19 in 89

What you're about to hear are some of the most embarrassing diary entries I've uncovered so far. It could be argued that there's been a constant stream of things I could easily classify as embarrassing already, and that this is just the thirty eighth week of embarrassing events and occurrences loosely strung together with eccessive time calls and shit house attempts at humour. THAT is also a hungie percent true, but I can also promise you that these entires are truly in a class of their own when it comes to things we should be ashamed of. So it figures I'd bring in two of my besties who are willing to help support me through it, but also willing to tear me a new one and hang me out to dry...as only your loved ones can. Jessica Gale and Taris Tyler befriended one another in the mid 90's in Perth. I was working nights at 96FM with Claire as Bad Boy and the Vixen, Jessica was hosting the 96FM Breakfast Show with Dave Gore and Russell Gilbert. Jess and I clicked right away and became friends through work, Taris and Jess befriended one another over the phone during the conversations they had whenever Taris rang into the radio station for a chat while the songs were playing. The story of how Taris transformed himself from a listener, into a much loved friend and bestie of both Jessica and myself is included in this episode. You'll also get to witness me comparing the 1989 version of me to Princess Diana, because of course, why haven't I mentioned this before, it seems so obvious now, or does it? Hopefully the comparison will make sense once you've heard it in context, or maybe it won't, I'm sure there's some kind of food for thought in there at the very least. I’ve also officially lost my diary filling mind, as twenty something me tries to "JAZZ UP" my diary entries, which means we get treated to (or rather, have to endure) a stream of thought entry, that's sadly as inane as you’d expect, an entry written from the perspective of a Russian spy, who’s getting interrogated by other Russians (can I apologise to all Russians for my terrible attempt at perfecting a Russian accent, seems accents aren't my forte, good to know hehe). There's also a version of an L.A. surfer dude AND (no I'm not kidding) a variety of animals, plus even weirder, I seem to be obsessed with showing off how many slang words I know for the word vomit, and this is just the first four diary entries for this week. There’s so much other whack shit that happens in the other three entries too, I’m having embarrassment induced anxiety about it every time I think of what is in these entries, so here's hoping you enjoy my unbridled stupidity, good luck lovelies.

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So we're back with another week's worth of my relentlessly yawn-arrific diary entries to wade through and this time around I've invited my bestie and former ONE and ONLY ACTUAL girlfriend Trish to join me (Trish the Dish, who I dumped soon after she tried to snog me, I'm pretty sure the fact she knew I was actually gay, well before I was willing to accept and own it, was another reason I called an end to us dating hehe). Thankfully, me finally coming out, plus our mutual love of 'The Princess Bride' book and movie, meant that our relationship and friendship only strengthened, hence why our title alludes to me being the closeted Princess that was lying about myself to Trish. Coming up in this episode my diary entries cover everything from me wasting maximum 80’s coin making back to back long distance phone calls, to pretending I actually like basketball, in fact I actually go so far as to wish I had an Adelaide 36'ers top to seal the deal and flaunt all over Karratha, ummm vomit. Speaking of vommy, I also get asked to panel Richie’s breakfast show, while he broadcasts live from the BP Service Station, but I end up getting sent home with vomiting and diarrhoea. I know, it seems to be a regular occurrence, but I promise that I give almost zero info about my butt movements this time around, also could teenage me just wash his friggen hands and stop eating floor food on the regular? Seriously.

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Ever since I started this podcast, I've been mad keen to get my bestie and former co-worker Maria (aka The Empress, aka Killer, you'll learn the story behind BOTH those nicknames in this episode) to appear on it. She's a busy lady who doesn't suffer fools and isn't afraid to tell it like it is, having her working behind the scenes at 96fm in Perth was an actual blessing. So when it came time to record this episode, Empy was in the midst of celebrating her birthday around a hotel pool with friends, so I was stoked when she agreed to endure a weeks worth of my diary entries in between cocktail soaked lounge hangs and room service deliveries. She's got stories to tell, opinions to give, and questions to ask, she also hasn't had a chance to listen to ANY episodes of this podcast, so she's diving into this completely clueless about what she's about to experience. Together we'll look back at a week in 1989 where my Mumma revealed she wasn't a fan of us getting a home phone in the radio station share house, I get rid of my kitten Ziggy, and the new radio announcer Dave and I are keen to do a radio show together, but will Richie let us? I also insert more pretend heterosexual content about how I can’t wait to get married and become a dad, so delusional. I get the smallest share house electricity bill that we’ve ever seen since I arrived in Karratha and there’s a bunch of brand new JagMen shirts for me to flaunt, once I get them off lay-by of course. So settle in for a glorious ride through some meandering diary entries and a stack of sass from the Empress, it's a lovely ride.

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For this weeks worth of diary entries, I'm joined by my bestie and former co-host Amanda, who was flung together with me on air in the early 90's after management decided to sack my best mate, give me his job AND his co-host Amanda to hang out with too. Naaaw radio, you're so considerate of nobodies feelings. Anyway, we swiftly became mates and the rest is history, fortunately Amanda remembers way more stuff from that history than I do, PLUS she's a huge fan of the podcast, so of course she's back. Together we'll have to navigate the sudden arrival of what is, at this stage, my bleakest diary entry ever, it's sad, but also abusive, and it makes me feel sorry for 20 year old me kinda, but not really, suck it up you teeny princess hehe. Anyway aside from that, we also have work through entires about me having a zit filled facial crisis, I stupidly agree to installing a home phone in the radio station share house, much to my mothers disgust, she was right of course. I also attend the 'Karratha Citizens of the Year' Awards and get bored to snores, and one of the two share house kittens gets adopted, but will it be mine? It won’t be, there's also a great memory care of Amanda when she reveals how she lied her way into a career in radio. It's a top tip, but probably not something you should entertain, unless you're really savvy, or you're more than willing to be fired a few days into being hired, so swings and roundabouts really hehe.

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In previous episodes we learnt that the Wasley family has a propensity to burp and fart A LOT, we arrived at that decision after my little brother Tom questioned our Mum about why we is all so gassy, it's a family trait. I should add it's a Wasley family trait, so it affects our Dad's side of the family, not so much my Mum's side of the family, my Mumma would want that to be mentioned because she hardly does either, but boy is she constantly surrounded by them. Anyway there's proof of my excessive burping presented in crystal clear crackling 90's cassette audio quality within this episode, as my former co-host and bestie Claire, aka The Vixen of the Vibes, joins me for another weeks worth of diary entries. It would seem I burped into a microphone a lot in the 90's...and even today. More on that within, plus there's more mother truckers and even some garbage truckers that are waking me up way too early. I’m also now nearly 9 months in to this gig and the 20 year old version of me thinks I should be getting waaaaay better on air shifts, so it’s time to put my big boy pants on, which will probably be Jagmen ones, and confront my boss Neville about it. We also have diary entries recording the arrival of the new announcer Dave, which inspires more bitching on my behalf over managements ineptitude, because of course it does. Plus there’s UFO sightings to deal with and I get offered another job, which I swiftly reject with typical teenage arrogance, apologies in advance to anyone who calls South or Port Hedland home for my sassy dismissals of those towns within this diary, let's just say my arrogance within it's pages, doesn't seem like it will be diminishing anytime soon, meh can't say I'm all that mad about it hehe.

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Nothing normal here, once again we dive into another week of teenage diary entries, this time around we're back with my bestie Retna in Amsterdam. Once again there's a LOT to work through, it's been 33 weeks of constant work and it would seem the shine is well and truly wearing off. Inside this episode there’s a celebratory smorgasbord for the 1989 version of me to attend. I do an on air shift that goes extremely well, but I also refer to myself as having motor mouth in my diary entry, so I'm not entirely sure how extremely well it could have possibly been if I'm also acknowledging that there's a stack of verbal diarrhoea behind it's delivery. A new radio announcer moves into the radio station share house, I see Pedro Almodóvar’s “Women on the Verge of Nervous Breakdown” at a film festival, the then successful 80’s Aussie business tycoon, Alan Bond was getting nervous and panic was clearly setting in as he puts our radio station 6KA up for sale. Meanwhile the 1989 pilots dispute kickstarts and it could mean no flights home for my holidays in November, plus I get sassy on air after a listener rings up to suggest I play some 'normal' music, look out random lady because I'm about to get mouthy about how immature you are across the Pilbara, I wonder how my boss Neville will react to that? You'll find out all about it the moment you've stuffed all of this nonsense into your hearing holes.

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My bestie MJ, aka Mary the babysitter from my teenage diary, is back for another week of entries and to help me understand why the two of us where so HOT for John Laws in the 80's. In 1989 Lawsie was the actual 'King of Talkback Radio', his show was relayed to radio stations all over Australia, including Karratha's 6KA. This week's worth of diary entries includes a rather horrendous set of sentences where 20 year old me is practically whacking myself off, via the tip of my biro (not a euphemism) over John Laws. It's uncomfortable to read now because he's just so hideous and reviled, but back then he was considered the peak of radio talent in Australia...how times change huh. We'll also cover off how a regular caller to the radio station called me up with a "great idea", but it actually isn’t, and the fact that he wants me to help him make it happen, means I'm either gonna have to commit to it, or pull on my big boy pants and tell him it aint ever gonna happen. So that's obviously where the bitching begins in this weeks worth of dairy entries, there's also a creepy moment where I pretend I’m heterosexual and filled with fake lust for one of my guests. I also get agitated when I'm accused of not doing something and actually raise my voice and yell at my boss Neville...whilst also trying not to cry, so that's totes business slash adulting right there. Plus, despite being a dog person, I buy a kitten on a whim, which weirdly makes me a teenage cat lady, because in 1989 I already had a cat back in Adelaide. How long will 80's me stay interested, and can it live with me for more than a week? Probably not, you can find out what I called my new feline friend, and what happened next within this episode, plus in keeping with her earlier appearances on this podcast, MJ manages to further incriminate herself by casually dropping a story that again places her in an illegal scenario, so huzzah for that and job well done.

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If there's one thing this diary has been delivering in abundance, its proof of my teenage obsession with filling every page of it with endless time keeping of the most mundane and boring of things. It's like I'm a scientist employed specifically to study the most arrogant and self absorbed lab rat EVER delivered to the laboratory. Surprisingly, this weeks worth of diary entries actually delivers way more detail than regular listeners of this podcast would expect. There's frustration and anger to express, sassy attitudes to record, cold shoulders to deliver and my life might even be in danger, or maybe my roomie is just really forgetful. My bestie Natalie (who sold me abundant Jag Men clothing and Fossil watches at a store in Karratha called Om Bazaar back in 1989) returns to help me work through diary entries detailing everything from Cyndy banging on my door early in the morning to invite me to the fair, I get to interview more fishermen, lose the keys to Jan's house while she's away in Perth, and I'm meant to be feeding her cats, and go to something called a Fenacle Fanny, I know, what the actual what? I also broadcast live from the Roebourne Races, book a flight home for the holidays and gets roped into a 12 hour work day, which leaves the 20 year old version of me being totes not happy with my boss Neville, and apparently I’m not afraid to show it, which will actually lead to me having to endure a chat about my attitude problem. There's also the realisation that whilst I may have been presenting as a straight guy in my day to day life back in 1989, the way I was filling out my diary entries were certainly VERY camp, plus Natalie accuses me of being on drugs, so there's a lot to work through once again.

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My bestie and former roomie from Karratha, Lisa (aka Boofie, which is short for bouffant, because in 1990 Lisa had a news reading demo video where the cameraman actually cut the top of her head off, and when she showed it to me I asked her "what was out of shot, a bouffant?". Then Boofie became Lisa's nickname because apparently EVERYONE I met had to be given a stupid nickname by teenage me...grrr but also hehe) anyway Boofie returns for this episode which is filled with everything from screaming parrots and airline traffic, to more behind the scenes gossip about Lisa's time interviewing Barnesy with my guest from Episode 28, Jonesy. If you've heard that episode, you'll remember Jonesy saying he'd encouraged Lisa not to wear a short skirt to that Jimmy Barnes interview, which Lisa confirms and then reveals more hilarity I'd never heard before. Also coming up in this episode, Bradley comes to say goodbye, but where is he going, and who even is he, and why don’t I remember any of those things? Teenage me also gets sold out by an office snitch and then I get a lecture on my taste in music, I also wash my clothes for the first time since my Mum left, which is kinda gross. There's excitement when I request a 2 week holiday from my boss Neville for November, and naturally I decide to go on a diet AGAIN. I also see a bunch more movies and actually enjoy doing a few live crosses to interview recreational fishers in a fishing competition, who even am I? Anyway there's a lot to process once again, plus you'll also get a bonus story from my early teenage years revealing how devoted to lip syncing I was, well before RuPaul delivered us Drag Race, thankfully there is no footage, just the memories of those that managed to witness the extravaganza and me obviously hehe.

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Okay so when we were last within the pages of my torturously inadequate diarising, we learnt that newly 20 year old me had just discovered the magical allure of non alcohol tasting punch at a party. That introduction resulted in me unleashing technicolour rainbows of vommy all about the party, insulting people and eventually getting rescued by a girl called Natalie. It was a LOT to process, so for this weeks worth of diary entries, we're about to find out all the ramifications surrounding those handfuls of tequila soaked tinned fruit that I fisted into my eating hole. To help me work through the fallout, I'm welcoming the return of my bestie and mock wife, Yvonne or Yvie. Together we'll find out that all my tropical punch hoovering has huge consequences, like missing an actual on air shift, and witnessing my boss blow his top at me. Then for whatever reason my totally delusional self figures that I can fix all of the things I've screwed up, just by slipping on a pair of snazzy new Jag pants, yeah because...why exactly and how is that the solution? It does get me compliments and I certainly don't forget to record that detail in my diary for the benefit of future readers. Cyndy also finishes up at the radio station and a Demi Moore movie affects me way more than I thought it could, even though I have zero memory of it now. Plus Yvie and I revisit that time in the 90's when I was so self absorbed that she was deemed worthy of the task of delivering a "sort your shit out" intervention to me. It was ugly and I totes deserved it, thank goodness Yvie was their to shake some sense into me, kind of like a nurturing but firm Alsatian might shake a rag doll it had nestled between it's huge and rather diggy in teeth, I was shook, and she was happy to be shaking...bless.

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