Father vs Daddy Ranty Pants

Alright, this is a bit of a rant!!

Any dick, or at least the vast majority of 'em can become a father. A bit of a squirt and some fortuitous or otherwise timing and the deed is set in motion. The father making is the very easy bit.

The Daddy making is far harder.

Some advice to those dick squirts who think that their most impressive act finished at ejaculation:

• If you are not going to be around full time , then at least abide by the Mummy rules, do not be the good-time dick.
• Recognise that it costs MONEY to raise the product of your woopie! and far more than you believe or think it should, so stump up the bloody cash, well before you buy ciggies or booze or drugs or a new guitar, and for the sake of your child DO NOT quit your job just so you don't have to pay any child support.
• For the short time you see your child, make them the ONLY FOCUS in your day. Don't plonk 'em in front of the tellie or the wii so you can zone out, play with 'em, talk to 'em, feed 'em and remember there is a reason why children are not meant to be watching M rated movies, even if you have illegally downloaded them, the movies that is not the kid.
• Do NOT use the child as a weapon against their mother.
• Make decisions based on what is good for the child, not what is easiest for you, or what will be most problematic for Mum.
• Make sure your child has a shower and brushes their teeth, especially if you are dropping them at school. Remember that in this instance YOU are in great measure in charge of how your kid is perceived by their peers, and no one ever wanted to sit next to the stinky kid!
• It's not rocket science is it?  Either be happy that you have donated the sperm and leave it at that, or treat the product of your bits at least as well as you might a puppy, love 'em and respect the efforts of the fulltime mummy.

I really reckon it would all too often be in the kids' best interest if the discharge of the sperm was the end of the story.

Support call centres

My sick little cherub seems to be on the mend, though exactly how or why is a complete mystery to me.

It seems that my lovely Samsung girlie, didn't like the new windows programme that Adriano downloaded for me, so after getting some help from Vince at Office Works and 2 different blokes at Samsung I have managed to get rid of the new one and reinstate the old one and now tomorrow maybe I will face the idea of putting the new one on again.....oh dear. I can feel a disaster coming on.

It is probably one of only a few of growth industries : The IT support lines and how these people must just hate oldies like me calling . At least I am not deaf or in any way hearing impaired, so I can hear what they say, even if I have no fucking idea what it means. Rem and I danced around for a while until he came to grips with the certain knowledge that I am a computer idiot but also that I was not going to be fobbed off until the machine was working properly.

For the time being then the little girl is working like a well oiled motor mower. Yippee. I only hope that she continues to behave like our old motor mower and is as reliable and effective. The mechanical relic received an overhaul recently and so for the first time in 5 years she was tickled and tweaked, remarkable really when I remember that she was on the pension when we bought her from an old bloke walking past the house 5 years ago.

I rather doubt there is a call centre for servicing an ancient mower, but if my Samsung keeps working well I'll be able to find a demo on YouTube.

Can my new machine really be busted??

I've had trouble with my new computer today. Steve gave it to me for Christmas and really I have had no trouble at all, except that I needed to teach myself some new stuff, but yesterday we had Adriano come in to service the old relic - no not me!! the 6 year old lap top which had slowed down and had developed a mind of it's own and was more than a little hard to get along with - yeh I know, could be me but I am pretty sure that Adriano would have drawn the line and run a mile had I asked to service ME.

So while he was here he had a quick look at my new girl and he download some new bloody app and ever since then the machine keeps freezing and I have had to turn it off more times than I have fingers to get it going again, all very frustrating!! I reckon it's time I learnt to leave well enough alone.

It seems that Windows 8 was a bit defective so they replaced it with Windows 8.1 and bugger me this came free of charge. Well the 8 was working just fine! I had learnt how to do stuff and was happy chugging along with the broken thing. Now I don't pretend to know what bloody difference comes with 8.1 but it is too coincidental to think that my trouble today did not come in on its coat tails.

I am not afraid of technology, I just reckon it should be designed to make our lives easier, not drive us around the fucking bend, hell bent on throwing things at concrete and making a bee line for the vodka.

I hope that by the miracle of modern machines, it rights itself by tomorrow because if not I will have to go and ask for some help from some sanctimonious 12 year old with plugs in its ears who will roll their eyes as they deal with another geriatric with slow fingers and an even slower brain.

I am hoping for a visit from the techno fairies. I'll leave a little bickie out, or maybe that should be a cookie.... ( no I don't know what it is - just going for the giggle)

The Wolf of Wall Street

 

This is quite the epic! 3 hours almost so the comfy chairs in the Gold lounge are a must I reckon.

The story was ok if a bit predictable and I thought Di Caprio was excellent, but I just felt that the 70s / 80s sort of soft porn  was all a bit ho hum. There is lots and lots of full female nudity and not one dick to be seen. All very, women are replaceable and men reign supreme so we can't show you their bits in case they fall off or explode, and it seemed one of the themes was success is built on an erection or an erection comes with success, I am not sure really, maybe it's that you can buy a cock if you have enough money? Anyway there was more screwing around and money making and drug use than there was story line.

What I did find amazing was that for the first time I have ever noticed, some of the sessions were booked out and I just looked and the movie is playing in both theatres next Saturday, so there is obviously an appeal that I don't understand.

The other thing I found remarkable was that the place charges $6 for a post mix diet coke. This is just carbonated water and a squirt of chemical sweetness. I had ordered it but when she told me the price I had to unorder very quickly. I don't like the post mix stuff anyway and I sure wasn't going to pay 6 bucks for it when a coffee is $4.

It was pleasant sitting in the airconditioned darkness for 3 hours but that might be the best I could say.

Locals vote with their feet and run away from 'The Deck' Currumbin

Living in a tourist destination is all very well. I am minutes from the 'Best beach in the World' and if I was into Theme parks then I would be in ride heaven. There are lots and lots of places to eat and drink and I am definitely spoilt for choice about where to swim for the 9 glorious months of swimming weather.

The Goldie has a permanent population of more than half a million people. Now most of these people, like me, have come from somewhere else, and many do not call it home for ever. Yeh it is a fairly transient group, but a sizeable group nonetheless. The residents are the folk who keep small businesses going during the lean months when the tourists stay at home and educate their kids or ski the slopes, so wouldn't you think that it would be wise to treat the locals with at least a little respect as you go about grabbing their cash.

I suppose I must be a bit of a loon to go to a café very near the Currumbin Bird Sanctuary - a popular destination for Goldie visitors. Expecting that any proprietor near here gives a bugger for the locals, is just plain bloody stupid. But stupidly I headed off to The Deck for breakfast because the view is spectacular and Dog can sit under the table if we sit at a footpath table. It always seems a bit expensive so it doesn't pay to spend too much time looking at the prices.

Today we had bacon and poached eggs $14 ea and mugs of cappuccino $5, so a bit less than 40 bucks for breakfast, why not for a treat. Steve went to pay and as no bill was issued he was busy working out the charges in his head. $3.75 for something and then a whopping 16% surcharge because it is a public holiday, all up $48 and some change.

Now there were no doubt some locals there ( I reckon a dog means local ) but there were lots of foreign accents and aussies from afar. The foreigners, I imagine when standing next to the cash register would be busy doing a calculation back to their native currency and so would  not be  too worried about the dollar maths and when on holiday, maybe you get more blasé about it all.

I reckon NOT issuing a bill means that the punters are not given time to question the charges and most of us are unlikely to stand there and do the math in our heads and make a fuss. So the place wins more often than not.

I got shitty about all this especially after an altercation at the pictures on Saturday over a $6 post mix diet coke. So I rang the café on our way home. The owner / manager was too busy to come to the phone. She rang me back and my first impression was that she had not been slapped too hard with the manners stick. She didn't bother introducing herself. She said she wouldn't have charged me $3.75 for the teaspoon of jam and that if I fancied driving the 50 km round trip she would give me $4 back ( this didn't cover the surcharge, but I let it ride) She told me she was entitled to charge whatever she wanted and that she had a sign up for  a week or so and that there was a notice somewhere on the menu. I agreed that she was entitled to charge what she liked and I was entitled to vote with my feet and go elsewhere.

Really she needed some lessons in customer service. Her manner was brittle and dismissive and rather unpleasant.

The beach at Elephant Rock is beautiful and Dog loves going there, so we will be back, but next time we'll try The Shack just a few hundred metres away. That's the thing about a tourist destination, there is always another café / restaurant / bar not too far away.

Australia Day - Wave a Flag and do not be ashamed.

 

I bet Japanese people are still pleased to be Japanese even though their government kills whales.

I bet Americans are still pleased to be American even though their government killed off their indigenous folk and they have had a president who wrongfully used cigars and another called tricky dicky for different reasons entirely.

I bet the French are still pleased to be French even though their president can't keep it in his pants.

I bet Greeks are still pleased to be Greeks even though their government sent 'em broke.

Is there a country anywhere that can claim it's government, throughout history, has never done anything embarrassing or hateful or just bloody stupid.

Yeh stuff goes on here in the land of the barbie and the prawns, that is less than wonderful and certainly stuff has happened in history which completely and utterly beggars belief. I feel shame when I see our leaders on the world stage making complete arses of themselves, I feel anger when they slide in legislation that I find appalling, I want to slap 'em when they come out with disgusting remarks about gays or women or single mothers etc, but all this never stops me feeling pleased to Australian.

I complain and write letters and protest about things that I feel are wrong. The very fact that it is my right to do so is one of the reasons I feel lucky to live here. I enjoy our languid lifestyle and our 'No worries mate' attitude. I am proud to say that as a nation we are generous and helpful and happy and reasonably well educated. We are a great people!

It strikes me as too strange for words, when I read all that left-wing rhetoric about how because of our shame we should not celebrate Australia Day.

I reckon if people are not pleased to be Australian then they should do a Germaine Greer and bugger off.

Me? well I am happy to be here and will wave the flag with vim and vigour today and any day I feel like it.

Flying the Rainbow Flag

I watched Stephen Fry's "Out There" part 1 last night. He is going around the world putting himself in positions where he has to listen to the biggest load of hogswallop, and he's doing this to make a documentary about the intolerance gay people face. Some of the footage and the turdy fucks he speaks with, beggared belief.

I know he must reckon that making this doco will make a difference and he sees that perhaps through his celebrity he can make some inroads for change, and I certainly hope that it is true.

Zig came out with the most appalling sentence that I have heard him utter. He said, 'Gays are disgusting'.

Well I very nearly fell over and choked on my sandwich. This needed carful handling, at least as much as Stephen's dealing with that Ugandan dick!

It took a while but it became clear that Zig, bless his heart had no idea what Gay was. So this needed to be explained, quite simply as 2 blokes or 2 women loving each other, maybe kissing. Same as a man and a woman do. I think somewhere through this discussion, disgusting might have been said again.

Well Bugger me!! He sure as shit did not get this from his mother and it was soooo long since school broke for the holidays, that I very much doubt that is where it came from. So the source is guessable and there of course is no proof and Zig will be much older before he stops trying to protect him, but I am willing to bet,  HIM it was.

So  how to go about trying to give this lovely boy a different perspective? Well as luck would have it, I was using my facebook page to put birthdays on my old fashioned paper calendar and he was helping, you know finding the right month and trying not to do too much damage to the fixings as he swung on the pages. He had a bit of a look at each of their facies and I gave him some of their history and how I know them.

Well up popped my long time friend Michael who has watched Zig's  mum grow up, he gave the toast speech at Belly's 18th. I asked Zig if he looked disgusting, and he said 'NO'. I told him that Michael is gay. We had a look at photos of Michael and Chris and I asked if they looked disgusting. Zig said 'NO' We found David's page and saw pics of him and his husband Rob and we agreed that they didn't look disgusting either. And so it went. When Belly arrived to take him home after his summer at the big house, this all came up in the usual chatter. You know, how 's work? what's going on over the weekend? did you know Zig thinks gays are disgusting? When I mentioned Michael, Belly's face lit up and I know that Zig could see how much she likes Michael.

I know that the task of encouraging Zig to question the views of his father is fraught with difficulty. I hope that by meeting and knowing our gay friends Zig will naturally wonder.

It beggars belief that folk, mostly men, who make such disgusting disparaging remarks about gay people in fact know NO GAY PEOPLE at all and so have no point of reference.

Southport Broadwater Parklands

Sometimes, if not too often in a cynical life, you can be pleased with how the bureaucrats spend your money.

I do not know and do not want to know just how much cash was splurged by the Gold Coast City Council on the Southport Broadwater Parklands,  but after having visited today, I must say that a lovely job has been done.

Zig and I swam in the tidal pool area, and he thoroughly enjoyed launching himself off the Lego man Pontoon thing. The parklands are vast and house a number of interesting sculptures and some odd looking shade shelters. The playgrounds are well equipped and maintained and I am only guessing but the Jumping Water Castle area seems like a lot of fun if too much for Zig, well actually just too much for me if I had to watch him put himself at risk if he threw himself off the heights like the big boys were doing.

I was surprised that there wasn't any ice cream seller or mobile foodie thing of any sort. There is a café on the far otherside near the car park, and I can only guess that they have it all sewn up. I reckon an old Mr Whippy van would make an excellent bit of coin on the weekend if it just rolled up on the side of the road.

Anyway it's a great place for the kids and I enjoyed it too. Maybe next holiday we will remember that it is there and go again. Get some value out of the rates dollar!!

Market fun

Who remembers when local markets were places to go if you wanted to find some fabulous hand made bits and bobs? And then the stalls were taken over by people who have imported some tat from China.

Years ago when Belly was a baby, I did the rounds with girlfriends. I made chocolate fudge and Gayle made cookies and very often we sold out. Profits were not premium in fact I doubt that, had we considered electricity charges and our time, we made bugger all, but we enjoyed it.

Noelene and I made kids' stuff, patchwork quilts and soft toys and mobiles, and trooped off to one of Brisvegas' flashest markets. I do believe we sold NOTHING, except that we pulled apart the mobiles and sold a couple of the toys separately. I reckon by the end of that weekend I might have just about had enough of 'market type folk'

I have set up an easel and tried to flog off paintings and been completely underwhelmed with the punters' responses.

This evening we took Zig to the Surfers Paradise Markets so he could have a look for something for his Mum's birthday, and I was very pleased to see that perhaps the tide is turning against the imported nonsense and is being replaced with folk trying to flog their own stuff.

There was a lovely woman who had hand knitted woollen hats, sort of like beenies, but with all manner of interesting texture and colours and feathers. Just lovely they were, but it was stinking shitty hot and I felt badly that I just couldn't buy 1 or 2. I reckon some of my mates from the UK would be most impressed. Maybe when the weather breaks I will go back. They are certainly memorable.

There was a young guy who had hand crafted hand bags. These were just beautiful and I do love a handie. We were thinking that Belly might like one, but as they were pretty pricey, I reckon she aught to have some input. These bags were also memorable and a good excuse to return.

There was some shit and Zig got stung buying some whistle thing for a fiver. He almost cried when he realised that he had been conned. All a learning exercise I guess but I wanted to go and slap 'em in the head all the same.

It's a pleasant market, much better than the ones in Brisbane over Christmas, and I look forward to going back again soon.

Holidays are finishing fast.

 

The summer is sliding away. Oh I am aware that February brings the worst of the heat, but the summer in terms of kids on holidays is about over. Zig returns to school next Tuesday, so our summer of play is all but up.

I know many parents must be about at their wits end, but I have loved it, that is the Grandie joy. I reckon keeping kids entertained for long stretches is pretty difficult, and I am glad for some teacher training in that I divide the day up into chunks and have a number of activities in mind. Of course Zig has a mind of his own and so the schedule often goes up in smoke, and sometimes like this morning I get caught up with people and so he needs to suck it up and go into a more adult  mode, and patiently ride it out til it's his turn again. We spent a couple of hours in the park today with friends and dogs and he hung in there. Of course that has not been the order of most of his days so I guess that is ok.

Anyway the longer he is away from his Mum, the more he is missing her and that's the way it should be. He would love to be having a holiday with her and in a truly honest moment would probably admit to just barely tolerating being at the big house, even if he does love swimming and the dog.

I reckon it's well and truly time for him to be back in the routine of school with some mates cos he is fair too young to be an old man and if he spends too much more time with old people then that's what he might morph into.

School's a calling and I still have 10 more books to cover with contact ARGHHHHH

State Schools are free - what utter RUBBISH

 

There really is no such thing as a free ANYTHING.

We spent the morning shopping for 'return to school stuff' Kids lose stuff all the time, it's just the nature of the beast, so I can't be rousing on Zig cos his bottle is gone or his lunch box or for that matter most of the stuff that was a staple requirement last year. It's gone or broken or it's fallen to bits during a lunchtime game of kick the shit out of anything cos I am a boy.

So we had a list of stuff that need to be stuffed into the bag and that was also needed. I had looked at all the books that had arrived during the hols, bought through the school system so the Pand C get a kick back. For $200 I have to say you don't get an awful lot, and the money spent today also didn't buy too much.

What I wonder is just what do people do who really haven't got a pot to piss in and have no relatives who are in a position to help out. The kids must front up to school with the wrong stuff, or NO stuff at all. Zig is pretty independent minded. He doesn't seem to want the same bag as everyone else, or the same pencil case or the shoes, but oddly enough the school hat seems to be a MUST. And it's not just any old hat, you can't buy it from Target or Lowes. It has to come from school at an exorbitant price, again fluffing out the coffers of the PandC.

The books are a MUST too. They are text books and associated exercise books, all cost a bloody fortune.

Any pollie who kids themselves that education is free is just a fucking idiot! or else they are running for re-election in a povo suburb.

Never too old to be silly.

Sometimes it is necessary to just be childlike and silly and laugh out loud.

The beach was calling today and so off we went with dog. I didn't want to drive all the way to the Spit so we chanced it at a local bit of beach and yippee it was fine to take her. I didn't even have to pretend to be a foreign tourist who didn't speak English.

She dragged me down to the surf and I took her off the lead and started playing her favourite game of throwing the sand like a maniac.. It didn't take long for the need to sit took over, so then I was sitting in an ever increasingly deep hole still throwing the sand, in-between being tossed around by the waves. As I pivoted around with my arse being the centre of the compass, I was roaring laughing at the silliness of it all. People were walking passed thinking that they were witnessing an early release from the nut house. But who cares?

Sand nether-regions for me and salty shits for Dog. What a fun old time we had.

Saving Mr Banks

 

It is just quite impossible for me to be unbiased about this film as I have adored the 'Mary Poppins' movie since I was a child. I must have seen it when it was first released and then I began collecting all the jigsaw puzzles depicting scenes from the movie. I remember I had 4, and I never tired of emptying the pieces out and re-building the picture. I mean I really really really loved that film.

Belly won a prize at a fancy dress party dressed as Mary, and since Zig was old enough to be able to learn the songs and before he really understood the whole thing, we have often settled in to watch the DVD. He knows all the songs and has his own favourite bits. Now of course he thinks he's a bit big for it all, but if I start singing he will always join in, if there is no one watching.

Steve and I saw the stage show in London just before we came back to Oz in 2007 and we both had a little cry, and Steve can still be heard singing along to 'Let's go fly a kite', when the movie is on, though I rather imagine he would deny this.

Yep I love it!

So off I went to the pictures to see this latest adaption. I should have given thought to the target audience, but I didn't. I thought it was made for people like me even though it has a PG rating. I went off to the gold class lounge and bugger me if people weren't there with their bloody, rattle the wrappers, jump up and down, I've gotta pee, children. Well that was a pisser. It took great control to block out all the shit and just focus on the movie but focus I did and it was lovely.

Tom Hanks and Emma Thompson were very good. I believe after just the smallest bit of research that that whilst the movie did take a few liberties with the truth, Mrs Travis was something of a strange old stick and Ms Thompson managed to capture her well. My impression of Walt Disney is that he was more than a little bit of a bastard but Mr Hanks' portrayal is of a likeable jolly father figure, and the hard arsed business man elements were blotted out. No surprises there as it is a Disney release.

So it ain't a documentary, but I enjoyed it greatly.

Hello Charlotte

Today there was a baby in the big house. How lovely!

Charlotte is a delightful little lump of 5 months, with 2 teeth and a wonderful, light up the room smile. She is a clever combo of mummy's fairness and daddy's ruddy shape. She was alert and only cried once when I held her and that was after quite a long cuddle. That in itself was pretty impressive as I very often have an hysterical crying affect on little people who are too small to get my jokes. I am not at all sure what it is about me that babies find so off putting. It could be that I am scary loud or that they feel, perhaps rightly that they are only minutes away from being thrown to the ceiling or turned upside down, cos these are games I do like to play. Perhaps I am guilty of treating babies as tougher than they really are and that as they push forth into the big bad world, they hear an announcement that they need to be wary of anyone called Sue. Anyway the lovely Charlotte was not too fazed by me and we enjoyed some snuggly cuddles.

Her parcel was wrapped in bright animal paper that crinkled and rattled and tasted pretty damn fine too, by all accounts. I reckon we could all save  ourselves a bundle if we just accepted that the best parcel you can give a kid is a bit of paper or a box. This holds true until they become first world consumers and products of advertising. Zig would be happy with a box or a carton, so long as he had already played with the lego inside and might be more so if it came with instructions on how to make it into a car or a boat or an alien spaceship.

I remember Belly playing with a fridge box for weeks. I cut a doorway and armed her with paints and crayons and she and all her little visitors were off and running. They played with that cardboard until it literally fell to bits. It was a house, a car, a boat, or just something to hide in. They definitely loved that box!

Charlotte and her mummy and daddy live a long way away, but I do hope that we get to see her again this year, or at least before she goes to Uni. Ta to Dan and Sophie for calling in to introduce us to your girl. She's a beaut!

Kids make such quick friends

Life really must be very much simpler when you are a kid. Friends are entertaining 2 of their grandies and so this week there has been a couple of pool centred 'play dates', one there and one here.

Zig is a pretty shy fella, not with adults cos that's who he deals with mostly, but with kids he is usually a bit 'stand back and have a look' rather than jumping in all gung ho.

The 2 brothers are wildly different too, but they welcomed Zig in and fun was had.

It seems that with a pool and an inflatable something and yesterday a dog, well that was all that was necessary to forge a fun holiday friendship.

I was lifeguard yesterday and I reckon it took the kids about 90 minutes to escalate to, 'oh that might hurt.' They just became braver and braver and then hit the stupidity buzzer that I reckon so happens when there is a testosterone overload. I did have to tell 'em to scale it back a bit, cos I didn't want any blood in the pool.

It reminded me of holidays with Belly. She would go off to the pool and instantly meet other kids also on hols and become best friends for a week or so. The kids would wander from apartment to apartment, probably grazing from every fridge, and the big people would know the kids but rarely each other.

I guess as we age we just get to a cynical point where if it's only gonna be for a week , well why bother. But the joy and laughter these boys enjoyed yesterday encourages me to think otherwise. Now that doesn't mean I want to invite strangers into my pool, ooooh YUKKY, but I reckon it aught be possible to spend a little longer looking people in the eye and being pleasant.

Time for the squashing of the boobs

Hard to believe that spending all day in the aircon when it's stinking hot could be a drama but drama it was yesterday. I drove to Brisvegas in the aircon and parked up, bought a coffee and presented myself for the latest 'laying on of hands', and sat patiently in the waiting room with a variety of other women in similar robes of undress.

The new technology in the mamo machine is remarkable.... even with the ridiculous swollen bulbous boob, there was no pain at all, as the squashing is sooo much less than used to be necessary. The images are instant so no in - out - in -out - shake it all about, anymore. They can see straight away if they have your best angle so don't need to bother you with the nerve racking additions to your dance card, when the pics are blurred or your boob came loose at the last minute and a bit turned shyly away from the photographer. So Yippee to digital imaging I say.

The same can't be said for the ultra sound. The goop was more than a little warm, it was like being drowned in some really bad thick soup that Nanna might have made, except that it's not greasy it just feels like it should be. Penelope got the wand thing and went about being fastidious and pernickety. She shovelled right on in there and it must be said that if I was in any other situation I might have found the need to smack her in the head....yeh it hurt. And cos she was being rightfully thorough, very slow. 3 hand towels were not enough to wipe off all the goop, but I suppose that is what the glamorous gowns are for.

While I was waiting I was reading "I laughed, I cried" by Viv Groskop. I bought it cos I thought a book by a stand-up comic might be funny. But I could not have been more wrong! I am glad that it's on the e-reader cos there is not too much effort wasted turning the pages. I am a pretty quick reader anyway, but with this bit of boredom, I am now only bothering with the topic sentence of EACH PAGE.I reckon I got the idea at about page 2 and now am only finishing it because I feel so sorry for the woman. I don't know if she ever made it to the big time, but if this is a sample of her material, I really very much doubt it.

So off to see the gorgeous Geoff for the 23rd year in a row. All was well. We had a chat and he had his customary gentle probe, he gave me the line to say to nosey parker doctors when they ask why I am not doing any chemo this time and  I was outta there.

I arrived at 10ish and left at 2ish plus more than 2 hours of driving so all up not a big day, but I was rooted. Fish and chips and good old veg on the couch.

Back to normal today and off to the picture with Zig. Ahhh.

Come on girls, get your tits out and squashed, it's only a day outta your busy year, and you get to sit in the air con.

Australia's Funniest Home Videos

Australia's Funniest Home Videos is one of Zig's favourite shows, but thus far in his stay we have not managed to find it on the tellie. But he knows the routine. Yesterday in the pool, he decided that we could make a vid for the show, and instead of it being some sort of 'real live' footage, we needed to practise. So I threw the ball, the dog chased the ball and as she ran passed, Zig would go flying into the water. He kept asking, 'Did that look real?'

Now we did this for more than an hour and I can only imagine how his little arm muscles must have been aching from pulling himself out each time, sometimes twice in the one practise, cos he thought that might be funny and 'real'.

Now I watch the show rarely cos all that falling and simulated hurting gives me a bit of a sickness in the belly even though I know most of it is not real. I just wonder when he became such a cynic. I mean he is only 8 and mostly still believes in the tooth fairy - well it is self serving to do so after all his teeth have not all fallen yet. How does he know that most of the footage is rehearsed?

I reckon with Steve on the camera we might get a bit of vid that looks about as real as some of the shit on the tellie. Who knows we might even get something I am happy to send to Channel 9. It might all depend on how fat my arms look as I toss the ball, or how raucous my laugh sounds as I watch for the 200th time, Zig leap into the pool all gangly legs and arms.

How we laughed yesterday in rehearsal. Ahhh !

Angry little fella

I reckon angry aggressive people aught be identified on the second or maybe third outburst and ordered to wear a bright green label to act as a warning to everyone. I mean we can all have a bad day, you know a shitty moment when for no obvious reason, as a result of the stale cereal and the spilt coffee and the late bus and the people shoving leading to a broken heel, and a cross look from the boss, when rationality flees and nutso surfaces and 'Fuck off you dick head!' just tumbles uncontrollably out of your potty mouth. But when this becomes the norm, when people walk a long way out of their way to avoid you, when the scowl creases are permanent, and there are no teeth left unground, then it must be time to pre-warn the general public, that you are an arse and best left alone.

A guy in the park today went form chatty cathy walking his dog with his woman friend to kicking my dog in the head, swearing like a navvy, and getting right up in Steve's face. I am not sure what caused the change, and perhaps he was already shitty, but off he certainly went.

I reckon in a dog park, if you have a dog, then maybe you know and like dogs. But this was not the case when Mr I'm having a shitty day so get the fuck out of my way, arrived today while a big group of us were enjoying the morning breeze and a catchup, while the dogs had a good game of chase me chase me. When Dibs bounded over to say hello and sniff this newcomers bum like a dog does, this fellas immediate reaction was to kick her in the head!! Steve ran over to get Dibs and then the battle really heated up. There was swearing and threats and the guy kept escalating the argument, but when you start at fever pitch, there is not much further to go. So as he is leaving he is shouting that he's gonna ring the council and then as we didn't tremble in our boots, he thought he'd up the anti and say he was gonna call the police. We told him to go ahead and I think I might have said quite loudly to Steve that the bloke is just a dick. This guy should definitely be wearing a green label, a big one so that we could see it from a distance.

As we sat there and watched him disappear I wondered what the woman was saying to him if anything at all. It might have been just be another Teflon moment. Perhaps she is immuned to the outbursts and just loves the dog.

Wash-a-day NOT Nanna style.

Saturday is golf day so that means I have it all to myself. YUMMO!

So I have washed and shopped.

My Nanna used to wash on Saturdays too I reckon cos I can recall clearly sitting on her laundry steps chatting to her through the railings, as she did 3 rounds with her old washer boiler wringer thing. She sweated or glowed as she would have put it and told me over and over to mind out of the way when the wringer was squashing all the stuff. On the second or third time through it all looked like boards, stiff and clean and old fashioned smelling.

It really was a piece of work that old machine and I wonder whether Nanna really was all that happy when one Christmas Dad relaced it with an automatic job. She really must have felt like she was being dragged backwards into the modern era, cos it was about this same time that Dad sorted a sort of indoor LOO. It was just a tack on at the back of the house but it did flush! No more saw dust!

I watch Zig attack all the new gizmos and technology with gusto and I must admit to feeling more than a little old. I actually do not want to imagine where we will be up to by the time I am shuffling off. I hope I am not left too far behind, or at least if I am that Zig and Bell will help me out a little. I reckon it takes a good dose of will power and a good strong kick up the bum from the younger generations for older folk to keep up. And it must have always been this way.

And No it wasn't shit shopping. I needed something to wear to see Geoff on Tuesday. For more than 2 decades I have spruced up to see him so I reckon if an effort wasn't made he might wonder.

New dress, roots done, now only gotta sort my toes and I am done... yeh I know it sounds like getting ready for a date....all part of the 'good luck' ritual which I don't believe in but do not want to jinx.

Bin Day

Today is rubbish day at the big house. Steve takes all the rubbish and puts it in the appropriate bins and pats himself on the back for filling up the general waste one with the grass clippings yesterday so there is no space wasted. And then along come the trucks at different times and one bloke from the airconditioned confines of his truck cabin, pushes a button and the mechanical arm thing picks up the bin and tosses all the shit into the back of the truck where it is compressed into a sanitary little parcel. How very easy for him/her.

It reminded me of the yarn I told Ziggy this week which I am not at all sure he believed. He is curious about how things were different when I was a girl. No I am not offended when he asks this like it might be possible that I am gonna tell him I had a dinosaur for a pet or that I was around before the invention of fire. Mostly I tell him things weren't that much different, but this week I remembered that my Nanna, sweet woman she was, used to have an outside dunny.

I told him that there was a little room built out in the garden and that was the LOO. I told him that there was no flushing of this loo, instead you had to sprinkle saw dust ontop of your wees and poos and that all the shit stayed stinking in the tin and that the tin was changed over every week by the dunny man who would nonchalantly throw the full bin on his shoulder and run, tipping a little excess down his back and onto the grass on his was back to his truck.

Well finally here was a story that impressed!

Zig's reaction, after careful consideration was to suppose that the dunny man must have been very rich cos he was doing a job no one else wanted to do. He was amazed to hear that was not the case.

I wonder if we used Zig's theory of wages who would be best paid today.

Bleaching Good Time

I am wondering what sort of madness pushes me to allow someone to slop toxic chemicals all over my head every 5 weeks or so.

Well of course its is VANITY.

As I have said before I have been colouring my hair for more than 2 decades and it is really the only part of my 'beauty routine' and I am using the term as loosely as it is possible to do so, that I have always been fastidious about.

I might not get the old eyebrows waxed, or my chin for that matter, as often as might be required, and I am happy to go weeks and weeks without a scrap of makeup hitting the face, and now my hair is longer I can pull it up without even combing it, but I do like it to be the colour I want it to be.

Today, as I sat and waited for the chemicals to weave their magic I read quite a number of those trash magazines and what I really noticed was that regardless of the publication, all they want to sell is the skinny lifestyle or access to airbrushing.

It was as strong as the stink of the bleach on my head that the push for this New Year, as is probably always the case, is to get in shape, ie be the size 6 you are meant to be.

2 celebs wearing the same dress and the winner is the skinniest.
Swim suits for all ages and sizes showed women of various ages from size 6 to 14 - hardly ALL.
An article about an actor unable to buy a dress at a flash fashion house cos she was a size 14 and it came with an almost apology for her size instead of a slap at the store.
How many kilos has this person lost.
Make this low fat salad.
How did these celebs get rid of the flab.

Page after bloody page after magazine after fucking magazine. It is no surprise that young women feel like shit about themselves.

I know I am fat, I am over weight I am large I am flobbly, but I am not feeble minded. I can see right through all this shit. I wish all these fucking publications would go broke and that they could be replaced by rags that actually encouraged women to be the best they can be, the happiest they can be, the most productive they can be, NOT the fucking thinnest they can be.

I look forward to a time when our vanity is self directed not media conducted, and I reckon then I will still be able to colour my hair cos it has never been the choice the masses. I have long understood that what I like is not for everyone.

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

I had a movie date with Zig today. Normally during the hols we head off to see some animated or cartoon movie, and I know he loves 'em but often they leave me a bit cold, so when the only G or PG movie that he hadn't seen was Walter Mitty and it was one with real people even if it is Ben Stiller, I jumped at it.

I was pleased that Zig reads well as there is quite a lot of text that is subtly included, and at the start of the movie it was not always completely 8year old obvious if the action was real or imagined, but as the story rolled along, it became more manageable and Zig seemed to really enjoy it, except of course for the bit where his MA let out a little squeal and grabbed his leg in fright. Oh ok I admit that that happened a couple of times but there was a big one when Walt went swimming with the 'porpoise'.

So to the review such as it's gonna be: The movie is pretty good, if a little longwinded. It's beautifully shot and I like to imagine that much of it is indeed shot on location. The story line is far fetched and ends typically and unsurprisingly - but it is American after all.

It was lovely sitting in the dark for a couple of hours eating up our illicit cache of smuggled in sweeties.

Lego mania

Santa delivered a big old box of Lego to Zig, here at the big house and it sure ain't the Lego of my youth.

You might remember those pails of blocks which were all the same or rather the variety of blocks was pretty limited. Yeh there were a couple of different colours and a few different sizes and if you were really flash you might have some wheels and an axel thing, but generally you just shovelled blocks together to make some odd looking building or car or truck, and then pulled it all apart to make another one.

Well times have certainly changed. Now a box of Lego comes with three or more instruction booklets which give step by step guides to the careful construction of things like this QUIINJET and all the little fellas that drive it and fight the good fight...well it might be a bad fight, I don't really have a clue
about 'em all  but Steve knows 'em so it seems what's old is new again in terms of villains and heros, but not blocks.

This construction took more than 700 pieces and almost a full day's work. The focus and attention to detail and of course the ability to read the instructions left me amazed. I reckon all that ready to assemble stuff now made in China, should come with instructions written by Lego experts, at least then a child really might be able to put 'em together

So late yesterday when he finished, I asked Zig if he was gonna pull it apart and do it again, but the answer was 'No'. So now to try to make the most off all those dollars Santa spent importing the box from John Lewis UK, because it wasn't available here, and certainly not in time to get onto Santa's sleigh, I reckon we are gonna try to write some stories using the characters. Well at least that is what Ma has in mind. Zig seems happy to look at the space ship and play with the little fellas. A box of the little guys might have been easier for Santa to carry and could possibly have provided more bang for his buck, except that when Zig unwrapped it he almost cartwheeled, coz it was exactly what he wanted.

Xmas joy.

The ham was a triumph. As Belly walked into the house she could smell it cooking and she said that Poppy was with us. Ahhhh that is success indeed.

We ho ho ho'd to the dancing hat courtesy of Carol and parcels were opened with gusto. We ate and swam and generally caught up with all the news and settled Zig in for his extended stay. What a wonderful Christmas present, having the little guy here for the holidays. I reckon we are so lucky.

The Christmas crackers went down a treat and even Steve was able to win a couple of times. He reckons we have a family secret about how to cheat at crackers. I reckon it's just that we don't give a shit so the competitive edge is irrelevant and so there is no pressure. Anyway silly hats were worn and jokes and riddles told and charades performed badly.
R
We swam all afternoon, even Belly got in. We played catch and Zig and I got to a top of 22 without a dropsy and with MA and Pa and Zig we got to 13 before one or all of is buggered up

By 7 o'clock we were all completely buggered and so it was a quick sanga for an easy dinner and off to bed with Zig. Of course Dog is also utterly out on her feet, almost too pooped to eat her dinner. Now she's out to it and we are so stuffed that we are not rousing her wet old body outside.

What a truly lovely day.

My Dad's Glazed Ham

Bugger me it's HOT!! and not in a good way. I know it's summer and I know I live in a sub tropical area, BUT IT'S HOT.

I got away to an excllent start this morning, running out the door ( alright I am using the term very loosely ) and was at the shops by 9 am just as the doors were opening. We are having christmas tomorrow with Belly and Zig and so I had those last minute things to sort like food and chrsitmas cheery things on sale for 75% off.

I cringed when I saw that crackers were now a less than a fiver instead of the $25 I spent on 'em prior to  xmas, and sweeties and other festive sillyness came in at less than $30 instead of some stupid amount that no doubt I would have parted with prior to the 25th.

I stopped for an expresso on ice but after I had paid for it, they admitted to being a bit short on ice so it was not as cold as it might have been.

Now I know it is odd to be celebrating xmas on the 5th of January, but my oh my how much cheaper is it.... maybe this is what we should always do, except that there is that little bit of darkness in the heart on the 25th if you aren't doing what everyone else is doing. There see, never happy ho hum.

We bought a walloping ham yesterday and I am gonna glaze like my dad would have done, well not exactly like he did, cos he didn't have a recipe and neither do I, so I am working on memory and making it up a bit, and in a way that always reminds Belly of her dear old Poppy and I am gonna make my world famous potato salad and a bit of greens. We have a plum pud for pud but that will have to be seen to be eaten.

Steve is off at golf - god help him in this heat, mad dogs and Englishmen and all that, but before he left he cranked up the air con so it is lovely inside even if the dog doesn't quite know which way is up. Am gonna wrap up parcels and set them under the tree and get ready to let Zig at Santa's surprises.

Roll on christmas I say. ho ho ho de ho.

August Osage County

Yep it's movie season again and I love it. I love the cool darkness and the expectation. I love the over priced snacks and I love love the ads and the glimpses of the coming attractions.

Last night we went off to the Gold Coast Arts Centre cinema for a look at this movie. It is not where I usually go, but the timing suited so off we went. The trouble is that the preliminaries are missing. Maybe because it is a Council run place they don't feel they should put any ads on. Oh there are ads for themselves about what else is going on at the centre but not those wonderful drink ads or ads made specifically for the cinema. I love them! Up on the big screen in beautiful colours and clarity and with a languid pace not used on the tellie. At home we record just about everything so we can fast forward the ads, hence I am not some sort of crazy ad junkie, but the ads at the pictures are just better. And I usually choose my next movie while watching the trailers. So there was a bit lacking, even though the ice cream snack was yummo!

So to the movie. Well it is packed with big names and they definitely did not disappoint. It was very dark and at times laugh out loud funny.

Steve reckons it might have been written for stage because it was wordy and mostly took place inside the house. He didn't NOT like it but I reckon with comments like that, which I agree with, perhaps it's more of a chick flick. It's not like 'Sex in the City 1' which I could watch over and over again - yeh I know, what a saddo!, but I am very pleased I have seen it. Meryl Streep was just brilliant and I don't think I have ever seen Julia Roberts do a better job.

So now to choose the next one, but I reckon I will have to go back to the old haunt to get my ad fix.

Just discovered that Steve is correct. It was indeed a play. He will be pleased that he has kept his 100% correct record in tact.

Home sweet home.

Back from the big smoke yesterday to find the house beautiful and clean and tidy which was a big relief especially after the disaster that was the spiteful shitful tenants earlier in 2013. Carol and Richard had not only been up sorting the place since 4.30am, but we have discovered all manner of little treaties tucked away as well. All that in itself would have made for a happy happy homecoming, but the sheer blissful exuberance and love from the dog was almost enough to bring a little tear to the eye of even the hardened old Pom.

She has barely left our sides since we got in except to shit and I am very pleased to say she happily trots out to do that but then she is back in a flash.

She swam like a maniac in the pool and then settled onto the couch for a good ol' cuddle with her mum, even now she is sitting under my desk as I writing this and it's a pretty small desk, so she is more than a little in the way, but I am not gonna rouse cos I am pleased to see that she is happy that we are home, and really she is not all that heavy on my feet.

Ah she is a good girl and it's very good to be home.

2014 here we come!!

I thought that we were gonna be crackerless this year and whilst I didn't quite go into a 2 year old tantrum strop, it was close. We were all settled for a foodie boozey night in the city apartment across from the Story Bridge, with the ultimate explosion of crackers at midnight. They had a little taster at 8.30pm for the kids and there was not a cracker to be seen. I was less than fucking happy.

But we struggled on with cooking and eating. Steve had had a sneaky little peak at a barge which might have been being placed with some crackers, but he didn't let on in case I was even further disappointed.

Midnight loomed and we straggled out onto the balcony and prepared to be underwhelmed. But then the crackers started on the barge, and even though I was well aware that they were the consolation prize I sat in childlike awe, cos I really do love a cracker. The colours and the sound and the almost smell... It made my evening.

But a word to the Brisbane City Council: Pretending that there is anything flash about that bloody shitful light show, and I am using the term very loosely indeed, is just delusional. It's as plain as the nose on anyone's face that you are just doing some sort of cost cutting. Surely all those residents who live riverside and pay all that appalling rates money deserve a little more of the crackers, and their free loading friends do too.

Can't believe that the year is not even a day old and I have already had a whinge... seriously hope this is not a mirror for 2014 cos I plan for it to be a biggie... YIPPEE!

Here's cheers to a successful indulgent smiling year.