An Interview With A Vampire

Kinking up this oldie but goodie for The Lounge today, just so that I can pretend I am still in this blogging game despite not blogging for over a month. Sigh.

 I've just realised that I wrote 'kinking' up instead of 'linking', but it sounds more interesting so I won't correct it. You're welcome. 

This post is inspired by the lovely Kylie Purtell. Last week she interviewed her husband Dave for her blog, which you can read here. I've decided that I might as well steal her idea and do the same, because;

a) it's a brilliant idea, and; 
b) I never have an original thought or idea EVER. It's just cake and Karen Carpenter swirling around in my tiny little brain. Otherwise- nothing. It's a vacuum up there. 

So without further ado, I bring to you: An Interview With A Vampire.

Um, I mean my husband Micky Blue Eyes. He actually isn't a vampire. He's an Accountant.

So you can see why I went with the vampire thing just to make him sound a bit more interesting. Ahem.

For ease of reading and comprehension please note the following:

Q is for question. Duh.
MBE is for Micky Blue Eyes, and indicates his answer (in bold).
Ness is obviously yours truly, and indicates my response to his answer (in italics).

I'm not sure how much longer he will actually be my husband once he reads this, so I'd better get on with it. 

Here goes:

Q: When and where did you first meet Ness?


MBE: Rotaract in 1993.


Ness: Actually it was at a Rootaract Rotaract outing to Studebakers Night Club in Parramatta, in late 1992, but that's close enough. Sort of. Kind of. Not really. Hmph!

Courting.  Or were we already married? Shut up, it's been a while. 

Q. Where did you take Ness on your first date?


MBE: Football/Club at Beecroft.


Ness: Um no. We went to see Sleepless In Seattle; as detailed here. This was really too overly romantic and sentimental a movie for a first date. Football (I'm assuming you mean soccer) would have been more fitting in terms of being prophetic. Years of freezing our bums off on soccer fields now in progress. 



Q. Why didn't you ever reply to those excruciatingly embarrassing heartfelt, yearning love letters that Ness wrote to you when you were dating courting? (Ness: Shut up. It's my blog and if I want to make this sound like a Victorian romance, I will). 

WHY dammit???


MBE: I don't write letters, I express [myself] by talking. 



Ness: Does this mean I've married one of those weird people who prefer talking over writing??!! *faints*



Q. What is the best thing about being married to Ness?



MBE: [She's] understanding and caring.



Ness: You make me sound like Mother Teresa. Which is fine. I could totally go there and do the whole Nun's habit thing, if you want. Oops. Too much information. Sorry! 



Q. What is the worst thing about being married to Ness?



MBE: None.



Ness: I assume you mean nothing. Which confirms what I've suspected all along. I'm perfect! And awesome! Or perfectly awesome. Or awesomely perfect. Or something....

Attending another 'Rotaract' wedding
while up the duff. Me, that is, not
Micky Blue Eyes. unfortunately.

Q. What do you like the most about being a Dad?



MBE: Bringing up children in a caring household.



Ness: Yep, it's just like The Brady Bunch around here! No wait....

In order for that analogy to work, I'd have to either die or do a runner. This would leave you 'busy with three boys of your own'.

You would have to become an Architect instead of an Accountant. Go by Mike instead of Mick, and marry a Carol who is 'bringing up three very lovely girls'. 

All this while secretly being gay (not that there's anything WRONG with that), and sporting a bad perm.  Bugger that. 

You're stuck with me. As a sit-com family we're more like Roseanne. After all, they were the Connor family too, right? As far as I remember, Roseanne's husband dies and she wins the lottery. MUCH better! 

I mean...shit NO! I don't want you to die! Just the lottery thing. Otherwise we're stuck resembling The Middle.  A chaotic, dysfunctional family of 'quirky' people, living their not-very-glamorous lives in a not-very-glamorous house. Sigh.


Q. What do you like the least about being a Dad?


MBE: None.


Ness: Sorry, it's too late for that.

Oh! You mean nothing! Clearly our children are also perfect. This is very good news indeed. Therefore you should have no problem with me taking a sabbatical and disappearing to visit imaginary (online) friends!! Yay!! *starts looking up flights*

Micky Blue Eyes living by his motto:
'Take it easy'  (even at our wedding)!

Q. You've been married to Ness for a long time (almost 19 years). What do you think the secret to a successful marriage is?


MBE: Enjoying good and bad times.


Ness: So the secret to a successful marriage is being a masochist? Fair call. 


Q. Does Ness ever share any cake with you?


MBE: Yes. 


Ness: Yeah, that's only the ones I tell you about. Ahem....

The time I swallowed an entire cake.

One final, very important question that I'm sure everyone will be bursting to know:


Q. Are your eyes REALLY blue?


MBE: Yes.

Me and Micky Blue Eyes a..*coughs* 'few' years ago...

Ness: They really are. The more important question is: what colour are MINE?


MBE: *thinks about it*...Green?


Ness: I would have preferred 'mesmerising pools of glittering emerald' or something more poetic, but I guess green will do. Sigh. Okay, thanks Micky Blue Eyes. 


MBE: Thank you.

Move over The Middle. We can do quirky and chaotic better!

And there you have it. That concludes my very illuminating interview with Micky Blue Eyes. Now I'm off to find that Vampire to interview....

Linking up forLaugh Link and I Must Confess. 

What else should I have asked?

Any Vampires who want to be interviewed out there?

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Introverts Guide To Getting Rid Of Unwanted Guests

Apparently I can't be funny when I'm in the throes of chocolate-free feral PMS. I'm permanently in a rather delightful mood: I feel like punching anyone who might have the misfortune of glancing sideways at me. Let alone ringing my doorbell. As this old post (which you may find amusing) reveals...

Last weekend was decidedly social. The equivalent of being a social butterfly really. For me, anyway. Dinner out with friends on Friday, followed by a girls day out on Saturday. I'm not a very social person. Kind of goes with the territory of being an Aspie and an introvert. I can do it for a while but then fatigue sets in and I have to go crawl into a cave somewhere. Metaphorically speaking. 

My idea of socialising: Me and a cakie the size
of my head. Or, you know, larger even.

It's weird. All those years when I was at school, friendless, I really craved company and friendship. Even the most fervent introvert still really needs a friend or two. Real ones. Not pretendy ones. Luckily, years later I have found this. Friends who accept me. It is quite a bit to ask. I know I'm weird. Talking to me must be utterly riveting. Small talk isn't for me. Talking in general isn't for me. Unsure exactly how many words I might utter in any given day, possibly somewhere between 1 and 20. Which is me being chatty. Thinking about it, I'm surprised I have a single friend in the world, let alone a husband and family.

The biggest surprise is my boys. They are not quiet. They can be extremely gregarious and garrulous. Mr 8 can waffle on like a bonafide chatterbox. They also enjoy being social and having mates over almost on a daily basis. At which point I realise I really like my privacy. And I become disconcertingly aware that they are going to become more and more social and have girlfriends eventually and (hold me), hordes of mates dropping over all the time. I get a little headachey just thinking about it. Especially as being a, *ahem* mature (geriatric) Mum, I will be quite ancient by this time. A rather grumpy old woman. I don't expect I shall suddenly become more social as I age. Quite the reverse. I will be needing one of these:

Actually, we rarely entertain visitors. Especially as this slack-arsed bitch never invites them. Oops.

However, I still want my boys to have friends and socialise, so how do I find a good compromise? I never paused to consider the amount of socialising that would be required when having children. When they were babies, it was fine. Now things have changed. As much as I want them to have friends and socialise, I also desperately need quiet time. So what do I do when I've had enough and it's time for their friends to go home? I could be diplomatic and assertive and just politely ask them to leave, which does work. Mostly. Or, I could be really clever and come up with some other strategies to not only leave, but question whether to ever return.Which is what I've done. Here it is. The totally tongue in cheek Introvert's Guide To Getting Rid of Unwanted Guests. (Although frankly, if the natural state of the bogan box isn't enough to deter people, nothing may be). I came up with this list with the help of fellow introvert, my online (imaginary) friend, Randa. I don't know how our meeting will ever go if we do ever manage to meet in person, but I'm sure it will be interesting. Either we will hit it off immediately or sit there with absolutely nothing to say to each other. Anyway, thanks Randarooney.

The Introverts Guide To Getting Rid of Unwanted Guests

• Cook with lots of garlic.
• Ditto eggs, for that nice farty egg aroma.
• Play Carpenters music really loud. Or Barry Manilow or Air Supply or any cheesy easy listening music.
• Never have any interesting food or drinks in the house (pretty much got that covered).
• Do not buy a massive trampoline (epic fail).
• Begin walking around in your underwear.
• Hug and kiss your children profusely in front of their mates.
• Remind them loudly of every embarrassing thing they have ever done, in front of mates.
• Hide the controls to the PS3 and feign total ignorance of knowing where they are.
• Always keep buckets with pretend chunder around and parmesan for the smell, while clutching your stomach and groaning.
• Have a sign at the door saying: 'We have a nude policy. All clothes must be disrobed before entering.'
• Become a germ-phobic-OCD freak who douses all guests in Dettol before they can come in the door.
• Obtain some giant, snarly Dobermans or Rottweilers for pets, or just stick up a sign warning of a dog with tape recorded sound effects of a growling hound.
• Exclaim loudly of your dismay over your kids recent bouts of head lice as you are picking them up from school.
• Ditto recent bouts of worms.
• Erupt into wild, manic laughter for no reason when answering the door, then stop abruptly, exclaiming "I forgot my medication!" Then burst into tears.
• Become a candidate for the TV show 'Hoarders: Buried Alive', then there will be no chance of even opening the door, let alone somebody coming in.
• Leave dozens of empty alcohol bottles out the front when the trash is being collected.
• Cover your entire house with Twilight memorabilia and posters, smile wickedly revealing your fangs while you inform all guests that you are, in fact, a family of vampires as they gaze around, dumbstruck.
• Cry out in mock alarm: "Boys, the pet python got out!! Where is it? It could be anywhere!!"
• Talk loudly about your past prison record in front of your children's mates.
• Tell your children's mates you enjoyed their company so much that next time they come over it's River Dance night.
• Announce it's time to polish your spoon collection and anyone still in the house in the next five minutes has to help.
• Tell any dinner guests that you were so looking forward to them coming that you decided to actually wash the cutlery properly this time instead of letting the dog lick it clean like usual.
• Scratch yourself all over wildly while enquiring of your guests: "Is it normal to itch this much with fleas?"
• Inform any adult guests that the couples for the swingers party are arriving soon and may block their cars in.
• Have a back up plan for the previous point just in case they surprise you and wish to join in. Say: "Sure, no problem, Come and see our dungeon. I hope you've had your rabies shot."
• Ask your guests brightly: "How do you like our new carpet? The crime scene cleaners did such a great job, didn't they?"
• Exclaim to any guest who arrives at the door: "Thank god you're here! I need somebody to help with my waxing! I just can't seem to reach the middle of my back."

If any or all of the above do not work then I could only suggest moving to a foreign country. Or getting yourself and your kids some new friends because the ones you have must be seriously fucked up.


What do you do to get rid of unwanted guests? Or is it open house at your place? (You weird, bloody extrovert folk...)

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