China tastes funny

One of the most wonderful things about my husband is what a total and completely adorable nerd he is.  Suffice to say that when I met him, he was working in IT and living with his parents. (I choose not to mention that he had moved back in when them to support his father through his battle with cancer, because it makes it funnier to imagine him sitting in his parent’s darkened basement , bathed in the pale green glow of several computer screens and surrounded by unopened, mint condition Star Wars collectables. AND THEY DON’T EVEN HAVE A BASEMENT.  Weird, huh?)  When my in-laws gave our daughter a clicky clacky bally thing with the strings* he was incredibly jealous and excited.

“No, you don’t understand.  This is what physics looks like.  It’s actually quite impressive.”

So, in my completely supportive way, I looked at him as if he were not only completely insane,  but had to get out of the house soooo much more often.

This goes a long way to getting you to understand just how underwhelmed I was (by his standards) when he brought home a world globe for our girls.  Now don’t get me wrong, it is kinda cool, it has a light inside and bumpy mountains on it.  But it would be completely out of the ordinary for me to let him know that I thought it was cool, and it would have also ruled out any shenanigans. See – priorities, people.

The girls were in bed, so my son and I pretended to be were incredibly interested in being shown the wonders of the globe.  We first started with the basics, sitting there turning the light switch on and off saying “Daytime, night-time, daytime, night-time, daytime…” ad nauseam.  Which in itself was fun, but the most joy was to be found in seeing the look on my husband’s face as we did this.  Suffice to say, he had a look of unimpressed incredulity.

On the up side, the incredulousness and unimpressedishness (they are totally words, take my word for it, don’t look them up) were quickly replaced as his son leaned in to the globe, licked it and stated:

“China tastes funny.”

On the down side it was replaced by a fleeting look of horror and defeat.  I say it was fleeting, but we really only saw a fleeting glance at it before we hit the floor laughing.

And this is the thanks that I get for trying to show my interest in his toys.  You’re Welcome!

*My husband informs me that this is called a Newton’s Cradle and is actually an extremely exciting and highly sought after gift for a child.  I promptly informed him that children prefer candy and flamethrowers, but he stands by his original statement despite evidence to the contrary.  I would be much more impressed if they had given her one of these kind.

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A deep hole and a sandwich could fix so many of the world’s issues


Dear God, surely our species hasn’t come to this…


Conversation with my son upon seeing this photo:

Me: “Wanna see something that will make you weep for humanity?”

S: “Yeah, okay…”

*sees photo and holds sharp pencil to his chest*

S: “Do you have a hammer?”

Me: “Yeah, staking yourself through the heart is preferable to living in a society that has made that necessary, isn’t it?  I really don’t want to be in a gene pool that has had people needing pictograms to manage their shopping splashing around in it.”

S: “I don’t really need to take me out of it, do I?  I could just take them out of it.  Have you got a flame thrower?”

Me:  “You wouldn’t need to go to that much effort.  You could manage it with a deep hole and a sandwich.”


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When did we move to the States?

So today I had to go and take my daughter to the airport to hand her over to her father for the school holidays.  He was dressed in a cowboy shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He sauntered up to us and drawled “Howdy y’all” in a poorly executed  an American accent.  Surrounded by busy professionals, backpackers and Japanese tourists the overall effect was rather incongruous.  Like someone had done an amateur job of photoshopping a cowboy into the scene to highlight the juxtaposition of the past and present in my life.

He has never been to America.

We live in Australia.


That is all.

Completely random cowboy.

Here is a completely random cowboy for you. Sadly my ex does not look like this, however it turns out that he does own this shirt now.

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Hugs is always welcome

Everything is a kitten's business and you must submit to his will until he is satisfied, bored or distracted.

It turns out that not only am I broke, but I am incredibly smart.  With Christmas coming up, I thought I would make my Mum a photobook of her grandchildren as she doesn’t get to see them often as we live interstate.  I made the props and gathered the children and set to work.  Hugs did not agree with my insistent comments that he was not a grandchild and thought he should be in on the act.  See, the title of the post wasn’t a grammatical error, so you can mentally apologise for mentally chastising me.

The kitten’s name is Hugs.  Well, I Need A Hug to be exact, and exact is what I’m all about.  That and obsessively watching Dr Who and Harry Potter.  We have three cats and the deal is that if my husband gets to have cats, I get to name them.  The first one I named “The End Is Nigh” because I wanted to sound like a crazy religious nutter when I called him out in the street, the second one I called “Eat More Bananas”, because it seemed like best advice I could give when announcing the end of all humanity.  And then came our little, white ball of fluff and he was named “I Need A Hug”.  Now when I call the cats at night I sound right and proper crazy.

“The End Is Nigh, Eat More Bananas!…… I Need A Hug….”

"Surely you wouldn't consider having a family album without me..."

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“I’m looking at you D”

As I set off today and indeed when I got home I was thinking that I would have nothing to blog about today.  I spent the day at a training course being all professionally developed.  I feel way more professional now. All properly named for the day (I was student D) and already being an advanced student inasmuch as I can turn the computer on and off again without being told to when trouble shooting, I was expecting boredom as we waited for the less computer literate people in the class to catch up to where we, the more computer literate people in the class were.  Now I’m not saying that I’m smarter than everyone else in the class, I don’t need to.  The facts speak for themselves, people.  Lets just say that due to my short attention span and penchant for thinking about monkeys and unicorns when not properly amused, I got what I expected.  Boredom.  Well, I would have if my boss weren’t sitting next to me being more distracted and bored than I was.  How is it that I always manage to find the biggest ratbag in the class to sit next to?

Just lucky I guess.

We were learning the new Specialised Homelessness Services data collection platform and the online reporting system, using a dummy training platform.  A sandbox, if you will.  We had entered in the data necessary and I was playing around making notes on why our ‘client’ had not been offered service.  In a completely non-judgmental and strengths based fashion I wrote “ugly shoes” as the reason for service refused and moved onto finalising the report.  Completely forgetting about what I had written and having no idea how the data was displayed in reports, I pretended to pay attention to the lecturer.

I would like to inform you that I now know that notes written in an Unassisted Person’s record are not private and show up to the whole class on the projector,  turns out that dissing a homeless person’s footwear in class will brand you as the class troublemaker.  And have you singled out…………

“I’m looking at YOU ‘D’.”

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“It fits perfect!”

Boys are weird.

That statement really stands alone now I come to think about it.

I came across a picture of my best friend’s daughter today and I thought it was adorable.  Not that I’m biased or anything…  She was holding a picture of her mother’s x-rays showing the massive spot on her lung from the pneumonia that almost killed her landed her in hospital a couple of days ago.   I showed it to my husband and he was all like “Oh my god, that’s a big spot”.  And that is the difference between my husband and I.

He sees a trivial by comparison spot on a lung and I see a beautiful little girl that has grown too much since I last saw her, wearing a Flint Lockwood style lab coat, pretending to be a doctor by pointing to an x-ray with a chopstick.

Boys are weird.

But that’s okay.  I love you anyway.  You’re welcome.

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Elmo, a leg rash and arson.

So I saw on Facebook yesterday that my best friend had been taken to hospital.  Before you judge me for finding out via Social Media that my best friend was dying of an unnamed disease, I’m not sure what, possibly testicular cancer or hemorrhoids, I would like to point out that a) I moved interstate a couple of years ago and can totally be excused from knowing what is happening half way across the country and b) she is even more obstinate than me (as hard to believe as that is) and never lets on when she needs help.
So, there you have it.
I’m totally blameless in all of this.

Stop judging me.

Having her in hospital all the way over there made me think about the last time I was in hospital and she came and brought me a care package. I don’t usually like to tell people how I ended up in hospital, I like to call it a clumsy moment.  But really is was a Coordination Failure of the Highest Order.

Here’s the thing.
I was in the middle of trying to get a restraining order against my ex-husband so I had paperwork spread out all over the living room floor, at the same time I was mopping the kitchen and chatting online to my, then, boyfriend.  My boyfriend said something that was grossly offensive that I can’t exactly remember (I can’t be expected to do all the work, people!) like No, Ryan Reynolds is NOT the sexiest man alive or I see your point and it has validity, but we’ll have to agree to disagree this time, My Darling and I got justifiably upset, turned around as I let out a curse word or two into the empty room….

This post is interrupted to bring you the “Tip of the Day”
Curse at your partner behind their back.  That way they never have the right of reply and you will always win whatever disagreement you are having – either real or imagined.  After all – Winning is what matters in a marriage.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled blog.

stormed into the living roomWherein I promptly tripped over the bin that I had moved in there in order to mop the kitchen floor, skidded on some paperwork and impaled myself between the toes on a 2 ringed binder quite deeply and convincingly.  To cut a long story only a little bit long – the ensuing infection spread up as far as my knee before I was admitted to hospital.

Knowing me as well as she does, my best friend recognised that I was going to get bored very quickly sitting in hospital connected to a drip with no shiny things to distract me or small children to make fun of and brought me a care package.  I’ve heard talk that flowers are the traditional gift in hospital, in this case my hospital gift consisted of:

  • a Mr Potato Head style Elmo toy, complete with elephant outfit and noises
  • Bubble Wrap – thank goodness it wasn’t my thumbs that were injured
  • Maccas Trivial Pursuit – all my pursuits are trivial
  • Coke Zero
  • Grain Waves

Which is why when I found out she wasn’t well, I called the local florist there and convinced her to go and buy a colouring in book and crayons to deliver with the flowers I was sending.  Cause I’m the kind of caring friend that makes sure the hospital staff delivering your gift start to suspect that you’re one of the special kids. You’re welcome!

Quote of the day:
After seeing that a chicken schnitzel was burned
<creepy stare with knife and fork by his face> “Mmmmm Dinner is arson flavoured, tonight”

Posted in Completely sound marriage advice - trust me..., Its amazing that I'm still alive, Quote of the Day, Random Stories, Things that make me laugh | Leave a comment