Barbara lives in Bank world

Last weekend, I became a mother. No the baby wasn’t human but I swear it was just as hard as having a real baby. My friend Tegan was going to a wedding with her family so for some reason she trusted me with her tiny kitten for the night. The thing I like the most about this kitten is that her name is Barbara. She was named after Barbara from bank world because they’re both rangas. So Barbara and I were to spend the night together. I clearly didn’t know what I had signed up for.

I figured since I’d somehow managed to bring up my cat just fine, this cat should be a breeze. Admittedly, she did use her little tray like a clever little cat unlike my cat who used to use my bed as a toilet. No joke, I once came home from not being there for a few days to find my cat had left me a gift of 5 piles of poop and 9 little puddles on my bed. Thanks Kitty. Bitch.

Barbara was a little more cunning than this. She had a very odd routine where she would sleep for two hours then play for two hours. In the beginning this was very cute because she’d snuggle up on my chest while I was watching tv then play with my shoelaces for a bit. She also ate every hour. Unfortunately, this routine didn’t change when I went to bed.

Off to bed went Barbara and I after a long six hours of watching TV. She had a little play in my room and then it was off to sleep....for an hour. Barbara starts crying. Why is Barbara crying? Barbara’s hungry. Barbara must be fed. So I get up begrudgingly, feed Barbara and go back to sleep...for two hours. Barbara begins to bite my face. But why? She’s had enough sleep and now wants to play.”But Barbara, it’s 3am, mummy needs sleep!” I plead, but there is no rest for the wicked. I think that’s why God made babies cute, so when they annoy the crap out of us we can’t hate them and throw them out the window.

Also awkward, my cat tried to kill her. Barbara, being the little darling she is, went to introduce herself to Kitty while Kitty was having dinner. From what I understood in cat language, their conversation went like this:

Barbara: Harro, I’m Barbara

Kitty: Wanna get cut bitch?

Luckily, I swooped in to rescue Barbara before she was eaten. It’s so weird how after you see a kitten and then you see an adult cat, the big cat is immediately uglier and less cute than it was before. My cat is still ugly and obese to me, even a week after Barbara left. She’s dead to me....ok a little harsh.

This entire experience made me realise I am not having babies for a very long time. Getting woken up every two hours is NOT enjoyable, no matter how cute the baby is. So use protection!

Just for your entertainment, this is me getting fed ice cream while my cat tries to eat it. Yep, pointless video.

Horsing around

They call it “the race that stops a nation”. Nice choice Betting Association Australia. I almost missed that particular race and I was there! Let’s be frank, not a lot of people go to the races to watch the horses. Sure some people place bets (and lose) so they have to watch the horses but the majority of people go there to dress up, drink too much and stagger home when the day is over. I pretty much just went so I could look pretty while standing around drinking champagne and eating canapés. This plan didn’t quite work out.


My dream racing day would have begun with me looking dazzling in a dress I’d picked out months ago with a fabulous head piece and comfortable shoes. For one, I didn’t have an outfit until two days before cup day and I only figured it out after designer Pamela Usanto gave me one of her beautiful skirts as a gift. The day before the races I still didn’t have a headpiece so my mum found me one in a random box at her work and I generally do not own any comfortable heels (come to think of it, do comfortable heels exist???).

Another essential thing you need for the races is good weather but in Melbourne it is literally impossible to come by. I’m just thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t one of the poor sods on Derby day who had to trudge through the torrential rains with muddy heels and a see through dress (how convenient the dress code is black and white, clearly God’s a pervert and was craving a wet t-shirt comp). I had to promote for Tom Waterhouse online betting for four hours that morning at Southern Cross station and apart from the hectic blisters I got, I had a ball checking out people’s interesting choice of clothing but nothing would prepare me for what I saw on cup day.

Willy Wonka. What was this woman thinking??? I just don’t understand why some people decide to dress like this. I don’t think she’ll be picking up too many guys in that ensemble. I also saw numerous pairs of gum boots and fishnet stockings. I’m one of those girls who salivates at the thought of giving random strangers makeovers because it would make their life so much better and make things a lot less painful for my eyes. Seriously, look less fugly or stay inside.

The thing that you need the most at the races is good company and that’s why I love my friends. They all looked super amazing and have fantastic drinking and eating skills. They’re not that girl you spotted stumbling around taking swigs from a bottle of wine but the ones skulling their glasses or champagne with three sandwiches in their other hand. They’re not those girls whinging while carrying their heels in their hand, they’re the ones dancing and singing the national anthem at the top of their lungs in front of their marquee. Some of my favourite quotes from the day came from my little friend Brianna. My favourite was: “If you don’t skull that glass of champagne right now, you are no longer my friend”.

With the races comes the typical seedy old men who had one too many beers. The thing that disgusts me the most is the guys who try to hit on us are old enough to be our dads. I make a point to make them aware of this while asking if it bothers them that they’re paedophiles. That usually shuts them up. If that doesn’t work, I begin to call them dad while subtly running away. To seedy old men, Australia says no. Occasionally you will agree to be in a photo with them so they can go home and tell their other predator mates in Wagga about all the hot chicks they hung out with at the races. Is it really that hard to stick to their age group? Yes the women of that age are sagging in all the wrong places but at least they’ve finished going through puberty and got their first bra more than four years ago.

Did I also mention I am somewhat challenged at making bets? I literally have no idea how to do it, as I assume many other girls don’t. I don’t know the names of the horses, jockeys or anything about gambling. I went up to the window, handed over my $20 and said confidently “twenty on number nine thanks”. This was followed by the man asking me “which race? Place? First? Do you want to know the odds?” SHUTUP AND PUT MY BET ON BUDDY! YOU’RE MAKING ME LOOK LIKE A DICKHEAD! Dignity=lost.

To put it simply, I’m not really an experienced campaigner when it comes to the races but I make up for it in the effort I put in when trying to look like I know what I’m doing. Giddy up!

Made in Melbourne

Being in the fashion industry means I get the chance to work with a lot of amazingly talented people and be involved in some pretty awesome events. One that I have been lucky enough to be a part of is the Made in Melbourne event. This annual fashion event promotes and supports local designers who create and manufacture their collections in Melbourne. The event was created by Melbourne designer Katya Baxter, who also created the label Mina & Katusha in collaboration with Sarina Zammit. It is presented by LiPrice and has this year been held at The Trust in Melbourne's CBD. The venue has been transformed with fake grass, fountains and roses climbing up newly latticed walls. Their first show this year presented pieces from Mina & Katusha, Caro, Lisa Taranto, Marion Liese, Borsha, Silk & Ink and Neo Dia. They are definitely brands to watch out for in the coming seasons. In Made in Melbourne's latest show, the theme was Spring Racing, with the addition of beautiful head pieces by Melbourne milliners.
The show opened with designs from Mina & Katusha with head pieces by Gregoria millinery. Their third collection entitled ‘Amour’ is set for Summer with bright colours in beautiful feminin frills and flattering lines.

The second designer to show case their collection was Lady Petrova with Hopelessly Devoted millinery. Petrova Hammond is the brains behind the operation and is the cutest person I have ever met. She is a petit redhead oozing with this adorable, lovable character. I just wanted to hug her! Her collection was without a doubt her personality in the form of clothes- sweet, pretty and quirky. I had a little fashion dilemma backstage when the dress I was meant to wear (which was a stunning yellow and pink flowing dress) got completely tangled as four people tried to help me into it so I ended up wearing this adorable little number.

 

The third designer was Violet & I with Bianca Linklater millinery. Her designs were pretty, feminin and a bit sexy! I didn't model these myself but my beautiful friend Jessica Rose did a fabulous job. Their website has the most beautiful pictures as well.

 I was most impressed with the final designer Pamela Usanto who used JloveS millinery. I had never met her before but had seen her beautiful collection modelled by my friend Kaitlyn Ridge. Pamela is such a happy and lovely person and her designs were classy and simply stunning. I was lucky enough to wear her show stopping piece as well as to recieve one of her skirts as a gift, which I ended up wearing to the races. To get her amazing dress on was quite the struggle. I was convinced it was too small when the zip-less bodice wouldn't go past my thighs. With the help of three others and some squeezing, we finally got it on as well as the jaw dropping dress.

A runway show wouldn't be the same for me without wardrobe disasters and injuries so in true Emily form, I managed to have my already ugly feet covered in blisters from four hours of promo work for Tom Waterhouse that morning. Just keeping things classy!

Family business

I’ve been writing this blog for a few months and I’ve realised I haven’t really written too much about my family- those people I didn’t get to choose to have in my life. My last name is Macfarlane so if you hadn't already guessed, I'm Scottish and that means we have our own family crest and tartan. Boom. I know you're jealous. In my family I have a 21 year old sister, a 16 year old brother, my mum, my dad and Kitty, our cat who we don’t like much because we only see her around dinner time. Together we’re the Macfarlane’s. Eat your heart out Brady Bunch. Maybe I should discuss how our little family started with the story of how my parents met.


My mum was a bit of a babe back in ye old day and dad was kind of a player (I would know, I’ve seen photos of him in his day and a buffet of women to prove it). On the fateful night my parents met, they were both at the same bar with a few friends. My mum was having a few drinks at a table when my dad strolled over asking my mum where she lived. When she replied with “Balwyn”, he responded with “well you’re out” before asking all of her friends in turn and eventually walking away. Eventually he went back to my mum and for some reason, she gave him her number. Three weeks later he called to arrange a date, ending their conversation with “I don’t remember what you look like so if you’re alright I’ll stay but if you’re ugly I’ll keep on walking.” Nice choice mum.

Might I also point out, my parents are two of the palest people and alive, hence shouldn’t have mated. There should be a work safety policy in the realm of parenting, I am practically allergic to the sun. What is also strange are the varied heights in our family. My mother and sister are 5’ 4”, my dad is 5’8.5”, I’m 5’9.5” and my brother is a monster at 6’5”. Where the hell did the tall genes come from? Also the fact that my mum and sister have massive jugs and I’m a little more challenged in that region.

Like any family, we don’t always get along. My dad runs a tight ship and likes to have control over the house hold and the rest of the family or as he likes to call us, “you people”. If I leave things lying around, he hides them and makes me do stuff for him in order to get them back. Unfortunately, he’s started to forget where he puts them and half of my stuff has been missing for a few months. My brother Andrew just likes to steal my stuff in general, this includes multiple pairs of headphones (often pink ones) and moisturiser. Andy and I are really tight but it’s still confusing when I get accused of flirting with him. I’m just a very affectionate person, I swear I’m not Tasmanian.

The awesome thing about having a sister is that you practically get two wardrobes but it’s depressing now because my sister Stephanie is at college in America on a tennis scholarship. We still try to exchange things every time she comes to visit but I’m a bit worried she’ll lose it as she has a tendency to misplace things. It all started a year ago when I bought her this beautiful expensive ring for her 21st but she lost it. Since then, she started losing bigger things like her hamster Pumpanickle who just “disappeared” and more recently her black Labrador puppy Pepper. Very smooth. I’m beginning to think the forgetfulness runs in the family.

The issue I’m having with my mum lately is that I’ll have full conversations with her about things and when I bring it up again the next day, she’ll have no recollection of us ever discussing the topic at hand and she’ll get mad at me for not telling her. She only gets mad because she loves her kids so much so she gets worried when she thinks we haven’t told her every detail of our lives.

So I guess you could say my family is pretty normal, but we’re a bit closer than your regular family. So if you touch my family, consider yours in grave danger. I will go ape shit.

bday or me-day?

I hate that it’s my birthday only once a year. I’m getting sick of it being everyone else’s birthday and not mine! I get so jealous! You know the scenario, you’re sitting at a restaurant when a delicious slice of free cake flies past you carried by a waiter singing “happy birthday” and you’re thinking “I want free cake” but it never comes. I’ve been tempted so many times to pretend it’s my birthday in the hopes of getting that cake made 100 times more delicious purely due to the fact it’s free. The way I see it, this jealousy of other people’s birthdays started a long time ago.


Picture this: a room filled with streamers, balloons, a clown, fairy bread and screaming 5 year old kids. It’s your best mate from prep’s fifth birthday and you’ve already had a tantrum because it was completely unfair that they were getting a present and you weren’t. Then suddenly, their mum starts singing “happy birthday” while stepping over kids and holding a glorious delicacy appropriately labelled with “happy birthday Chucky” (I don’t know why I inserted the name Chucky there but maybe that’s because he was my favourite Rugrats character). Of course you’re Chucky’s best mate so you get to sit next to him while he blows out the candles. This is when shit gets real. Chucky goes to blow out the candles but you get in there first and blow them out yourself. Chucky starts crying, his mum is trying desperately to calm him while re-lighting the candles and clearing up the snot you just blew all over the icing. You: 1, Chucky: 0.

It only gets worse as you get older. You start buying presents by yourself with your own money. You pick the perfect present and realise your friend will love it just as much as you do. But hang on, it is kind of expensive and it’d look better on you anyway. Before you know it, you’ve claimed ownership of this present. This is easily avoidable. If it’s for a family member, get something you will both like and since you live in the same house, you can use it whenever you want. I did this with my dad. I wanted a pasta maker so I got him one and just use it all the time. Another trick is to get a present that involves doing something together such as a trip to Queensland. They’re happy they’re going to Queensland, you’re also going. Everyone wins. I have another dilemma on my hands though: my birthday is close to Christmas.

For people who don’t understand what this is like, imagine getting completely jibbed with joint birthday and Christmas presents. It’s BS! Not only that, people regift their own Christmas presents to give you for a birthday present because they were “busy until after Christmas”. Oh how convenient. This happened to me last year when a friend bragged about how awesome the present was that she was giving me but she kept “forgetting” it everytime she saw me. I’m one of those people who really isn’t fussed about whether or not I get a present from somebody but she was making me excited about how amazing this present really was. Eventually the 9th of January rolls around and she is ready to present me with this ridiculously fabulous gift. Firstly, it was enclosed in a small brown paper bag. Warning sign number one. I pull it out of the bag and it is a chunky piece of metal, which was apparently a necklace. Now I don’t mean to sound like a spoilt little brat, but this person had known me since I was ten and in no way, shape or form would I ever be able to pull off this piece of “jewellery”. My acting training jumped in as I looked up at her saying “oh wow, it’s so versatile”. I would’ve preferred a potato if I wanted versatility. I gave her the benefit of the doubt assuming she had at once stage gotten me an awesome present but had it for so long that she fell in love with it and claimed it, eventually panicking and giving me this unwanted Christmas gift. Understandable, I loved the present I got her for Christmas so much that I bought myself one. I guess it’s the thought that counts right?

That’s what I love about Jesus, he’s willing to share his birthday. Legend.

Sham WOW!

It was one of those times when you need a fucking big sham wow. It all started on the morning of October the 6th when I decided it would be a nice idea to wear a cute flowy white skirt to uni but with a g string considering I would have to change into leggings during play rehearsals because if there’s one thing I hate more than brussel sprouts, it’s visible panty lines. Sure that made no sense, but who doesn’t hate brussel sprouts? I digress. One of my favourite things to do is watch the weather and impersonate the weather girl but on that very morning I was running late and missed the weather. And so started my unfortunate day.


I didn’t have enough coins that morning for parking and I just wasn’t in the mood to visit the creepy guy at the servo who remembers me everytime I go there to get coins or an up & go. I decided to take a wee little journey on the bus that I usually avoid because it means I have to walk a whole five minutes to get to the bus stop and I’m lazy. Originally I thought I missed the bus as it sped by me but I’d chosen a good day as the bus driver was in the mood for a slurpee so he sent some of his bus groupies to get him one. Stage one of my day was complete as I arrived at uni 20 minutes after my class started. At this point of the day, there was only a minimal amount of wind. My luck was soon to run out.

Three hours later and my class was over. I came outside to see what can only be described as an apocalyptic sky combined with tornado like winds. It was Munroe moment after Munroe moment. I felt like I was being ripped off by God, he was showing everyone my arse and I was getting no money for it. This was the least of my worries.

It has come to my attention that a new water catchment area should be created in my garage. For quite some time now, we’ve had some serious issues when it comes to rain and drains. About a year ago, our entire house got flooded and we had to replace all the carpet. On this evening however, dad and I got in there quick to clear out some serious water. So I donned my red gum boots and my rain coat while grabbing a bucket just as shit started getting real. Dad and I were running around like headless chooks trying not to drown like the poor little snail I found swimming in the blocked drain. The water was literally knee deep and pouring in from every possible opening. My cat, Kitty, had previously smashed a hole in one of our windows the other day as well. You may ask how this is possible if I don’t have a tiger as a cat but truth is, our house is kind of a crap heap that was created with illegally thin windows...those are the ones made of glass and not green plastic like the rest of the house. Amazing visual I’m sure. But because of this hole, more water was pouring in along with the shower coming in through the kitchen cupboards.

Eventually we stopped the flowing river running through my garage after some intense father daughter bonding. Dad and I don’t do much with each other that doesn’t involve food or playing guitar together so this was pretty huge. My sister better watch her back because I’m in the running for golden child at this rate. She asked for it when she got her first tattoo.

While others are snuggling up in front of the heater during a storm, us Macfarlane’s are battling raging floods and while limiting our energy use by keeping our heater in its broken state. We’re survivors. I’m just glad I didn’t have to pump up the inflatable boat this time...

Gender bender

“If I were a boy, even just for a day, I’d roll out of bed in the morning and throw on what I wanted and go.” Well Beyonce, I couldn’t have said it better myself....but I’ll try. Lately I’ve just been getting more and more jealous of boys. They get to do so much cool shit! If I could trade bodies with a boy for a week, here’s a list of things I would do:


Pee wherever I want
I can’t even imagine how much time I would save if I could just whip out a wiener and pee at any time, any place. I’d love to try out some aiming as well as write my name in some snow. There would be no awkward squatting while camping, no waiting in line to use the loo’s or waiting till I found a toilet in general. The world would be my toilet.


Have a burping and farting contest
Not many people know this, but one of my rare skills is the ability to burp extremely well on demand. People don’t know this because it’s socially unacceptable for females to burp in public. It depresses me because when I rip out a winner, people are disgusted. Just once would I like to burp and hear applause.


Walk around naked with my mates
I recently went to uni games and was astounded at the number of nude dudes I saw in public. I had one awkward incident when we were at a club and I turned around after getting drinks from the bar only to be confronted by five naked guys, whom I would’ve high fived if I didn’t have drinks in my hands. I also love that a footy bus containing an entire team while naked was crashed after a night out (not the crashing part...just the naked part). Boys were also caught streaking at the girls footy match. So much nudity, so little time.

Not bother with grooming
Boys take this for granted so much. They don’t need to shave, moisturise, tan, do their hair, put on makeup or wear high heels. It’s so unfair that their going out ensemble consists of a tshirt and jeans with the ability to change tshirts for a completely different outfit the next evening. PLUS they’re always comfortable! Epic win much?


Grow a mo
Bit awkward if you have a mo as a chick. Enough said.

Shave my head
I’ve always considered this but I have an awkwardly shaped head and it didn’t exactly work out well for Britney Spears. Yes Natalie Portman pulled this off but only coz she is a hot babe.



Beyonce, she had the right idea as did Ciara who once said “sometimes I wish I could act like a boy”. Ladies, you read my mind.