Parental Warning

I am a good mother. Well I am a tolerable mother. How do I know? Because my kids have always had a place to bring their friends and play and I've had the good sense to let them but to always be present.

For all you yummy mummies out there, toddlers aint nothin' . . encourage your kids to bring their friends home. Learn to be invisible but to check on them now and then. Provide sustenance and learn the names of the bands they listen to. (You might be surprised, even I like Dead Letter Circus and Alexis on Fire). Put up with the 'language' because that's all it is. Be cool but omnipotent. Listen to their conversations . . you will learn much! Sometimes a little more than you care to.

OK they're not kids anymore, they're 23 an 25 but still .. this trend started at 14 and now they're at the end of the parenting plan and all of us are comfortable playing together.

On a quiet Saturday, fun is made out of mowing golf fairways and rough holes before a tournament of champions, beers in hand, heat not withstanding. Then a barbecue where I do nothing more than clear the plates and of course ending in poker whilst making Wookie noises with Slipknot playing in the background. . . I chose to watch bobsled's crashing . .

Paparazzi repellers . . . It's a bitch living with camera woman. Yes that's my son flashing his bum and my daughter giving me the finger. "Respect"

Some of the putting techniques are less than 'orthodox'

Negotiating a dog leg

Chip it . . chip it good!

Found it! She's good at finding balls in the rough
(even on five acres the ball lands in the neighbour's yard!)

Someone . .not I, will be picking these up for hours tomorrow morning!

Poker and Wookie calls . .

Right, time for bed, they're into night golf GAH! They're now playing at 11pm in the dark. Poor horses.

Friday Fuckwit - the Wrong Trousers

Fridaaaaaaaaaaay! Can you hear me! Oh .. .MY .. . .GOD . . .what a week.

Executive office fires the MD's PA, muggins is press ganged into the room with the revolving door but so far so good . . My message to you my darlings. Do not ever, ever, ever, get into debt because the price you pay as a wage slave is far too high . . .

So . .TGIF and not before time . . .my internet has been twitty and twatty this week and has chosen not to work in the evenings leaving me a half hour window in the mornings to catch up and thanks to two new a new and totally charming chat friends who catch me right in that half hour window, I've been neglectful.

Would you believe I came home tonight, did all my washing, cleaned like a whirling dirvish and why? So that tomorrow I can spend all morning on the net and catch up with Theme Thursday and those I have neglected. To you . .I apologise but will make amends.

Now . . to the fuckwit . . having been married to a golfer, quite a good one at that, I am well accustomed to the disgusting habit of wearing outlandish trousers. I was once picked up for a dinner date, direct from the course by the man I loved wearing the most obscene cream and green chequered pants that I sent him home and refused to entertain as much as a 'how do you do' to the sartorially defunct love of my life. Well that was the 70's. Tiger might be a man slut but he is sartorially elegant on the fairway. Not so my lost love . . .and it seems not so the Norwegian curling team OR their downhill countrymen . . .although I'm not really looking at the pants if you catch my drift!

WHISTLER (Reuters) - Norwegian super-G gold medallist Aksel Lund Svindal says his country's colourful curlers are also-rans when it comes to fancy pants.
With a mixture of pride and disdain, the tall Alpine skier suggested on Friday that he was in another sartorial league altogether.
"The curlers' pants? Have you seen my pants?," he told reporters when asked after winning his race what he thought of the curlers' dashing red, white and blue harlequin-patterned trousers.
"Not the ones that I am wearing now but the ones that I wear on the (piste) inspections and stuff. The curling pants are nothing compared to my pants.
"They (Svindal's) are tie-dyed pants. You've got to check that out," he added.
"And I actually have a vest to go with it too, so check out the photos from the inspection."

Sadly I can't find Svindler's Trousers . . .but Wallace's are Awesome!

Svindal honey . .a crazy hat might be cool on the piste but tie-dyed pants . . .so last Tuesday. . .and 'pants' to my internet but 'happy pants' to you this weekend. One thing about being a wage slave . . the weekends are bliss! Talk to you on the web, Skype me, ping me, gmail chat me or Facebook me I WILL be online . . .I lovz youz all! The beauty of online chat . . I don't give a rat's arse whether you're even wearing trousers!

Losing my Bottle!

Theme Thursday and I nearly didn't make it but just a quick bit of fun this week cos I got nothin and my internet is being particularly naughty tonight . . I'm losin' my bottle!

Carlton Beer Advertisement by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra

Saffa's Can't Fix It

About 14 months ago, I embarked on naked broadband with iiNet. Charmed partly by their Irish advertising campaign but moreso by well priced naked, superfast, broadband. It's not been as fast as I expected but for the first 8 months was reliable and consistent. Not so since October 2009.

I am engaging in battle with my internet provier iiNet.. . get Naked Broadband, they tempted . .Its available in your area they said . .I did . .super fast they said . .it isn't and after 7 months of intermittent access and hours of helldesk enquiries over my mobile phone, I am beginning to develop a serious dislike of very polite but useless Saffas because that's where their internet helpdesk is based. Nice enough helldeskers but after three onsite visits from varying technicians they've dropped me like a hot potato.

"Yoor too far awoi frum thi local serva" says Sharia . ."Theers nothink wrung weeth yer loin so we carnt do much maw for yew!"

What! I live in the suburbs of Sydney I have three exchanges within 6kms of home and my internet drops out frequently. My so called 'high speed naked broadband' has as much charm as a hooker patrolling the Great Western Highway just outside Penrith wearing last night's hotpants and I wish, was as fast as said hooker engaging in a $20 blow job!

So . .the task begins. Looking for an economical provider who will give me constant, uninterrupted broadband for $80 a month. Any recommendations? Because iiNet have sold me a service they can't provide and I'm up in arms. War has been declared. I'm attempting to get a refund for the last six months because I haven't had reliable service and they sold me something they can't deliver. Illegal, wrong and frustrating. My apologies for such infrequent visits. Time for a class action against the saffa faakers.

I get all set up with a nice coldie, log in and generally watch little icons spin slowly before . ."connection interrupted"

iiNet, I hate you. You sold me a product that is not serviceable in my area under false pretences and if you don't fix it in the next week . .I'm , I'm I'm ..going to . . . report you to . . Fuck me to Friday . .to whom do you report an ISP who doesn't deliver?

Going Batty at Tropfest

Well the plan . . . was to go and watch the Twilight Parade to celebrate the second week of Chinese New Year but as plans do, ours changed. On the same night we discovered that Tropfest was also happening in the Domain.

So, after a lovely lunch with friends, I met Clare in the city on a 35 degree evening and hunkered down on the grass with a bottle of chardy and a packet of chips to watch the famous short film festival. Not quite the photo opportunity I'd hoped for but definitely fun and a wonderful way to spend a balmy Sydney Sunday night.

There was the 'red carpet' with the Tropfest founder John Polson enjoying the limelight. I was there a little too early to catch Elijah Woods and Toni Collette.

The crowds found their niche!


Nope, not a dirty camera lens. Not seagulls or birds coming in to roost.
These are Australian Fruit Bats coming into the Botanical Gardens for a feed of figs as dusk falls.

Big aren't they? About the size of a small cat with a huge wingspan!

And we're underway with 16 short films from across Australia.

⁃Abe Forsythe has landed first prize at Tropfest 2010 for his film Shock - his entry inspired by the live-on-air lie detector scandal involving disgraced and generally disliked-to-the-point-of-hatred radio presenter, Kyle Sandilands.

If you're interested, you can watch the other finalists here . . sorry, I couldn't find the whole movie in embedded text.http://tropfest.ninemsn.com.au/

And a little music from Whitley who played a short set at intermission. It's a short film in itself and I really like the song.

Thanks to DuprocessAustralia and Steve Baker on You Tube:

All I Want is Gold and My Two Front Teef

I actually forgot a Friday Fuckwit last week and only one commenter emailed me to object. I was too busy trying on Bling at a handbag and jewellery party but that's another story.

Today . . Germany's silver medallist in the Olympic luge David Moeller took an embarrassing trip to the dentist after breaking his front tooth biting into his prize.

A sheepish Moeller, 28, explained: "The photographers wanted us to bite into our medals at the presentation ceremony. And a corner of my front tooth broke off". Trust the German's to take it to the 'nth degree.

"It wasn't too bad and it didn't hurt," added Moeller, saying that it had happened before to him at home. Guy obviously has brittle teef and should have perhaps worn a mouthguard.

"But it is annoying when you can't smile as you normally do. (Germans smile?) And because I want to have nice pictures and happy memories of my Olympic Games, I went to the dentist to get it repaired," he said. Aww bless . .You do this . . .!!!!!.

and worry about this . . .

. . . .OK not your average tooth fairy . .

Moeller was part of a German 1-2 in the men' luge on Sunday at the 2010 Gamers in Vancouver which run until February 28, with compatriot Felix Loch winning gold.

And I know there are those of you who aren't impressed with the cost and pomp surrounding the Vancouver games but having lived through the Summer Olympics in Sydney I can only say that it was one of the most wonderful, feel-good times of my life and left us with an expensive but wonderful park and entertainment area . .Oh and good on you Tori Bright you little 'beaudy' . . .Half Pipe Gold . .not bad for a country that has snow for 2 months of the year in just one place!

Have a great weekend folks! As usual I am very late catching up on Theme Thursday but I will get there . .hmmm . . .Adam's cooking bruschetta and spaghetti and meat balls . . maybe I won't . . just joshing . .of course I will!

Hells Bells and Bugga The Big C Bazza

Theme Thursday has a double edge. The choice of "Bell" was stimulated by a fellow blogger who is about to complete his chemotherapy and fully intends to ring the bell that stands outside the treatment ward as a celebration of his survival. He's asked the blogging community who follow his blog to do the same for those undergoing treatment around the world and to make enough virtual noise to reach one of his commenters in Japan! Well read it and weep Bazz . . cost we're this bell is ringing in Oz! Nothin' further away than us other than NZ and Antarctica!

Now for the serious stuff.

In 2001, the Victorian State Government commissioned the Federation Bell project to celebrate the Centenary of Federation in 2001. I keep banging on about Federation because it was achieved in Australia without a civil war or civil unrest. We just came together and got on with it.

The project included The Field of Bells: a permanent public art work located at Birrarung Marr, near Federation Square in Melbourne which is totally weird because I've been to Federation square three times in as many years and never seen them, let alone heard them.

Federation bells at Birrarung Marr ring three times a day, their contemporary tones a startling contrast to the sombre toll of other bells. The reason for the difference is that the carillon at Birrarung Marr comprises the world's first harmonically tuned bells, invented in Victoria by sculptor Dr Anton Hasell and his colleague, Dr Neil McLachlan.

The stunning sound installation on the banks of the Yarra was created by the two to celebrate the anniversary of Federation in 2001.

Over the 10 years of their collaboration, their creators have discovered the great secret of how to make a perfectly pitched bell. Unlike other bells, theirs has the same harmonic pitch structure as a violin or piano note. This has opened a new set of possibilities for composers who now have the possibility to score a complete work for superbly tuned bells. Although why they'd want to defeats me and brings back memories of lousy talent shows and the guy who plays all those little silver bells in a badly made suit and a pork pie hat.

The sculptor stated, "I hope I am creating work that people will take courage from and inspire them to live an independent life, and take it upon themselves, at whatever cost, to enjoy with passion their own journey in life." This is rather appropriate given Barry's celebration. While I don't follow his blog, I'm happy to ring a bell all the way down under.

But of course, in true Aussie spirit, these bells are electronically fired and naturally, installed upside down!

The weird thing is, I've been to Melbourne twice last year and didn't hear or see them but having found this photo, I now know exactly where they are . . . another excuse to visit one of my favourite Australian cities perhaps?

And Akkerdakker are playing the Homebush Stadium tonight. Yep the Burwood boys are back in town after a long, long, time . . For you Baz . .my name is Hells and I'm ringin' Bells. Stick that up yer Sushi Train Japan!

AC/DC - Hell's Bells
Uploaded by hushhush112. - Explore more music videos.

Oh Lighten Up!

Australian advertisers are in the Poo because Americans don't play cricket. Unfortunately, poor judgement on behalf of the makers of this commercial for not researching their market and because clearly they thought every civilised nation has the same passion for cricket. Or at least knows that there is a game called cricket or even understand that not all blacks are AMERICAN . . .

The ad depicts an Aussie Cricket supporter (we know that because he's got the right shirt on), sitting at the West Indian end of a cricket stand (yes darlings, they don't like cricket . . they love it). He is without doubt a little out of place being an Australian team supporter and white. He breaks the ice with a bucket of KFC. This is one in a series of advertisements showing this poor dope sitting among his opponent's end and most are lame but for some reason, Americans think it's condescending, racist, stereotypical and in poor taste. I beg to differ.

Have you ever been to a soccer or cricket match where there have been Caribbean or South American spectators? They go OFF. I mean I WANT to sit at their end of the field. They drum, they dance, they chant, they turn the whole thing into a party.

The advertisement was withdrawn soon after screening but it certainly wasn't intended as racist. C'mon black America it's not about fried chicken or the deep south, there's no reference to slavery or 'rowdy booty'. It's just a fan . . a fish out of water . . sharing his KFC. Had he been a black man, would that have made it acceptable? Would you have felt more comfortable if he was handing out cucumber sandwiches and strawberries?

I know there have been injustices in the past, I know that many black Americans still endure the problems of poverty, history and marginalisation, much like the poor in my own country but jeez, there are a lot who enjoy the freedom and all that goes with it in middle class America. You've even got one for president.

Time to forget the civil war, get over slavery (crikey our country was formed on a bunch of thieves and murderers and now we hail the first fleet as a pioneering heroes - then we do celebrate a war we lost and love our bushrangers.)

For goodness sakes, I'm so over this sensitivity in relation to race - as long as we even 'notice' racial disparity, we'll never get over it. Oddly enough, the poverty stricken drunks and homeless near where I work are all white . .every one of them.

I'm actually sick and tired of feeling like I have to apologise for being English, white, and arguably middle class. I don't get my knickers in a twist when someone calls me a mongrel convict or suggests that I don't bathe frequently enough. Believe, me that was the case when I first emigrated here.

Erm, did you spot the girl shaking her booty in the guys face. Buggered if I can see it and I think one guy is wearing a Jamaican headband. Put me in there with the partygoers please because Cricket's so boring, it needs a bit of rhythm.

I think much like the British, the Aussies are very good at poking fun at themselves so this sort of criticism seems unthinkable. Then we're not known for our political correctness:

Although picking on New Zealanders . . .well that's just fair game:

Learn how to laugh at yourselves because really . . you're all very funny!

By Silken Threads We Connect

Despite hot, sticky and inclement weather . . I don't think I'll ever get used to warm torrential rain . . . today we popped over to the business end of the Powerhouse Museum to see something rather special.

The Powerhouse Museum is so named because it's now located in the converted Pyrmont Powerhouse in Sydney's inner west. It's a modern technology museum with everything from fashion to science, environmental gagetry and space travel. We love it but literally 1km from our house, is the 'business end' of the museum. Their storage facility and the place where large exhibits are renovated and restored, where tiny exhibits are lovingly placed in sliding hermetically sealed drawers and once a month, an open day is run by volunteers.

Much fun and while it isn't your 'traditional' museum, much more industrial and authentic than most, we had fun wondering around.

This Saturday, the open day featured a quilt. A rather special quilt where three of Clare's friends had contributed a 'square' to the main feature. The project was initiated by a Melbourne girl to create a friendship quilt in red and white. Where each participant made a square and contributed to the whole. Three sisters, friends of Clare's, each made their own panel.


Also, because today is the first day of the Chinese New Year (although celebrations do not culminate until the end of February) we were also given a display of lion dancing and cymbals and drums by the local Chinese troop.

The lion waits atop a drum . . .

Not so spectacular without the sound of drums and cymbals. . .

So, as I sit here now at 6:55 having been to the Powerhouse open day, enjoyed some lion dancing and had the most wonderful seafood lunch with an old work colleague and his delightful wife . . including a serenade from the rather sweet long haired Chihuahua named 'Chicka' who likes to sing along to Shaggy . . .I am replete. Friends remembered and friends rediscovered.

I don't care about the drip in my ceiling being caught by a red bucket in the middle of the lounge, or the torrential downpour, or the lizard poo on the carpet. . . I needed a day like today to remind me that there are bonds in friendship that go beyond red silk and the passage of time.

Yes, my roof is leaking . . .such is the downpour

Thank you Emily for making us aware and thank you Henk and Marion for your hospitality. Friends are like silk. Natural, sticky, colourful, delicate but have the strength to endure.

For the first time in a long time . . .I am feeling very, very happy. Now I must away and vacuum up the poo.

Mirror

I'm of the vintage where disco was king. And this Theme Thursday is "Mirror"

Oh yeah . . Saturday Night Fever was top of the pops when I was in my late teens, and the disco fever took us all for a good five years. We knew we Should Be Dancin'

We used to go to our local club one Friday a month and dance our little fluffy hair-doo's off. They were the days of constant beats, high pitched voices, schoozhy hairdos, massive earrings, wide belts, platform heels and hair combs with pretty dangly bits of gold. We had dusky eyes and thick lashes, too much blush and luscious lips - 'Pot o Gloss' went everywhere with us, Jean Nate was the splash-on cologne of preference or a little patchouli on the pulse points. Girls went to the loo in bunches, boys minded the handbags. And all the time, that disco ball kept spinning, making our schparkly bits twinkle and pulsing to the beat.

Yep it was raining men beneath that mirror ball. We Turned the Beat Around and did Anything For You. We Had to Have Your Love and occasionally pulled out the Bus Stop and the Hustle. We were Born to Be Alive, we thanked God it was Friday and That's The Way aha aha we liked it! We were Walking on Sunshine and knew it was a Love Thing. And when the night was drawing to a close, disco made us Feel Brand New as we were Slaves to the Rhythm . . . all under the gaze of that shiny disco ball! Can you believe she's 60! Biatch!

The voice, is Steve Lipson, one time Rolling Stone Producer, Trevor Horn, his partner in crime and co-writer of this fab song.

Can't remember how to do it . . .here's a quick lesson: (Sorry Ebs!)

Terminated . . but I will Survive

Well I officially moved yet again within my place of work. Hopefully to a more permanent hidey hole within the Business Services area reporting to the woman I first reported to when I started there which is a good thing. She and I get on just fine and the team of girls are lovely plus I still get to work with my five men.

There's no shame in being offered a lesser position rather than being asked to go.

However at 11am this morning. All managers were called into the boardroom and told that my big boss, the troll bitch, the one that's been upsetting everyone and behaving badly has 'left the building'. Yep, she was given the shaft, shown the door, sacked, fired, terminated, given the flick . . . I'm not gloating. I take no pleasure in someone else's dismissal. I know what it's like to lose your job and it's no fun but in this case, the decision was a good one. Shame it cost me $7,000 a year in a demotion!

Will she be replaced? Will I get to be a well paid EA again? Who knows.

I think the learning curve has been steep, people have their noses well out of joint and generally, everyone seems very happy to see the back of her.

I do feel in some small way vindicated. I was beginning to feel useless, lacked self-confidence, doubted my ability in all things . . . I can start over now. I'm still looking for something else and had two interviews on Friday which seemed to go fairly well For now, I'm settled, hopefully for a few months.

I have never in my 37 years of working met a more loathsome, back-biting, lying, insidious, intolerant, rude, deprecating and vulgar human being. I'm ashamed that it was a woman who adopted such behaviours just to 'cut it' with the men. Clearly her tactics did not work and I'm happy that she is no longer there.

The big tragedy . . she will have walked away with a handsome sum since her contract was terminated prematurely. And I've had to take a $7,000 a year pay cut!

Feeling a Little Moist

It's a little moist down under . .steady!!!!!

These times are the February of my past. Hot, wet, warm. Great if you're with the love of your life but not so pleasant if you're trying to get your washing dry.

El Ninio and El Ninia seem to have beleaguered our fair nation for years. We've had 10 years of drought, water restrictions and hot brown weather but this February takes me back 15 years. It's sticky, humid, grey, wet . . .GREEN . . just in a matter of 3 days the landscape has lushed up.

My kids lament the lack of sunshine but this is 'normal' to me. The past two weekends have blessed us with rain. I know that in the green north this is no big deal but when your dams are below 51% and your land parched, your back yard a dustbowl, your ewes sold off for meat instead of lambing and your farm on the edge of obliteration . . .rain is a lifesaver. And it's falling in abundance.

Rain is our salvation, always welcome, relished, enjoyed and unusual.

This weekend, it has poured, Lily is in her element because labradors love water. I've had to lock her in her enclosure adjacent to the laundry to avoid her royal sogginess jumping on my bed and smelling like an old rug.

Clare and Adam were a little disappointed because they'd arranged a picnic with the Groovy Grannies and had to resort to the dry refuge of a central coast restaurant instead of al fresco by the beach. I'm a little pissed because my washing isn't drying. Having said that, I'm sitting here in a T Shirt and my glasses fogging up every time I open the oven to check the progress of my lasagne.

Bottom line, the frogs are chirping at a deafening level, the trees are palpably saying 'thank you' to the watery muses and my pool has topped up to overflowing. Rain is a blessing, a sign of renewal and drips positive energy, everywhere . . .

There's nothing more soporific than falling asleep to the sound of raindrops cascading on your hot tin roof . . .I love the rain . . .

So does my orange jasmine . .dripping with luscious moisture

Sheering off the gutters . . .

Soggy ponies . . it's not cold so don't feel too sorry for them. At least the flies aren't bothering them . . .

What you lookin' at . .I'm just drying out . ..

There are children here who have NEVER seen a puddle

Yeh well washing can be a problem . . .

Hanging out to dry, but not too successfully . .could be damp knickers on Monday.

So we hunker down and play games . . .

And watch movies . . .

Friday Fuckwit in Transit

Actually, one of my bug-bears whilst sitting in bumper to bumper traffic are the fuckwits who drive in the transit lane with no passengers, just to queue jump. Not fair and not nice. Although some will go to great lengths to deceive and look like there is more than one person in the car. This fuckwit isn't the first but she did do it with style:

A New Yorker faces a $135 traffic fine for using a mannequin as her "plus one" in the high-occupancy vehicle lane of the Long Island Expressway.

An alert sheriff's deputy on Long Island became suspicious this week when he saw the "passenger" wearing sunglasses and using the visor. The problem: The sky was overcast.




When he stopped the vehicle, he found the torso mannequin, fully dressed with a long dark wig, blazer, shirt and scarf.

The 61-year-old driver left with a summons.

Now if they could get Hugh Jackman to stand in the ladies loo with a terry towelling jump suit on . . . .

I See Red

I so cheated because I'm having a shit of a week:

And I can honestly say that I've never seen a red kangaroo in the wild. . . shame . . .shame . . .shame. Hey, it fits the Thursday Theme Red . . I'm sure others have much more to say.