankrupt him.

That household situation had me move further out again, to never want housemates again. The first housemate, I ended up taking to VCAT, AMD. The second that lived with me for three months and was years my senior and had a huge reduction on her portion of the rent and had her son practically live with us. No more. There was the assumption, the government was paying my rent and my lifestyle. So, she thought to take advantage of that.

The last of the scheme I was in I paid $317 a week. At the end of the scheme my rent was to be $550 per week. They wanted me to sign a lease and there was no way I was doing that. If I was going to pay that much rent it was going to be somewhere nicer and quieter. I paid two weeks of that rent and timed it perfectly to get the fuck out.

I later checked the rental listing and it was advertised as $500 per week. Just scum, I know this post is a lot of specific financially, but necessary.

I could have afforded the scheme amount of rent in a reasonably comfortable lifestyle until sixty, when my income changes and I could no longer keep a roof over my head or the lights and internet on.

Not giving up all my things that tell people who I was/am/aspire to return to or just giving in and moving to some shit-fuck suburb, I wouldn’t survive in around people who HAVE ASPIRED TO NOT DO BETTER OR CARE, or to do better in life.