Did you know Posh Spice's favourite food is still toast? That's your fact for the day. Just you WAIT until that piece of information surprises you when you're thinking about something else one day. Facts for the day are making me more and more lightheaded as the weeks pass. Only two weeks now until our comedy festival show, For We Are Young And Free. There are free tickets on our website and new photos although sadly none of the photos of me in rehearsals wearing my tracksuit pants made it on there. Can't imagine why not. You guys are really missing out. Maybe I should take some advice from Posh Spice: "I wear jeans more or less every day so it makes sense to me to spend that little bit more on something that my bottom will be relying on so much". My bottom has been relying on my jeans more than perhaps I realised. I like Paris Hilton more and more each day I read this Posh Spice book.

There are a couple of people I think are magic.

I think my sister's a bit magic. I live with my sister and when I get up in the morning, that day's newspaper is outside my bedroom door and the kitchen is polished and my sister is up and out in the world getting on with her day while I stumble to the fridge for my morning stare at the top two shelves.

The newspaper must get there by magic. She must have a magic wand that cleans the kitchen in silence. She's magic. I know it. I've always known it. When she was a kid she was magic, too. She made all her food last longer by growing it somehow while in the process of eating it and watching mine disappear.

Anyway, Paul the Magic Website Man is magic too. I don't know how come things can change overnight on a website but it's all still there, but they can, apparently, and they do. And Paul did it all on his birthday, with a hangover, and he did this too, where incidentally you can book tickets for our show that starts in two weeks.

Two weeks. That's also magic. Somebody shrank time.

Bastards.

I am sorry to bang on about this but isn't Paris Hilton just something else?

A Person Who Is Fabulous sent me a package in the mail that arrived today and which contained two books:

Confessions Of An Heiress: A Tongue In Chic Peek Behind the Pose (by Paris Hilton WITH Merle Ginsberg)

and

Victoria Beckham, That Extra Half Inch: Hair, Heels, and Everything In Between

Person Who Is Fabulous has helpfully highlighted some of the key passages with appropriate notes such as "For the love of GOD" (next to a photograph of what can only be described as a pubic bone jutting out like a verandah - pointing morbidly downwards to some material the size of a postage stamp only just covering a vital organ).

Previously, I had no interest in Victoria Beckham. Now, however, I have seen her mouth.

Fan. Tastic.

Thanks very much to Person Who Is Fabulous. You really have prevented me from getting a lot of things done. All in the name of research. Oh yes. Let the fun begin.

PS. Did you notice our new site? Here - you can buy tickets there! Already!

Yikes.

And now let's add a producer...

... how fun are rehearsals!?!

Hey so how hot is our cast...

... and yes, we are starting a band.

Left to right: Michael Roper (who plays Peter Dodds McCormick, the bloke who wrote the Australian anthem), Dylan Lloyd (who plays Dad), Miriam Glaser (Paris Hilton) and Emily O'Brien-Brown (Genevieve).

And a very talented bunch they are too.

By the by, did I mention that our short film, I Could Be Anybody, is screening on Tuesday next week (13 March) at First Floor in Brunswick Street? Maybe I didn't mention that.

Today I went to my day job and tonight I'm working with Christina, whose show "Semi Rural" is on at the Comedy Festival at the exact same time as ours. I'm helping her out in the next few weeks at the same time as directing "For We Are Young And Free" for Standing There Productions and organising the brilliantly-timed Law Week for Victoria Law Foundation, where I work.

Sometimes I wonder whether I'd be able to survive without nineteen concurrent deadlines. That's a theory I doubt I'm going to test any time soon.

Meanwhile, trips on public transport become the only moments I get to myself.

Melbourne has one of those daily rags that you can get at train stations for free. Ours is called MX. When I worked in commercial radio, I used to read MX from cover to cover with the frenzied excitement of an addict, searching desperately for some material.

And doesn't it deliver?

Today, it actually uses the phrase "paleolithic hottie" to describe the reconstructed face of a 14,000 year old skull.

Other highlights include:

The story of a zoo worker who dressed in an unconvincing orangutan costume in order to stage a fake escape scenario. Needless to say that when he was shot by another zoo keeper with a fake gun, the kiddies were horrified and fled from the scene.

The description of Richard Griffiths attempting to escape the Harry Potter crowds through a tiny box office window is pretty hilarious if you know how big Richard Griffiths is.

And finally, I enjoyed the following passage:

Children on a youth club trip in Northern Ireland ignored repeated warnings to behave as bedtime approached last Wednesday. So their leaders decided to teach them a lesson. they packed the youngsters into a minibus, drove them into the middle of nowhere and told them to find their own way back to base. The punishment backfired badly when the youngsters, aged 12 to 14, became hopelessly lost and the leaders were unable to go back to find them because the minbus broke down.

(Description of furious parents follows). Got to love MX.

I was at university for six and a half years. I studied a variety of things, from the Australian Constitution to the formulation of a social jurisprudence in the Bridget Jones books.

While studying at the university, I honed one skill in particular. I became very good at working to deadlines. I can feel a deadline. I can sense it. At the start of the semester, I would write down the deadlines in my new diary with my new pen and I would know when they were and I was certain that this year I would start studying, researching, or writing several weeks before the due date.

There's a scene in the upcoming movie Happy Feet, which a group of us saw yesterday at a charity screening, where a penguin is terrified of jumping off a cliff. "It's okay", he says to himself, "Trick yourself". Then, teetering on the edge of the cliff face, he shouts "Look over there!" at which point he looks backwards while walking forwards, saying "Where?" and topples over the cliff.

The joke is funny because you can't trick yourself. You can't tell yourself the deadline for your essay is two weeks earlier than it actually is. You can't tell yourself the exam isn't on the 30th, it's on the third. You get really good at knowing how long you're going to need and you leave it until then. Then you research and practice and study and write and then on the Friday of the due date you submit your work and you go to the pub and by Monday you don't remember a single thing about the entire subject matter you've been learning about for the last six months.

So I've been trained like this - the bad habits of a tertiary education often come in the form of caffeine and nicotine, but in my case it's definitely an inability to work without a deadline, and a habit of leaving everything up to the last minute.

The Comedy Festival is in April. In university lingo, that's getting close to the time where you ask for an extension.

Better get myself down to the library.

Also, why is this conversation happening? (Or in the stupendously irritating Age)? I know why. It's because these kinds of people are so loathed and detested by women with any self regard whatsoever that they don't actually know any, which is sad because there is no better feeling than laughing tea out of your nose because your friends are the funniest people on earth. For the record, two of the top three funniest people I know are women, and the other one is frankly just an unfortunate product of genetics.