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  • Writer's pictureJenny Wynter

Because it’s Friday

I’m taking a leaf out of my mate Gempires blog (translation = blatantly ripping off the idea) and doing a Good Weekend style interview. Why not? It’s almost the weekend and hopefully it will be good.

My earliest memory is…sucking on a bottle of Coke. No wonder my teeth are screwed.

My first relationship was…with Christopher at kindergarden. We used to fully pash and everything (as a movie geek from birth I was well educated in the art of open-mouth kissing) until I dumped him for lifting up my skirt during our affection-sprees. Then I got in trouble from my kindy teacher for making him cry.

I wish I’d never worn…oh boy, where to begin? There was the bubble skirt with polka-dots, there was the Kylie-style hat with the top cut off to make way for the hair, and let’s not even mention the fluoro two-piece (bike pants and boob tube) that clipped together with braces…yes, please…I have worked very hard to suppress all that so let’s keep it that way. Moving on.

My mother told me…to marry your best friend, cos a best friend won’t hurt you but a lover will. She also told me to avoid crowded places in Melbourne in case of terrorist attacks; I quote “especially the mall.”

I wish I had…a little leprechaun following me everywhere whose mission on earth was to massage my back and feet.

My most humiliating moment was…just yesterday, actually, when in an attempt to play ‘good mummy’ I decided to play soccer in thongs (note: don’t do this, people). One minute Ella’s kicking me the ball, the next minute my thong’s all twisted (note to Americans: I’m talking about the shoe-variety) and the minute after that, I’m spreadeagle…in front of our entire local cricket club AND on a patch of prickles, nonetheless. My hands and arms are still covered in red blotches. So the moral of the story: don’t bother trying to ease your mummy-guilt. It can only end in pain.

At home I cook…as little as possible.

My last meal would be…an all-you-can-eat buffet, cos then I could just keep on eating and delay impending death. Sure, I’d look like Moby Dick, but I would be alive, honey.

I’m very bad at…making popcorn. No kidding, it burns 100% guaranteed, even when I actually stay in the kitchen.

When I was a child…I wrote blatantly plagiarised versions of other people’s books (I remember a particularly tittilating version of “Winnie the Pooh and the Blue Balloon” or something) and actually got good marks for them. This was back in grade two, when plagiarism was just considered part of learning, I guess.

The book that changed my life is…How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. My mum gave it to me when I was eight. (There’s an entire hour of comedy right there, I know it!)

It’s not fashionable, but I love…Kylie.

Friends say I am…happy.

The song I’d like played at my funeral is…the theme from The Muppet Show. Oh, and “Won’t You Be My Koala?”

If only I could…stop shamelessly self-promoting.

The last big belly laugh I had was…two nights ago, with my improvised comedy mates Ash and Marc – we’ve been doing some comedy jams and filming them (they’ll be coming online soon!) and both those dudes make me laugh so hard I come home feeling like I’ve born a small child.

What I don’t find amusing is…childbirth. While I’m in it, that is. Afterwards…what a riot!

I’m always being asked…if my improvised songs are actually made up on the spot. They are.

If I wasn’t me…I’d be…you? What a nonsensical question. Gees, doesn’t anyone take things seriously round here?

At the moment I’m listening to…the sound of my hubby bumbling through the house. Oh, and lately I’ve been listening to a wicked chick from Sydney called Melanie Horsnell – we interviewed her on Zed earlier this year and I think her album just rocks!

My favourite work of art is…my kids. (Betchya didn’t see that one coming)

If I were a car I’d be…a Volkswagen Beetle with roof-racks. Big ones.

I often wonder…if I should stop wasting my time blogging and actually get some freakin work done.

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Website is updated! FINALLY!

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