Party Like It's 1999!

Far back in the mists of ancient time, in the great and glorious days of the former galactic empire, life was wild, rich and on the whole, child free...

Okay, I may have stolen that line from Douglas Adams' Hitch Hikers Guide To The Galaxy (except for the child free bit). I only did it to reassure myself that I least I learnt and retained something from 13 years of school. I can't remember anything remotely useful from my years at school. For example, correct grammar. That might have come in handy for the purposes of this blog thereby preventing you from wishing to poke your own eyes out or open a vein as you read this. I do apologise.  My brain has only retained those lines from one book that I read more than 25 years ago. Nothing else. Not a thing I can do it about it. Except maybe return to school again. As I've mentioned before I'm sure I could still rock the whole uniform and pig tails thing. It wouldn't be weird AT ALL if I tried to just blend in with Mr 5's class, right?

Anyway, I think I have a point that I'm getting to. Actually no, not really. This whole blog is kind of pointless, really. Sigh. Oh well. It could be worse. My whole life could be pointless. Instead it is filled with meaning and purpose.  And cake. A lot of cake.  Way too much cake.

But getting back to the 'child free' bit. In those days before I had my boys I had such an exciting, thriving and interesting social life. Endless travelling (Dubbo counts as travelling. Shut up. Attending red carpet film premieres (totally imaginary but DETAILS) and parties, parties, parties!

Every other weekend it seemed like there was another one! The invitations just kept on coming! I was SO popular! It was awesome! I flitted from one party to another like the fun-loving social butterfly I always am!  Okay, I think I'm done with the exclamation points.

I most certainly was partying like it was 1999. Because it was 1999.  Or 1995 or 1990 something. That was the period of my life when I was a party animal. I couldn't get enough.

It all started with Nutrimetics. Shut up. They ARE parties. Okay, party plans, then. Hmph. Bloody details. I was searching for somebody to do my professional wedding make up. An acquaintance (I can't remember who) recommended a Nutrimetics consultant. Before you know it the round of 'parties' started. You know the kind. Where you sit around with a bunch of friends, family and your next door neighbour eating too much finger food and cakies,  while the consultant attempts to convince you that you couldn't possibly LIVE for a second longer without their amazing products. Inevitably you order some over priced item that you may or may not end up using. We've all been there.

I have to say that this Nutrimetics lady did end up doing a pretty good job of the wedding make up. Thankfully I do have photographic evidence that I looked okay a hundred million  years ago. Sigh. It was also through the Nutrimetics consultant type lady that I learnt about corrective green concealer to reduce redness I was prone to. Information that would have been helpful ten years earlier when I walked around looking like I had just been slapped hard on both cheeks or had a really bad sunburn. It was just my natural 'glow' or Rosacea which I believe is the medical term. I have to admit that when the Nutrimetics lady originally suggested that I had I thought she was making it up just to sell me another product. Turns out it is a real thing and I did have it. On the plus side I've saved a lot of money on rouge. I've never worn it ever in my life.

When it was time to have my bridal shower/kitchen tea thingy I ended up having an Undercover Wear party, which is lingerie and clothes for the uninitiated.  Some years later another round of Undercover Wear parties surfaced and proliferated through my circle of friends. After a while, if a social occasion came up, usually a wedding, since this was also the decade of weddings amongst my friends, frantic phone calls were necessary to ensure that we weren't going to turn up in the same frock or outfit.

In addition to Nutrimetics and  Undercover Wear there was also the obligatory round of Tupperware parties. Tupperware seems to be one of those things that you either love or you don't. I've known people who obsessively collect it, including the retro stuff, and others, like my mother, who are scathingly dismissive of it as over priced and unnecessary. I'm somewhere in between. I do have a bit of Tupperware in my cupboards, but never became obsessed. Although, I've got to admit, those Shape O things are great for the little ones. I still have one floating around here somewhere that I bought when Mr 12 was little, as well as his first sippy cup and plate, which were Winnie The Pooh themed Tupperware.

Somehow, over the years, the round of 'parties' dissipated as our priorities changed and we all had children and/or mortgages and consequently not as much money to burn. Let's face it, you're always going to buy something at these things even if the host insists you don't have to. Last year I was invited to my first Lorraine Lea linen party for the first time by a neighbour. I spent 70 bucks on two pillows thinking that maybe they are one of those things where you get what pay for, having spent ages searching for that elusive perfect pillow. They turned out to be as pathetic as the 10 dollar ones from Big W. Clearly this is not a sponsored post. I don't think I'd be very good at them somehow. Ahem.

I'm pretty sure my 'partying' days are over. No wait. I STILL like to party like it's 1999. When I wasn't at Tupperware/Nutrimetics/Undercover Wear parties I'd do something really wild and CRAZY called staying home and reading books. I've always been cutting edge.

Linking up with Tegan at Musings Of The Misguided for The Lounge.

                                                       How do you like to 'party'?

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Something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

Today I am talking about music I love. Therefore I know you will be expecting me to bang on about The Carpenters again. Wrong.

This time I'll be talking about someone COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

Karen Carpenter.

See? I do like to mix it up a bit. It is not widely known that Karen Carpenter did, in fact, record one solo album without her brother Richard. I'd like to focus on the solo album.

The story behind the solo is somewhat convoluted and often controversial among the Carpenters fandom. Although it was recorded in 1979 and scheduled for release in early 1980 it was ultimately shelved at the time. Karen Carpenter passed away in 1983 and the album was eventually posthumously released in 1996, 13 years after her death and 16 years after it was recorded.

Richard Carpenter has always steadfastly claimed that it was Karen's decision to shelve the album in 1980. All I will say is, I don't really believe this based on everything I have read. I think the decision was forced on her. The album should have been released at the time. Since it wasn't, I am grateful that Richard finally let the fans have the last part of Karen's legacy.

The album was produced by Phil Ramone with the bulk of the recording done in New York with Billy Joel's band at the time. . This is a great article written by Rob Hoerburger for The New York Times from 1996 regarding the album.

I just wanted to share one or two of my favourite songs from the album. I LOVE this one:

This is quite groovy too.

Don't you just love that 70's sound? No? Oh well - we can't all be groovy and have good taste.

Incidentally, this song was written by Rod Temperton who had also written the songs Rock With You and Off The Wall which he originally offered to Karen. She passed on them and the songs then went on to be hits for Michael Jackson. Useless trivia that my brain remembers instead of where I put my glasses or keys five minutes ago. Sigh.

There are also several out takes from the album floating around the internet. I like this one.

Oh, who am I kidding? I like them ALL. So I had better leave it there.

I should probably try to find some music I like that was recorded in this century by somebody who is actually breathing. Might be handy.  Any suggestions?

Linking up with Robomum for The Lounge.

                                                         What music do you  love?
                                                  
                                                    Which artists do you recommend I listen to
                                                      to catch up with this century?

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Not So Guilty Pleasures

Good morning Groovers and Shakers (or afternoon as the case may be). Welcome to another fabulous Thursday, which is only one day away from Friday! This thought is comforting until the moment you realise you're a parent and Fridays mean nothing anymore. In fact, I have to be up on Saturday morning to take two out of three boys to trial soccer matches at 9am. YAY.

Today the illustrious Lounge Lizards want to know what my guilty pleasures are. I'm not sure I'm sufficiently guilty enough about any of my vices. I haven't been persuaded to abandon any of them that is for certain. Sadly it would seem that most of my 'not guilty enough' pleasures revolve around food.  Of the cakie kind. What a shock. You were expecting me to admit to having a Friday night bong every week. weren't you?

I'm afraid I agree with the wonderful Dolly Parton who famously said in her biography My Life And Other Unfinished Business: "Food is my weakness. I'll take a sandwich and a shake over a jug and a joint any time." You'll have to imagine Dolly's unmistakable twang.  Okay, so I read biographies by Dolly and other stars. Guilty. I may also own at least one Dolly CD titled Both Sides Of Dolly Parton. I'm not sure whether she was trying to be funny with that title.

Anyway, I think we've already established that I have the worst taste in music EVER, but since I'm shameless in my Carpenters addiction I'm not sure if it qualifies as a 'guilty' pleasure. I don't have one iota of ironic distance in my passionate love of their music. In fact, apparently this adoration makes me old school Emo. I knew I was sensitive and emotional.

When it comes to TV, I don't really watch much of it. I'd rather poke my eyeballs out than watch My Kitchen Rules or The Biggest Loser, but I have been known to take in a bit of Big Brother. This is purely for research purposes. Meaning, I have to keep up my bogan cred somehow for the sake of this blog. That's my excuse anyway. I mean, the whole Carpenters loving, goody two shoes Pollyanna image is totally ruining my bogan status. I need to shake things up a bit and watch some puerile Reality TV. It's either that or taking up a pack a day and slab of VB a week habit. Or giving my boys rats tails. Tantamount to child abuse some would say.

I'm also partial to bit of Dr Phil at lunch time. How's that working for you? It's working out okay, thanks Dr Phil. Until that stoopid The Doctors show comes on after it, then I have to switch it off because SQUEAMISH. Plus I don't want to be worrying about all the possible illnesses I may have. At least hypochondria is the one illness I'll never have. BOOM TISH.

The only other guilty pleasure I can think of is actually blogging itself. Then there is all the reading and commenting on other blogs which can all be time consuming. Meanwhile, there are a million other things I could be doing. At the very least I did my exercise first and broke a sweat before I paid any attention to this blog again this morning. All the other stuff can wait. Of course, I'm also addicted to Facebook. There's a very good reason for that.

I do feel somewhat guilty about the pitiful example I am setting for my boys by being online constantly. On the positive side I don't have an Iphone or Smart Phone so at least I'm not always online when I'm out as well.

But surely my most embarrassing guilty pleasure is when I come across an old Enid Blyton book and start reading them again as an adult. Frightfully shameful. Especially when I read a passage from Six Cousins Again the sequel to Six Cousins At Mistletoe Farm where the character says:

"Surely our ducks quack more loudly than any others?" groaned Mrs Longfield, early in the morning. "And need we keep that cock, he wakes me regularly at dawn?"

Upon reading this I chuckle as if I'm an immature eight year old reading it for the first time again. But you have to admit those Enid Blyton books were rather smashing. For children. Ahem.

Now, you'll have to excuse me. Dr Phil is starting. Shut up.

Linking up with Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided for The Lounge.

                                               
                                                        What are your guilty pleasures?

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No Idea

Well it seems that I have run out of ideas for blog posts. Unthinkable really, as I am totally fascinating and a deep and complex thinker so one would never think this could ever happen. I mean I can think about two very important things at the same time. Cake and Karen Carpenter. The juxtaposition of thinking of fattening, sugary carbs and the World's most famous anorexic simultaneously, proves what an intense thinker I am. Plus, I used the word juxtaposition without being entirely sure of what it means and if it's in the correct context. But I still used it. Ditto simultaneously. Using big words means you're deep and intellectual, right?

Anyway, I figured why not traul the Internet looking for inspiration and ideas for blog posts. Groundbreaking right? I'm sure nobody has ever done that before. Alternatively, I could just back away from the lap top and give it a rest but the advice is to always write even you don't feel like writing and clearly I'm a very serious writer, practically a literary genius really so I need to be dedicated to my art. I owe it to the World to not deprive them of my sheer brilliance. Or something. Shut up.

After a quick Google search I have stumbled upon the following brilliant suggestions here, some of which I may just have to give a whirl. Apparently they will make my blog HOT. It's already hot though, so after this I expect it will be SCORCHING. Be careful in case your eye sockets spontaneously combust while reading this due to the level of scorchingness ( it's a word, right?).

IDEAS

RUN A CONTEST/GIVEAWAY

This would be an absolutely sterling idea if I actually had a prize to deliver. Honestly though, aren't contests just a teensy, tiny little bit -well...tiresome. All that comment on this, like that or tell us why you want to win in 25 words or less and you might win some miserable little thing that you managed to exist without perfectly easily for decades. Or is that just me? No wonder I never win anything, not even the bloody meat raffles at the RSL. They are totally rigged I reckon.


REVIEW A BOOK/FILM

This would actually involve going to see a film, something I rarely do.  I did manage to catch that About Time one with Rachel McAdams and I thought it was crap while every one else who's seen it seems to love it. Does that count as a review?

I do not wish to review books. This would make feel like I'm back at school writing essays. *shudders*


MAKE A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE/TUTORIAL

I know nothing. About everything. I have no advice, knowledge, skills or insight about anything on the planet ever.


INTERVIEW SOMEONE

Brilliant idea. Except that I happen to be all alone right now. And I can't be bothered ringing, emailing or visiting anyone because of the fact that I'm all alone right now and frankly, I'm enjoying the peace. So bugger that.


CRITICISE A WEBSITE BLOG OR PERSON

Now that is just mean! What kind of a person or website would suggest doing such a horrible, mean spirited thing just to get people to click on your blog? Haven't they ever heard the saying 'if you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'? What a disgraceful suggestion. I can't believe anyone would ever suggest such a thing. Hmph! Oh wait.. you see what I did there?


CREATE A PHOTO POST

If you've ever seen my photos, you'll wish you hadn't. So I'm sparing you the affront to your eyes by not taking up this option. You're welcome.


WRITE AN INSPIRATIONAL OR MOTIVATIONAL POST

Eat cake. That's inspirational enough for me.


SHARE RECENT TRAVEL EXPERIENCES

In January we went to the NSW Central Coast which is basically like Boganville with a beach. We like to keep it classy. I blogged about it here.


WRITE DOWN A CONSPIRACY THEORY

I do have this conspiracy theory. It's about the Dinner Fairy. I reckon she likes to hide out with the House Work Fairy in some mysterious location where they drink wine and laugh at us. Naughty bloody fairies.


WRITE A POEM OR SING A SONG

I thought these were supposed to be ideas to make people actually want to read your blog not want to run away shrieking!


SHARE A RECIPE

Here are two of my favourites:

Toast

1. Take one or two slices of bread.
2. Pop them in the toaster.
3. Take them out when they pop up.
4. Top them with butter and/or any spread of your choice.

Two-Minute Noodles

1. Open and pour in seasoning sachets.
2. Pour over the boiling water.
3. Walk away to wait the allotted two minutes and totally forget about them for a good 20 minutes until your starving and indignant child reminds you.
4. Not to worry - they will still be hot - serve.

TELL A JOKE

I can't think of any jokes except Mr 5's favourite  Knock Knock one:

Knock! Knock!
Who's there?
Ipe!
Ipe who? (say it out loud to get the 'punchline').

Yep, stand up comedy, here I come. Or not.


BUST A MYTH

I reckon it's a myth about having oodles of time when your kids are at school. It's only about 15 minutes from when they're dropped off until it's pick-up time, right? Seems like it. I'm sure there's a conspiracy theory in there somewhere too and those pesky Dinner and House Work Fairy's have something to do with it. They're probably busily manipulating time to make it race instead of doing what they're supposed to do - cooking and cleaning. Hmph. There must be some scientific evidence or study somewhere to support my conspiracy/myth thing. The truth is out there as Mouldy and Scumpy used to say.


POST A RHETORICAL QUESTION

Isn't this post, and indeed the whole blog, just utterly and completely FASCINATING? No??!! Hey - it was meant to be rhetorical!


THANK YOUR AUDIENCE FOR FOLLOWING YOU

If you have stuck with me until the end of this and many other tedious posts you definitely have my thanks. Thanks a bazillion, gazillion, dudes.

Free cakies to each and every one of you to express my gratitude. Well, they are virtual cakies so you will have to imagine them or, you know, go and buy them or bake them yourself. It's the thought that counts, right?

 Linking up with Robo Schmobo for The Lounge.

                                               What ideas can you think of for blog posts?

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Ten Fascinating Things About Me

 Here goes. Ten utterly fascinating things about me. Using 'fascinating' in the sense of 'mind-numbing'....

1. I've never had a sister (I have one older brother) though I do have two excellent sister-in-laws, Mick's sister Janette and my brother's wife, Nicole. Likewise, I will never have a daughter. One day I may have a daughter-in-law or three. I'm hoping they'll be excellent too. 
2. My middle name is Faye with an 'e'. Clearly, or I would have spelt it Fay. 
3. I lived with my parents until I was 23 when I moved in with Micky Blue Eyes so it's distinctly possible that I've lived a sheltered life. In Boganville. I find this ironic.
4. I went to Holland with my parents when I was 10 years old in 1981. This seems destined to be my first and last overseas trip. Sigh. 
5. I'm starting to wonder if I'm in peri-menopause as my moods are somewhat erratic: I'm joyous then weeping then feeling like I could punch the next person who glances sideways at me then having a panic attack then joyous again and around it goes..... Totally normal, right?
6. I was 26 weeks pregnant with Mr 12 in 2001 before I noticed this minor detail. Oops.
7. I lost a little man when I had a still birth 19 weeks into the pregnancy in 2007. 
8. I was diagnosed with Asperger's in 2011 at age 40. 
9. I have 150 plus Facebook 'friends' but my closest real life friend is my friend Kim, who was born five days before me and is the smartest person in the whole World - because she's my friend obviously - and because she doesn't use Facebook or any social media at all. 
10. I am shamefully hopeless when it comes to taking and organising photos. I have boxes of them stashed in cupboards instead of sorted into albums. I tried to find some photos of Kimmy and my sister-in-laws to post here and I could only find ones that are really old. So guess what? No photos. You are saved the embarrassment. You can thank me later. 

Two Ten things I love....

1. Karen Carpenter
2. Cakies
3. Karen Carpenter
4. Cakies
5. Karen Carpenter
6. Cakies
7. Karen Carpenter
8. Cakies
9. Karen Carpenter
10. Oh yeah, I have kids. They're alright, too. 

Ten things I would like to ban from the World forever...

1. Lego 
2. Lego
3. Lego
4. Lego
5. Lego
6. Lego
7. Lego
8. Lego
9. Lego - and, finally..
10. Lego

Okay, that's only one thing as such but it's one thing that means A MILLION pieces so it counts as ten! Shut up. 

Ten Reasons To End This Pointless Post...

1. I have house work to do.
2. I have nothing remotely interesting to say about myself. 
3. I have exercise to do. 
4. I've wasted the whole morning coming up with absolutely nothing of any note to say about myself.
5. There are such entertaining day time television programmes on that I'm missing. 
6. It's lunch time and I might turn into one of those strange people who forget to eat.
7. I have important places to be and important people to see. 
8. There must be a million other things I could be doing.
9. I think I may be procrastinating just a teensy, tiny bit. 
10. All of the above.

Ten Counter Points To The Above List...

1. House work sucks.
2. That's never stopped you before.
3. You can do it later - why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?
4. At least you didn't waste it doing house work.
5. Since when have infomercials about funeral insurance been entertaining? (Although, you have to admit a bit of Dr Phil is sometimes entertaining).
6. Rahahahahaha!
7. Well, I can imagine I do. Shut up.
8. Meh, it's only a million. Do them later. See counter point number 3. 
9. You think?
10. Details. Hmph! 

Okay, I think I'm done now. I'm off to find ten more ways to procrastinate. I'll spare you the list this time. You're welcome.

Linking up with Musings of The Misguided for The Lounge.

                                               What are ten ways to procrastinate?

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The Last Hurrah

Greetings Earthlings, from planet Boganville! Oh okay, it's more like a Sydney suburb in NSW, Australia, which as far as I'm aware, is on planet Earth. DETAILS. It certainly seems like we bogans are creatures from the planet Zorg, though, right? Don't answer that...

This post may be my last hurrah for the momentous year of 2013. And what a year it's been for myself and my family. Jam-packed with all our usual under achievements and boring as bat shit astonishing escapades.

I wouldn't even  know where to begin. Oh right - January. That's usually the first month of the year, I believe. Here goes nothing. I mean, seriously and truly - NOTHING. But I figure since I'm noted for posts about nothing, why break this record now?

JANUARY

We ventured up  north to Queensland and the beautiful sunshine coast where it was, not surprisingly, quite sunny. I'm taking a wild guess here and assuming that's why it's referred to as The Sunshine Coast. You think? While there, I turned 42 and did not discover the Meaning Of Life AT ALL. I blame it all on Douglas Adams, quite frankly. He shouldn't have set me up for such lofty expectations of this age. HOW RUDE.

FEBRUARY

This is the shortest month of the year. I only mention this because I can't remember a thing of what I did during it and I have to make up something. Traditionally, my Dad would always go on a February Diet for this reason. Instead, I broke the tradition by eating like a Wildebeest* (and becoming one) because, you know - REBEL and all that. Not to mention a glutton. Hey, we weren't mentioning that!!

MARCH

Mr 8 became Mr 9. Moving on, as I can't remember anything else from this month...

APRIL

Easter! Which means chocolate! That would be the highlight of April for  me. Shut up.

MAY

I'm sure something happened in May. At the very least I would eaten and showered and even fed my kids occasionally.  I think. I hope. Maybe. Well, they're still alive, aren't they? HUMPH.

JUNE

June was so crazy, action packed and momentous that I struggle to put it all into words! So I won't. You're welcome.

JULY

Mr 11 became Mr 12. There was cake involved.  Nothing to do with the birthday, there just always is  cake involved in my life. Which finally caught up with me when I had a blood test and discovered I had high cholesterol and blood sugar. Classy.

AUGUST

Micky Blue Eyes turned  50. There was more cake and yet more food. What else?

SEPTEMBER

What can I say about September? Seriously, WHAT can I say about it? Help me out, here. I need to make some shit up....

OCTOBER

Is the month that comes after September. Always has, always will. Interestingly, it's also the only month that begins with the letter O. I mention this purely because I don't want to mention cake again. Oh. Oops.

NOVEMBER

In this magnificent month Mr 4 became Mr 5 and Micky Blue Eyes and I celebrated our 18th Wedding Anniversary WITHOUT cake!!  I know! I can't believe it, either!

DECEMBER

Well, here we are folks, limping through to the finish line of the wonderful year we've called 2013. Mr 5 has 'graduated' from pre-school and heading to 'big' school next year. Mr 12 is also heading off to High School. He had his Year 6 Farewell this week and looked rather dashing in his outfit.

Meanwhile, yesterday I received the best and only Christmas present I want when Micky Blue Eyes has his annual procedure and received the all clear from Cancer for the 9th year in row!! Now, THAT'S worth celebrating! With cake. Too bad we didn't have any. Oh well, wine it is, then!

Cheers!

*Pauses to take a long sip*

Ahhhh - refreshing!

Now, where was I? Oh yes - December! Unfortunately, I failed in my frantic efforts to cancel Christmas, which means it's going ahead on the 25th as per usual. This year we are spending the day at home. I can't remember ever having done that since the boys were born so I'm actually looking forward to it.

Then, 2014 shall arrive and we are heading off for another one of our ubiquitous bogan jaunts. This time to the Central Coast where we shall be staying in a lovely cabin type arrangement, because why stay here in the cramped conditions of the Bogan Box with 3 boys fighting over a computer when we can go to even more cramped conditions and do the same thing there? Makes perfect sense, really.

Well, folks, that's it from me, except to wish each and every one (well - there's at least one) of my lovely readers a very happy festive season and a wonderful New Year!

*It turns out that Wildebeests mainly eat grass, not cake. Who knew?

Linking up with Robomum for The Lounge. Better late than never, right?

                                              Was 2013 an action-packed year for you?

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An Open Letter To 2013

Dear 2013,

First of all, four words.

SLOW THE FUCK DOWN ALREADY!!

Okay, that was five words. I have more.

It seems like only yesterday that I welcomed you whole heartedly with my usual quiet night in wild, crazy party, eagerly anticipating everything that you would bring. As fireworks exploded in a frenzy outside (nothing to do with NYE, just a typical night in Boganville) I mapped out an exciting year filled with amazing experiences, opportunities and achievements.

There I was, picturing myself six months down the track, slim, sleek and superior having succeeded in sticking to that major health kick/diet/fitness extravaganza we all aspire to on January 1st. This was the year. It was all happening. No excuses. After all, I was turning 42 and I would finally know the answer to The Meaning Of Life. It's 42, right?

Therefore, I was poised to possess all the wisdom of the ages come January 15, 2013 when my 42nd birthday rolled around. Wrong.

Instead, I remained as clueless as ever. By August I all I had achieved was high cholesterol and blood sugar levels. Classy.

Additionally I was certain that 2013 would see us finally living in that McMansion in Boganville Heights but we remain firmly ensconced in the Bogan Box like happy little sardines. Or not so little sardines in my case. Ahem.

Apparently it already October. That cannot be right. That means that Christmas is around the corner despite my frantic efforts to officially cancel it for this year. Nobody seems to be taking any notice and I'm afraid that the next time I venture to the shops there will be tinsel everywhere and Mariah Carey warbling about all she wants for Christmas. MAKE IT STOP!

I mean, for goodness sake, 2013, couldn't you have just let the Autumn months linger for a bit longer this year? The leaves are all pretty, it's sunny through the day and cool enough at night to sleep which is a win/win situation for everyone. But now we're heading into Summer which means not only will it be Christmas but also frightfully hot and we can't have that or I'll whinge just like I whinge when it's too cold. At least I'm a consistent whinger. That's something.

I simply can't understand why, when there is so much technology these days that nobody has found a way to stop time. Seriously, 2013 you are just moving along frightfully, awfully, alarmingly, shockingly, astonishingly, amazingly and any other word you can bung 'ly' on the end of, fast.

Yes, I am well aware that an abundance of adverbs is the sure sign of a lazy, novice writer but I've never pretended to be anything else, have I? So ner. I'm going with it.

Furthermore, I had envisioned 2013 as the year when I would finally be able to write one of those smug, posturing end of year Christmas type posts/letters bragging about how completely fabulous, marvellous, stupendous, momentous and any other word you can bung 'ous' on the end of, the year had been for us.

Instead you will be stuck with my usual self-deprecating drivel. You're welcome.

Frankly it's all your fault, 2013. You have left me NO TIME to achieve anything. Okay, so I've had a whole ten months. Or nine months and 3 days. Minor detail. Ahem.

There is only approximately 80 something days until Christmas and in that time I have SO MUCH happening. Mr 4 becomes Mr 5 in a month's time and begins Kindergarten orientation. Right after he 'graduates' from pre-school. When did that start happening? Four and five year olds graduating complete with cap and gown?

I could have sworn he was only a baby five minutes ago. In addition to this, Mr 12 will be heading off to High School in 2014. While my heart will burst with pride, at the same time it's all a bit disconcerting that they are growing up so quickly and I just need to hit the pause button for a while. It's making my head spin.

At this rate they will all be grown up and become young men and I'm not ready. What on Earth will I blog or tweet about without my little men? I might have to actually get a life! Scary.

When I was a little girl 2013 seemed so far away and futuristic, now it's nearly over. I was certain somebody would have invented a time machine by now. Sigh.

I know you won't listen, 2013. You will be done and dusted practically before I finish typing. My head will spin right off my shoulders and I will spend months trying to catch up, still writing 2013 when it's 2014 just so you can continue to mock me. You win.

I'm off to try to frantically do ALL THE THINGS in less than three months. You have forced me to think about Christmas shopping in October. Who does that? Intelligent, organised people, you say? See? You're already mocking me. It's Mocktober. In fact, I've decided I'm over you, 2013. Bring on 2014.

2014 will be sensible and crawl along at a snails pace, right? Or I'll just start the whole mess over again...*sobs*

 Yours Regretfully,

Ness


Linking up with Robo for The Lounge.

                    
                                 Are you getting into the Christmas spirit? Or is 2013 spinning out of
                                                                 control for you?

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Escape From Boganville: It's Controversial (Not Really)

The weekend before last I managed to escape from Boganville.  I have barely managed this in 42 years except for the odd holiday here and there. Born and bred bogan. That's me. Classy. Naturally if an opportunity arises to escape from here, I would wish to visit somewhere glamorous and exciting. A faraway place bursting with culture and sophistication. Luckily, this place fitted all the above criteria. Two words.

Wagga Wagga. Or is it one word repeated? Whatever.

This exciting escape presented itself to me when my Mum mentioned she was heading there to surprise my aunt for her 70th birthday. I figured I'd tag along. It was decided that I would go with my parents and Mr 9 and 4. Micky Blue Eyes and Mr 12 already had a Darwin adventure planned for the following week.

The plan was that myself and the boys would sleep over at my parents house on the Thursday so we could leave early on Friday morning, stopping at Maccas for breakfast and returning the following Monday. So it was that I slept in my old bedroom with Mr 9 and 4, which is still painted a delightful  shade of peach However, most of my Queen Anne bedroom ensemble has disappeared with only the beside table remaining. The room now sports two beds, a 'king' single and a single. Therefore I spent a relaxing night in the King single cuddled up to Mr 4.

I woke up early.The boys were still blissfully asleep having been up late the previous night chattering away. Finally I had to wake them.  Pointlessly, I called to them to wake up. Nothing. I tried again.  Still nothing. There was only one thing to do.

"Wake up! It's time to go to Macca's! Do you want to go to Macca's?" I shouted.

Two sets of eyes shot open. "YES!" they chorused.

They were up and dressed in record time. And we were on the road. Which isn't very interesting to write about. We passed the time playing Eye Spy. Mr 4 wanted to control the whole game, which resulted in him and his brother fighting. Quite a relaxing way to spend a car journey. NOT. Eventually they dozed off for a while and we made it to Maccas at Goulburn. I've never seen two boys devour hot cakes and hash browns so fast. Anybody would think I never feed them. I do. Sometimes. I can't help it if that bloody Dinner Fairy never shows up! Shut up.

Hours later we arrived in Wagga and found our motel. Unfortunately our room was upstairs. Unfortunate because LAZY. Once again, shut up.

The plan was to head over to my cousin's house and surprise my aunt which we did. She was surprised but delighted to see us. We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and drinking endless cups of tea. I worked out that it had been roughly 8 years since I'd seen my cousin and she'd never seen Mr 4 (soon to be 5). The sooner somebody invents one of those beaming up devices the better. Come on inventors it's 2013 already!

I won't bore you with every tiny detail of the weekend because it might sound like all we did is eat, drink and talk. Which we did. Is there a problem with that? Ahem. A wonderful time was had by all and we made it back home on Monday.

At this point you may have noticed that there is nothing remotely controversial about this post at all. And every one of my other posts. I  have to confess, I don't really do controversy. Instead, I do a lot of blahing. It's totally a verb, okay? I should know because it's what I do quite frequently. Feel a bit blah about everything and anything. Spend a minute, hour, day blahing. But I am trying to be a bit less 'blah'. But I have to confess it is most decidedly uphill work. When you have a tendency to 'blah' trying not to is a bit like pushing shit uphill while wading through quicksand. But I digress.

In fact when I saw this on The Lounge's FB wall I figured I should probably quit blogging.

I don't really do any of those things. Other than maybe giving people a bit of chuckle from time to time. And tweeting Can't really say my tweets are Earth shattering, though. Especially after spending a whole day a few days ago tweeting Carpenters lyrics while everyone else was tweeting inspirational #pbevent stuff. Sigh.  But that was one of the reasons I figured I could get away with it. Nobody was paying attention to me because they were all at that ProBlogger thingy. Ahem.

Plus, who says Carpenters songs aren't inspirational? At least one of them encourages the listener to:

"Sing, song a song! Don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear! Just sing, sing a song!"

So, I may as well apply the same theory to my blog  regardless of the lack of controversy or cutting edge posts. I'm just going to:

Blog! Blog a post! Don't worry that's it's not good enough for anyone else to read! Just blog! Blog a post!

Everybody join in!

LA LA LA LA LA! LA LA LA LA LA LA! LA LA LA LA LA LA  LAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Lazily linking up ridiculously late with Kimbooli for The Lounge.

Also linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

Have you made any escapes lately? Do you like being controversial?

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The Nerdiest Girl In The School

"LONG AGO AND OH SO FAR AWAY..."

TIME: 1983

PLACE: Boganville High School, the main quadrangle.

 

 Picture it.  A time when raging cases of TES were everywhere, (Tragic Eighties Syndrome). Bad perms, bubble skirts and Duran Duran....

  Noise and activity flurried all around me.  Shouts and laughter that didn't include me, pierced their way into my consciousness, as I sat all alone at the edge of the quad. I wasn't part of any of it, but a spectator, silently sitting there, alone, reflecting on my tragic life as a nerd-girl.

A group of girls appeared in front of me, all of them laughing, sharing jokes with the kind of effortless rapport that was alien to me.  I felt them looking my way.  I tried not to notice, tried not to care.  Just then, one of them broke away from the group, approaching me.

Squirming uncomfortably on my seat, I looked towards her hopefully.  "Hi, how are you?" she edged nearer, smiling. I mumbled something incoherent.  Staring at me quite innocently she asked: "I was just wondering...do you shave your legs?"

It must be noted that, I did not, in fact, shave my legs.  A situation that, at a mere 12 years of age, did not bother me in the slightest. (Come to think of it, doesn't bother me in the slightest at age 42 either.  In fact, I might have to get Mick to run the lawn mower over them presently, as they are so hairy.) But I digress.

However, since it seemed to bother the other girls at school, I figured I'd ask my mum if I could begin.

Me, with all my friends, aged 12

"No," she replied "you're too young.  Once you start doing all that, you never stop.  You've still got plenty of time."  At this point, I imagine any other girl would have decided to completely ignore their mum, sneak into the bathroom, pinch a razor and do the deed anyway.  Not this tragic nerd-girl and Miss Goody Two Shoes.

I trudged back to school, legs still hairy, book in bag.  Books were my major companion at recess and lunch.  Another example of my tragic nerdiness.  I'd chosen books over flesh and blood friends. Here's how it happened.

I used to have something resembling a friendship with another girl in primary school.  I use the term friendship loosely.  It consisted mainly of her bossing and patronising me, like the time she convinced me to go to Jazz Ballet with her just so that she could then condescendingly tell this uncoordinated klutz that if I tried really hard I might be as good as her next year.  In all fairness to her, no amount of trying or practising would have ever made me good at any form of dancing!

I put up with Miss Patronising, or Pat as I shall call her, the type of person who might patronise God himself, because I simply didn't have any other friends - other than imaginary ones, and I figured being patronised and condescended to was preferable to spending every minute of school life achingly lonely and friendless.

Anyway, during 6th grade, she unceremoniously dumped me as a friend, steadfastly ignoring me and leaving me in the dust for a cooler group.  Consequently, when she rang me during the Christmas holidays, shortly before starting high school, I possibly should have been on guard.  Instead I scurried over like a timid mouse after any crumbs.

I suspect we might have had the Barbies out at one stage.  As we were about to start high school, you might expect Barbies dolls to have been a bit lame at this point, but I continued playing with them unperturbed.  Pat, on the other hand, was clearly worried, as she began to give me disdainful looks as her lecture began. 

 

"You know, you have to act tough in high school," she began, importantly "otherwise you'll have no friends."

 I carried on dressing Barbie, oblivious to the seriousness of her tone. "But don't worry," she added "I'll still hang around with you, as long as you stop reading books."

 

I gaped. Stop reading books? Wouldn't it be easier to just stop breathing?  Did she mean all books, or just Enid Blyton books? I mean, I kind of knew that I was getting to old for my frequent trips up the magic faraway tree.  A place where I seem to have permanently remained.  Off with the pixies. 

There was NO WAY I could stop reading books.  The thing was impossible.  Consequently the 'friendship' was over.  Gloomily, I trudged home, wondering where all the 'kindred spirits' from my beloved 'Anne' books were.

It wasn't long before Pat was surrounded by friends at High School, while I sat there. Alone. Reading a book.  So I guess she was right. Sigh.  Books will always be my best friend.

To make matters worse, just as I was about to start high school, Karen Carpenter died. Right when I was in the throes of becoming a major fan. I was heartbroken. Of course nobody, least of all the other girls at school, understood my sorrow. Liking the Carpenters went hand in had with reading books and not having a boyfriend. At barely 12 years old. Imagine. Spinsterhood here I come.

 I had been dreading starting high school. Boganville High School was considered to be the roughest school for "under privileged" kids in Sydney's western suburbs. For months I had been hearing horror stories about how the older kids grabbed the year seven kids and flushed their heads in the toilet by way of "initiating" them. Naturally, if you happened to be shy, quiet, liked reading and listening to the Carpenters it could make you a prime candidate for such treatment. I crept around the school playground with my head down, terrified that some sinister bunch of hoodlums would attack me at any moment and drag me into the toilets. Nobody even noticed me. After a week had passed I finally relaxed, realising that maybe some of these horror stories had been exaggerated somewhat.

One morning at recess, I proceeded to read my latest book in my usual position, not far from where the canteen was situated, when I happened to hear a conversation taking place only a few yards away.  Pat was leading it, my ex so-called 'best friend' from primary school. They were discussing Karen Carpenters death which was news at the time.  Pat was saying "Yes, its really sad because they were husband and wife (??!!) and they'd only just gotten married (??!!) and they'd just started out in their musical career.

Normally I was the quietest person on earth, but I couldn''t let that pass.

"That's wrong," I said, surprising them. They hadn't even realised I was there. I went on to inform them that Karen and Richard were NOT husband and wife, but brother and sister and not only that, they had been around for some time and had a lot of hits. Of course, I expected them to be interested and grateful that I had volunteered the information but instead Pat just gave me a withering look along with the rest of them and said "Oh really?" just as if she might have said "Big deal".    

Year 10 formal, circa 1986. I was
already stunningly gorgeous and
talented. So ner.

However, it was while at High School that I began the transformation from a mega nerd from Hell to the person I am today:  a mega nerd bogan from Hell a talented writer and gorgeous, smokin' hawt fox. Observe. I became a published author. Sort of. Kind of. Not really. Oh okay, it was only in the school magazine, but that counts, right? This is the blinding piece of sheer brilliance I wrote at only age 15. A fictional story that I wrote. Read it and weep:

FACE TO FACE

Out here in the country, where everything is fresh and beautiful, it's difficult to believe that all the violence and crime you read about in the newspapers everyday really happens. The air is crisp and clean and the trees stand tall and majestic against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. Kookaburras laugh loudly from their perches and the smell of eucalyptus is heavy in the air.

We had chosen the perfect spot for our holiday, a quiet little cottage in the midst of the country. The mysterious guy my sister was heartbroken over was sure to be forgotten here. Mum was already looking cheerful - and me? Well, I was just trying to rid myself of this strange eerie feeling. A premonition of something awful about to happen. What could possibly  happen out here where the people are greener than the grass?

I walked slowly, admiring the scenery. My mind was racing. What was this feeling? I tried to ignore it, but something told me I was living each day, waiting. For what, I didn't know. But I was soon to find out.

Jessica flew past me on horseback. Horse riding was  her passion, but I stuck to bikes. Even though we were sisters and looked alike, our personalities were entirely different. Jessica was adventurous, daring and very naive. She had just been hurt recently by some guy my mother and I had never even met. I watched her slowly gallop into the distance and settled down under a tree to enjoy the sunshine.

Glancing around, I searched for someone, but there was nobody. I had the odd feeling that someone was watching me. It had been happening on and off all day and it was beginning to give me the creeps. There's no one here, I told myself, determined to shake off this feeling of gloom. But it was there.

And it was still there moments later when I looked up and saw Jessica's horse galloping towards me, but no sign of Jessica. Panic gripped me, my mind full of horrifying visions of Jessica lying wounded from where she had fallen off the horse. Not thinking of the stupidity of my actions, I hurried in the direction from where the horse had come.

It was only when I was lost in a maze of trees that I berated myself fiercely. "Jessica! Where are you?" I called loudly. No answer. And no wonder. I stopped short in utter disbelief. For there she lay at my feet. Not wounded, but dead! There were no words to describe my emotions at that moment. My common sense told me that she couldn't have been killed just by falling from a horse.

"Jessica! Oh my God!" Tears were streaming down my face as I dropped to my knees beside my sister's still body. There was the unmistakable sign that a knife had been used to slit her throat. Somebody had killed her and that somebody was still lurking around waiting to kill me too.

I heard  the foot steps at that moment and turned rising to my feet. There he was. I was face to face with my sister's killer. He wasn't menacing at all. Just an ordinary looking guy. But he held a knife in his right hand.

"Hello, Anne." He knew my name. "Yes, I know you, your sister's told me all about you." He answered my unasked question.

"But she's dead now and I'm going to kill you, too." He stated it calmly, as if it were something he did everyday.

"No!" I fled past him before he could move. Just a moment ago I had found my sister dead. It was all a dream, it had to be a dream, I thought as I ran and ran. I knew he was right behind me.

It's amazing how fast you can run when you're afraid. I raced into the cottage, yelling to my mother, I rushed to slam the door, but he was stronger than me and pushed his way in, grabbing me.

My mother screamed, spotting the knife. He held me in a vice like grip, moving the knife towards my throat. He was bereft of reason, only wanting to kill, destruct.  He didn't seem to realise that my mother was there, quickly phoning the police. But we had to do something fast before I was dead.

Using all my strength, I kicked him hard in the shins and ran from his arms. He dropped the knife in my escape and I grabbed it quickly. He looked around the room as if he didn't know where he was. Then suddenly he fell to his knees, crying.

He was still there crying when the police arrived. A crazy man, familiar with drugs and the guy my sister had been heartbroken over. He was taken away in the back of a police car. We never saw him again. Never wanted to either.

My mother coped well with the funeral, but we both went to pieces afterwards. My sister was only eighteen and she was dead. Dead through the insanity of a very sick man. I realised that I would never forget what happened, but life had to go on and somehow I would face it.

 

Needless to say, I'm still a painfully woeful highly skillful writer, as this boring as batshit bogan blog proves. It's also comforting to know, that thirty years later, I haven't matured beyond the age of twelve. After all, being a grown up is totally over rated. 

Linking up with Rachel at The Very Inappropriate Blog for The Lounge.

 

                                 What do you remember about your teenage years?

 

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Passions

Those lovely ladies known as the Lounge Lizards apparently want to know what I’m passionate about. Well, duh, as if it isn’t obvious.

CAKIES!

From a young age I was always known for two traits. My unrelenting drive and passion. For cake. Or chocolate. This has propelled me to the dizzying heights (who wouldn’t be dizzy, with all that sugar in your system) I’ve reached today,  as a professional Fatty Boombah Bogan.

This was emphasised to me by an anecdote related to me by my mother of the time when I was around the tender age of three, or perhaps four, who knows. You expect me to remember back that far? I can’t remember five minutes ago!

Anyway, evidently Mum had taken me out shopping and paused to have a coffee. However, I had other ideas.  I kept repeatedly asking for “Something nice,” emphasising the word ‘nice’ with a posh little plum in my mouth.  This refrain went on for several minutes, while Mum attempted to enjoy her coffee.

She tried to ignore my demands. Undaunted, I continued my efforts.

“Mummy, can I please have something nice?”

Finally, after another five minutes or so of my constant nagging heartfelt pleas, Mum eventually threw me a sachet of sugar.

“Here,” she said, exasperated “have this!”

My little three year old eyes fell on it. With a tone dripping in condescension and derision I  scathingly declared:

“BIG DEAL!”

I was cute once. And I wanted something 'nice', not
a sugar sachet! HMPH.

How dare anyone thwart me from having my desired and much sought after slice of cake! CAKE, I say, not a silly old sugar sachet!

In between my frequent cakie consumption, I could be found curled up with a book, my other passion. Sometimes I traded the book for our dachshund dog, Samantha. I tried to smuggle Samantha into bed with me once. When Sammy went to doggy heaven, along came Penny and Skippa.  I was devoted to those dogs. The fact that I never had to actually clean up their crap probably added to their appeal. Penny and Skippa went on to have pups. In an essay written for school about my life, I remarked that I’d never seen anything cuter than those puppies ‘not even a human baby’.  Clearly I needed to get out more. Or all that sugar was affecting my brain. Or both. Regardless, I was besotted with books, dogs and cakies.  Not to mention chocolate.

Me with my mullet perm and Skippa, circa 1985. Classy.

My passion for baked goods and all things chocolatey, continued on in my teens when I proceeded to take the old ‘Mars a day’ slogan quite literally. I devoured a Mars Bar every single day after school, while remaining annoyingly slim. Annoying to others, I’m sure. Annoying to me now, knowing that this phenomenon will remain firmly back in 1985, along with mullet perms and bubble skirts.  The latter two can stay there. However, I want my fourteen year old metabolism back, thank you very much. Hmph.

Perhaps continuing with the syrupy sweet theme, I also developed a deep and abiding love for Carpenters music at around age 11 which has continued onto this day. This is yet another lifelong passion.  Ironically, Karen Carpenter died from an eating disorder shortly after I fell passionately in love with her voice and music. This meant I was now passionate about cakies – and the World’s most famous anorexic, something only I could achieve. So ner. After all, while others worried about trying to save the whales or the ozone layer, SOMEBODY had to focus on the important issues. What could be more important than cake and Carpenters? Don't answer that...

Then, one day, years later, there came an epoch in my life.  A ‘bend in the road’ as ‘Anne’ would say.  I was unable to become pregnant and it appeared that a little bit of weight loss might help the situation. Surprisingly, I was able to develop a new passion, a very unexpected one. Exercise.

It worked, and one by one, babies came along. With each subsequent baby my passion for exercise waxed and waned. Meanwhile, my devotion to cakies and chocolate continued unabated.  After all, I could have given them up, too, but I’m no quitter, as they say. Whoever ‘they’ are.

My singular determination and unremitting pursuit of all things sugary is what has shaped me into the person I am today. An overweight bogan with high cholesterol who knows the words to every Carpenters song. Not many people can boast about that.  Shut up.

Not to be beaten, I am now determined to reclaim my long lost passion for exercise. After all these years it appears that my love affair with cakies and chocolate must now tragically come to an end. It’s not me, it’s them. While I have passionately loved them, it appears that they do not love me. Cue hysterical sobbing.

It turns out that there is one thing that I am truly passionate about.  Yes, even above and beyond cakies and Carpenters. Three things, actually.  Three of the most important people in my life.  My gorgeous boys. I love them passionately. For them, I will give up (or cut back, anyway- ahem) on cakies. I will even move my rather large arse and break a sweat everyday, until it becomes slightly less large.  I will do it because I passionately desire to be around for a hell of a long time, to see them grow up and possibly even be a Grandma one day. 

And if I do live to be 80, then I'm eating cake EVERY SINGLE DAY until I die from a diabetic coma. You can't stop me.  

Linking up with Slapdash Mama Sarah for The Lounge.

 
Also linking with Cathy from The Camera Chronicles for Flashback Friday.

                                                           What are YOU passionate about? 

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