Marriage: 20th Anniversary Edition!

The most astonishing thing has happened!! I was just minding my own business and then suddenly I blinked and guess what??!!

20 years just whizzed past in a nano-second! Unbelievable! 

Apparently Mickey Blue Eyes and I will have been married for a monumental 20 years on this coming Wednesday, the 11th of November, 2015! I could make the usual jokes about how you don't get that long for murder, but that would seem to imply that marriage is some sort of punishment to be endured. Pffffffft. As if. 

I must confess I couldn't even tell you why we've lasted this long. OK, maybe I have an inkling. 

A few months ago we were having a conversation about marriage and divorce, which had us arriving at this conclusion: the only reason ours has survived for 20 years is because neither of us could be bothered with the hassle and rigmarole of going through with divorce proceedings.

We do have arguments and annoy each other, just like every other couple. At the time you are completely outraged and wish to storm out of the house in high dudgeon and haughtily declare that you're never returning. Then, in the next beat you realise it's almost dinner time and something good might be on the telly after that, and really it's rather a lot of effort to pack and exactly where are you going to go anyway? Um. Yeah. Better rethink that. 

Long live romance! 

Anyway, seeing as though I'm now an expert on this subject here is some random advice and thoughts about marriage: 

• Wedding days are just that - a day. Yes, it's a special day, but I firmly believe you can still make it special without spending eleven billionty dollars on a cream puff frock and horse-drawn carriages and doves and all that nonsense. 

It's amazing. We look EXACTLY the same!
Except for the older and fatter thing. Details.

• There's no rush. Live together first. 

• When you are married there is really a frightful amount of a) talking, and b) togetherness. Who would have thought that a schmaltzy Carpenters song got it right? You know, that lyric about 'talking it over, just the two of us - togetherrrrr, togetherrrr?! Okay, you probably don't know, you're not groovy like me.  Check it out below. Anyway, if you're like me and not that great at talking and require alone time the way you require, you know, oxygen, then this will be a challenge. Not a totally impossible one, but a rather significant one. 

• There will be good and bad days. On a bad day I wish I could pack a bag and leave in a huff (see above). On a good day my family are like my coat of armour against the World. *passes over sick bags* 

• Those relationships that seem to be too good to be true probably are. 

• Don't post any of your arguments and drama on Facebook.  

• Remember the old line from the movie Love Story? 'Love means never having to say you're sorry'. Horse shit. If you know you've been a dick, an apology wouldn't go amiss. 

• If your husband isn't one to make grandiose romantic gestures, like sending flowers or writing gushing Facebook posts about you being the love of his life, but instead does the laundry, washes dishes, is a fantastic Dad to your kids, puts up with you being forgetful, disorganised, silent and uncommunicative (see above) and having a raging, totally perplexing Carpenters obsession, then there's a pretty good chance he does love you after all. 

• Likewise, if you're not one to make grandiose romantic gestures, or even say much at all, but instead support your husband's decision to work from home, despite your intense need for quiet time being disrupted, and put up with him being stubborn (yet somehow bizarrely oblivious of this fact), disorganised, and having a raging obsession with shares, soccer and birds (the feathered variety), then there's a pretty good chance that you do love him after all. *hands over more sick bags* 

• One day you will innocently blink your eyes and 20 years will have passed just like that! 

• Don't sweat the small stuff. We have a saying around here: Let it go over your head. No point in getting worked up about him leaving the toilet seat up. Especially if you have even worse habits. Or is that  just me? Ahem. 

• Make it clear early in the peace that you do not share your partner's enthusiasm for soccer, Star Trek or any other riveting obsession. Otherwise you will spend many hours being bored shitless and shivering at football fields on the weekend. Likewise, he isn't going to be enamoured of your fascination with shoe shopping or scrapbooking. Leave each other to it.

• When you are young and wishing to meet a potential partner you are certain that having common interests is essential. It's actually not. See above. Especially if you have, shall we say, some rather offbeat interests. I mean, let's face it, if I'd waited to meet a bloke who shared my Karen Carpenter fascination, I'd be permanently single. 

• Valentine's Day is a load of commercialised bullocks. There's no point in some one making a big fuss on a certain day and sending over-priced flowers then treating you like crap for the rest of the year. It sounds like a cliche, but it truly is the little everyday things that count. 

• If you were married in the 70s, 80s or even the 90s like me, your frock may now be hideous and dated. Not mine. Mine is exquisite and timeless. Because I've always had exquisite taste and didn't wear a cream puff frock. And clearly Kate Middleton totally copied me with her gown. So ner!

And that about wraps up my wisdom and insight* about marriage.

Happy 20th anniversary, Mickey Blue Eyes! 

*I have no wisdom or insight about anything ever. I just pretend I do. Works for me. 

Linking up with Kirsty and Alicia. 

What are your thoughts about marriage? 

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My Thoughts On The Melbourne Cup.

Here's something I prepared earlier for this week's Life This Week link up. Enjoy!   

Howdy folks!  Well, here we are on yet another Monday. And not just any Monday. Yep, you guessed it. It's that time of year again. The time when the entire nation pauses (and apparently goes stark, raving bonkers) over a horse race. I simply don't understand this. 

For those who are unaware of what I'm talking about, Melbourne Cup Day is Australia's most well-known and popular horse-racing event. Completely rational human beings, (who otherwise couldn't care less about such things) suddenly find themselves wearing odd hats and participating in office sweeps. Such is the absurdity of it all, that it has become known as 'the race that stops the nation'.  At around approximately 3 pm on the first Tuesday of every November, the nation holds it's collective breath while this takes place 

Image credit:http://www.racingandsports.com.au/melbournecup/2015-melbourne-cup-page-funstuff

My thoughts about this phenomenon were aptly summed up by Mr 14 the other evening.

"I couldn't give two shits about the Melbourne Cup!" he stated. 

WORD.

Yes, he swore. Which may seem frightfully rude for the more prudish among you (considering his tender age) , but in reality I couldn't agree more with the sentiment. Besides, where do you think he learned such colourful language? His father, of course. Not me. Nope. No way.

Anyway, as I was saying, I totally agree. Plus, in recent years I seem to recall hearing reports of more than one horse dying immediately after the race.  I don't recall specific details, but it all seems a tad nuts if you ask me. 

If that isn't outrageous enough, the event marks a public holiday in the state of Victoria, but it's off to work for all other states. How rude. The fact that I don't have a job is COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT.

In some ways it's a shame that I don't celebrate this dubious occasion. I mean, I would look quite fetching in a stupid hat. And it's a good excuse for a drink or two and a feed. Oh who am I kidding? I don't really need any excuses for those things. Details.

My only fleeting interest in horses began and ended with a brief period of reading 'Jill' books when I was a child. They were written by some one named Ruby Ferguson. 

And oh I say! They were a jolly good read. They revolved around a young horse-obsessed girl named Jill. (Thanks very much, Captain Obvious). She lived in the quaint English country town of Chatton with Mummy (as she still called her mother, despite being well into her teens). Jill went on to acquire her own horses and compete in Gymkhanas. Jill said things like 'do buck up' and 'smashing' and 'Mummy didn't have a carrot to spare!'. 

These books had titles like:

Two Ponies For Jill

Jill Enjoys Her Ponies

Jill's Riding Club

They were perfectly sweet and innocent. I don't know what YOU were thinking. This has absolutely nothing to do with the Melbourne Cup, really. It's just that my mind wanders from one pointless topic or anecdote to the next... 

And what on Earth was I talking about? 

Oh yes. Jill books. I did love those books. That's why it's frightfully horrid to think of Black Boy and Rapide (Jill's horses) being whipped into shape for our entertainment. Apparently in later editions the name 'Black Boy' was changed to the more politically correct 'Best Boy'.

But getting back to the Melbourne Cup. The other thing I don't get is the gambling mentality. I don't even take out lottery tickets. Occasionally I joined in those office sweep things many years (decades) ago when I was working outside the home. But it was honestly just to be polite. My parents would also have a bit of a bet. It was the only day of the year they did. They were otherwise uninterested in horse-racing. It was just a bit of 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' fun for them. They would ask me to pick out a horse and I'd pick the name I liked the best.

Which brings me to another point. Why do the horses always have such odd names? 

I just Googled the list of horses for 2015 purely for this post and one of them is called Beaten Up. Gulp. Not literally, I hope. 

Yet another horse has this interesting title: Gust Of Wind. I assume that's a reference to the horse's speed not it's flatulence, but I couldn't be sure.

So there you have it. In summary: I won't be celebrating the Melbourne Cup tomorrow. Instead, you can find me celebrating the fact that I don't give a shit about it. 

I might revisit my childhood by rereading those Jill books again, though. 

Shut up. They were smashing! 

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva.

Do you celebrate the Melbourne Cup? 

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Here I Am

Hello, dear people. It's been a while since I checked in  here. What's that? You didn't notice? How rude. HMPH.

Anyway, the reason for my absence was the passing of my mother-in-law (may she rest in peace) and being without a laptop. It has finally been fixed, so here I am.

Then, for some zany reason I cannot fathom, last Wednesday I became a dutiful housewife. I dusted. I vacuumed. I cleaned and tidied. I tidied and cleaned. I changed sheets and made beds. I SLAVED over dinner. It certainly was a tremendous effort to order the Chinese take away. I can only hope my family appreciates the extreme sacrifices I make for them.

Needless to say, this led to me being extremely lavish in my efforts to take rather long naps. In addition to all of this I also kept up my regular exercise routine. No seriously, I actually DO have a regular exercise routine. Please stop that sardonic laughter! Actually, I just felt like saying the word sardonic for the sake of it. Sardonic. Very satisfying. It's not like you get to say such words in everyday life, is it? Derisive works here, too. Take your pick. 

But what was I saying? Oh yes. Exercise. I exercise frequently. SUCH a shame that there never appears to be any visible evidence of this. Ditto the housework. Rude. So basically what I am saying is, I am wonder woman. I wonder what I'll do next? I'll probably type this sentence. See?

Then it hit me. This week it's Halloween. I can just leave all the dust and cobwebs and claim they're part of the theme of this week. It's actually like I've been prepared and ready for Halloween for all these years, before Halloween was even a thing in Australia. See? Who said I'm not organised?

But here's my Halloween dilemma. For the past two years we had a few trick or treaters knock on the door. However, I wasn't prepared, so I ended up giving them lame treats, like packets of sultanas or tiny teddies.  I'm wondering if I should stock up on lollies, but at the same time I don't want the temptation of having them around because I'll eat them. I'm classy like that.

My boys haven't expressed any desire to go trick or treating, and secretly I'm glad. It just doesn't appeal to me to go randomly knocking on doors asking for sweets, despite being a chocoholic. Halloween was never really a tradition in Australia when I was growing up in the 1970s and 80s. Maybe that's why I don't get into it. I never feel like I'm missing out on something because it just didn't exist in my childhood.It's like how some people from other parts of the world probably feel like Christmas isn't Christmas without snow. In Australia we never have a white Christmas, and you don't miss something you've never had. You don't even think about it.

Meanwhile, even my 74 year old mother is getting into the Halloween spirit. She was invited to a party and is planning to dress up. There was a time when I went to Rotaract  Halloween parties and dressed up as Morticia. Sadly, these days my only dress up option would be  a witch or ghost.  And all I'd need is the pointy hat, cloak and broomstick. No make-up. Sigh.

Come to think of it, I already became a fully-fledged witch at Weight Witches!  For some reason, there was no broomstick handed out. Furthermore, the nose twitching thing remains mysteriously elusive. Weird. Very weird indeed. Perhaps my magical powers will suddenly come out to play when it's Halloween? Think about it. It certainly would be handy to turn some one into a toad when they annoy you. Just kidding. I'm a nice witch. 

My Morticia days are over *sobs*

Anyway, it's really hard to believe that it's the end of October. Consequently this means that November is a mere week away. Wasn't it just January a couple of months ago?

This means that Mr 6 becomes Mr 7 next Monday and a week later it's mine and Mickey Blue Eyes' 20th wedding anniversary. Wasn't it just 1995 a few years ago? Shut up.

On that note, I still haven't started Christmas shopping. Apparently I like living on the edge. But I'm not alone. According to a comprehensive study I conducted, most people prefer to leave Christmas shopping until December where it belongs. Using 'comprehensive study' in the sense of a random Facebook status update I posted a few weeks ago.

It's all good, though. We are very close to obtaining our passports, which means we can now fire up the private jet and take off at a moments notice if we choose. Or, you know, just go to Dubbo again just because we're quirky. Quirky, dammit! NOT tight-asses. Ahem.

Speaking of random stuff, (we weren't, but you know me and my meandering posts) I actually bought something from Evilbay for the first time ever! I'm onto all the newfangled things just like all the youngsters. There's no telling what can happen from here. Hopefully not Evilbay addiction. Which is a thing, according to certain friends who call it Evilbay for that reason. Scary. But scary is the theme of the week.

So BOO!

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva.

Do you celebrate Halloween? 

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How To Rock A Road Trip

Hello dear people! Welcome to another marvellous Monday! Or perhaps I should say mind-blowing Monday. You see, I have some astonishing information and wisdom to impart.

Did you know that it's exactly one year since the 28th of September 2014???!!! Or am I the only one who spotted that? I am known for my genius like abilities after all.


Furthermore, it's approximately one year since I brought to you some ground breaking life hacks in this post. Well, technically one year and six days, but details!

No doubt this advice has been utterly life-changing for you. Therefore I feel it is only fair to share with you some more of my sage advice and insights.

In no particular order here are some random life hacks/thoughts and advice- Ness style pertaining to road trips. I've just come back from one so I'm an expert! 

Be sure to read until the end for my FREE BONUS TIP!!!! This is an exclusive offer and will expire in approximately eleven billionty days!! Or actually never, but details. Besides, my blog is always free because as outrageous as it seems no one will actually pay me to write drivel on the internet. I know, right? So rude!

Anyway, here is the moment you've been waiting for.

Road Trip Life Hacks - Ness Style

• Packing is stupid. You will always forget stuff and/or over pack. The only thing to do is to take a fuck it attitude and decide that there will probably be shops wherever you are headed, so you can buy whatever you forget. Unless you holiday in some remote area of the world, in which case you're probably crazy anyway so I can't help you. Oh yeah, and make lists in the first place. List do help. Sort of. Unless you have the uncanny ability to lose lists and panic and agonise over what should go on it and... Yeah,whatever. Stick with the shops thing.  

• You will not actually explode and die if you are ever, for instance, in a motel in Wagga Wagga with dodgy Wi-Fi and consequently cannot get internet access. This will be a good thing. It will force you to go outside into the sunshine and socialise with people and read books. Actual books. Remember those? Speaking of books, you simply must go on a book shopping spree! At Vinnies (or similar op shop). They have ones the size of football fields in these country towns and everything is so cheap and nasty you can buy enough to fill a truck. In fact, you may need an actual truck to transport it all home, but like I say - DETAILS! 

• While on holidays you must avoid whatever makes you fat. See above. You will eat all the food. ALL. THE. FOOD. And drink all the scotch/wine/gin/vodka/whatever you fancy. This is why elastic waisted clothes were invented. No amount of walking will eradicate this damage. By all means walk, just don't expect any reward for it other than fresh air and/or sunshine.

• Sleeping in the car during a long road trip isn't very refreshing. You just wake up all dazed and confused and in the twilight zone with a dodgy neck into the bargain. But do it anyway. It's better than being the driver. Ahem.

• Children will never get sick of eating Maccas. Meanwhile you will feel nauseous at the sight or mere thought of those golden arches. Children will delight in these holidays as an opportunity to thrive on a steady junk food diet. I suppose you can't blame them. After all there is not much else to keep them entertained. See above point re dodgy WiFi. There is nothing you can do about this either. Just go with it and enjoy not cooking for a while.

• If you're like me and that glamorous modelling career you dreamt of didn't exactly pan out, there's probably a reason for that. Don't bother packing make-up and hair straighteners and co-ordinated outfits. Just go for comfort and practicality. And warmth. Especially if you're in Wagga Wagga. Jumpers and coats are your friend. Those crazy people walking around in shorts and t-shirts are exactly that. Batshit crazy.

If this miracle never occurs at home, it certainly won't occur
on holidays. Give up.

Congratulations! You're now infinitely wiser with my help. You're welcome. And now, just because I'm so generous here is my promised free bonus tip:

• When you arrive home you will inevitably have shit tonnes of unpacking and washing to do and have to get back into domesticity pronto. So my advise is:  Listen to podcasts or music while you pretend you're doing housework/washing to make it less tedious. I'm positive you would never have thought of this avant garde and mysterious tip without me. Shut up. Done.

Stay tuned until this time next year for more of my wisdom and life hacks. I'm heading into my 45th year and becoming more and more wise each day. Or is that wide? Oh well. Whatever. See you on the road!

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva.

Have you been on any road trips lately?

Do you have any road trip life hacks?  

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Strategies For Night Owls

Everyday I face a formidable challenge. It's unthinkable that anyone should ever have to do this. It's requires herculean effort and extreme sacrifice. You know what I'm talking about, right?

Yes, it's that's dreaded moment when I have to get out of bed!! 
Okay, I'm being a tad melodramatic. But my fellow night owls will know what I'm eluding to. 

What I'm trying to tell you is, I have never been a morning person. This dates back to when I was a child. My brother was always cheerful and happy when he woke up, but I was crotchety and curmudgeonly. Truthfully, I'm not really sure what that word means, I just felt like saying it. 

Curmudgeonly.

Right. Got that out of my system for now. 

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yes, mornings. I've never been enamoured with them since childhood. 

All my brother would have to do is glance sideways at me and I would wail "Geeeeet!" and then sulk and simper. Now, my brother was a bit cheeky so he'd keep winding me up. It didn't take much.

"Muuuum!" I moaned, indignant "Mark's LOOKING at me!!"

I mean, how very dare he! Everyone knows you should never commit the cardinal sin of looking at some one first thing in the morning.  Worse still, imagine anybody speaking to you?! Outrageous!  

It now appears that as a seasoned night owl, I have also bred a whole new generation of night owls. We are all night owls in this family. Supposedly owls are wise and intelligent creatures. We know that it's preposterous to be up at stupid o'clock. As the saying goes: ain't nobody got time for that! 

There have been periods of my life when I rose early and actually went to work.  At one point, when I worked at the NRMA call centre,  I started work at 7am. In retrospect I am quite astonished that I did this. Both the call centre job and the getting up early to do it. Shudders. 

There have even been exceedingly rare occasions when I woke up early to exercise. However, my version of 'early' was something like 7am, not at the crack of dawn. Also known as sparrow fart and stupid o'clock. See above. 

Moreover, I've survived (barely) the sleep deprivation of having three children. No wonder I'm always bewildered and tired. 


But there must be some coping strategies for us night owls. Such as: 

• Hook yourself up to an intravenous coffee drip.
• Take nanna naps everyday.
• Quit your job or become a shift worker.
• Have a pea-sized bladder which forces you out of bed each morning to go to the loo before you explode (works for me).
• Have children. Not only will they regularly wake you early, they will intensify the effect of the pea-sized, exploding bladder by jumping on it each morning.
• Become a vampire.
• Become a witch.
• Decide that the old saying 'the early bird catches the worm' is absurd. After all, who wants worms anyway? Worms are gross! 
• Become a Furry. That way you can pretend you're a pet and snooze on and off all day long. 
• Become Batman.

All jokes aside, I have found the nanna nap strategy to be effective lately. Now that my boys are older and can amuse themselves by attempting to kill each other for  certain periods of time, a little afternoon snooze is doable. Preferably they are power naps rather than nanna naps. The ideal outcome is that I wake up feeling refreshed and energised, instead of like a hundred year old woman named Beryl. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't (just call me Beryl). But still, I'm up for the challenge. 

Additionally, some strategies that can also work for me are taking a vitamin B supplement daily, eating well and, conversely, getting regular exercise. The more I laze about the more lazy and lethargic I feel. I do have to force myself to do this but I always feel better afterwards! 

Plus, I can also comfort myself with this article. The article states that these are scientifically proven reasons being a night owl is better, so it must be true. Besides, it was on the Internet so of course it's true, right? So ner! 

So there you have it. Night Owls FTW! 

Linking up for I Must Confess.

Are you a morning, afternoon or evening person? 

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Confessions Of The Noncompetitive Kind

Today's revelation will probably come as a huge shock. Wait for it. The truth is,  I don't have a single competitive bone in my body. I know, right?!! Who would have guessed? 

The fact that I'm a spectacularly unsuccessful blogger and undomestic goddess with no career whatsoever would never have given that away. Winning! 

This probably explains why I've never enjoyed games of any description: board games, sport games, card games, PlayStation, Xbox and anything else that I've never heard of and don't want to. I also abhor Candy Crush, Farmville, Stick Run and all Facebook games. So there's actually no point in ever sending me gaming requests if we're Facey friends. Just saying. 

The thought of sitting  at a Poker Machine mindlessly dunking in shit tonnes of cash makes me want to poke my eyeballs out. Come to think of it, I don't even take any interest in competitions or giveaways or even purchase lottery tickets. I don't even have a 'you've got to be in it to win it' attitude. Weird.

I don't get into any sport whether it's playing or spectating. I've tried, but I just can't drum up even the smallest amount of enthusiasm or interest in anything. Not for soccer, rugby league, AFL, tennis and especially not cricket. Bats, balls, BORING! 

On the positive side, it's helpful to not actually give a flying fuck when the State Of Origin or Grand Final is on. I couldn't care less who wins or loses. While every one else is sobbing into their stubbies or lamenting their team's wooden spoon status, I'm thoroughly unconcerned. Meh.

However, for success in life in general it would probably be useful to have a bit of fight and competitiveness. After all, we do live in a competitive society. 

I don't know why, but I've never been some one who thought about life in the sense of setting goals and having ambition. I've just drifted along aimlessly. I've always been an off with the pixies space cadet. This isn't exactly helpful in life. I often dislike this trait and wish I was more of a go-getter. More driven, focused and disciplined. 

Maybe it's just that it's hard to strive for something when  you're not exactly sure what it is you should be striving for. It sounds weird but when you struggle with basic things in life like I always  have (anything from talking, to driving to feeling comfortable in my own skin) all you really want is to be 'normal'. Whatever that means.

Apparently you're supposed to hit 17 and suddenly have all the wisdom of the ages and have the utmost clarity of what your calling is. Or something.

But I was so ridiculously shy, quiet, awkward, introverted and just plain old weird that everything seemed out of my reach. I knew emphatically that I did not want to be a teacher. Imagine a whispery voiced Ness attempting to control a room full of children ( I often can't manage my own three, but that's another story. Shut up). So that was out. A careers adviser suggested that I study journalism since my English teachers felt I had writing ability. This seemed absurd to me. I figured that to be a journalist you had to be pushy and possibly even aggressive. So that was out. I couldn't be a nurse or anything in a medical setting because I'm squeamish. So that was out.

I thought, one day I'll wake up and have the confidence or ability to do these things at an certain age. I too, can be mediocre Mrs Average. Have a run of the mill office job, friends, a car, a house, a husband and two point five kids (even though I've never quite understood how you can have point five of a child, but then again, I've never been good at maths)  and be a socialising, multi-tasking soccer Mum. Technically I can tick a few things off that list, but the job remains elusive, while the multi-tasking and socialising with ease are still somewhat fraught and difficult.

The only thing I ever knew with any certainty that I wanted to be was a Mum. Imagine my chagrin to find that I am quite hopeless at the above description. Okay, I won't say hopeless. That's a pretty dire 'all or nothing' word, but it's all challenging for me.

You'd think that being dreamy and whimsical would be helpful to become a writer, but I reckon focus and discipline would be much more helpful. 

I can get lost in writing and forget everything. It would be better to be able to do it for an arbitrary amount of time and then switch attention to other tasks, something I struggle with. Additionally, in order to succeed as a writer you have to be competitive and good at self-promotion. I SUCK at self-promotion. 

Mr 6, on the other hand, is extremely stubborn and competitive. He can't stand losing. I'm not sure if this is good or bad. He's not above making up his own rules in an underhanded attempt to win noughts and crosses. I do put aside my aversion to games in order to play with my little man. 

I suppose I can always comfort myself with the old tortoise and hare fairy tale. The idea that 'slow and steady wins the race'. This is an apt analogy for some one like me who is definitely slow and steady and hates the old 'come out of your shell' cliche. The fact that this is a fairy tale and therefore hogwash is completely irrelevant.

There are times when I witness the behaviour of competitive parents at children's sporting events and come away rather bemused. Of course I want to encourage and support my boys, but wailing at them and berating them like a deranged and possessed demon? Um no, I don't think that's helpful at all.

These days the trend at schools is to give all children participation certificates at school events and not highlight winners and losers. Even though I totally missed out on any sort of competitive gene, I'm not sure I agree with this. This is in spite of the fact that I was always the reject that nobody wanted on their team when sport captains were made to choose their team mates. I still remember the one and only time I did receive a sport award at school assembly and how special I felt. Sadly it didn't propel me into becoming a competitive, driven 'winner' but I suspect nothing ever will.

Just for shits and giggles I looked up the synonyms (the same) and antonyms (opposite) for the word competitive and this is what I found:

Antonyms: 

Passive
Noncompetitive
Unambitious. 


Synonyms:

Aggressive
Cutthroat
Antagonistic
Vying
Combative
Dog-eat-dog
Killer instinct
Emulous
Opposing
Streetwise


Therefore I've come to the conclusion that all of you competitive folk can have your dog-eat-dog, aggressive World. I'm happy in my own little passive one. There are unicorns, cakies and rainbows over here and strictly NO GAMES!! 

Just a random doge meme instead. 

For no other reason than Mr 6 finds them hilarious and the doge doggy looks vaguely like our dog Cookie. You're welcome.

 Plus, we are having tacos for dinner tonight. See? I can be organised and driven when there is food involved!!

Meanwhile, when I logged into Blogger the other day to write this post, I discovered that some one had stolen my old blog spot address and was passing it off as their own with one of my archived posts. Maybe I'm winning at life after all if some one wants to pretend they're me complete with the ubiquitous bogan status!

So I guess I'll just keep plodding and dreaming through life and let all of you winners and strivers get on with it. As you were.

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva.

But before you go please tell me:

Are you a competitive person?

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Our Outback Adventure On Father's Day

There was a time when Mickey Blue Eyes was quite the fan of the Sunday drive. We would all eagerly get into the car and set off on our Sunday adventure.

The mountains, the beach, the city. The World was our oyster. Or something. What does that expression even mean? Besides, oysters are gross. Shudders. Why couldn't the saying be 'the world was my cake'? MUCH better. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sunday drives...

Alas, the years have drifted on and the boys have gotten older. For some reason they are not as enthusiastic to schlep out for the day with their parents. I can't imagine why. I mean, we're completely fascinating and entertaining people, aren't we? Cutting edge, hip and cool type parents. Okay, maybe not...

Does any teen or tween ever think their parents are cool? Just the fact that we use the word 'cool' renders us to the totally lame pile. Everyone knows 'cool' stands for 'constipated, overweight old lady'. Duh.

Cue Fathers Day.

I figured that this would be a perfect opportunity for Mickey Blue Eyes to bribe entice the boys out for one of his whimsical magical mystery tours.

"Let's drive to the central coast and have fish and chips!" he exclaimed, upon waking up. There was a collective groan from all three boys.

"Okay, we'll go to Windsor instead," he bartered.

I shuffled into the shower. The sound of the doorbell rang through the pulsating water.

Two of the boys mates had shown up.  If they weren't interested before, they were certainly less so now.

The shower fog seeped into my mental fog and I suddenly remembered I should have given Mick  his present.  Once dressed, I put together our dodgy gifts in gift bag and woke up Mr 6 who groggily marched out and proffered it to his father. Mickey Blue Eyes looked at it in a dismissive fashion.

"You didn't have to get all that," he muttered.  It was only some booze, nuts and a five dollar mug from the school Fathers Day stall, but I pretended that it was a supreme sacrifice.

"That's okay," I said, hoping I looked all weary and worn out from the effort.

It didn't appear that we were going on the afore mentioned drive so I got straight into my five km run and shit tonnes of housework. Snorts. Just kidding! I settled in with a book and fell asleep. I woke up in a daze a short time later and Mick and the boys were taking the dog for a walk.

I rang my Dad to wish him a happy Fathers Day. I'd already seen him twice through the week. I reflected about how lucky I am to have my Dad.  Happy memories were in mind of all the tickles and stories and games of red light we played in the cul-de-sac where I lived growing up. He's also an excellent Grandpa. He and Mr 14, in particular have a strong bond with their shared passion for Manchester United.

My Dad also has some classic 'Dad Jokes' which he still treats my boys to.  

Joke Number 1:

Him: Want a lolly?
Child: Yes!
Him: Go to bed and kiss your dolly! BOOM TISH 


Joke Number 2:

Him: You know what?
Child: What?!
Him: You're mad and I'm not! 

I know, right?! You can see where I get my comic genius from.

After the phone call we had some lunch and pondered going out for dinner.  Outback Jack's here we come. Because CLASSY.

Mick decided to tease the boys by asking them if they were going to  have the crocodile or kangaroo. They weren't impressed. Yay for Dad jokes! See above.

Image credit: http://www.instanthumour.com/tag/daddy-jokes/page/4dd caption

We arrived at the restaurant, settled into our booth and ordered. The boys were bored witless almost immediately. This led to us dropping some serious coin into one of those chocolate machine contraption things. There was a whole shit tonne of enticing chocolates and treats perched perilously on the edge just waiting to be pushed over. It looked so easy. It wasn't. Eight or so bucks later all we had was one pathetic Freddo which was dropped when opened. Awesome. 

Our food arrived. I can only say one thing; the burgers are better at Hungry Jacks.  In fact, the burgers are better anywhere except Outback Crap. 

As we left the restaurant it was raining and Mr 14 wanted to navigate us home. It's a charming game that he and Mick play. Mr 14 gives directions which take us around the World before we finally arrive home.

Consequently, we did end up going one of Mickey Blue Eyes' entertaining Sunday drives. This also involved one of his little touches called 'here we go round the roundabout a million times until everyone feels nauseous'. Okay, it was only about three times around each roundabout, but that's enough to make me nauseous. Fortunately there were no other cars including a police one around, or the night would have become even more interesting... 

Thus ended our entertaining Fathers Day of 2015. Fun times. 

Image credit: http://www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk/p/keep-calm-and-tell-dad-jokes/

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva. 

How do you celebrate Father's Day? 

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Seven Signs Spring Has Sprung

It's that glorious time of year yet again. Spring is finally here! Well, it's here officially tomorrow, but details! Don't you just feel like singing? 

I always look forward to it because now I can finally get all my spring cleaning done. Snorts. Meanwhile, Christmas is only around the corner! BRING. IT. ON! 

Actually, all sarcasm aside, I do love spring.  During these particular holidays we are going away to Wagga Wagga to visit relatives, so I'm looking forward to it. 

Plus, in November Mr 6 will become Mr 7 and Mickey Blue Eyes and I will celebrate 20 years of wedded stress. Oops, I mean bliss. 

I always know when spring is just around the corner. There are several giveaway signs.

Here are the seven signs that spring has sprung:

1. I need to shave my pits and legs. This requires an industrial strength lawn mower. At which point, I realise that it probably wasn't a great idea to allow them to grow long enough to plait. Is that just me? Okay, no need to answer...

2. I start sneezing. A lot. ACHOO!

3. All the inevitable posts reminding me that Santa arrives in only X amount of days/weeks suddenly start flooding my social media feeds. I resolve that this is finally the year that I'll be organised and get all my Christmas shopping sorted before the end of September. Then I promptly do nothing until the end of November or beginning of December. Apparently I like living on the edge. 

4. I gradually begin to thaw out a little each day. Then I finally emerge blinking into the sunlight. During the winter months I decided to divide my time between bed and the shower. Those are the only places I can warm up despite everyone insisting that it's 'easy' to warm up during winter. 

5. I begin to dread summer and the scorching, searing heat that comes with it. As much as I dislike winter, I also have an aversion to summer. So at least I consistently whinge about the weather all year round. Gotta be consistent people. 

6. I frantically start doing 700 crunches a day to get myself bikini ready for summer. Just kidding! I never do that. I realise that I've actually forgotten to buy a bikini for the 44th year in a row. Oops. I figure it probably wouldn't be a good look for me. (See point number 1). Instead, I stock up on industrial strength 50 plus sunscreen. I'm a ranga. I need to drown myself in that shit. 


7. I sneeze. A lot. Yeah, I know I've already mentioned that, but seriously, it's all the freaking time! ACHOO! ACHOO! ACHOO! 
I certainly do love spring but it doesn't love me. Hello season of sinus headaches. Sigh. I guess I'll be stocking up on Zyrtecs as well as sunscreen. 

Despite all this, I'm glad that spring has finally sprung. I'm feeling so optimistic that I may even decide to do that spring cleaning after all! Shut up. You never know. 

Linking up with Kirsty, Alicia and Eva. 

What does spring mean to you? 

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I Love Lobster (But Liebster Is Good Too)

Why hello groovers and shakers! I'm back after a brief interlude. I was busy sunning myself in Hawaii, drinking cocktails and reading romance novels. Oh wait... 

That was in my fantasies. Sigh.

In reality I was busy with sick kidlets and the general busyness of this thing called life. While it appeared that I wasn't doing anything unusual, my mind was in a constant overdrive of over-thinking about stuff and getting more and more confused. It's a gift people. 

Anyway, a few weeks ago the lovely Rhianna over at Rhianna Writes nominated me for something called a Liebster Award. Thanks, Rhianna! 

At first I thought it was something to with Lobster and I might get a Lobster meal out of it. Nope. Damn. I love lobster mornay. 

I really want lobster now. HMPH.

I just have to answer a few questions. Here goes:

What makes you happy?

That's easy! Cakies and Carpenters music. Oh, and my family of course! I also do a bit of aerobicising every day to get a few endorphins happening. 

Why did you start blogging?

I used to write those awful Christmas/Year In Review letters to my friends and family. They were such a hit that it became clear that I was a comic genius and I should bring my particular brand of self-deprecating bullshit wit and humour to the entire world via a blog. You're all welcome. 


What is the best thing anybody has ever said about your blog?

I've had so many people BEGGING me to write a book. Okay,  it was only one or two people who have kindly suggested it. Another also suggested I should do stand-up comedy. Which is hilarious, because I'm so shy. Somebody else said it shows who I am. Now that I think about it, I was blogging about being a bogan at the time, so I'm not sure if that was a compliment...

What are your top three bucket list items?

Um. The thing is I don't do bucket lists, but my fuck it list is quite long, as the joke goes. 

I suppose if I thought about it I'd like to move to a better house and have an overseas trip with my family. For the third thing I'll say I don't know exactly, but maybe I'll surprise myself and do something I have never even thought of. Okay, it's a long shot, but you never know... 

What is one thing you can't live without?

Oxygen, food and water. Wait, that's three things... 

Um. I'm guessing this question wasn't meant to be taken quite so literally? But what do you want from me? I'm an Aspie!


What is your favourite Australian travel destination?

We've made repeat trips to Cairns and Tassie. So it must be those places. As well as Dubbo. Who could forget about Dubbo? Shut up.

What two countries make you the happiest to visit?

I've only been in two. Australia and Holland when I was a girl. I think I was happy while there. There is actual video footage of a ten-year-old Ness skipping through the tulips in existence, but I have no idea how to upload it here, so you'll have to imagine it. 

Image credit:http://7-themes.com/6975495-tulips-field-holland.html

I skipped through these in 1981. Well, not these actual tulips,
but similar ones. Details.

What is your favourite and least favourite word?

I love words. I can't possibly single out one favourite. There are so many. Myriad, ethereal, curmudgeonly, dishevelled..  Not to mention CAKE. Who can choose?

As for least favourite, again there are several, but I really hate hearing the word retard. Sadly, there have been times when my boys have said it and I turned seventeen different shades of purple and green and have to keep on reiterating that we never say that word. Ugh. 

If you found out that due to a mix-up at the hospital that one of your children wasn't yours, would you give them back?

No, not now. It's far too late for that. They've gone over to the dark side at this point. Now that you mention it, none of them are quiet and shy. Maybe they aren't mine? But I seem to recall being there when they were born. Weird. 

Now, apparently I have to nominate people. This is the part that I find difficult because I am really not very good at this blogging community thing. (I'm trying to be better, but I'm still a space cadet. Oops). By the time I get around to joining in, every other blogger has been nominated already. So I'm just going to nominate the three link-up hosts who I'm joining in with today. Firstly because they're all awesome, and secondly because at least I know that they might read this. Lets face it, the only people who read my musings are other link-up bloggers and my Mum. Which is a shame because so  many people are missing out on my genius. Such a tragedy. Sigh. 

Anyway, over to you Kirsty, Alicia and Eva.

If you've already been nominated, just ignore me or answer in the comments. You can answer any of the above questions or alternatively these ones:

Do you like lobster mornay?

Are you an over thinker? 

Over and out. 

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Making Mondays Marvellous

Hello Monday, you marvellous creature! It's the start of another week and there is so much to look forward to!

But Mondays suck, I hear you exclaim. That is one way of looking at it. However, I am here to argue that the much maligned Monday has much to offer.

• Every body knows that Monday is usually the day that you start diets. Which means that by around lunch time (or morning tea time) you can look forward to eating your body weight in ALL THE FOOD and abruptly ending the Monday diet madness. Or is that just me? 

• It's often a public holiday. 

• It makes you appreciate Fridays even more. 

• It's the only day of the week that starts with an M, making it unique. 

• There are lots of famous songs inspired by Mondays: I Don't Like Mondays, Manic Monday, Rainy Days And Mondays (always get me down...) The fact that they are all negative songs is COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT. 

• Lots of restaurants offer kids eat free deals on Mondays. Since you've already screwed your diet at lunch time, you might as well  forget about cooking and go for it. 

• You can plan all the things you have to do this week and start ticking them off. Alternatively, you can just tick of the days until the weekend.

• You may have a favourite television show which airs on a Monday. I'm not even sure which shows are on on Mondays. What am I like? 

• If Home And Away or Neighbours ended on a cliffhanger on Friday you have all the pent up anticipation of the next episode to look forward to. Surprisingly I don't watch either show. Come to think of it, I don't really watch any shows. Weird.

• The BEST reason of all that Monday ROCKS: It's usually the day I share a new post here on Nessville!!!!!

Admit it, it's the only reason you wake up, right? 

Anyway, lets get down to my exciting list of things that are happening in the land of Nessville this week:

Monday

Most likely I will get out of bed.  If you are reading this then I have managed it. I will certainly look at Facebook. I will post this blog. It's my gift to the world. Just to make your Monday so much better. You're welcome. 

Tuesday

Mickey Blue Eye's birthday is on Tuesday! This of course means one thing: CAKE!!

I also have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday. I had a routine blood test done last Wednesday. This is just for a check-up for my cholesterol and sugar levels as well as my thyroid. So I'm going back to see how it went. I'm quietly optimistic that it's all good. I haven't received any phone calls. Last time I had a blood test, my GP rang me immediately the next day to tell my that my sugar levels were a concern and I had to have a Glucose Tolerance Test. So far, no phone calls this time around. That has to be a good thing, doesn't it? This Weight Witches thing may be paying off after all. Oh my stars! 

Wednesday

I will probably stare into space vacantly after exercising vigorously. At which point I will come to the conclusion that since I just exercised and it still must be some one's birthday somewhere, I can justify having yet more leftover birthday cake. Winning! 

Thursday

I will probably have a cup of tea. Actually several cups of tea. I always do. 

Friday 

I have my monthly weigh-in at Weight Witches. SUCH a glamorous life I lead. At this point I've scheduled in some sulking when all my cake-eating catches up with me. Following this brief period of sulking, I've then scheduled a firm kick up the bum to myself to make myself get back on track. As soon as I figure out how to become a contortionist....

I suppose I could get Mickey Blue Eyes to kick me up the bum. Otherwise, I'll kick HIM up the bum. I mean, it was HIS birthday cake! It's totally his fault that I ate cake! Come to think of it, my Mum and Mr 14 also had birthdays in this past month. More cake! Therefore, it's totally my family's fault for FORCING me to eat ALL THE CAKE. SO rude. 


Saturday

Two out of three boys have soccer. I'm sure it will be as thrilling as last Saturday when Mr 6 informed me "We lost 7 - nil, but I scored TWO GOALS!!" 

Not exactly sure how that works. I think he inherited his logic from me. So proud. 

Sunday

On Sunday I will be sleeping in. There are no other exciting plans. What could be more exciting than sleeping in? 

This will conclude an action-packed week. Just in time for another marvellous Monday! Can't wait... Can you? 

Linking up for I Must Confess,  Open Slather and Mummy Mondays. 

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