Dear Channel 10

Published August 18, 2025 by helentastic67

Dear Channel 10

You fucked up! Not here to make friends just influence people.

A few months ago, people started reporting my favourite news program to be shit-canned. I thought there was time, not that I imagined I could influence some kind of reprieve. But only as a week later a deadline was announced and it was a foregone conclusion.

My favourite news program would include actual news, comedians and even musicians. So much wrapped up into an hour six days a week. I found if I was ill informed on a particular topic or just oblivious or naive it was explained in bite sized pieces so I could understand. I understood why there was a stampede at the Wall of Mecca back in 1015.

I know, what? There was a stampede where people were crushed and it wasn’t at some music concert or festival. But interesting and questionable how these happen in today’s modern times?

The most informed and completely unlike me individual host being Waleed Ali, someone I quote daily. He was often given the tough job to report like why there is another mass shooting in America. (he will start with how much he hates it) Because mass shootings generally don’t occur in Australia, we just can’t get our heads around why and how this can happen again and again and over again. Just how the fuck it keeps happening?

Have I mentioned we don’t have guns in Australia? Well, not like other countries at least. We have had some machete and knife incidents we are not well pleased with. You can search for Waleed Ali’s social media presence, but I don’t believe he has one. I didn’t check because it is well mentioned on the show he has zero interest in an online persona.

I believe he is part of a podcast which is something I don’t do. But in short, He is from Melbourne, Australia with Egyptian heritage. He was raised on Vegemite and the locally produced music program “Countdown” as I was.

He is actually younger than I am, by six years. I didn’t stalk; I just asked Google. Oh, he’s Muslim, which I am not. But in short, he’s a TV personality, Lawyer and sometime lecturer. I’ve met students he has taught. He’s married and has children. He’s a disability advocate and most importantly is credited by me daily for the line – “Bandaid on a bullet wound!” Because it’s often the best way to describe life with disabilities and how others try to shorthand a fix for a problem I must then revisit over and over again.

Anyway, way, back to how royally Channel 10 fucked up! Should I have premised this post with a swear warning? Or set myself a swear limit? As if!

I think Channel 10 executives were so trying to get the Millennial audience they lost the Gen X and older audience.

I mean, the Millennials as far as I can tell won’t take a job unless they get paid $100 grand a year and they holiday like retiree’s and spend their cash on smashed avo. But complain they can’t afford a mortgage or cover their HECS debt. They are not prioritising being sat home to watch the news at night they are out for dinner at expensive restaurants.

Had not intended to throw all millennials under the bus however, I spent my youth working and studying in the only course that exists where I wouldn’t get a job because I was a woman, a straight woman, without a car or a driver’s license. Ah, I am studying Visual merchandising. Because I didn’t get into what I wanted to study but I needed life to start in Melbourne, so I jumped. Had to get the hell outta Dodge.

FYI, Window dressing jobs at the big department stores were only employing older gay men! or when management was away, they might employ a female. I couldn’t do freelance without an ability to get around. (no car or driver’s license) And my photos didn’t turn out so no folio to find work.

I was also in my twenties in the 90’s when there was a recession. You grabbed any work you could find and you had to hustle. Hence, my commitment to Hospo and keeping myself busy.

Side Bar. I only learnt a few years ago when I was working in the club scene in my twenties I was working in Hospo. Which is short for Hospitality. I will circle back to this another day indeed.

Also, from what I can tell the Millennial generation is getting all their news from social media the algorithm’s giving them all the things they are interested and only that. It must be nice to have a belief system not based on history and legacy.

But going back to the stupidity of Channel 10 Exec’s? Yes, they bragged there would be a super awesome replacement. Paraphrasing somewhat. My bad, it wasn’t. I’ve watched it twice. It was dry. Bland and very boring. If I wanted that I could watch other channels. So, this now is to be replaced with a streamlined version of the 16+ year long program called the Project. When that will happen is anybody’s guess?

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.

This post has not ended on a positive note has it.

Like the Good Old Days

Published June 10, 2024 by helentastic67

Like the Good Old Days

Sometimes, I think I should revisit the earlier days of HellOnWheels when life was full, as if it’s not now and I used to do a Hot Off the press post.

So, I guess this is reminiscent of those days. Monday, usually a quiet day at home but not always. Had a video chat with a new carer agency. Proof that every now and again the stuff set in concrete moves and you need to ride the waves of change to keep the boat upright. Is that a good analogy or what. Note, not a question.

Dropped off an old doona, its cover and some pants to an op shop on HellOnWheels, local adventure and went to a business to break a note and drop off some takeaway coffee cups that my carers keep insisting on bringing into my home. Then for the weirdest drug deal ever. You know I don’t do drugs and even in my club days didn’t. So, I think this topic deserves its own post. Went to physio after running into said Physio at the local business in question. Gave him some smack talk suggesting to lessen the imminent pain he was about to cause his patients, to have a nice chamomile tea. He didn’t.

Tuesday had an extra four-hour shift with one of my favourite carers. I know like parents with their kids, you don’t have favourites you just love them differently. When the two Helens get together, we get stuff done. We even did a little local adventure. A regular lady I am friendly with in my travels noticed a different face out with me and asked if she was my sister? Sure, why not?

Admin Day, things were started, booked and we did a little real estate searching. Because, why not? I don’t want to kill myself enough already. Don’t ever look at properties you’ve lived in years earlier and look at the sale history, you will want to kill yourself.

Wednesday, standard chiro. Gave her what’s the term for the – I moved my practice to its new home gift. Was going to go with flowers but they die. Settled on orange Toblerone. The really huge box, I got one for me too and it’s already promised as orange Toblerone mousse in mid-February when some friends come for dinner. They are bringing moussaka, I made lasagna last time and they brought a delicious selection of tiny cakes. Crowd pleaser. It’s a good way to do a dinner party these days. Delivered a bag of my old well-loved Adidas Gazelles I used to wear prior to life with an AFO, those were the days. Gotta run fast to catch the other Helen.

They will find new homes with young refugees who want to play sport. Likely connecting that carer with that locomotion to donate food that is normally disposed of in the bin. I love connecting my people with my other people. Then went to the toy shop I mentioned previously. This brings us to the end of Wednesday, basically.

January has become the time of year I do spring cleaning, carers, businesses I deal with, services I use, take time off. People with children have lives dictated by school holidays, etc. So, I do stuff. Onward

Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe I’ll catch up on some data entry, that alone is a never-ending battle.

HellonWheels

Published April 29, 2024 by helentastic67

HellonWheels

You might have wondered why my last post saw me so fucking livid? I suggest that’s accurate and there is some context from that post relevant here.

Had a bit of a scooter out on hellonwheels today. It’s a Monday, often a stay-at-home day but stupidly, I booked my 5th Vax for Covid and out I went. I really enjoy going out on my scooter, my mind working overtime on all the things I need to write about, how freeing it is and how much I get to enjoy the independence my scooter brings me.

I stopped on my way home to chat to a new shop owner who looks to be the supplier of my next Messenger bag. So happy and I paused briefly at an intersection to make sure I did not get collected as I went around a weirdly parked tow-truck. It was to collect a small car with a two-initials brand logo, whose front end was a little dinted and the airbags had adequately deployed. Younger man standing sadly by the fence watching on with his hands in his pockets. I even stopped at the local post office to collect a parcel, the staff member seeing me coming came out from behind the counter to put my parcel in my hand. So, I could leave and the queue not so long. The woman in front of me looking questioning why I had been served first?

Scootered home checked letterbox. I can even do this while still seated on my scooter. Some fancy driving and reversing and turning enough to reach my keys from my bag on their elastic cord. Fang it around the corner, press the button on the fob in my pocket and while the garage door lifts, I reach back and remove my red flag to put in the back and I bob down a bit as I clear the gate. I normally fang it to the basement and back to my shed on B1 before putting her away stating I like to open her up a bit, the motor of course is not horses but electric, however it amuses everyone I’ve said this too.

However, seeing my scooter shed as I turned a corner, I was confronted by this!

Recall, I sent to my neighbour in my previous post how Chef would name and shame people? So, the above photos, I flicked a short but polite text to my neighbour. To my understanding she doesn’t live here anymore but her adult children do. But I spent several hours messaging her, my property manager etc, to remedy this insult. I was ignored by my neighbour. My property manager got onto the OC, the other tenants then a tow-truck company to remove the bike.

Sleep Clinic – Part 2

Published January 31, 2020 by helentastic67

Sleep Clinic – Part 2

So, today I thought I’d do the FU (follow up) on my sleep clinic experience. Hilarious.

It’s been six months since my last confession. (no, I stand by that comment)

The goal since I was last there, was to improve my sleeping pattern, because I go to bed late (or early, depends how you look at it) and don’t want to wake in the morning.

And today, I reported I’m still struggling to get to bed/sleep by 1am. (I repeat 1am) But alas, it usually takes me that long to get to and from appointments, do chores, do the TV/Current Affairs catch-ups. Because, I still need to know what’s happening out there in the world and what stupid Tweets some ‘world leaders have said.’

WFT people! How has he still got a Twitter account? Why has somebody not taken it off him? (Don’t answer that)

Hey, I’m not saying our Prime Minister is a model citizen, but c’mon.

Anyway, I digress.

My original diagnosis after the sleep clinic was very mild sleep Apnoea. Don’t panic, I’m not worried. I was told to avoid sleeping on my back. No, really. That’s the solution to that.

Besides this I might have secondary Narcolepsy and I kept telling him I knew what that was because, I lived through the 90’s and saw My Own Private Idaho with River Phoenix (RIP) and Keanu Reeves (mmmmm) in it. We don’t even know if I have that until I fix/improve my sleeping pattern.

Today, I tried to Hel-splain (like Man-splain, but Helen does it) why improving my sleeping pattern is so near impossible.

It’s winter right now as I write this, so if I woke early, I’m going to get up/do what I have to do and go back to bed, because it’s warm there and sleep, because I’m still tired.
I’ve got crazy Bitch Hormones. I am sliding into the Pause (Menopause) so two weeks out of every month I am just knackered and the first week, I’ve forgotten why but let myself sleep in the afternoon if I just can’t stay awake and thing’s hurt and I can’t work out why.
Then there’s the Carpel tunnel. WFT is this bullshit. I’m back fast asleep for two hours and the pain in my right hand is excruciating. A cross between pins and needles and numbness. Pick a lane already. I change positions and stretch out my arm and hand. It hurts to touch the blankets and I can’t even make myself stretch my hand above my head to the top of the bedhead, put my fingers under the top of the timber to stretch my arm in all the right places to relieve the symptoms. So, I lie on my back with my arm flung out to the side, wriggling my fingers until the pain subsides.
Migraines for me are often daily occurrences. While not the normal type that send you to bed, or go to bed with the lights off and a bucket nearly, they are still really crappy. And I’d rather go to bed and sleep it off than get “pilled” and be bombed out. I could potentially medicate every day and who wants that?

And Z. I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON! Have you met me? My name is Helen. Some years ago, my mum told me I was born just in time for breakfast at 7.13am. Who the fuck has breakfast at 7.13am willingly? (don’t answer that) Mum also suggested, on my birthday to wake at that time and make a list of goals to achieve by the following birthday. Something of setting intentions or other, but seriously.

If I’m having breakfast at 7am in the morning, I’d be ready for dinner at 6pm and bed by 9pm. If I’m going to bed at 9pm, I’m ready for the Nursing Home.

I’m not ready for that yet.

Aussie Slang

Published November 18, 2019 by helentastic67

Aussie Slang

It occurs to me I’ve not yet given any of the Aussie Slang a voice, or exposure. I’m sure other countries have words or phrases they use, that only locals use.

The evening cool news program I watch is sold as “News delivered differently” and it’s for the ‘young’ and by the young, I mean not old and by young, I mean me.

They will have a panel of different people who have different strengths and backgrounds. There is always a comedian to bring a bit of light and shade.