Baino's Banter

Festival Time and The Weather's.....

2012-01-14T09:29:00.001+11:00

Sydney Festival time and the weather's....ugh. Not sure what's going on this year but an unusual atmospheric event has seen us with cool temperatures, lots of rain and storms and no opportunity for a tan. But it's Festival which is awesome. Live sites, free concerts, lots of people and fun times to be had however, our public transport sucks and the Sydney City Council in their wisdom have decided to close the Harbour Bridge for the next three weekends for resurfacing. Now what clown made that decision? Still, its school holidays here so I guess the traffic's lighter. Not much more to say so I'll let the pictures do the talking. I went to opening night last week and am toying with going to see Mike Patton and friends at the Domain tonight depending upon whether this cloud bursts or not!

Walking up Martin Place towards the Free Concert at the Domain

Occupy what?

Oh get a job you ferals

They travel in packs

Apero!

Incoming fruit bats

Party times

Stage in the Domain...Manu Chao La Ventura / Washington / Gurrumul /

St Mary's Cathedral shows its stripes

The Club Bus in Hyde Park

Dancing in the Streets, Trocadero at Martin Place

On Patrol

Oirsh and Strine

2012-01-11T21:55:00.000+11:00

I had to wait until they arrived home, but on the 28th December, I met up with a long time blog friend and his wife and a new time blogger who actually lives in Sydney but whom I've never met. Nick from Nickhereandnow has been in Australia before a couple of years ago with his lovely partner Jenny and we met for the first time then. Since, we've kept in touch and it was wonderful to see them both again, neither looking a day older. Both sunkissed and energetic despite a whirlwind tour around the great brown land. Nick and Jenny from Belfast, Kylie from Eclectica in Sydney...it was indeed a pleasure.

Kylie, who's already met up with a number of LA bloggers last year including Megan and Leah just lives on the other side of the city so hopefully, we'll catch up again. And kudos to Kylie's son Liam who kept her company among a bunch of misfits (and for being the only other meat-eater and sharing a shaslik). Thank you, it was a great evening, good food and fine company.

Jenny, Nick, Kylie

Bloggers three; Me, Nick, Kylie

Vegetarian feast....but I wanted a steak

Seriously, the best Turkish version of Salsa I've ever tasted

Pretty huh?

Seeking coffee in Newtown

Found Coffee in Newtown. Nick and Jen

Two Weeks

2012-01-08T11:46:00.001+11:00

Well hello there! Happy New Year. Hope you all had a dandy Christmas and are now working off the podgefest with a few ab crunches and a detox diet. Today's the last day of 2 weeks leave imposed by a compulsory closure at work so here's a brief introspective:

Last day at the Quarry near Goulburn, NSW and we put on a barbecue for the Civil Contract boys. I was having dinner with a few that evening and telling a lovely man sitting next to me how much I liked a photo of three filthy plant mechanics sitting on a rock....turned out to be the guy in the middle!

Men can barbecue apparently. However Engineers seem to have some trouble.

Steak came only one way.....incinerated!

Christmas with the Taylor/Bainbridge Clan.

Yeah we're a little 'touched'. The theme "Superheroes" was taken to the extreme with: Toxic Tinsel, Supa Santa, Bendy Elf, Rudolf the Nuclear Reindeer: Jungle Girl; Beer Man; and Hit Woman

Of course we had to Skype Clare Bear in the second half of her 4 month "What Country is That" trip. After 8 weeks in South America (Equador, Galapagos, Columbia, Argentina), then to London, Scotland, Newcastle, Manchester, Madrid, Granada, Seville, Barcelona and on to Berlin, Frankfurt, Munich....next? Not sure but can't wait for her to head home in Feb.

Lithuanian Christmas with the In-Laws. They're awesomely hospitable and lovely people. I'm very lucky to have them in my life and they take Christmas VERY seriously. Their house is like the Rothenburg Christmas Shop and seriously, I can't do it justice but promised Siobhan some pics.

Their family room....there's more, so much more...

I could do an entire post in this alone!

Well done Dalia...21 people for lunch and it was fantastic. I resisted Vic's shots and managed not to fall over by the end of the night.

Great people, interesting food and a pile of hay beneath each plate. Apparently the man I'm going to fall in love with will be tall, thin and have a leaf growing out of his ear.

The Bainbridge in-laws' Christmas, low key but great people. Awesome fun. Congrats to my Nephew Jack who did really well in his HSC (our final school exam).

And a great day for my MIL who had major heart surgery, not without its complications early this year, a wonderful opportunity to celebrate. Although I question the synchronised dropping of ice into your Champagne - a travesty I tell you!

The second week slightly marred when I went to fill the horses' water trough and tripped in a bloody rabbit hole. Instead of finding wonderland, I sustained a nice sprained ankle that saw me 'feet up' for three days watching porn for women.

Poor thing's insomnia works to my advantage! Thanks lovely boy, for keeping me company while I've been off my feet

Lovely Merry Widow's daughter returned from London for five weeks to attend a friend's Wedding. The time went all too fast and culminated in a pool party of sorts on one of the few fabulous days we've had this December.

The ankle recovered enough to be strapped more tightly than a US air drop and, sustained me through the opening night of the Sydney Festival which commenced on the 7th January and runs for 2 weeks so hopefully, there will be more photos of goings on. We figure over 100,000 turned up for the free Concert in the Domain.

St Mary's Cathedral wore Zebra Stripes

Dancing in the streets to the Trocadero in Martin Place.

Well that's about it...Happy new year, may it hold all you wish for. Back to work on Monday.

Time to clean the lens, recharge the batteries and photograph 2012.

The end

The Spurious World of Internet Dating

2011-12-15T20:57:00.001+11:00

Alright. I fell in love with the wrong man. Well no, I had a mighty crush on the wrong man. Well no, he was the right man but the wrong time. Well no, it was the right man at the right time but the wrong ages. So, to move onwards and upwards, re-mount the horse so to speak, I decided to try RSVP dating. Hey, it worked for Clare's flatmate although being a silf-like blonde with big boobs probably didn't do her any harm.

So it works like this. You get onto the site and build a very comprehensive profile pretty much describing yourself in vivid, and in my case, accurate detail (although I neglected mentioning arthritic knees and a neurotic personality). Then you plonk up a few photos. Then you buy a few 'Stamps' so that when someone sends you a 'Kiss' you can actually reply beyond their measured responses or you can email and begin a chat.

Now I'm no stranger to Chat. I use it to talk to you...to family...to said crush...I don't even have a phone so Skype IS my phone but there's nothing worse than getting a 'Kiss' from an index typist, you know, the ones going 'Where's the 't' on this keyboard'. I have time to make coffee, get changed and take a pee before he's replied to two lines of conversation.

So, first encounter is via chat. Nice policeman, very tall, quite handsome but has kids with him 60% of the time, talks then declares that he's actually not interested in romance just collecting conversations to fill his boring weeknights when the ex-wifey (with whom he has a wonderful relationship) has the kidlets, and all women met and chatted with, are referred to as his 'ladies'. Ba-dong! Outta there.

Then there's the 47 year old that likes oral (yes he pretty much broached that in the first half hour), 'lol's a lot and keeps sending me email notifications via RSVP at 1:30 in the afternoon when I've already told him I work behind a secure proxy server and can't get onto network, dating sites or blogs. He refuses to tell me more than his name or sexual preferences, playful and funny but will not email or Skype (oh don't worry I have 'alternative' accounts for the great unseen). Another one for the bin.

There's the lovely freelance journo who I actually did meet on a pouring wet day, although he was half an hour late when I msg'd said crush, who bless his cotton socks stayed up until I came home to make sure I was alright and to hear the predictable 'woe is me' whine - or perhaps to gloat because he thought I'd been stood up. Anyway, said journo/photographer sends so many mixed messages from 'you're lovely and terribly pretty, let's keep in touch,' through to 'I chased a woman up the north coast and it didn't work out.' My thoughts? Why is he on a dating site if he's already got a target. Rebound man who I'm still talking to but sparks? Probably not. Could end up being a decent pal tho so hope springs eternal.

Tonight however was a doozie. A rather nice military man sent me a 'Kiss'. I emailed back in the hope of chat. Clearly broken English, had a short exchange (remember he's the one that initiated contact) parted with "I have to go to the bed" and that was it. Perhaps it was my name that put him off, or the fact that I typed 50 words to his 1, since we barely had a conversation beyond, 'How long have you been on here'. As far as I know, he's still online and shopping in the virtual meat market.

Ah well, I have six stamps which entitles me to emails to the end of January. So if Mr Right doesn't pop his head up, and Mr Goodbar doesn't kill me.... or he's able to type with more than two fingers and isn't holding a huge fish above his head as a trophy... I'm buying a dildo and listening to the sexy voice of the guy on the 'Quit Smoking' CD that I bought last year. Now there's an image to rock your world!

Oh you really didn't think I'd go there did you?

Life As We Know It

2011-12-12T21:11:00.003+11:00

First, apologies for being a lousy visitor and thanks to those who still bother to slip by here. I think about you often but travel there rarely. Then you know where to find me. I'm an email, Facebook and Twitter whore so no excuses.

My daughter is in South America and spending her first Christmas away, travelling next week to London to meet her boyfriend then Scotland for New Year then...Spain and who knows, her travel plans are 'fluid' to say the least but thanks to Skype I can almost keep up. She'll be home in February and the urge to squeeze the life out of her is palpable. My boy turned 25 this year. Yep, the curly haired angelic blonde now a big boofhead with the funniest personality and the most awesome of bear hugs.

Apartment living has taken its toll and the prospect of playing acoustic drums in his living room no longer a reality. So..sell the kit and buy an electronic set which requires the use of headphones rather than the smash of wood on skin and a physically robust mother to help unload the Landscaper's gear and make the ute worthy of an instrument carrier. God bless him, gadget man is in heaven. Poverty on both sides meant no huge celebration but we did have a lovely day of cocktails, summer storms, drums and Christmas cheesy flicks. Did I tell you I love my son? Apart from the fact that he drops in and uses the last of my toilet paper, dumps 25 plants that I don't need and leaves the lid off the cordial bottle so that the ants crawl in and die a syrupy death. He is a fine young man.

Dog's well with two titanium knees. Daughter's adventuring and badly missed Work is paying the bills. Almost. Still harbouring the dream of travelling I80 late next year with a to boy three dogs and two cats and hopefully picking up a madman who lives in one of those states beginning with 'I' and I can't find my Christmas tree so Chez Bainbridge is a little dour but some sparkles to remind me that Christmas is only two weeks away. So...my life in a nutshell.

Sunday with Adam and the 'other' Mrs Bainbridge was lovely. French Apero and cocktails punctuated by the rubbery thud of Ads smashing the bejesus out of electronic drums and finished nicely with Baileys on ice, Citroen Tart (Lemon not a French blonde in a car) and Cheesy Christmas movies...it's the simple things that thrill. Summer has deserted us and it's 24 degrees and very, very wet. But Christmas is coming and someone's goose is getting fat. Wising you all the very best of the season. Next post will probably be our Christmas in which we have to dress as superheroes and endure the alcoholic temptations of mad Lithuanians. Any ideas for a quick costume that costs zip and can be run up in a day?

Things Men Have Told Me

2011-11-28T23:55:00.000+11:00

"Can we make love now..." In a Triumph Sprite.. yeh like that's gonna happen. Is that the gear stick or are you just happy to see me?
"Fuck off... you're dead to me" Brotherly love
"You're terribly pretty" So ask me out moron
"You have a big clitoris, I like that" *no sound*
"You're not the right cultural fit" I could wear a Hijab if you prefer it.
"Don't oversell yourself" ...because underselling is so much better
"You are lovely, intelligent, interesting and one day will make someone really happy" Who?
"I like older women..." Thank you Mr Goodbar
"You're so aggressive" yeh well if I was a man, I'd be 'assertive', a go-getter
"Don't be needy.." because not caring is sharing
"You say what you think don't you?" You'd prefer I lie?
"I feel a bit woozy" Yeh but you're not the one in labour shitting out a watermelon!
"You're out of your futhermuckin mind." Only because you put me there
"Your skillset is extraordinary." You gonna hire me?
"Oh my. You have great breasts" Yeh my babies liked them -26 years ago
"You know you fart in your sleep?" And you don't?
"Oh this isn't good" Upon an internal examination, "This is excellent" Thank you Dr - Every girl dreams of a well healed vaginal cuff.
"I only eat here to be polite" What? After I've been to Morocco to get the ingredients to my Moosewood Cookbook?
"Can you do me a favour?" What? Babysit your dog while you take your floozie to Fiji, sure.
"You need to stop projecting..." Because my lumen is fading?
"I love you, but..." ....Oh really... stop...now
"You make the best pepper sauce.." Truth at last. My epitaph. No, really I do make an awesome pepper sauce.

Crank it punters and dance like you're going to lose your legs tomorrow....if it wasn't so funny, it would be sad

I should add that these are men over the ages...not anyone in particular. Feel fee to share some of he silliness...

Mistifiying

2011-11-19T18:44:00.001+11:00

Well hello there! Quite a lot has been happening which I may or may not share over coming weeks, the least of which is a 2 year contract and a pay rise (relief). The prospect of a new 'man', a daughter in South America, a son being awesome and of course the onslaught of Christmas.

Today my bestie and I wondered to the airport to drop her husband off for a golf trip with the rich and famous before descending into the world-famous (although God knows why) Bondi Beach to check out the annual Sculpture by The Sea cliff-side exhibition. Pretty bloody good this year actually, although there was this weird inversion layer of mist over the ocean despite the high temperature.

And joggers....who despite knowing this is a crowded cliff walk event throughout the month of November, persist in pushing their way all sweaty and sunscreened past the throng of tourists and making no effort to conceal their chagrined expressions.

Of course there's the fashion on the beach ranging from, shall we say, gentlemen of mature age with schlongs that would be better hidden than dangling half way down their lycra clad thighs and men whose bodies would be better left covered than not. Of course there were a few beach volley ballers that prevented yours truly from stripping down...buns so tight you could...oh never mind. The ladies varied from teensy weensy bikini frilled nubile nymphettes to those who really shouldn't wear an organza fascinator on their sun hat.

There was the ample plethora of bathing beauties over-tatted and over tanned. Far too many noisy Chinese women and naughty children ignoring the 'do not touch the artwork' signs and what's with covering the baby's pram with a cloth? There's going to be an entire generation of vitamin D deprived teenagers in Australia in the next 12 years. Everyone seems to have at least two dogs, most of course are small enough to put in your pocket or ugly enough to be noticed and distract onlookers from the budgie smugglers at the end of the lead.

And the cafes don't take credit cards unless your spend is over $20 and there's also a $2.50 surcharge? What? We living in the dark ages? Fwooooaaar.

Anyway, a guy at work said he'd been disappointed. Not me. I loved it. Although both my friend Thommo and I agree, we're over rusty steel and twisty metal. But who can resist a smiling Asian with a perfect willy or a skeleton with a fishing rod? Although for both of us, the real sculpture had been done by the sea, the sandstone cliffs are spectacular.

Cold water, warm air, sea mist

Yoga at Bondi Icebergs.....bags the front row

Oh herro zebra

Mutant daisy

I thought I saw a heffalump

Boring twisty metal thing and a complete tosser in the background

Beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

Impossible hole

Somebody buy those women a steak! Eating disorders on legs

Rivetting....and ribbetting

Natural sculpture....artist? The ocean

Hmmm well sculpted lifeguards

Sub mariner

Creative wood pile

Poetry in motion....love it

Harro wirry

The long and the short of it


It wasn't me Officer...

More on the flickr slide show on my sidebar if you're interested.

Birthday Blues

2011-10-16T22:48:00.000+11:00

It's as if the fates knew. I posted this rather 'OMG I'm 55 and not dealing with it' post and the text was magically deleted as I posted photographs. I can hear one close to my heart yelling "OFFS stop whingerating." He has a point.

No. I did not have a happy birthday (although I had a pleasant one) because I'm in total denial that the woman in the mirror has any semblance to me. I am not older nor wiser. In fact I'm less knowledgeable than ever, and the older I get...the less I know. But, my children took me out for lunch on what can only be described as an awesome spring day. Friends and family (well my sister) wished me well. I am not happy about my age or who I am right now. I'm in the wrong time, place, century, country. Not depressed. Just aware of my situation. But...I'm alive, clothed, fed, housed, working...nothing really to complain about and I must admit that when the sun shines here... all else seems to fade. Thank you my darlings for lunch and the gifts. Neither were necessary but both totally appreciated. I love you to distraction. You are my reason for being.

Mr and Mrs Bainbridge deciding where we should go

Ripples Milson's Point

Yes it really does look that awesome

Random Wedding . .

Sweet dessert . . is that an oxymoron

Intrepid traveller . . off again on Wednesday

Lovely homebody . . .total champion

My family . . . like diamonds . . small but precious

Single white female... rennovator's dream . . .for lease, great views

Apres Lunch barista . . .all I have is a plunger :(

I'm MIL . .

2011-08-01T06:14:00.001+10:00

My son married the love of his 24 year old life this weekend and it was totally, totally, flawless and fantastic. Except for Aunty Rita who's handbag caught on fire . . . . Love you both to bits have a wonderful honeymoon (although they were grounded for five hours at Kingsford Smith)

Wedding Speech:

"Hi, I'm Helen, the grooms mum.

Thank you all for coming to celebrate this pretty awesome event. Thanks too, to Alvedus and Dahlia for helping these two make this an awesomely special day.

You all look stunning. Simply stunning.

I'm very proud of Adam and Amy. They've worked hard to put this together and with no help from me and I think you'll agree everything looks gorgeous. The food's delish and the company's not bad either. I thought it hilarious that Adam wanted a tiered cake and diamonds in his wedding ring, "Why should Amy get all the sparkles!" If I didn't know better . . . .

We loved Amy from the moment we met her. She ticked all the boxes (yes we have a checklist for prospective daughters and sons-in-law). She was tall (very tall), beautifully dressed and coiffed. Polite, chatty, confident. There was a moment when I wondered what a scruffy boy like Adam was doing with a glamour puss like her. But like me, she saw the real Adam - funny, talented, intelligent, romantic and a guy with the same values as her. Also a man who can scrub up well when he needs to.

I knew they were in love the minute she allowed him to mess up her hair and touch her fringe! We affectionately referred to her as the 'fringelet' because she was so possessive of that little crop of hair that hides her beautiful eyebrows. I knew they were in love when she managed to get him clubbing, dancing, dressing in a suit. I knew they were in love when I saw the way they snuggled on the couch, looked sad when they had to say goodbye, laughed and goofed in their photos. I knew they were in love when he allowed her to call him 'Honey', when he took photos of his proposed outfits on his iPhone to gain her approval before they went out. I knew they were in love watching them make pizza on Friday night. I knew they were in love when he started making his bed before Amy came round.

I'm also very proud of Adam. If pride's a sin, then sue me. He's a kid who's grown up without a dad in the house of women, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised if he turned out to be rather effeminate. Quite the reverse, he's definitely a man's man but he's adopted the important things from living in such an environment. Besides embracing what might be called feminine arts such as cooking, he's my Mr Fixit, my computer technician, my evening companion and my friend - He's arguably the funniest man I have ever met. I'll miss him terribly when he's gone because I'll have to put the bins out and carry my own esky! And God help us all if I have to learn how to drive the tractor in order to mow the lawn - You are coming home to mow the lawn?

Sadly, neither of Adam's maternal grandparents are alive to see this event. Adam's Nana died before he really had a chance to know her but he did have 14 wonderful years with his Grandpa and we're both eternally grateful for the influence that amazing man had on my lovely boy. Two others have also had a very positive influence on him and happily they are able to be here today, Bet and Art, Adam's paternal grandparents - You've been very special people in Adam's life and now in Amy's.

Adam, Amy, you two are made for each other. In many way's you're chalk and cheese but where it counts you're like two pieces of the same puzzle, locked beautifully together to make a whole. Both sides of the argument, yin and yang, complementary flavours, music and lyric, words and pictures, wind and wings. One is hopeless without the other. Together, you can soar.

I'm really awed to have you as a daughter in law Amy, although frankly, I've always felt like you were. And I'm overwhelmed that my darling boy has found the girl of his dreams. It's what he's always wanted.

There's a rather nice Celtic tradition and having Welsh heritage made me think of it. The Lovespoon was the invitation to commence a romance between a boy and a girl, and the origin of the word 'spooning' . More importantly, the spoon is symbolic for providing physical and emotional sustenance, a perfect family life and a promise to care for each other over coming years.

It's a little smaller than I thought, I still can't measure anything properly but it's a little reminder of your heritage and a little portend of a happy future together. I wish you both only good things. Love, health, happiness . .

Please join me in wishing them both everything wonderful for their future together.

Can I get pissed now?"


Two Groomsmen, One Groom, One Groomschick . . .all very rude to the photographer

Gotta get the hair right

The Double Windsor no longer a challenge

Had to stop off at one of the Groomsmen's sister's house for a bottle opener. He needed a calming beer

Arrived nice and early . . . Another beer

No sign of nerves

Larking about before 'she' arrives

Ah, she's coming. . .

Yep, finally arrived

Giving her away

Mr and Mrs Bainbridge

All Done and Dusted

Outside the Church

Nibblies while they're having photos

Not quite a waltz

Dippy

Party times

He got his tiered cake. That little brown thing is the Love Spoon

After Party begins

Four degrees and they decide to swim

Cold much?

Hearty Breakfast

Gifts . . Adam's impressed with the frypan

That's as close as you get - Honeymooning in Bali

I'm Moving On

2011-06-22T22:54:00.000+10:00

I don't have it any more, the will or the desire to keep blogging. I enjoy visiting yours but I really haven't got the mojo to maintain this one. I might from time to time if there's something worthy to pop up here photographically. I feel I haven't much to say any more, life's hard, work's difficult, relationships need nurturing and well . . .It's been almost four years of bantering here and I just don't want to do it any more.

Over these past almost four years, I've corresponded with many of you, talked on Skype and you've all been a source of entertainment, inspiration and information. Some have become collaborators, a handful have become life long friends and one in particular, I adore beyond reason. I am eternally grateful for these connections. Should any of you find yourselves on Antipodean shores, I have a room with your name on it and a warm welcome to match.

Yep time's come to say Goodbye. I loved blogging and the friends I've made here. I have little of interest to say and less time or will to say it. I'm writing a little, on Creative Infanticide, posting fortnightly on The Tenth Daugher of Memory, and distracted by not-so-shiny things. I'm becoming whingey.

Thanks to you all for following for so long. We'll see. I never say never so who knows, I will definitely visit and might pop up in your feeder now and then, or reincarnate the blog in the future but for now it's check out time. Life is changing and so must I. Keep in touch.

Friday Fuckwit

2011-06-17T23:23:00.001+10:00

O Hello. I don't think I have many readers left thanks to my lack of visitation but for those who have stuck around, I value your loyalty.

I haz a job. Well a long term contract for a big company in quarrying and stuff. So back with a bunch of engineers and Excel spreadsheets which I hate but seem to end up working with. The guys are nice, there's a great canteen and free biscuits so no complaints. And the rate is a little better than the 2nd largest soft drink manufacturer in the world. Now I just have to live on toast until I can recover from taking a rather expensive month off in April but hey, it's all good.

So for your Friday pleasure, an idiot convict. Coming from a country populated by the buggers, I guess it's appropriate:

FORKS, Wash. (AP) - An escaped convict was caught following a day on the loose after he knocked on the door of a cabin in the woods - only to find out the man renting the lodge was an off-duty guard at the prison he just fled.

Authorities said 39-year-old James Edward Russell took off from the Olympic Corrections Center near Forks on Tuesday morning. Just after midnight early Wednesday, Russell - still wearing his prison uniform (well that's a dead give away) - went to the cabin, knocked on the door and asked to use the phone, said Department of Corrections spokesman Chad Lewis.

The guard recognized the red, prison-issue shirt, a scuffle ensued and Russell took off again, Lewis said Thursday. The guard, whose name being withheld by the Department of Corrections, reported the incident and Russell was caught later that morning by other corrections officers about from the facility near Forks, on the Olympic Peninsula.

Oh dear . . . one born every minute. Have an awesome weekend. I just hope I can get my washing dry, meet up with a long lost friend, buy a wedding outfit, and well . . . get my creative juices going amid housework and recovery from completely fucking up a spreadsheet today. Thank you to my lovely boss who's only comment was, "Take it easy, just slow down a bit."

Happy second Honeymoon to Tom at Half Moose with a Twist. Trust me, I'd rather be in Mexico right now. Then I don't think they'd appreciate a third wheel.

And this because I'm tired, cranky, over it and sick of feeling whingeratery:

God Bless Some Queen

2011-06-13T16:18:00.001+10:00

Well I'm sitting in my lounge room, about to get on with some creative writing. The house is immaculate after 20 people trudging mud through the place and the weekend has been one of contrasts. Wine Club Friday night, the less said about that the better other than yes, I lived up to my reputation as a lush. Got smashed, left my purse and handbag and had to retrieve it the next day but it was good times, thanks for dinner Westy, it was delish.

Sunday was a double whammy with Amy's Kitchen Tea, silly games, wine, tea and cakes . . lots and lots of cakes. I once said I didn't have a sweet tooth but after Saturday, I think that might have been shot down in flames. Of course there were family, friends, presents, guess how many jelly beans in the jar and . . . . make a wedding dress out of toilet paper. Not a bad effort.

Then raced back on a cold and wet night for our annual June Long Weekend Bonfire. While I felt it might be a good idea to postpone the event due to super soggy firewood and pissing rain, my son was not going to be deterred and with 20 litres of petrol for ammunition the thing went off with a bang, then a fizzle, then a frantic effort to get it going but eventually, we all basked in its warm glow and this morning - just a steaming heap of . . . . well you get the gist. Right, time for a little 'hair of the dog'. (She's exhausted!)

The cupcakes were pretty but the brownies were . . .

One of three tables well spread

Annika in the Kitchen

Guess what's in Amy's handbag (Purse for you Yanks)

Toilet Tissue Princesses, far left won!

One needs sustenance on a rainy night

Oil drums have their uses

Picnic for pyros

Off with a bang . . . then a fizzle

Petrol sniffers (Look at the glee on Adam's face)

More fuel to the fire

Sorry Jeffscape, you aint getting this back

Group Meeting. Will it catch in the rain?

Shityeah!

Success

Bali Boy (Language Advisory)

2011-06-06T19:02:00.001+10:00

After two weeks of empty nestdom an immaculate house and an empty fridge, the whirlwind that is my son returned from 2 weeks holiday in Bali. Now you or I might bring back duty free perfume, a few sarongs and perhaps a batik wall hanging or two but no . . my son buys me an ashtray. Not a tasteful little glass number but one shaped inappropriately and one that cannot be put on display anywhere other than here. One that even the Customs Officers, dubbed their 'catch of the day'


For the photo only . . never to be used again!

Now really! I ask you!

Oh but there was other booty! Bumper stickers that nobody would have the courage to display on their car, sarongs (yeh well they were rather nice), rip off fragrance, 4 pairs of sunnies, 4 wallets about a dozen gaudy peaked caps, 2 pairs of jeans, a backpack and travel bag, copious amounts of beer holders (we like our beer cold so they insulate your fingins . . well . . . need I say more. Thank you darling for thinking of me but I'd rather have a 'real' one. There, I said it.

Vivid Sydney

2011-06-03T22:28:00.002+10:00

It's been on before but I've never been, Vivid Light Festival. Despite the current debate about a 'carbon' tax, the electricity was burning hard and fast as Sydney landmarks are lit, flamed and art installments featuring fluorescence placed strategically around Circular Quay, the main Ferry Terminal. Clare and I ventured in on a cool but pleasant winter's Thursday to check it out. Had an awesome dinner that I can't afford (thank God for credit cards) at Pony and drinks at the Opera Bar. Pretty cool huh? Of course the centrepiece was the Opera House with moving designs projected on it's sails, just gorgeous.

Customs House redecorated in 20 minutes

Did you know that the plural of Octopus is Octopusses?

Posh "Pony" awesome but expensive

Petit fors - Passionfruit jelly, Green Tea Chocolate Truffles and Lemon Shortbread

Choreographed Fire and the Opera House all lit up

Blue loop? But aint it shparkly

Love this girl and her surrounds

Orange sails past sunset

She is a mighty canvas

Interactive steps

Er fluoro people

This is Customs house. My video conked out due to a full CF card so thanks to whoever for the visual.

See why I love my city- magical. . have to go . . .ferry to catch.

Friday Dropwit

2011-06-03T16:32:00.001+10:00

Well I for one am glad this week is over. A horrible interview experience and the feedback from failed attempts is that I am rather 'abrupt'. Two interviews in torrential Sydney failed to produce results. However, my rep with an agency that I've worked with before has me hired on Monday as EA/Project Assistant with a huge minerals company in Australia so wish me luck. I'll have to temper my personality and become a little more submissive but hey . . I can be what you want me to be. Oh yeah baby . . just tell me what you want.

Although had 2 lovely evenings with the only woman I'll ever sleep with more about that tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to my son's return from Bali. It was great for a week but I've missed his bones this week.

Our dropwit is brought this week by Jeffscape, who's had his eye on the ball while I've been stressing and irritable . . a ball takes precedent over a kid who gets the drop while dad attempts to make a catch at . . . a foul ball?

Aww poor little mite. And he didn't make the catch.

Have a good weekend my lovelies. Out shopping for mother of the groom gear on Saturday and a 50th celebration on Sunday so . . ready to start fresh on Monday. Oh and I'm attempting to give up the nurrells so wish me luck. They thought I was abrupt last week? Wait until I go five days without a cigarette! Banshees of the world unite.

Monday Mayhem

2011-05-31T16:34:00.000+10:00

It was the Monday from Hell and back, something interesting really needs to happen so I can blog about it rather than this constant drivel about bad luck.

It's a normal Monday apart from the torrential rain and slower than usual traffic so I started a little earlier and headed to workk. I'd arranged a half day with my supervisor so that I could attend an interview in the city so wanted to get there about 8am, shite and briny and put in a decent effort even if it was only half a day. About 5kms into the journey and smoke begins billowing from beneath the right hand side of my bonnet (hood for you Americans). I'm stuck in peak hour traffic against the median strip and the lights are red and I'm on fire and freaking out, hoping the rain might cool the issue.

After what seems like an eternity, the green turn right arrow glows and I limp around the corner and stop the car. The temperature guage isn't out of the ordinary so it has to be a fire right? I lift the bonnet with a soggy towel in hand to douse what must be emerging flames but it's not smoke thank God but steam bubbling furiously from the overflow in my radiator and bright green coolant sploshing everywhere.

I'm supposed to be at work by now and very aware of the half day call so getting a bit anxious. I call the NRMA roadside assistance who, given the horrible rain and wind, are running at 90 minutes behind schedule. Then need to call my supervisor at the second largest soft drink manufacturer in the world but I don't have the number. Since I'm a bit of a dolt with data on my iPhone and my plan doesn't actually include data, instead of going on the net, I ring Clare and ask her to pass the message on that my car is banjaxed and I don't know how long I'll be. She tells said supervisor that I "Could be half an hour, could be hours, I don't know". At least I rang in and they're aware of a major auto disaster.

So finally the NRMA dude gets there and of course the radiator is empty and cooled down so he fills it with water, tells me to get it to a mechanic for a check and I pop on my merry way. Only 200 metres down the road and the temperature gauge goes off the dial so I pull over again and ring roadside assistance. This time there seems little point in getting a 'man' out so I ask for a tow. I've forgotten completely about work by this stage. It's all sorted isn't it?

Another hour and the tow truck guy arrives, winches up the old Honda and we begin trundling off to my mechanic back at Castle Hill. Then the Agency embryo with breasts rings and says, "I just had a call from supervisor at the second largest soft drink manufacturer in the world and she said she was expecting you hours ago, is everything alright!" Stupid supervisor had only heard the 'half an hour' bit of the conversation and frankly was a little pissed that I hadn't turned up. So, I apologetically clarified that by the time I get to the mechanic and somehow manage to arrive at work, it will be time for me to leave to attend the pre-agreed interview so I wouldn't be in. My agency embryo agrees to talk to her on my behalf as my battery now has half a bar and is about to konk out.

So with the car dropped at the automotive shop and a very nice receptionist who offered me a lift home in the torrential rain. I managed to grab some toast and a cup of tea before ordering a cab to take me to the bus stop. I was armed with an overnight bag since I'd decided to stay at Clare's to make the 8am appointment on Tuesday a little less stressful and boarded the Citybus.

An hour later and I'm in the CBD. It's raining cats and dogs, gutters are gushing, umbrellas are colliding as all the black suits hurry to wherever it is they're being very important and hurrying towards. I haven't got an umbrella and it's far too wet to just 'risk it' so I hit the closest shop and buy myself a cheap little black number that if it lasts four openings will be working hard! I find myself standing on the curb at Martin Place waiting for the lights to change when a Sydney Bus, sploshes through an 8 inch puddle and showers me and about 12 other punters with a mini tsunami of grimy city water water. This is now 15 minutes before my interview with a rather large fund manager. So, I'm dripping wet, mucky, my hair is now no longer frizzy but hanging in rats tails around my face and I'm plooking across the road making squelchy noises. I have images of me getting into their foyer and doing a Jamie Lee Curtis in True Lies by grabbing a vase or some such thing, slicking my hair and instantly looking hot and sexy. Didn't work.

So, finally I am ushered into the usual sterile interview room with two impeccably dressed women. Goes OK after I've apologised for my rather dogged and soggy appearance. After an hour or so, we say our fairwells and our 'be in touch's' and I duck downstairs for a heartwarming cup of coffee. Then I get a call from my Agency telling me that "The second largest soft drink company in the world have actually recruited someone for the position you were temping in so you won't be required this week" What? They recruited, the same day my car blew up and I couldn't go into work . . yeah right! I wouldn't have minded but I cleared it with her first and it wasn't a problem. So now I'm unemployed, wet, miserable, drinking coffee in the middle of the city watching the steam rise from my wet boots.

So, finished my coffee. Found the right stand to catch the M20 North Sydney bus which took me about half an hour because 'stand R' no longer exists despite being listed on the timetable and get on the bus. "It's prepay luv, where's your ticket". Shit. Lost my ticket haven't I? $26 worth of pre-paid trips slooshing down some watery gutter and into the stormwater system. Mind you I must have looked such a state that he took pity on me and let me ride for free. I won't hear a bad word about bus drivers. They're champs. Disembarked at North Sydney and headed down towards Clare's place with my umbrella battling to remain inside out when she calls, "Meet you at the pub" says I, "I need a drink . .or two . .or three . . ." Which I promptly did and chain smoked four cigarettes before she arrived and we wondered back to hers for warmth and Masterchef.

So in one short day, a Monday at that, my car blew up, I lost my temp assignment, got soaking wet and today I found out that I haven't been put forward as a shortlister for the job because apparently I talked too much. If only they'd asked me how I handle pressure!

Ah well, at least I had a nice Chicken Parmigiana and some good company for the evening. And my car? Just the thermostat so no huge damage done. The old girl is a 1999 Honda Accord though and it's just a matter of time before her head cracks or the transmission goes more than clunk.

The only really pissy, horrible fucktardy thing about the whole day was it cost me the grand total of $670 . . . and I didn't even get shortlisted!

Is this all there is?

2011-05-29T23:36:00.000+10:00

Awfully quiet in the real world here at the Banterhouse, son's in Bali, daughter no longer living here and frankly I'm getting a feeling for the empty nest. While it's wonderful having a small amount of laundry, one dish in the sink and a superbly clean and tidy home, I'd be lying if I didn't say it wasn't a little lonely.

I had dinner with friends on Friday which was lovely but not much else on a chilly weekend other than plodding through Lonesome Dove and a load of drama as an admin for another site which has thankfully resolved itself and of course, long chats with he who is awesome in the US and short chats with he who loves gardening also in the US. I couldn't even be arsed getting out of bed early on Saturday to hit the grower's market the weather's been so grey and cold. And this from someone who's normally awake and about at 5:30am. Coffee with my sister was a nice distraction but otherwise, it's been a weekend of solitude as an empty nester - good practice for August when Adam moves out I guess. I did take the stir-crazy dog for a little stroll this afternoon. So yes, not sure how I'm going to cope with living alone from August. Initially it's wonderful but now I'm ready for the noisy boy to return and the house to be full of dirty socks (don't tell him I said that).

Dinner with Friends

Grey Heron thingy

Oh the Shag and the Moor Hen can be friends

Man Made lake at the bottom of my street

Not many flowers this time of year - Captain Cook Calistemon

I Have no idea what it is but took it for Tom

Another bottle brushy thingy

Of course the third love of my life schnoofin'

Gratuitous Plug

2011-05-24T20:45:00.000+10:00

Sorry not much going on over here this week . . . I will improve, I promise, but if you're in for some decent short stories, a bit of a shock and a load of confession. . .take a look at The Tenth Daughter of Memory entries for "White Lies Belie a Darker Truth" - Serious fun. You can't vote unless you play but nothing to stop you clicking on each link and going along for the ride!

Baino will be back . . behind the 8 ball . . . soon . . ish!

Friday Phonewit

2011-05-20T18:31:00.001+10:00

What a God awful week. Well at work anyway, I'm bored as hell applied for over 70 jobs, 3 rejections because yes, I'm ~~overqualified~~ too old! Although had the fam here most of the week. Clare's between flatmates and awaiting a fridge, Adam and Amy were busying themselves with pre Bali holiday preparations and wedding invitations so the evenings were full and fun.

In recent travels with my intrepid American (also when driving my critical children) I have been accused of not focussing, driving like a Nana, not being able to park perpendicular to a curb and turning left when instructed to turn right. All valid I might add but I never, never, drive whilst using my mobile phone:

A bus driver in the Italian capital has been suspended from duty after being videoed while speeding through the city's notoriously dangerous traffic using a mobile with one hand and a smartphone with the other. He was steering with his elbows.
The soundtrack shows he was taking instructions on the mobile on how to set up email on his smartphone. Visitors to Rome will be interested to know that the video was made on a journey from the Anagnina metro station to Ciampino airport – a route much used by low-cost airline passengers on their way out of the city.
The regional official responsible for transport, Francesco Lollobrigida, said the driver had been suspended and an inquiry would be held

Yeh he's a fone fuckwit.

Busy weekend ahead for this empty nester, entertaining tomorrow night which involves lots of mortar and pestle crushing of Indo spices (or maybe I'll just buy them in a jar) and moving fridges and washing machines via manual ute on Sunday so . . . if I don't injure myself in the process . . should be interesting to say the least. Interesting how all the burly men in my daughter's life disappear the very weekend she could do with a little muscle? Hmmmmm?

Have a good one folks!

Thanks Jeffscape for the heads up on this one but he's clearly not 'Indian'

Kitchen Whizz?

2011-05-15T20:41:00.001+10:00

We're addicted to Master Chef. Have been for about 4 seasons. One of the repercussions of watching is Adam's propensity to 'invent' new dishes. He's a decent cook actually but ignores the basics. Roux? What's a roux? Custard? Why use cream when there's ice cream? And there's always some secret ingredient that doesn't 'quite' go but the outcome is to say the least, entertaining and usually very delicious. So with the onset of a very early winter (it's cold as a witch's tits down here at the moment), the Friday Master Chef cook off has begun. I'll miss his culinary enthusiasm when he leaves.

Last night, three pizzas. Home made base which frankly is perfect and crisp, one topped with Thai Sweet Chilli Chicken, the other with buffalo mozzarella and home made tomato sauce, onion and snow peas, the other . . I really can't remember but it was salami and something. Then dessert. OK we didn't have cream and all of us were a little over the limit so ice cream, vanilla bean and eggs managed to turn into some sort of custard on crepey stuff with orange zest. Not bad actually. But seriously, the fun is in the making bless his cotton sox:

Chilli Chicken Satay Pizza

The Master at work

Love a man who cleans up

Separating yolks from the whites, harder than it looks

"Dinner's taking forever"

Whisking it up

Orangey, crepey, custardy stuff

Did I tell you I think he's awesome . . .delish sweet man, a little peculiar but just delish.

Twitter for Gentlefolk

2011-05-14T20:03:00.001+10:00

Remember the days when you went on holiday and spent evenings writing "Wish You Were Here" on postcards? Doesn't happen much these days - now we just Facebook "At the 12 Apostles" or msg "Good times on the road" but occasionally some sweet person, usually a fellow blogger, sends a postcard and it ends upon the fridge only further exacerbating my wonderlust. Alan Burnett at News From Nowhere has started a bit of a craze that's taken off all over the world. Twitter for Gentlefolk has seen a huge postcard exchange take place on the blogosphere and, well, bless his Yorkshire socks, he sent me one! Jeff and I returned the favour but God knows what he'll make of the drunken and badly written ramblings on the back of our cacky handed contribution (yep we're both left handed with awful handwriting), barely worth publishing . . . Unlike Alan's contribution to me which was far more genteel. Just wish I looked like the slim blonde!

Well it wasn't quite a motorcycle ride around the country but the Holden Cruze was a comfy ride. So nice to have friends 'across the water', all 12,000 miles of it! God, did I remember the air mail sticker or did I just write it on the back of the card?

Saturday Sillies

2011-05-14T09:15:00.001+10:00

Well thanks to the recent Blogger debacle, no Friday Fuckwit this week, just some Saturday silliness. It seems there's a craze out there that police are not taking lying down:

Police are cracking down on "planking" which involves lying down on various objects, taking your photo lying down on various objects and uploading them onto Facebook.

THE internet craze of "planking" has come under fire from Victoria Police. Facebook page Planking Australia has more than 10,000 supporters and hundreds of photos of people lying on desks, train tracks, escalators, Eskies, fire hydrants, and motorbikes.

But police have warned that dangerous stunts will not be tolerated. A police spokeswoman said planking on roads or public transport was dangerous and against the law. (What? Against the law to lie down?) Penalties range from fines to jail in extreme cases. "Clearly, conduct that threatens public safety will not and should not be tolerated," she said. (Yes because we're constantly tripping over people)

"Police, authorised officers and transport providers strongly discourage this type of behaviour around public transport and roads areas, and those caught will be prosecuted." At least one person claims to have "planked" on a Melbourne airport travellator.

Federation Square is also a good spot for planking and a member of the Planking Australia Facebook group said the MCG would be a perfect location.

Photos of plankers balanced atop raised cherry pickers, railway signal boxes and even basketball rings are displayed on the Planking Australia Facebook page.

One person was fined for planking on a railway track, according to the Facebook page, where an image of the dangerous stunt was still displayed yesterday. (Surely it's only dangerous if there's a train coming)

Planker David Tyrrell, from Gladstone in Queensland - where a man has been charged with allegedly planking a police car - said there was no need for dangerous stunts. "Those guys would be a minority - the people that do something stupid, like a traffic light," he said. "Obviously we don't want any injuries or deaths from it, but you do get stupid people that will test the theory of gravity."

Mr Tyrrell, who has planked naked, said enthusiasts varied from 10-year-olds to grandparents, but most did it for a bit of a joke. "It's the same as extreme ironing. It probably started as a joke - the most random site, or somewhere a bit exciting to do it," he said.

The Facebook group has chosen May 25 to be annual planking day, to encourage new plankers and group planking. (oooh! Group planking for plonkers).

Such is the Life of An Every Day Temp

2011-05-10T21:21:00.000+10:00

After three weeks of reasonably entertaining posts and a fantastic time with he who has now gone home, the doldrums have set in big time. I miss him, I miss being on holiday, I have no money, need a proper job and Winter's hit us with a vengeance. I shouldn't complain too much, since I managed to acquire a contract job the day after his irreverent loveliness went home but oh the banality of it all.

So for the next few weeks, I'm working for a major cordial/bottler of a high profile range of soft drinks - not quite the number 1 but a close second if you catch my drift Although to look at the security around here, you'd think they were bottling Dom Perignon Front door is on an open on bell system, I have to lock down EVERYTHING before I leave. Everyone has a security tag to get in and out although every tag has the name of the company ON IT which I thought a bit stupid "Hey, Gazza, Look just found a (popular brand soft drink manufacturer's) security tag! Let's go nick some (not quite the number 1 soft drink)" Of course I lost mine after a week and have to pay twenty buckaroos to replace it.

There are perks of course. I can help myself to the drinks fridge but I don't actually like it much. The premium drinks aren't available to staff . .especially that energy drink that makes you fly and the other one that has you dancing to heavy metal bands in your lunch break. There is a little Iced Tea or that Water which is supposed to make you smarter.

Anyway. The job is half a day of Admin and relief reception while my partner in crime has a cuppa or a wee. Then reception from 1pm when the other receptionist leaves for the day and whatever admin I can squeeze in between calls, which isn't much.

In the morning I receive some emails with very pretty graphs and spreadsheets noting the sales teams efforts. These I dutifully cut and paste into A3 charts and hang on the wall that nobody ever looks at. Seriously, I could hang the same ones back up again and not a soul would notice. Much to the wonder and amazement of the girl who used to do them, she is absolutely flabbergasted that I can do this in about 20 minutes when it took her hours to adjust margins and change page orientation. Er hello darlin' just cut and paste special into a Word doc as a Metaphile and bring to front to adjust? Apparently that's a stroke of genius. Yeh, imagine, me wicked smaht?

Then there's usually a bit of binding to do. Whenever anyone asks me though I remember that line from "The Craft" and ask them which member of staff they'd like me to shut up with a spell. Seriously, binding can be quite dangerous as I hurt my finger slamming down the guillotine handle and jamming it against the lever for the spirally thingamebobs.

Then I've had to do some really exciting stuff like check serial numbers on PDA's and accessories and ring a few reps to find out why they have so many batteries when the only have one iPhone and charger. So you see, this position is intellectually stimulating and packed with variety and requiring me to dig deep into the gamut of skills I have honed over the past umpty years.

At about 10:30am, I feel like a caffeine hit and wonder into the rather nice canteen where thankfully I can get an espresso, whilst perving at bunch of burley blokes in hi viz vests, hair nets and safety glasses. A rather rotund canteen lady with an enormous rack and netted white hair, grumpily makes me a flat white with one, and laments the fact that I only have a $5 note and she needs change before whining about how hard it is making corned beef and mash for 150 factory workers.

Then there's the big project. An Excel database of contracts, dates, orders and contacts because even though they have a very sophisticated SAP system with provision for all of this information (and much of it already keyed), it seems only a handful of people know how to extrapolate reports so we're going back to the 'old ways'. That sort of takes me through to lunch which at this point in my economic doldrums is a cigarette and a free Iced Tea or Smart Water (God knows I need a litre of that each day) which I hate but . . . hello? It's free!

Then all afternoon on reception, fiddling with the database but mostly signing those funny little courier pads that make your writing look retarded, (What? You didn't expect political correctness here did you?) answering phones, guiding lost fork lift drivers to the right part of the building - one was rather gorgeous - and downing a double Twix at 3pm from the vending machine. No wonder I'm breaking out in zits.

The most exciting part of the day happens from about 4:30pm when the Startrack dude comes to pick up the overnight envelopes. Yeh, he's cute, and chatty (Hmm seem to have a penchant for cute and chatty). Then, I lock the fridges and the storeroom because apparently if it isn't nailed down it will take flight, put the console on 'night mode' and trundle home.

So that's it. . . kinda sad innit? Over 50 jobs applied for, 5 rejected, the rest unanswered or in the process of being short-listed and me . . surrounded by huge stainless steel tanks of tonic water and creaming soda.

Soda soda everywhere and not a drop to drink. But I'm very helpful . . .

Friday Fuckwit

2011-05-06T20:57:00.000+10:00

OK I couldn't resist. He'll probably kill me but . . . Having the most lovely three weeks with a American visitor $2000, having him eat me out of house and home $800 . . having him steal my glasses and take photos of himself after complaining about the Paparazzi Nazi . . Priceless! . . . Suck it Trebek . . suck it!

Have a splendiforous weekend folks and for those celebrating Mother's Day on Sunday, I hope it's awesome. My son is off on his Buck's Weekend and Clare and I are doing the girly massage, pedicure thing and lunch. Happy day!

The Best of British

2011-05-01T18:34:00.001+10:00

I iz a little hung over today. My bestie's kids, yep, both of them . . are heading to the UK for an indeterminable amount of time on 11th May. This will leave her and her husband as empty nesters although the kids actually moved out recently. One's married, the other in a relationship and left home some months go. It's rather sad to untie those apron strings but in the true spirit of friendship, a party was held for Tom and Kate at my friend's gorgeous house. These two kids have grown up with mine. They're close, fun and we wish them all the best in England over the next couple of years. Of course, last night was not one of sadness at all, apart from my darling girlfriend worrying about noise. It was all good. No police arrived, no fights, no tension, just a bunch of youngsters having a good time and a load of oldies who should have known better. So, while I take a sip of the 'hair of the dog', massage my hip and wounded knees, here's a rather introspective view of the shenanigins. The theme . . "British". I don't normally post photos in respect of anonymity but if you recognise anyone here . . well the best of British to you . . .

Edina, Bubble and Patsy - Absolutely Fabulous

John and Yoko

Posh Spice and . . er . . . Freddie?

Ok the soccer player is always Clare's fallback position

Ozzie had trouble focussing

James Bond takes a walk in an English Country Garden

Freddie carves it up

Three out of five Spice Girls

Kate? Seeing Double but where's Wills?

Ah . . there he is

The Queen and . I have no idea . . .

Ok I'm supposed to be AbFab but with that hair? Double for Slash. Seriousy half a dozen people asked me if that's my real hair!

Twiggy

Alice and Amy Winehouse get their thing on

Dirty Dancing

Two Old Boilers and a Spring Chicken (my knees hurt!)

Redcoat and his flag


Apparently the British invented the toilet roll and perforated toilet paper . . Guess what my son went as?

Family who goofs together . . . stays together. Wait a minute, that doesn't even rhyme.

Bon Chance Kate and Nev, Tom and Binny . . . we'll miss you . . keep in touch on Facebook. MWAH!

Friday Fuckwit

2011-04-29T20:36:00.000+10:00

Those of us with Facebook accounts and half a brain, know not to post anything disparaging because a friend of a friend of a friend of theirs will probably see it. Not so a silly soldier. Since the world is absorbed with all things Royal Weddingy (yeh, I'm watching it on Teev even though I don't really give a shit) . . this seems kind of appropriate:

A Facebook rant which included calling royal bride-to-be Kate Middleton a "cow" has resulted in a Scots Guard's dismissal, at least from his wedding parade assignment on Friday. It has not resulted in his removal from his Buckingham Palace security duties, yet.
The Facebook post took place after Kate Middleton and Prince William drove by Scots Guardsman Cameron Reilly, sort of snubbing him. Scots Guardsman Cameron Reilly wrote on his: "hur and william drove past me on friday n all a got was a sh**ty wave while she looked the opposite way from me, stupid stuck up cow am a not good enough for them! posh bitch am totally with u on this 1 who reely gives a f*** about hur."
The snubbing and posting apparently took place in March. Reilly was going to beone of the several hundred Scots Guards who are scheduled to line the route for the wedding procession on Friday, April 29, but not any longer.
As a member of the Scots Guard, the 18-year-old Reilly serves in one of the five British military units stand around Buckingham Palace with those furry bearskin hats, taunting passersby to make them laugh of smile.
Seriously, however, Reilly's post on the Royal couple was not his only Facebook faux pas. He listed "causing trouble" and "casually breaking the law" among his interests on his Facebook page, now deleted.
He also posted racist comments on the page. In a comment on one photo, which showed Reilly holding a rifle in each hand, he said he couldn't fit in any more guns because he had "2 many paki's scalps in it already." "Paki" is considered an offensive term by people of Pakistani descent.
In another exchange with a friend, he posted, "Watching a massive Jew gathering at the Tower of London! Have never seen so many rabbis in my life," to which his friend replied, "Get the rifle out..." Reilly replied to that by saying, "Have got one of the Jews in my sights now lmao."

You can all go "Awwwww" now.

Thanks to The Examiner for the story.

Have an awesome weekend folks . . mine a little lacking with lots of rain and grey and no Jeffscape to play with but a also "AbFab" - Photos on Sunday! Get yer giggle on!

Journey's End

2011-04-26T22:13:00.001+10:00

Camera Shy but no match for the Paparazzi Nazi

Well we did it, 2 states, 1 Territory, around 5,000kms in 9 days in a rather nice hired Holden Cruze. Talked our socks off to the point that the radio was redundant and never turned on. Drove on highway's and byway's, checked out Mogo Zoo, searched long and hard for the elusive Gippsland Worm (only holes for evidence), connected with Friends and my niece in Melbourne and mastered their rather odd 'hook turn' for right hand turns from the left lane (WTF?) Toured the Great Ocean Road, saw kangaroos in the Ottway State Forest, poor possum was bitten by a cockatoo. Checked out pioneer stuff at Swan Hill, toured the snowy mountains and came to a screeching halt on the Alpine Way to allow a wombat to cross the road and couldn't be arsed getting up for the Dawn Service on ANZAC Day so settled for two soldiers raising the flags outside the Department of Defence. Paid our respects to the US Monument and finished off with a late night, too much alcohol and a game of pool.

He's eaten kangaroo and just about everything else, drunk a variety of home-brewed and bought beers. Sampled as many different types of cigarettes as is possible (bad boy). Been sailing. Seen the inside of the Opera House, was denied ghosts at the Quarantine Station and got plastered a couple of times, drinks girly cocktails and has an obsession with Fruit Essences conditioner. Good times and now the trip's almost over. His nibs and Adam are killing Nazi Zombies and challenging the Master Chief in Halo 3. My fridge is empty, wet washing hanging all over the shop and on Thursday, my darling boy goes back home and it's back to Skype conversations, searching for work and the banality of normal life . . . well I guess I'd better get a job since I'm now totally broke, happy but broke!

Seriously, it's been a great visit. He's a joy to travel with, very easy to please. Eats everything put in front of him (albeit a little weirdly, American use of cutlery is rather odd), loved kangaroos, alive and barbecued, smoked my cigarettes but made up for it with pretty decent shoulder rubs is as irreverent as you'd expect but still holds the door open and has manners somewhere deep within. He'll talk to anyone, is honing his pleases and thank you's and well . . no . . he's reneged on the hair cut due to lack of funds (I think he rather fancies that thick mane of blackness) and no, we didn't jump out of a plane. That will have to wait for another day. Seriously, he's just as I expected. Hopefully, we'll connect again next year and I'll drag him along the I80 and smoke his fags . . . hey, best laid plans and all.

It's been awesome Jeff, you're no longer the best male friend I've never met. Right that's enough about him or his hats won't fit if I keep this up. Back to normal programming on Friday. Alan . . . your post cards are on their way. Jelly, awesome job with 10thDoM in our absence.

Right, off to have a little cry because, well frankly, it just wasn't long enough.

After Dinner at Bateman's Bay - South Coast NSW

Coal Creek Mining Town - "Where can we find a Gippsland worm?"

Er . . here apparently but they were elusive

Feeding wild cockatoos at Airey's Inlet . . . it bit his finger

12 Apostles - Great Ocean Road, Southern Victoria

Cocktails with my niece in Melbourne

Roped in as an 'extra' at Ned Kelly's Trial - Old Melbourne Gaol

Loving the Alien

Getting 'munted' on Crispy's home brew with Lenore - Melbourne

At the side of the road, Ottway National Park - Great Ocean Road

Swan Hill Pioneer Museum

Australian National Museum - The Kelly Gang's Armour

Lake Hume - Alpine Way, en route to the Snowy Mountains

Australian Alps - He's wearing MY jacket (well it will be come Thursday)


The beginning of the Snowy River - Mount Kosciusko

Australian War Memorial, ANZAC Day 25, April 2011

Monument to thank the US for support during WWII

Home at last - pool night


Different codes, different game, different colours - same beer - Chargers vs the Roosters -There were no winners that night!

Aerial Ping Pong

2011-04-17T09:00:00.000+10:00

Now much as I love being in the Ninja's company, I'm not a sports fan by any stretch but the kid wanted to see an Aussie Rules Football game, locally nick-named Aerial Ping Pong due to the leaps and 'mark's made during the game. I wish I'd read the rules first because it's just a lot of people running madly on a big green field players, waterboys, changeover guys and referees. There are two opposing goal posts and I think the object is to get the ball between the two middle ones for 4 points and between the outer posts for one point.

So in torrential rain, we headed out to the hallowed SCG, Sydney Cricket Ground to watch some rather gorgeous bodies contort, run (man can they run!), jump, catch, fumble and among some of the most enthusiastic fans I've seen for a long time. Including the man behind me who rendered me deaf with his "Go, go, Bazza!", "Oh for Christ's sakes," his sons, not quite as enthusiastic about the game as he was. Jeff introduced himself to a hardened fan on his left and received a running commentary on the game. I introduced myself to a very passionate Grandma on my right who also gave me a few tips on what was going on. It's chaotic but very fast and despite the wet and cold, the 2 hours went surprisingly quickly. (Although we lost our car in the carpark so exiting was a little slower).

Despite not really expecting to enjoy it and my fingers going so numb by half time I had to get him to buy me some hot chips to warm my hands - I actually liked it. Think I'll go again to be honest. It was an awesome crowd of families and good humour. Even to the point that the winning team's fans mixed with the losers without incident, something that would never happen in soccer.

Wikipedia tells me that it's a game played with 22 players (18 on the field, 3 perpetual interchanges and 1 substitute who can only be played once during the match. It's played on a cricket field or modified football ground and the objective is to score points by passing the ball through the opponent's goal. The main way to score points is to kick the ball between the major goal posts. During play, players may position themselves anywhere on the field and use any part of their body to move the ball. The primary methods are kicking, handballing (sounds a bit dirty!) and running with the ball.

There are rules on how the ball can be handled: for example, players running with the ball must intermittently bounce or touch it on the ground. Throwing the ball is not allowed and players must not get caught holding the ball. Possession of the ball is in dispute at all times except when a free kick is paid. A distinctive feature of the game is the mark, where players anywhere on the field who catch a ball from a kick (with specific conditions), are awarded a free kick. Australian rules is a contact sport, in which players can tackle using their hands or use their whole body to obstruct opponents. Dangerous physical contact (such as pushing an opponent in the back), interference when marking and deliberately slowing the play are discouraged with free kicks, distance penalties or suspension, depending on the seriousness of the infringement. Frequent physical contests, aerial marking or "speckies", fast movement of both players and the ball and high scoring are the game's main attributes.

Sydney Swans, Red and White

Gathering Fans despite the rain. Red caps = Members

Er well they gave up the fight. Sadly they lost by a narrow margin

No idea what's going on

Points for enthusiasm

A tense moment perhaps?

SCG Members' Stand

Mine, no mine, no mine . . . .

The 'arial' bit of ping pong

Off south today so intermittent posting if any. Have a good week!

Road Trip Trial Run

2011-04-15T10:24:00.001+10:00

Well it's been a week since the intrepid man with poofy hair arrived and we've been busy. Over the past 2 days we did a 'dry run' for the big road trip next week and decided to pootle off to the Blue Mountains then on to Cowra. This is the town most famous for a bloody breakout at a POW camp there during the second world war, one that featured in a co-write we did some time ago 'Pearl, Harbour', one I'm hopelessly optimistic I may eventually turn into a novel.

There's no rushing 'he with the hair' so we had a rather late start, dropped some stuff off at a friend's in Kurrajong and arrived in time for a vegemite sandwich and home made cookies before heading off to Katoomba for a look-see at the Blue Mountains. The jury is still out on whether Vegemite is a food but there will be more on culinary stuff later.

Once arriving at Katoomba, there were aspirations to descend the 860 steps on the Giant Stairway which leads to a forest walk along the Megalong valley but, inadequate footwear (him) and gammy knee (me) saw that effort postponed for another day. So we admired the view, wondered down a dirt road to Shipley Valley for what can only be described as an amazing view only to be told that 'looks like some places in the US'. OK so sightseeing isn't the way to go right now.

We tried desperately to find a pub open for lunch at 3pm but to no avail, seems that Wednesday's is shut early day so we drove on to Bathurst, again through some of the prettiest scenery in NSW. Starving by the time we arrived, we had a steak (this time he paid and left a huge tip after being told by the waitress that it wasn't necessary - he didn't believe me!) Then Jeff takes the wheel and puts the windscreen wipers on instead of indicators, drives slow in the fast lane but finally gets the hang of doing things on the wrong side of the road and we push on the extra hour and a half to Cowra.

Now I'm not being too alarmist at this point but did notice that every hotel/motel in Bathurst appeared to be "No Vacancy" and we hadn't booked anything in Cowra so I'm beginning to worry that we'll be spending the night at a roadside rest stop in the car and visions of tourist slaughter run through my brain! Sure enough, the first hotel in Cowra has a vacancy sign but . . . no rooms . . yes folks this is Australia, we're too lazy to even turn off the vacancy sign. Apparently some 'Mining Convention' has seen normally available motels fill to the brim. Fortunately, a budget motel down the road is called by the obliging proprietor and we secure a family room for the price of a normal one. Cheap, not so cheerful but a decent shower and crash worthy, and much to my chagrin, their digital TV works better than mine!

In the morning, after Lamingtons and coffee for breakfast (more on food later) we headed out to the Japanese Gardens, a commemorative garden to reinforce the 'goodwill' between the Japs and the Aussies and a kind of apology for killing 250 of them who tried to escape in April 1944. Pretty nice actually although being autumn, not at their best but still cool. We also wondered out to the site of the Camp which was huge, quite comfortable for inmates at the time but ultimately humiliating for the Japanese, many of who changed their name to avoid the shame of being captured. The Italians were even allowed out into the wider community to assist on local farms but not the Japs, they weren't to be trusted and remained interred for the duration of the war. There's not much left of the original camp other than a mown strip and a few foundations but it certainly helped to put our story characters into perspective - shame it wasn't paid research!

Then on to the Japanese War Cemetery to pay a few respects before heading back.

As I'm gunning along with cruise control set on 100, we pass the "Cowra Fun Museum". A dear old thing at the Visitor Information Centre had previously recommended it as they had some artifacts from the old camp site so, yeh, did a u-turn and went into what can only be described as a huge shed containing a shit load of junk. Interesting junk. Cobwebbed and unexplained junk. Still, had I not gone, I wouldn't have realised that the original headstones belonging to the two soldiers killed during the breakout were actually there. At the time they were buried, they hadn't been awarded the King George Cross so the original stones were eventually replaced with the King George Cross carved in place of the original simple Calvary cross.

A quick lunch at historic Carcoar, More like Stepford or some Stephen King abandoned village where vampires lie waiting for sunset or creepy people peer out from lace covered windows. The place was a ghost town apart from a small cafe where he who eats everything tackled his first Aussie Meat Pie and Sauce. Thumbs up apparently. Although the American version of a milk shake is what we call a Thick Shake. Ah the lovely losses in translation. More about food later.

He drove home and I can safely say has totally mastered the wrong side of the road. Mastery of my camera however is pending. I have a load of shots of dusty windows and rooftops as we wizz past in the car.

Looking over the Grose Valley at Govett's Leap

Shipley Valley (Looks like Hawaii apparently)

Shipley Plateau

Japanese Gardens Cowra

Reluctant but I nabbed him!
Thank you to the touring couple behind me who made him pose for the pic Mwahahahahaha!

One of 26 POW Camps in Aust. during WW2

What was once the main drag at the POW Camp, Cowra

Japanese War Cemetery

Cowra Fun Museum (oh really?)

Well they're having fun

Meat Pie and Sauce (Usually eaten with fingers but we were in a cafe)

Carcoor - lights were on but nobody home

Got the knack - wipers left/indicators right

For the intrepid one's take on things, pop over to Irreverent Irrelevance.

Clayton's Sailing

2011-04-12T11:14:00.001+10:00

Because three weeks is not a lot of time to see a country the size of Australia, the 'organised' part of Jeffscape's visit entails 'experiences' rather than just sight seeing with just enough down time to chill, enjoy the autumn sun, talk my socks off and generally lounge around. The beauty of not just driving incessantly through the country is that you also get to see how the other half lives and some pretty nice scenery if you time it right.

I'm fortunate enough to have good friends who own a sailing boat. Sunday saw us pack a picnic of prawns and salad, fresh bread rolls and wine as we headed down to the Barrenjoey Peninsular, clamoured into a small row boat with four people and a large standard poodle called Harry, eskies and supplies and boarded the boat. The weather at first was glorious and we pootled under motor (my friend's wife, not keen on sliding sideways under sail in a brisk wind - actually I'm not keen on sliding sideways in a brisk wind). We headed out towards Lion Island then into more sheltered waters at The Basin for a picnic, conversation, fine company and lovely views. Jeffscape took a hand at the helm, entertained us with chat about America and the Military and was invited back on the weekend to participate in a sailing race - we'll see if he takes them up on the offer. On the return trip, the weather turned, we all packed on waterproofs, (including Harry the large standard poodle) as we were beaten by driving rain (fortunately it wasn't too cold) and ended up with date scones and tea and a review of the Tropfest short film winners. Very civilised. So what has he learned so far?

How to measure the length of a boat (since my explanation was totally erroneous)
The difference between the colours of port and starboard (nah he knew, just forgot)
That Supacenta is not an aboriginal word
How to peel a prawn (hilarious effort there). The tender lad doesn't like to know what his food actually looked like before it was prepared.
How to serve tea from a tea pot without getting leaves in the cup
The joy of scones, jam and cream
Australian cigarettes taste the same as US cigarettes but the packet warnings are worth collecting like baseball cards
There's little use for knots on modern sailing boats, despite his being able to tie a bowline, cherry, reef, girth, prusik etc.
Standing up on the high seas for 50% of the time is hard on the legs
Aussie Merlot is pretty decent, and beer, and mohitos

Fine Weather Moving out

Strong North Westerley and the Yachties Love It

The Ship's Mate at the Helm

Lunch On Deck at The Basin (My friend Ros - not sure who the skinny guy drinking Merlot is)

Nothing Like the Slap of Rain in the Face to Make me Grimace

Harry has His Own Wet Weather Gear

Quarantined

2011-04-09T17:38:00.000+10:00

Oh Kay. . . 2 days into a visit from Jeffscape. He's having a snooze (soldier style with a pillow over his head!)

First day spent largely chilling. He was a little tired but more interested in acclimatising, talking, eating, roughing up my dog etc. He's exactly as I know him, a little taller than I'd expected but still Jeffscape. A little more charming when required but still Jeffscape. I haven't structured his visit too much so there's room for spontaneity but I have booked a few things that I thought he might like.

Yesterday I had an excursion planned. Both of us are skeptical about the existence of ghosts but hey, we all like to feel that icy chill along the spine so I booked a night ghost tour at the Sydney Quarantine Station situated on the beautiful North Head outcrop at Manly. Some of you might remember, I went there last year during the daylight hours with Clare and it was spooky but mostly rather sad that these optimistic immigrants were quarantined until deemed healthy enough to start a new life in a new country.

The station, now the property of NSW Parks and Wildlife and preserved for posterity, was established to quarantine immigrants as late as 1985 who arrived with a variety of diseases from influenza (Spanish) to scarlet fever and even smallpox and the bubonic plague. In the 70's and 80's it was home to Vietnamese refugees until they could be resettled in Australia.

Arrivals' baggage was disinfected in huge autoclaves, 'residents' forced to shower in Carbolic acid and the healthy were divided from the ill. Passengers were also segregated from first class to Steerage and their accommodation reflected their status aboard ship. Quarantine periods lasted up to 3 months. Initially the situation was difficult and alienating but after several Royal Commissions and improvements, for most, it was a pleasant if not a little intimidating experience. Sadly for over 500 souls it meant death. The rooms we stayed in were formally third class quarters but beautifully restored and all mod cons. Close to the Asiatic quarters (those of you who know Jeff will appreciate the irony) and opposite a haunted dining hall. Generally very comfortable except for my initial ability to unlock the bathroom door which kinda freaked me out a bit. Well until I was told I wasn't applying enough force to the downward door handle. Duh moment!

Before the tour, we had dinner at the Boilerhouse Restaurant. Al Fresco since the weather was lovely, cool but clement and made even more delightful when a possum decided to clamour on his leg for food. Very nice Aussie experience and I swear the thing would have jumped in his lap if I hadn't been so eager to grab the camera . . .alas, the little marsupial took off, armed with Jeff's bread roll! One observation, Americans use cutlery differently to us and I have been labelled a tight arse for not tipping. Folks, we only tip in Australia if the service is exemplary. It's not expected. He's still giving me shit for not tipping.

The tours, whether you do the Wharf Wander through to the Extreme Ghost Tour are always informative. We took the Adult Ghost Tour, armed with lanterns, we wondered around the buildings said to be haunted. Apparitions are rare other than a Chinaman called Mr Chen, a small girl with braids and the undertaker who watches over the Mortuary through to the hospital. A stern Matron has also been seen walking the hallowed halls of one of the hospital wards and actually inspired a story I wrote for the River of Mnemosyne on Tenth Daughter of Memory. Orbs are common, voices and footsteps and our shuttle driver even said he'd felt a pin prick in his wrist, similar to that of an intravenous line being injected.

Now let's get one thing straight. Jeffscape is not afraid. Not of anything. I'm quite serious about that. those who know him on the blog, see the arrogant shithead that he can be. Well he is a bit but he is not afraid of anything. He was extremely skeptical but always hopeful, came armed with a mini-maglite LED torch and was determined to either prove the existence or non existence of the paranormal. I on the other hand, don't believe in ghosts but the thought freaks me out and I'm slightly terrified of the dark. Whilst I'm happy to go on a tour, wondering around the rambling site after the tour in the wee small hours was not my idea of fun but I wasn't about to be left in a room where the bell hop had told us 'a little incident happened last night' so I clung like a limpet to the poor sod. Thanks to his royal intrepidness exploring the possibility of finding Mr Chen, his belt has now been stretched 2 notches since I grabbed the back of it for at least 20 minutes while he took me into the pitch black of the Asiatic Quarters. So, there's a 33 year old Veteran determined to find a spook, and a nervous (no need to know my age right now) 'unbeliever' who began to doubt her convictions hanging on in case he left me behind and trust me, he probably would have!

This is what happened:

Dinner time visitor, grabbed the Jefster's trousers and ran off with a bread roll

Lantern's for the sheepish

Matron haunts these stairs but not tonight

Collecting before the graveyart. Jeffscape foreground left. Hair down in the hope of a spectoral tug.

Orbs in the graveyard, or camera flash?

In search for Chen the Chinaman

Paying attention for after-tour recon

Gettin' down and dirty. Apparently girl's legs have been grabbed from this point

Hospital . . .expect Matron to appear or a hypodermic prick

Decent into Hell

Ghost in the hospital? Nah . . He with the floofy hair

He asked to be locked in the shower room and took the camera . . . no result

The most haunted house on the place . . .gravedigger's cottage . . .Yes he went there after the tour

Reckoned he heard toddler's footsteps. I was freaking out . . hoping it was Bandicoots

Gravedigger's cottage from the Asiatic Quarter

Slightly hair raising? Er no . . .

Our accommodation . . looks OK in the daylight

Actually these guys look better in the daylight . . squillions

OK He's up and about . . time to play pool.

The Golden Boy Cometh

2011-04-06T20:28:00.001+10:00

"I'm at the terminal about to go through the gate. Turning phone off. I'll call you if there's a delay" was the last message I received from my Arrogant American friend who is due to visit from 6am tomorrow. Seriously. We have a night curfew on flights here and so no flights land before 5:30am. So I'll be the bog-eyed woman who forgot to put on trousers and turned up in her Panda pyjama pants to welcome a weary traveller with a sore foot at sparrow's fart tomorrow. He wanted me to dress as a chauffeur with a sign bearing his name. I think not baby puppy.

I had my reservations since he's been hot and cold about the visit and part of me still won't believe it until I see him walk through that arrival lounge, but I'm looking forward to meeting a man I know so well online, in the flesh so to speak - he's been a good but difficult friend. It's a nice distraction from the shit that's been happening and his own level of hygiene has seen me clean my house like a dervish, (Do you have any idea how much bug splodge gets caught in the sliding door channels?) The the pool is clear blue (swears he's going to swim but it's a bit chilly down under). I detailed my ancient car and planned a road trip in quest of, among other things, the elusive Gippsland worm. I've even organised a nice St Andrew's Cross spider to dwell above the family room curtain rod. I'll photograph of course, although I've been given permission to blog just 4. Why 4? I have no idea, the little blossom's camera shy. Then I'm known about these parts as the "Paparazzi" and can be very sneaky if motivated, so we shall see.

Blogging might be furious, or, it might be intermittent. Either way, I love having visitors. I love hanging out with him online, but having someone here actually makes me visit places I appreciate but rarely go, or even visit places I've never been. It can be rather nice being a tourist in your own state. Although I hasten to say, one thing I haven't booked is the mooted 'skydive'. Gonna keep quiet about that one. Perhaps I'll get away without doing it.

Wish me luck punters. Impressing an American is a hard thing to do in the Antipodes. I have the impression that everything in the US is the same but better. I'll have a crack anyway. He constantly tells me I live in an uncivilised country with a crappy version of English, that we're all drunkards (er might have a point there) and live a barbaric way of life because we don't know what a 'summer sausage' is. Apologies if visits are thin on the ground. And an appeal to those who would like to visit . . . what would you like to see given that we're a vast desert land and have a limited cashflow?

Oh and if you ever make the long haul . . .there's a very comfortable sofa bed with your name on it.

Redundant as a Roo with a Pogo Stick

2011-04-04T16:59:00.001+10:00

I have a tattoo. No big deal I hear you say but mine's special, very special because only employers can see it. It's brandished across my forehead I assume - since they can see it when I'm fully suited up. It says "Retrench Me". I'd rather it said "FIGJAM" but clearly it doesn't.

The real problem I think, is poor choice-making in terms of career. I went to University, I studied to become a History/English Teacher but at the tender age of 21 decided the verbal playground abuse from 17 somethings was more than my awesomeness could bear and I finished my degree with only three years of the Education component. I also fell in love. So the combination of juvenile abuse in the playground and a man (he was worth it), led to me dropping the education component and ending up with a totally useless BA. I blame neither the abusive 17 year-olds or the man for my decision. I copped out.

So what to do? I did a crash course in 'secretarial studies'. Learned how to touch type, for which I am eternally grateful because I can have a conversation and type 90 wpm at the same time, and began a career (I use the term loosely) as a supplicant to arrogant men who needed someone to type for them and make their coffee. (that's a bit bitter since being an Executive Assistant is very complex and yet appreciated as much as being a housewife). Actually it turned out rather well. I had a job with Amway of Australia at first as a Girl Friday (can't call them that anymore) and graduated to a Publications Coordinator, where I dealt with Graphic Artists and printers to produce their rather paltry in house magazine and then through to Editor and Copywriter of a rather sophisticated in house design department. It was awesome. Our circulation was higher than Vogue Australia. I had access to wonderful people, designers, photographers, art directors and the fucking talentless asshole son of a tug captain, who was to become my boss, protagonist and eventual 'firer'. The rivalry between us went unnoticed by me but obviously felt by him, and the minute he was escalated to a position of power within a very misogynistic, highly religious and bigoted organisation, my job was advertised without me even knowing!

Redundancy No. 1. Personal, bitter and after 15 years of service, being asked back after resigning when I had Adam, a little uneducated peasant who knew how to talk boardroom speak and agreed to be manipulated by the powers that be, is now the Managing Director. How the fuck?

So, into a series of temp jobs which irks me because Admin is probably the only temp position that pays less for freelancing and contract than any other, I found a fabulous job. National Exchange of Police Information. I was sent as a temp to deal with a 'difficult boss' who's Executive Assistant had gone on stress leave after an altercation. He turned out to be lovely. No other word for it. We are still friends. I had five happy years there as gatekeeper, project administrator and his right hand and made many friends among colleagues. The department was in need of new hardware and after presenting an awesome business case, the Federal Government agreed to fund a new system but it would be based in Canberra. This is three hours drive from me and my kids in their early teens were less than enthusiastic about the prospect of a move so I took a voluntary redundancy. Redundancy No. 2. It wasn't all bad, I had a good severance pay thanks to the wonder-boss and travelled a little before going back on the 'temp' trail.

The next Job was also fortuitous. My best friend's husband insisted I come to work for him. At first, I offered a temporary 'wait and see how it works out' arrangement. Working for friends can be difficult and I didn't want to jeopardise the friendship, but he wanted commitment so in December 2000, I took the job as his EA. Graduated to Practice Manager. Combined two practices into one. Streamlined their systems and fell out with one of the Partners. There were three. One loved me, one didn't care either way, one hated me. Probably because I sent an email about him, too him. Mostly because he's an arrogant shit that everyone has fallen out with since but that's bye the bye. Redundancy No. 3

After 9 years, my best friend gave me the "This is the conversation I don't want to have" spiel. Stop there. Had it before. Knew it was coming. This decision was financial thanks to the GFC but it cut me to the core. Then began the 18 months from Hell.

These are my best friends. Note I use the term 'are' because I know both tried hard to keep me there but with three partners and only one who gives a shit . . hey, shit happens and I know that my closest girlf in the world shed many tears over the decision. But the following 18 months were loveless and luckless. Yes I found a job working for a State Owned Corporation but it was not a happy time. A mad boss who was dismissed and not replaced saw my income drop. A job with a project team that I loved was taken away in case other projects asked for the same level of support . . so I began looking again.

Landed a sweet 'work until I retire' job with an Accountancy firm as their Practice Manager. Awesome people, Lebanese Christians with hearts of gold. I was appreciated, given flowers for doing my job, a bonus at Christmas a turkey AND a ham. But sadly, the BDM they hired left and didn't bring in the new business they were hoping for. They'd been operating out of overdraft for months, which I knew, but thought (thinking I knew the Lebanese stereotype) that there'd be a slush fund hidden from my view - there wasn't. As the work dwindled, so did their cashflow until a board meeting where once again . . .a rather teary partner began, "This is the conversation I don't want to have . . " spiel. Redundancy No. 4 and no severance since I'd only been there 5 months. Two week's pay, two nice Chardy's to drown my sorrows and $100 gift card, which of course, I spent on booze.

So that brings us to now. Am I devastated? Actually I'm surprisingly calm and after 3 days off, my house is immaculate, my garden tidy and my pool finally on the blue side. No, this time I'm not bitter or upset. I'm disappointed. I liked that last job. I'm frustrated because I'm back to a shitty hourly rate, no sick pay or holiday allowance - but this time, I'm not taking it personally. I'm not the suicide-contemplating mess that I was 18 months ago. I don't need my daughter to pay for a trip to Paris (although Clare if you're inclined I wouldn't mind going back). I've just done a 4 week contract job with awesome people who will give me part time work in the short term. They like me. They appreciate what I've done for them and they were so much fun I'm still reeling. So I'm now aware that not every employer is an asshole. However, come May 4, I will again have to work in a lowly paid position, be told that I'm competent and do it for $25 an hour. It's a humbling experience that I don't wish upon anyone.

Do I feel valued? No. I don't. My self-esteem is buoyed by one person these days and he's not in a position to employ me. Bottom line is that if you're an admin in a time and billing environment, not bringing in revenue, you will be the first to go. If you compete with a young gun that knows boardroom speak and will do everything in his power to raise the glass ceiling, you'll go. If you write an email about someone and send it to them - even if they're a devout fucking Christian and don't get the principle of forgiveness - you'll go. If you're over 54 and can't balance on five inch stilettos or manoeuvre in a pencil skirt - you will be the last to be employed. If you trust a pert-breasted embryo to find you the perfect job, you're living on another planet. If you're an idiot that borrowed against an unrealised inheritance and a property that nobody seems to want, you deserve all you get.

Hey but I get a month off to go to the Symphony at the Opera house, be scared shitless at the Quarantine Station, watch aerial ping pong and road trip in search of the great Gippsland worm and enjoy the natural wonders of the Great Ocean Road with a creative, irresponsible, irreverent, gorgeous, OCD, noodle-eating arrogant American whom I adore.

Parents, don't let your children grow up to be admins. They're better off digging ditches. Yep, I'm as redundant as a roo with a pogo stick.

Funny Fuckwits

2011-04-02T08:26:00.000+11:00

Hello punters. True to form I have been a bad blogger. Nothing all week and almost closed the thing down due to lack of inspiration. I'm still enjoying The Tenth Daughter of Memory, preparing a couple of pieces for competition entry and looking for work which in itself is a full time job. Also cleaning like a dervish in preparation for a visitor next week who has cleanliness OCD and wouldn't you know it, my pool has yet again gone green!
Anyhoo . . .Since yesterday/today is April Fools day and not one soul played a prank on me, I rather liked Google's bash and gettting their jollies on during this auspicious day. So no berating or stupidity this week, just a bit of fun.

It seems they are in need of an autocompleter and placed an advertisement for which of course, I have applied:

Google's quality team is looking for talented, motivated, opinionated technologists to help us predict what users are looking for. If you’re eager to improve the search experience for millions of people and have a proven track record of excellence, this is a project for you!
As a Google Autocompleter, you’ll be expected to successfully guess a user’s intention as he or she starts typing instantly. In a fraction of a second, you’ll need to type in your prediction that will be added to the list of suggestions given by Google. Don’t worry, after a few million predictions you’ll grow the required reflexes.

And of course there's Gmail Motion. Gmail Motion, Google Docs Motion: The latest beta technology to come to Google products is Motion. Gmail Motion uses your webcam to control Gmail. Unfortunately for couch potatoes, the motions that work with Gmail are full-body motions.

There, a little lighter this week wouldn't you say. Have a fabulous weekend. I get my new specs today so maybe I'll be a little more inclined post something of interest. Happy April Fool's Day.

Fallacious Fuckwits

2011-03-25T13:42:00.001+11:00

I’ve paraphrased a very excellent article (yes I’m aware of the double superlative) that a friend posted on Facebook recently because it so mirrors my thoughts on the panic that seems to be overtaking, particularly the US, in relation to the Japanese Nuclear Plant disruption.

I do however acknowledge that Australian media also have the propensity to talk total uninformed shite and have been trying to terrify everyone into believing that the apocalypse is nigh. I believe the sale of nuclear bunkers in the US has gone through the roof and the purchase of iodised salt has soared in China. Fortunately, Australians with their intense apathy aren’t swallowing it. I wish, as a result of being well-informed rather than more truthfully, laziness.

While recent events in Japan are awful with 23,000 confirmed dead or missing. The earthquake they could have survived but the tsunami did the real damage. However what’s truly appalling is the media coverage of the damaged Fukushima nuclear plant claiming it is the ‘next Chernobyl’ about to render Tokyo a post-apocalyptic ghost town through to radiation threatening the US West Coast.

I have a friend over there who’s more concerned about the earth moving than nuclear radiation which given recent events in NZ, then Japan . . . who knows, perhaps the old SA Fault is about to slip ‘n slide. But I digress. Where do these media people get the nerve? Anyone else who lies to the public, (with the exception of politicians) has to bear the consequences. However, the media (and politicians) are it seems, allowed to report anything and everything based on heresay.

Exactly one person died on the site of the plant . . poor bugger fell off his crane when the quake hit. Thirty more were injured due to the hydrogen explosion and exposed to a tiny amount of radiation. Less than that you are exposed to by a chest x-ray. There’s a very interesting chart here which puts the issue of radiation into perspective.

Perhaps the journos and doom mongers should have had a look at that before sprouting their prophecies of slow death by radiation poisoning. At the height of the ‘disaster’ the radiation levels in Tokyo were lower than the current American average at 1753 microsieverts pa compared to the US average of 3000 pa.

Quoting John Evans from Tech Crunch

“Disaster there was averted by genuine heroism and desperately hard work. Nuclear power is potentially extremely dangerous and raises many serious issues, and it’s important to debate them in a well-educated way. Instead we got a crowd of fear mongering idiots, each trying to shriek louder than the last. As a result, Fukushima was the first major world story for which the best way to stay well-informed was to tune in to the knowledgeable blogosphere—and tune out the so-called 'mainstream media.' We all know they’re dying. Now I’m starting to wonder why we should care”

Couldn’t agree more. Fuckwits all of them and those who believe their crap. At least the Japanese know how to put it into perspective for their school children:

Phew, got that off my chest . . . Have a lovely weekend folks.

Flash Mob Fuckwits

2011-03-19T08:38:00.004+11:00

I love the concept of a flash mob . . a group of people who gather surreptitiously in a public place then break into dance.

Hundreds of flash mobs occur each year and while the majority of them take place without legal consequence there have been notable occasions from around the world where flash mobs have resulted in legal actions taken by local authorities or the government against flash mobs or its participants.

In the United States, in 2009 and 2010, the city of Philadelphia experienced a wave of flash mobs that either started with the intent or led to the destruction of private property, rioting, violence, and personal injury. As a result, police used pepper spray to disperse crowds and arrests were made.Law makers and lobbyists in the city are pursuing enacting bylaws to counter flash mobs by extending curfew hours, limiting the hours of bus passes, and holding parents more accountable for the actions of their children.

Legal actions have been taken in other countries to stem flash mobs for reasons other than violence such as the disruption of business and service. The city of Braunschweig, Germany has stopped flash mobs by strictly enforcing the already existing law of requiring a permit to use any public space for an event. In the United Kingdom, a number of flash mobs have been stopped over concerns for public health and safety.

Well I think those who try to stop it are sad sacks and fuckwits frankly and on St Patrick's day, Sydney commuters at Central Station were treated to a flash mob incident put on by the Irish Tourist Board and starring the cast of Riverdance who are touring at the moment - aweseome fun.

Thanks Sara Lulu for the heads up!

Birdie Num Nums

2011-03-13T15:44:00.000+11:00

I've done bugger-all this weekend beyond the usual cleaning and washing stuff. Well, prepared a short story for competition submission, caught up on a few blogs, took my dawg for a walk, fed the horses and sploshed copious amounts of chemicals in my now clean pool, edited some photos and IM'd with my sweet friend Tom at Half Moose With A Twist and my 'second son' in Ireland. Nice as it was, all a bit of an anti-climax compared to last weekend's wedding shenannigins but a welcome relief.

Watched "Ghost Writer" not bad, then I have a mighty crush on Ewan McGreggor. Then Nick Cage in "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," not to be mistaken for the Disney classic cartoon. Lots of explosions and effects but generally a yawn and my 'mostly online friend has secured work at the LA "So You Think You Can Dance" Auditions for the next few days, so that he can afford a big bottle of Chanel No. 5, so no time-wasting on Skype.

What's a girl to do? Meh! Just take the dog and the camera for a spin. Since I have no cash, I went to meet the other Merry Widow at the Castle Hill Grower's Market on Saturday morning at some un-Godly hour but had a coffee, a chat, and took the Lilster for a little walky-poo, (of course that's a real word) around the showground. No possums, roos or hot, hot men. Just a cock or two, er, I mean Cockatoo.

Just one, high in a sawn-off branch. Unusual because they're usually in flocks

Now, how to get into said hollow branch

Check the circumference, measure against diameter

Perfect, backwards entry successful

Amazes me how something so colourful can be so hard to spot - then they're noisy as hell

Rainbow Lorikeet sucking up some Red Flowering Gum delicousness

Look at his likkle footsies

Acrobats all, when it comes to nectar

Lily living in my shadow- oops bit over exposed that one.

Arse-end view of the world. Lucky me.

Soft Toilet Tissue and Sexy Scent - Now there's two phrases you don't see together very often.

2011-03-12T16:58:00.000+11:00

Just been reading about Granny Mar's 'Obsession'.

You know, there are some things which do not deserve compromise. Sure, in a relationship there has to be give and take. At a wedding reception, you get the fish, he gets the lamb, you can swap. Christmas? Sometimes you have to go to his family first. Even when your kid's behind in his board because the bike payment's due, hey we can waive it. But there are two things which I will never compromise . . . soft toilet paper . . .good perfume.

I know, I know, in my current precarious financial state, these are probably two of the last things I should be thinking about but hey . . I can make a million meals with mince and I'm a dab hand with eggy thingies. Veggies are cheap. Wine is currently being paid for by a gift card presented by my previous employer. But that which wipes the area from which only sunshine emanates . . . must be soft Quilton Triple length which apparently provides 'the gift of time, soft and pillowy' Well not sure about that but it makes the toilet smell nice and saves me from rescuing dozens of toilet roll holders from the loo windowsill (because my son thinks that's where the empties should be stacked rather than the small bin beside the toilet).

Perfume? I blame my mother. The first I remember was Elizabeth Arden's Blue Grass. I guess it was 'her' smell. Cheap enough but she bought it for me as a tween. Then, my Nana who was given a 150ml bottle of Chanel No 5 Eau de Parfum. Get that! Almost full strength and 150 mls of the nectar. I was in my early 20's and went ballistic when she said, "Oh you have it, someone gave it to me and I never wear it." (She was an Estee Lauder Youth Dew freak - yuk). At that moment, there was a God. It worked with the romance at that time too. But enough said about that.

Sadly, Chanel is way too expensive and I still use the bottle I bought in Paris very sparingly. Thanks Clare Bear. It is the perfect pong.

So I dabbled in a little Thierry Mugler Angel, (well until I found out that it might kill me - Yar!), Yves Saint Laurent, La Rive Gauche and Lancome's Magic Noir even Giorgio Armani's Aqua de Gio was quite nice but in recent years, because it's affordable at $75 for 150mls, Calvin Klein. Which Calvin Klein? Not fussed really. My favourite? Eternity. Second off the rank probably Euphoria. But if you really want to turn me on, or him for that matter (I can vouch for it's efficaciousness) . . still Chanel No. 5. As the lovely Madame Chanel said herself: "A perfume like nothing else. A woman’s perfume, with the scent of a woman." Sexy, non?

You paying attention Jeffscape? Bring it on and I'll find you a Gippsland worm. (Don't ask!)

Friday Fuckwit

2011-03-11T17:59:00.000+11:00

Another week gone by already? I've been working in a Mortgage Broker's office setting up his Financial Planning business this week and hopefully will be able to spin the job out for four or five weeks but seriously? I could nail it in two so going slow is a bit difficult for me. It's a lovely job, really nice friendly people and only 20 minutes from home. Shame it's just a one-off but hey, it'll help pay the rent for the next month or so.

My Mother In Law is now at home, still a little uncomfortable nd short of breath but hopefully on the mend after heart surgery. A few too many visitors last night so we'll leave her to settle in for a few days before springing up there to see how she's going. She looked wonderful when I saw her last Tuesday but had to stay in a little longer due to palpitations which have now settled. Thank you to those of you who asked about her welfare.

Since, I'm using the Boss wife's laptop, I haven't had much time to search for a fuckwit but this darling needs no words to accompany it. I just thought it was funny.

Avagoodweekend everyone. No Weddings or excitement this weekend, hopefully some rain and a little couch potato honing. Oh, and a lot of job applications. Wish me luck.

Wedding Al Fresco

2011-03-07T19:48:00.001+11:00

My nephew was married on the 4th March at our place and it was lovely. I know everyone says that but my brother spared no expense and this was an al fresco wedding of grand proportions from the huge marquee to tea lights on the pool, lanterns in the trees and rose petals along the aisle. Chef's buzzed hurriedly for two days preparing, gravlax, mushroom and goat's cheese pastries, lamb cutlets and barramundi fillets. There are dozens of bottles of wine and champagne left over and everything was just perfect.

For the first time in a long time our entire family was together with the exception of our errant brother who I'm sure was invited but . . . The settings were gorgeous, the bride looked beautiful, the groom didn't show his nerves and everyone behaved despite the whole shindig not winding up until 3am when finally, the MIL demanded music be turned down (by which time I was long in bed and couldn't hear a thing).

Highlights?

Laurie deciding to do a poo in the background during the ceremony
The tea light candles getting stuck in the corners of the pool due to the breeze
Me gamming my knee dancing like a teen when I should know better
Rebecca (the groom's sister) giving by far the most heartfelt speech
The food - awesome!
The chef's (two of them) eye candy all over
My Sister In Law giving the bride away (since her father is in England)
Adam managing to get the bloody pool sparkling just in time
Brownie swan diving into the front seat of a ute and not moving for six hours - priceless

Seriously, it was a gorgeous day, the weather was perfect and everything went according to plan. The happy couple are now in England having another wedding before heading off to Thailand for a proper honeymoon. Congratulations James and Jessica, it was indeed a night to remember. Just enough breathing time before the next one in July.

The Marquee went up around a green pool

The crowd waited in anticipation

Nervous Groom but he didn't show it

Beautiful bride and her Mother In Law to be

Sister, Cousin, Sister

Lighting a candle was a little trixy

Sealed with a kiss

Off in a Hummer for photographs, no it wasn't pink

A drink Madame?

My crew chatting before dinner

Happy throng

Two Chefs . .yes they were very cute

Mushroom en croute with goat's cheese

A toast . . .

A cake . . .

Then all became a bit of a blur really . . . .

"Brownie" nothing else needs to be said

I'm Being Spoofed

2011-03-02T17:31:00.000+11:00

And not in a good way. For the second time in as many weeks a phishing spoofer has attacked my Gmail account and sent you lovely people in my address book unpleasant emails. I've been locked out of my account for 24 hours twice so please accept my apologies.

Account names have been changed, complex passwords employed, settings set to https:// and security updated including a new phishing filter that unfortunately, doesn't do much for internet based spammers. My apologies to those who think that I'm assaulting your sexual prowess. It has nothing to do with me and I've made the necessary complaints to Google reporting the spammer and providing their link. If you get an email from me, please, don't open it. If it happens again, I'll have to enact a new gmail account and hope they can't find me.

River, I'm sorry but since I'm locked out, I can't respond to your email. I didn't send it. The only emails you'll receive from me will be in response to blog comments or clearly marked as legit from now on.

Wine Club and Weddings

2011-02-27T15:50:00.001+11:00

You know the movie "Fight Club"? One of my absolute favourites but the first rule of Fight Club, is "You never talk about Fight Club." Same with "Wine Club", so I'll show you then that means I'm not 'talking' about it.

I'm sure there were more than three bottles . . the 23 was delish

My daughter can cook when the mood takes her. Home made chicken satay and spinach salad with sugar glazed walnuts and parmisan - it was awesome

Clearly you have to discuss the merits of Merlot, the suavity of Shiraz and the candour of Cabernet

Sniff it, swill it but never spit . . . always swallow

OK . . .get this one into you son

Today, I went with the lovers to a Wedding Expo at our local Entertainment Centre. Not for any particular reason other than I've never been to one. Interesting. Well. Amazing in terms of what things cost. I wouldn't know because my two lovers are planning and paying for their own wedding. I feel guilty about not being able to put on a Royal bash but they want control and given current circumstances aren't interested in being subsidised. I'm still overwhelmed by the cost of things from flowers to cars. I'm even more overwhelmed by the potential crassness of weddingy things from pink Hummer limousines to having your bouquet 'framed' for posterity. Aren't you supposed to chuck it to some hapless spinster?

Apparently the 'average' wedding costs about $15,000 . . . A guy at work recently had a $200,000 wedding thanks to wealthy in laws. Are you serious? Anyway, here are a few happy snaps. I wasn't allowed to photograph the fashion parade which is a good thing because it was full of women impersonating pavlovas. All they lacked was the passionfruit and strawbs on top. I think Adam enjoyed the lingerie set though.

You can get a fake Californian cop to escort your wedding party and 'arrest' a designated guest . . .er why?

Horrible, all of them, just horrible

Hmm . . so you haven't bought the rings yet?

You know you're kid is going to dye it blue and wear to Medieval day at school?

Very Adam but he wasn't too impressed

A PINK Hummer? For a wedding? Kill me now

Wrong for a wedding in so, so, so many ways . .

Awww dat's nice

Friday Fuckwit

2011-02-25T18:59:00.001+11:00

Not feeling very fuckwittery this week since I lost my job on Wednesday. Poor profits, non revenue raising member of the workforce. Yep dream job is down the toilet but hey, I get to go in Monday and eat cake and get presented with a pen. Awesome. A post on how to be made redundant 4 times is pending. No I'm not a hopeless case, I am extremely employable I just have bad luck. KJ read those cards and soon . . .

A gang in Ireland on Monday and forced him to eat part of his own ear, police say.
The man, 21, is recovering in hospital.
The attack occurred in Newbridge. Police said the gang dragged the man down a lane and beat him with a hammer and a metal bar.
The suspects cut off part of the man's ear and forced him to eat it, police said.
He also suffered injuries to his head, jaw and leg.
No arrests have been made.

Er hello? No arrests? Only in Ireland.

Have a good weekend everyone. Thank God for Wine Club and no, can't talk about Wine Club. I will survive.

Tropfest 2011

2011-02-21T23:03:00.000+11:00

It hardly seems a year since we were there but the 2011 Tropfest Finalists strutted their stuff at the Domain in Sydney last night. Whilst I was very embarrassed about the way the presenters put the finalists forward, the 16 short films were indeed entertaining. Australians have such a relaxed attitude that frankly the commentary bordered on amateur. Still, there's nothing nicer than sitting on green grass, champagne, smoked trout dip and pate with rye on a warm summer night with bats flying overhead and movies playing free on the 'could be a bit bigger' multi screen:

Domain Carpark moving walkway - $25 to park when it's normally $10 after hours frooooaar

The walkway walls are muralled to make us invaders feel guilty

Used to be held at the Tropicana Hotel but now it's just too damn big

Plastic bag man ensures we take our rubbish away with us

Camera men dodging fruit bats

Beautiful women

Questionably dressed men

Oh no, some beautiful men

Some hersuite men

Scantily clad picnickers

A very little chanpagne

Happy Campers

And the winner is:

but the one I liked best was:

You can see all the entries/submissions at hhttp://www.youtube.com/user/TROPFEST

I hope I'm not infringing any copyright.

Friday Fuckwit

2011-02-18T18:31:00.000+11:00

Now I'm pretty sure if someone had stabbed me in the jaw, broken the damaging implement and a blade stuck in my brain I'd seek a little more help than Panadol.

Updated: Thursday, 17 Feb 2011, 11:29 AM EST
Published : Thursday, 17 Feb 2011, 11:28 AM EST
YUNNAN, China (CNN/CCTV) - Doctors in China have recently succeeded in taking a 10 cm. dagger blade from the head of a man who had been suffering from an unknown headache for more than four years.
Mr. Ni came to the hospital seeking treatment of what he suspected of aural disease. After careful examination, doctors found a metal blade in his head.
"We checked his mouth, but no wound or scar has been found. It is very strange as to how the blade got into his head," said Xu Wen, deputy director of the stomatology department of the People's Hospital in Yuxi city.
It turned out that Mr. Ni was stabbed in the lower right jaw when fighting with a robber four years ago.
After that, he had suffered frequent headaches of unknown causes. His mouth would bleed and it felt difficult to swallow food. His voice also became hoarse and he spoke gibberish.
But he had had hospital examinations on several occasions and no cause of the symptoms was found.
"As time goes on, I used injections to kill pains in head and ears," said Mr. Ni.
Doctors were able to remove the blade. Fortunately, the blade did not touch the brain artery and important facial nerves and that has kept him alive.
Mr. Ni is now receiving recuperating treatment in the hospital.

So many fuckwits, so little time. Have a wonderful weekend folks. Dinner with friends tonight, massive garden clean up tomorrow and hopefully it'll stay dry for Tropfest on Sunday. Now . . where's that chardy. Where's your head at?

Isn't She Lovely

2011-02-17T19:14:00.001+11:00

I haven't much time tonight, it's "Wine Club" but I'm not supposed to talk about "Wine Club" but I've just heard that my wonderful Mother In Law has been admitted to hospital with Angina and heart complications. Just the right side of 80 she is amazing. Fit . . still plays Tennis every week and goes to aerobics and Zumba would you believe but has been suffering pain for a few days. They shipped her off to Brisbane Waters Private Hospital on the Central Coast of NSW and next week she'll be flown (I guess) down to Sydney's North Shore Private for a double bypass operation. I can't believe it's her frankly. The Groovy Grannies as she and husband Arthur are known, are fastidious about their diet and exercise but the old arteries are clogging up and she needs the operation.

Good luck to you my darling. In one way, I'm really glad that you're coming to Sydney for the operation, I worry about those regional hospitals although I'm sure I need not. Her surgeon is good, her family are around and we just hope that this sorts her Angina and that she recovers to Zumba another day.

Isn't she lovely: