I won’t lie. I love attention and from a young age, I fancied myself a celebrity.
Now that reality has convinced me that celebrity status is not that much of a desirable goal, I still felt pretty special on that Red Carpet.
I love to sing and write songs. I’m not Katy Perry (only in my head) and I know that, but I was honoured to be in the running against insanely talented artists for Music Oz’s Australian Independent Awards.
In my free penthouse and gown, I smiled at the photographers and I was interviewed by Peter North (NOT the porn star. Google is a cruel). I knew I wouldn’t win. I didn’t care. But experts thought I was good enough to be considered a finalist against THOUSANDS of entrants. It was a great experience. Free drinks (I had 2 lemonades if you must know) and seated in the fourth row of the ARIA’s-type stage.
85% of the performances were beyond incredible, but I didn’t like the pretentious acts. I hated the heavy metal d-bags who threw their beers in the audience which exploded over 3 rows and hit my mother in her already aching head. But Claude was great. Bliss and Eso showed up and made my boyfriend’s eyes bug with excitement. The Potbellez were there.
And I was there with them.
There was an after party from 10pm to 3am. I’m kind of awkward at after parties and I didn’t care for the nominees who thought they were the next Kanye West or Mariah Carey. Honestly, a lot (not all) of them were arrogant. I didn’t fit in with them. I like to be nice to people. These people only wanted others to be nice to them.
I went to Star City’s casino, but of course, I left my licence at home and apparently I do not look 21, so my family and I headed back up to our penthouse, ordered food and watched Forrest Gump.
Despite all the glamour and excitement, I can easily say that the highlight of the night was getting in my Simpsons pyjamas and spending the evening with my family.
Fame can never beat happiness like that.
Tyrolin in a Tizzy 