My Torano - mid to late 90s... Can you tell? hahah They all have that 'I'm so not interested look'.
I wasn't going to post this shot, but it was the only one I could find of Smurfette at late notice.
Have you ever googled (yes the verb google, as in 'to google') your name? Durh! Of course you have! You've probably, just as I have, googled your ex-boyfriends and arch enemies names too. Go on! Admit it... and if you haven't what are you thinking?
I've googled myself and pretty much everyone I know. For the most part the things that pop up are totally unrelated to who they are. In fact, some of the only people I've googled and had stuff that's actually about them surface has been myself and members of my own family - oh yeah! We're totally famous! Kind of like the Kardashians, but way more down to earth and possessing some amount of viable working brain cells.
If I google my name, around 18,600 results are displayed... but of course, not all of them are me.. some are just references that have both my first and last name scattered throughout the website, but not directly linked. If I go to 'exact wording or phrase' I come up with 540 results... and from what I can tell, everyone of them is me!
Mostly they are voice over related - thankfully zero pornoesque (however the more famous I become, the more the past will return to haunt - just kidding! Well... there might be a few polaroids of my boobs from 10 years ago somewhere... but my face is totally cut off! Oh and there was that one time I did that art nude shoot for one of my art school buddies - those were tasteful, but I'm sure there was a little nipple action and perhaps a little 70s bush peeping out but it was tasteful people... TASTEFUL!
So, I thought I'd previously blogged on this but it appears I haven't. Okay.. totally need a sidetrack here:
It around the turn of the century... I'd been driving around my 'Smurf Mobile' (a '76 Torana... Aqua with a white roof) since I'd gotten my licence - it was a beautiful beast and super reliable (bit thirsty though). the car was always piled up to the back seat with rubbish and as the radio didn't work, I'd melted 3 CD (boombox style) players by leaving them on the front bench seats (oh yeah, Smurfette fitted 6 lucky passengers in - including me). Anyway... the boot used to play up a little - sometimes the key would open it, sometimes it would take time and patience and sometimes no amount of either time or patience would open the bastard.
On one such occasion I'd gone camping with some girlfriends... the boot was full of all our camping gear and as we arrived and started the set up, old boot wouldn't budge. After much frustration and a ridiculous amount of swearing, I took quick walk to the bottle-o to calm my nerves with a bevvy, I finally managed to click it open. Thankfully we didn't end up sleeping outside! However, the pack up was a different story... old trunk wasn't in a co-operative mood that day so my mates piled in with the tents, chairs, sleeping bags, esky's beside them, in between them and on top of them - I've still no idea how we squished it all in.
Shortly after I bought a new car and old Smurfette sat in the driveway... until it came time to bid her farewell. A stock car racer bought her for sweet f'a (I think like $200). I was devastated! I could just imagine her being belt into by other cars... she should have gone out to pasture, not to a stock car racer. The guy was stoked! Smurfette was in great condition and he knew he'd just got himself the bargain of the century!
It wasn't until after the dude chucked old smurfette on his trailer, gave me the measly amount of cash, took off and was well out of sight, that I suddenly realised I still hadn't opened the boot. Problem was... those arty, classy, nude shots of my minge and nips were still in there! I took off up the street like a bullet out of a gun, but alas, he was long gone. I had no way of contacting him either - he hadn't given me a phone number and as the car wasn't registered there was no paperwork.
Ever since, I've had this mental image of old Smurfette at the stock car meet with a massive crowd of spectators.
An old Gemini bangs up against her back end... the boot flies open and a hundred black and white nude pics of yours truly come flying out and floating gently back onto the track and into the crowd.
People look around at each other... some bend down to pick up the paper that has landed at their feet, while others start to catch them as they float back and forth through the gentle breeze. Mother's cover their children's eyes in disgust. The men look left, then right, then quickly fold the photo's and place them in their pocket for later. The drivers stop their cars, start crawling around on their hands and knees picking up the photo's like they are hundred dollars notes scattered around. No, it's not my imagination going wild, I'm sure that's exactly how it panned out!
Therefore, it's quite possible, that I'm not just google famous, but that I also have a strong underground fan base of stock car drivers. If I ever cross that line into stardom... you can bet some lucky bastard will make a mint from Womans Weekly... Front cover - August 2015 - Karls Bares All - and there, while you wipe your arse (isn't that the only place people read that shit?), will be my big 70s bush and hairy nipples staring you straight in the face! You'll never look at me in quite the same way again!