Hello everyone! I'M BACK!! How are we all?
All my adoring fans. The whole two of you. I'm sure you've just been pining away waiting longingly for my words of wisdom. After all, who wouldn't? Don't answer that. Ahem.
Anyway, I must confess that I've actually enjoyed having a bit of a bloggy break. I mean it is just so damn exhausting keeping up the standards that are necessary to be a Professional Bogan. Think about it. This means that I have to drag my sorry arse out of bed at 11am
every single morning, or you know, just whenever I can be bothered, pull on my trackie dacks and ugg boots and then come up with these wonderfully witty and intensely riveting tales of our
boring as batshit exciting and glamorous lives here in Boganville.
For instance, just this morning, I stumbled out of bed and bid farewell, bleary eyed, to two out of three boys who set off to school, Micky Blue Eyes trailing behind them. Then I made myself porridge and positioned myself in front of the lap top where I proceeded to scroll down my Facebook news feed.
Fascinating stuff, right?
In addition to this, these last two weeks of my hiatus have been so action packed and absorbing that I simply do not know where to begin. Actually it was so exciting during the first week of the holidays that I can't even remember what happened. Yep, THAT exciting.
We did manage to get out for one of our ubiquitous Sunday drives. On a Sunday, strangely enough. Our destination was a nearby reserve or park type arrangement with picturesque gardens including a Japanese styled one. As soon as we disembarked from the car my head began to pound. Helpful.
The boys sailed around merrily on their scooters while we meandered around behind them. Eventually though, my pounding head was too much to endure and we headed on to a nearby pub where we had lunch and I was able to have a much needed coffee and drugs. While there we decided it was indeed a very suitable and classy establishment in which to celebrate Mick's 50th birthday next month. There are pokies and everything. Noice.
The next day I did some grocery shopping, purchasing around 25 tonnes of food and spending around a billion bucks. Thereabouts*. This was all devoured within days.
On Wednesday Mr 11 became Mr 12, so I went to the tremendous effort of mixing up a packet cake for him. Caramel mud, to be precise. I certainly hope that child appreciates the sacrifices I make for him. We then proceeded, clutching cake, to my parents house where the plan was to have pizza followed by the previously mentioned cake, with my brother and nephews also in attendance.
The only ploy to this plan was that I had apparently decided to have the Headache From Hell. AGAIN. Handy. This time no amount of coffee or drugs alleviated my pain. My head pounded steadfastly on. As it turned out, my Mum had also made her famous Apple Pie so the day could only be described as Headache Hell with an Apple Pie Heaven twist.
The next day we were scheduled to go the circus. I'm not sure why we would bother actually paying money for this when we can experience it at home. Mick is a clown, I'm the bearded lady and the boys are animals. Done. All we need is a trapeze. Just saying.
However, I was feeling somewhat wobbly and dizzy so I stayed home while Micky Blue Eyes took the boys and my mother-in-law in my place. Reportedly they had fun. Without me. How rude.
Then, after I started to feel a bit better I had another frightfully horrid wobbly, dizzy spell last Sunday, without ever even having a drop of alcohol. Smashing. What is with THAT? The no alcohol and the channelling Enid Blyton thing. Weird.
This has left me feeling rather despondent, dejected, gloomy, forlorn and any other sad adjective you can think of. I resisted the urge to consult a thesaurus there, you will be grateful to know. Suffice to say: Not. Happy. Jan. Hmph.
Then it occurred to me that a few days before these wobbly turns I was craving a good steak with a side of spinach. I NEVER crave spinach. I think my body is telling me to lay off the cakies and actually hit it with some nutrition including a bit of iron. Rude body.
Therefore I am really in need of a good old Aussie Barbeque (you see how I did that, Loungers?) with a steak the size of my head and lots of greenery on the side. Weirdly enough, we just don't have enough barbecues. Disgraceful, if we are to call ourselves proud bogans. Mick has some sort of paranoia about gas ones, preferring the old fashioned wood ones. That all seems like too much effort for me to go to for a burnt sausage. Plus it is just too cold at this time of year.
I might have to make an exception though and get my barbeque on this weekend if possible. Why not? Bogans love burning things. We could even be really Klassy Bogans and throw a few pineapple rings on the barbie instead of shrimp. I have honestly never been to a barbecue where there have been 'shrimp' on the barbie, anyway. Plus, we call them prawns. Get it right, Hoges.
Until the next scintillating chapter, it's over and out from me.
*May be a
slight exaggeration.
Linking up rather late (better late than never, right?) with Kirsty from
My Home Truths for I Must Confess.
Also linking up with
Robomum for
The Lounge.
What exciting things have been happening in your world? Do you like a good old bogan BBQ?
