Guess Who's Coming To Tea?

So here's a bit of exciting news.

I've been invited to morning tea.

(And yes, that would be exciting news in itself, because I really don't get invited to morning tea very often, though interestingly I went to a lovely morning tea for my friend Mandy's son's Barmitzvah on Monday morning, but now I'm rambling in my profound excitement....)

ANWAY....

I've been invited to morning tea with the Queen.

Oh BUGGER. I keep saying that. Must have been those darn Jubillee celebrations. I'm a republican, I'm not even that interested in the Queen, though admittedly I did go to Buckingham palace when I was in London and looked out for Prince Harry, and was quite disappointed when I didn't see him, and oh lord, I'm rambling again...

No, I've been invited to morning tea with the Prime Minister of Australia, Ms Julia Gillard. At Kirribilli house. To chat, and, er, do whatever else one does with the Prime Minister (NOT curtsey. I have to remember that. DO NOT CURTSEY.)

I imagine there will be food - tiny little cakes and cucumber sandwiches, and finger buns, and elegant pots of tea. There will be other Women From the Online World present, whose names I will not reveal to you now, for fear of repercussions from the CIA (or is that in America? I've been watching too much West Wing....)

Too much?

Anyway, I feel extremely honoured that my humble forays into blogging have led to such an exciting opportunity. Not everyone gets to have morning tea with the Queen. I mean Julia! JULIA!!! And right now, I am preparing for the event by agonising over what to wear, biting my nails, and practicing eating cucumber sandwiches without getting crumbs all over my top.

Oh, and saying 'A pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.'

I mean 'Ms Gillard. MS GILLARD!!!'

Why I'm Not Writing Today

I am writing this post to inform you, my readers, that I will not be writing a post today. After the kerfuffle* of the past week or so, I am completely and utterly spent.

Firstly, there has been the intense debate of The Chocolate Wars - here on my blog, on Twitter, on radio here** and in thousands of emails being sent behind the scenes. Secondly, there was my post on Mamamia yesterday about whether cross-dressing is a relationship dealbreaker*** which bizarrely turned into a war about whether the word 'panties' is acceptable or not****.

All in all, I am exhausted from expressing so many opinions, and feeling so much raging passion about such important issues*****.

For those of you who marvel at how heated I get in debates (and particularly for the gentleman who SMS'd the radio station asking how I cope when there are real issues), I will say, I KNOW! I HEAR you!

It's a curse, I tell you. It's extremely wearing. But I can't seem to help it. I feel strongly about nearly everything - from whether boat people should be allowed access, to whether babies should ever be woken, to whether preservatives will kill you, to whether Simon Baker is the sexiest man alive. And whilst you may not always guess my opinion, you can be certain I'll always have one. Of course, I do sometimes change my mind, but then I'll feel passionately about the opposite argument. (Except about white chocolate. That's never going to happen.)

So forgive me if I don't write a post today. That would require writing about a topic, and if I have to experience another strong opinion today I think my head is going to explode.

Instead, I'm just going to go read about the election. Bizarrely, I don't have an opinion about that at all.

I think they're both just as bad as each other.

*did you know that is actually a word? I checked it in my Oxford English dictionary.
**though for godsake don't feel compelled to listen. Although I remember very little about the interview I've been told I talked incessantly, insulted the general population, and began speaking in Yiddish when it all got too much.
***I said YES.
****it depends on the context.
*****using 'important' in the sense of 'totally frivolous'.

Kerri For Dictator

So NSW now has a female Premier. And she is my age (okay, so very slightly younger than me, but let's not quibble about little details like age. Or policies. Or opinions on abortion.)

And it's got me thinking: why?

Not: "Why a female politician", because clearly a female politician is just as good as a male politician. Better, actually, because she is marginally less likely to engage in warfare (which admittedly is unlikely on a state level anyway, but you never know when Victoria or Queensland are going to launch a pre-emptive strike).

Furthermore, a female politician is marginally less likely to have sex with a staffer (okay! I said marginally).

No, what I meant was: "Why would anyone want to be a politician - female or otherwise?" (using 'otherwise' in the sense of 'male or transgender', as I am all for equal opportunity).

I truly can't think of any less appealing occupation than politics, other than, perhaps, elevator attendant, and this is only because of my lifetime fear of lifts.

Of course, there's a bit of power, a lot of fame, and plenty of staffers to boss around (and sleep with, should the urge take you).

But at what cost? There are the obvious disadvantages - no time with loved ones, intense media scrutiny, enemies plotting to destroy you, having to wear grey suits every day.

More importantly, though, it's the very fact of having to engage in the political process.

I despise politics. I can't get involved with the P&F at school, as the debate that is required to achieve anything from organising a fundraiser to choosing the teachers' gifts makes me want to strangle myself slowly with the agenda.

Oh don't get me wrong. I'd be delighted to lead the P&F, or indeed the state, or even the country. I just don't have patience for any discussion or negotiation. Which I suppose would make me a dictator.

So Premier, if you tire of your job, feel free to call on me. I may not be fair, I may not be democratic, but I'll certainly get things done.

And if a staffer comes along who looks like Simon Baker, I reserve the right to sleep with him.