Light. Sweet. Crude.

Early onset adolescence. And menopause.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older.  Perhaps it's because I'm grossly out of shape.  What if it's all the coffee?  I don't know what it is, but these days I seem to be getting awfully hot under the collar, awfully easily.  And by 'hot under the collar' I mean extraordinarily sweaty under the armpits.  I'm not kidding.  No amount of 24-hour heat-activated extra-strength ultra-sensitive anti-antiperspirant seems to save me from this embarrassing state of affairs. 

Fortunately the deodorant part of the antiperspirant is working - I don't smell too bad, I don't think - but seriously?  The wet patches?  What is going on?  And all it takes is a tiny, slightly stressful event to bring on the waterworks.  About to meet a new client?  Hello, super-soaker.  Getting pulled over for a breathalyzer test despite having had nothing but cornflakes?  Hello, Niagara Falls.  Putting my hand up to ask a question of the Panel of Experts at the Emerging Writers' Festival?  Hello, La Nina.  And put that arm down.

Our neighbours have an almost-teenage son who does a lot of sport.  There's no nice way to say this - he's starting to smell a bit, well, manly.  I've known Tim since he was a little tyke, so it's kind of cute to see him growing up.  I'll have to stop squeezing his cheeks soon, though, or I might inadvertently pop a pimple.  Anyway,  I guess when you're as active as he is, too much antiperspirant is never enough.  Ella seems to have noticed it too.  The other day I picked her up from soccer practice, and as she took her sweatshirt off my nostrils were confronted with the unmistakable odor of almost-teenage boy. 

Ella, you should probably think about wearing some deodorant, darling.  You seem to be sweating a lot at soccer.

That's because I'm working so hard, Mum!

I know, and that's great...

I can't help it!  I get sweaty, OK?!

I know, we all do, so that's why we wear deodorant.  It helps with the smelly armpits.

Huh?

When you sweat at soccer, your armpits start to smell a bit, well, yucky, but if you've got deodorant on it wont be so bad (I can't believe I'm having this conversation with a 7 year old).

Huh?

Your armpits, darling.  Can't you smell that?

(She sniffs her armpits)

Oh my god!  I smell like Tim!

Fockers

On Friday night, or maybe in the wee small hours of Saturday morning, someone helped themselves to the number plates of my car.  I didn't discover them missing until we went to the markets on Saturday morning and I was opening the boot of the car (trunk, y'all) to get something out.  I walked around the front to check if they were gone as well, and they weren't.  No, Ella, they didn't fall off when we went over the speedhump. 

I spent 45 minutes and $30 at the motor registry this morning to get my new plates, and then this afternoon I went to a couple of different places to find some new screws.  Of course the Multi Pack of Theft-Resistant Screws only contain the kind to fit the front plate.  The rear plate uses different screws and - for added joy - the holes are in the middle and not at the corners so I'm going to have to figure out how to punch two holes in the new numberplate AND THEN find the right size screws.  I'm thinking this is a weekend job for PJ.

Funny thing happened on the way to Bunnings (hardware store).  I missed the turn-off so did a u-turn inside a driveway.  As I was leaving the driveway another car was coming in, and he stopped right in front of me.  What is he doing?  What's that sound?  Is that a siren?  Oh... the driveway happened to be the entrance to the Australian Federal Police depot or something.  The policeman got out and pointed at my naked numberplate plates and I laughed and said ha ha, funny story, I'm on my way to Bunnings right now... ha ha ha.  My mother in law, visiting from the Gold Coast, was sitting in the front seat, killing herself laughing.  What are the odds, after driving around since Friday night with no plates, that I'd finally get caught by the coppers, IN THEIR OWN DRIVEWAY, less than 50m from the hardware store?  (And yes, I'd reported the theft on Saturday, so I was covered).

Anyway, the moral of this story is GO TO YOUR LOCAL HARDWARE STORE RIGHT NOW and get yourself some theft-proof screws (they were in the screws aisle at Bunnings) and swap the regular screws that your car probably has now with these new screws that can't be unscrewed by fockers with screwdrivers. 

You have GOT to be kidding.

(thanks to Kristen for bringing these atrocities to my attention.)

Keyword Search: Hello, old friends.

Five minutes after I post my old story about the Korean Bath House... like moths to the flame.

korean bathhouse

seen me naked

naked women

pubic hair

bushy women undress treatment room

naked locker room-cam

naked sauna

Ten minutes later...

korea bathhouse

should i walk in on my sister in the shower butt naked

nice korean asses

korean bathhouse

naked bloke massage

naked korean massage

korean massage women

naked korean lady

bushy korean girls

Aaauugghhhhh my eyes are burning!

I just followed a link to a youTube video from someone who often posts funny things on their blog, and I found myself looking at... at... I can't even begin to tell you.  But let's just say the memory of that image has been burned on my brain and I'm pretty sure I'll still be able to conjure it up, even after I've developed Alzheimer's and can't remember where I put my colostomy bag or what my husband's name is.  Oh.  My.  God.  Oh my God!

Add that to my list of things I hate about the internet.  It'll be number two, right after number one, which is IT SUCKS HOURS OUT OF MY DAY.

Vent.

Somebody I used to know and respect has a public profile on facebook.  I can look at photos of them, see who they've 'chest bumped' and who has sent them 'a beer' or 'a hug' or whatever.  I can see that they have listed themselves as 'in a relationship' with somebody.  I can log onto facebook and right after I've made my move in Scrabulous I can search for them and see if anything else in their life has changed, besides the fact that they did something in the middle of last year that means, despite the smiley face on their facebook page, that they are actually a  c u n t.

I never say that word.

Is there a law against sending them a message, posting something public on their facebook profile to alert all their New Friends that, despite appearances, they are actually the scum of the earth?  That they are the lowest of low?  That everyone who I've told the story to says that they want to save up the airfare so they can fly across the country to this person's house just so they can... ... ...

I feel like harnessing the power of the internet.  I feel like putting a youTube video out, something to tell the world about what this person did last year.  Something so indescribably horrible, that nobody on this planet would blame me for wanting to exact some kind of humiliating revenge.  I want to tell everyone on facebook to send this person a message, to post a note on their Superwall, I want the entire world to tell this person:

You don't deserve to be happy, not for the rest of your life.  Everybody knows your name, everybody knows your face, and everybody knows what you did.

But I can't do that.  Because there's probably a law against it.  I'll probably get in trouble.  It's probably called 'slander' or 'harassment' or something.  Even though neither of those terms are nearly as bad as 'c u n t'.

Take a deep breath.  Leave it in the hands of karma.

Funniest First Date Story EVER

My Dad sent this to me in an email...

If you didn't see this on the Tonight show, I hope you're sitting down when you read it. This is probably the funniest date story ever, first date or not!!! We have all had bad dates but this takes the cake.

Jay Leno went into the audience to find the most embarrassing first date that a woman ever had. The winner described her worst first date experience. There was absolutely no question as to why her tale took the prize!

She said it was midwinter... Snowing and quite cold... and the guy had taken her skiing in the mountains outside Salt Lake City, Utah . It was a day trip (no overnight). They were strangers, after all, and had never met before. The outing was fun but relatively uneventful until they were headed home late that afternoon. They were driving back down the mountain, when she gradually began to realize that she should not have had that extra latte. They were about an hour away from anywhere with a rest room and in the middle of nowhere!

Her companion suggested she try to hold it, which she did for a while. Unfortunately, because of the heavy snow and slow going, there came a point where she told him that he had better stop and let her go beside the road, or it would be the front seat of his car.

They stopped and she quickly crawled out beside the car, yanked her pants down and started. In the deep snow she didn't have good footing, so she let her butt rest against the rear fender to steady herself. Her companion stood on the side of the car watching for traffic and indeed was a real gentleman and refrained from peeking. All she could think about was the relief she felt despite the rather embarrassing nature of the situation.

Upon finishing however, she soon became aware of another sensation. As she bent to pull up her pants, the young lady discovered her buttocks were firmly glued against the car's fender. Thoughts of tongues frozen to poles immediately came to mind as she attempted to disengage her flesh from the icy metal. It was quickly apparent that she had a brand new problem. Due to the extreme cold. Horrified by her plight and yet aware of the humor of the moment, she answered her date's concerns about "what is taking so long" with a reply that indeed, she was "freezing her butt off" and in need of some assistance! He came around the car as she tried to cover herself with her sweater and then, as she looked imploringly into his eyes, he burst out laughing. She too, got the giggles and when they finally managed to compose themselves, they assessed her dilemma.

Obviously, as hysterical as the situation was, they also were faced with a real problem. Both agreed it would take something hot to free her chilly cheeks from the grip of the icy metal! Thinking about what had gotten her into the predicament in the first place, both quickly realized that there was only one way to get her free. So, as she looked the other way, her firsttime date proceeded to unzip his pants and pee her butt off the fender.

As the audience screamed in laughter, she took the Tonight Show prize hands down. Or perhaps that should be "pants down. "And you thought your first date was embarrassing. Jay Leno's comment..."This gives a whole new meaning to being pissed off." Oh, and how did the first date turn out? He became her husband and was sitting next to her on the Leno show.

A drunkard AND a Big Bully

12

Want to be a x ray technician?

So now it's official.

88%DRUNKARD

Your turn.

Trying to cheer myself up.

The only small consolation I can draw from last night's round of the World Cup is that the All Blacks lost too.  And really, that's not much consolation, because I'd have put my money on them beating England, and beating them soundly, which would have made me feel much better.

I also draw some consolation from the fact England would have lost if they didn't have Jonny Wilkinson. The never looked like scoring a try.  And it must be somewhat embarrassing for them, really, that their best player does this every time he lines up to kick:

 

By the way... Andrew's comment last night, as Jonny Wilkinson assumed the position, was an absolute corker: 

"Ooh, I wish I hadn't had that curry."

How sweet... now you can buy the limited edition Jonny Wilkinson Cracking A Fart figurine!

Me? Bitter?  Naaahhhhh...

 

Proud to be a Stat Whore

A couple of years ago my statcounter went nuts after I wrote about people eating spiders when they were asleep.  I suddenly found myself with 10,000 unique visitors a day, the vast majority of whom came and went without so much as a 'howdy' but do you think I cared?  It was the most exciting time of my life, watching that little bar graph going up, up, up! 

For a minute I couldn't figure out why so many people were searching for information about eating spiders in your sleep.  It turns out yahoo had a new banner-ad asking the question "how many spiders do you eat in your lifetime while you are sleeping?' and thousands of people wanted to know the answer.  A month earlier, I had found some interesting trivia on the wrapper of a sanitary napkin and decided to share it with my readers.  So I was the number one pick on yahoo for that particular topic.

Sarah is running a contest on her blog to see what phrase generates the most traffic.  She's giving away some merchandise from her site to the reader who comes up with the best combination of words.  Some of the suggestions so far are hilarious, many of them mention Britney Spears or vaginal itching or both.  I have just told her about the 'huge lactating nipples' search I used to get pinged for back when I was Blogasmic.  And I've let her in on the secret of my recent slight increase in hits - 'how do I deal with my idiot ex-husband'.  But telling her about the spiders?  That'd be like telling her my password and bank account details... all those stats, just waiting to be harvested.  I'm keeping the spiders for myself, thanks very much.

(the answer to the question seems to be somewhere around eight)

Reminds me of a story...

... a guy once told me, about how he and his buddies like to go trout fishing in Lake Jindabyne.  They sit in their plastic chairs, water up to their waists, with an esky full of beer anchored to one of the chairs with a long rope.  The best thing about sitting in water up to your waist is that you can drink beer all day and never have to get up to go to the toilet.  Apparently.

Some men are bastards

There are three women in my life who are currently dealing with idiot ex-husbands.  I should counter this by saying I know of a couple of pretty reasonable ex-husbands just so you know that I'm not out to disparage all men.  Some men are lovely.  But I'm writing about three idiot ex-husbands and not making generalisations.

The common thing amongst these three idiot ex-husbands is that all of them are, on the one hand, making life hell for their long-suffering ex-wives but on the other hand, carrying on as though nothing is wrong, as though they are still friends.  Friends with benefits, even. 

Exhibit A

Ex-husband leaves his wife and three teenage children after having a Midlife Crisis With All The Trimmings.  Eventually, when the dust has settled, they come to an arrangement whereby he has the kids every other weekend.  One Sunday night he brings the kids back to the former family home after a day in the surf and literally drops a large pile of wet beach towels on the front doorstep as he turns to leave.  Because he thinks his ex-wife will do the laundry for him.

Exhibit B

Ex-husband leaves his wife and young child after having an early Midlife Crisis With All The Trimmings.  Decides to sue for sole custody and child support as he is apparently unwilling to get a job despite excellent qualifications and yes, half a brain.  In the midst of a very nasty divorce, announces that he wants to take young child to his nephew's birthday party on a Saturday afternoon, so picks young child up from the former family home and asks 'where is the birthday present to give to my nephew?' because heaven forbid he might have gone and bought a present during his all-day lunch hour.  Because he thinks his ex-wife will do the shopping for him.

Exhibit C

Ex-husband leaves his wife and three young children after having a Brain Explosion With All The Predictable, Pathetic Trimmings and moves several hundred kilometres away.  Finally decides he should you know, perhaps come and visit the kids, so sends an email to his ex-wife saying "am i staying at your place?"  Because he thinks his ex-wife is a hotelier and that it's just assumed he'll stay with her and the kids.   

Sigh. Seethe.

All three of these idiot ex-husbands started out in married life as intelligent, capable, reliable, mature individuals.  I didn't know any of them as children, but perhaps they all grew up in homes where their mothers took care of everything?  Perhaps all three of them went almost straight from being sons to being husbands?  If there were a few years in between, it's not unreasonable to imagine they ate a lot of take-away meals and all their whites were grey.  If there was a girlfriend on the scene, she would have organised their social life, from buying the engagement presents for friends through to sending his mother flowers for her birthday.  The men would have gone to work, gone to the football, gone to the pub, and perhaps occasionally done enough Good Deeds to be eventually rewarded with a "yes, I'll marry you!"   Over the years the wife takes care of the man, because it makes her feel good to look after someone, because women are nurturing beings.

Twenty, Twelve and Six years later, Exhibits A, B and C are now back to being boys who need taking care of.  They need a mother to do their washing, they need a girlfriend to buy the gifts, they need a wife to book the holiday.  They just assume that it will be done by somebody else, so the question is never actually asked.  Will you please wash these wet towels?  Will you please buy the present for the party?  Would it be OK if I stay with you?  It's assumed that the answer would be yes.  And the shock when suddenly the answer is no... well, you can just imagine.

When you leave your wife, your children, and you go off in search of whatever the fuck it is you think you might be able to find somewhere else, you need to realise that the relationship you once had with that woman is OVER.  She isn't taking care of you anymore.  She doesn't like you enough to take care of you. You're not friends anymore.  You broke her heart, remember?  She'll be civil to you for the sake of the children, but if she's still the strong and sensible woman you married, you'd better be prepared to see the rules change. 

Wash your own goddamn socks.

I weep for their future.

Every morning I drop the girls at school, and then my route to work takes me down a couple of suburban streets and then onto the office.  After I dropped them off this morning I drove down the busiest of the streets I take, and at the first intersection were three young children wearing my girls' school uniform, all perched on a corner waiting for a break in the traffic.

They were kindergarten children, so five year olds.  Two boys and a girl, and not a parent in sight.  As I was approaching one of the boys stepped onto the road and them leapt back as a car came around the corner in front of him.  These kids had absolutely no road sense, and how could they?

I wanted to pull over and get out and walk with them across the road.  I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to them.  I got to the end of that stretch of road and made a very illegal u-turn and went back to them.  I pulled over and wound down my window.

"Where are your parents?  Who's walking to school with you?"

"We always walk ourselves,"  said the girl.

"You shouldn't be trying to cross the road here, you should go further up, away from the intersection."

"F*ck off, lady.  Whatever," said the smaller of the boys.

Oh my god!  I wanted to get out of my car and smack that child hard on the backside. If I didn't think I'd get arrested I'd have thrown them all into the back of my car and driven them straight to school, and dragged the little one up the front steps by his nostrils.  Instead I drove up the street, did another u-turn, and headed back towards them.  By now they had managed to cross the street, and I yelled out my window as I went past "I'm calling Mrs Jones!" (the school principal) which got their attention.

Later on I called the school and told them what had happened; that I was worried that they were walking to school unaccompanied, and also that the runt of the group had a smart mouth.  I didn't know their names but the receptionist at school who took my call knew the kids I was talking about.

Where the HELL are these kids' parents?  I have never said that I know what I'm doing as far as raising my kids, and I keep my opinions about other parents' parenting styles pretty much to myself, but this?  This is just ridiculous.  A hundred dollars says that boy will be in some kind of juvenile facility when he's fourteen years old.  Unless the traffic gets him first.

(rant over)   

Something's blocked

We live in an old house.  Not an old old house, but an older house with bad plumbing and no insulation.  The insulation has been a problem since we moved in but only in the last few weeks has the plumbing caused us some concern.  The pipes, the pipes they are a-gurgling.

I was working at Parliament House a few years ago and there was a problem with the plumbing there because one day I saw something that nobody should ever have to witness; a public toilet overflowing on account of some idiot trying to flush three days' worth of meat and potatoes plus a whole roll of toilet paper.  The poor toilet just couldn't cope, and did what most things do when they get over-fed.  It threw up. 

So you can appreciate my apprehension at using the toilet in our house between now and tomorrow morning when the plumber comes. 

I called the plumber who is listed on our Approved Emergency Tradespeople List (we rent) and he reluctantly answered the phone.  I introduced myself and asked if he was the same "Marty" who was still doing jobs for our managing real estate agent (yes) and would he be able to come and take a look at our pipes.

"What's wrong?"

"The toilet isn't draining very efficiently, neither is the bathroom sink or the shower.  It's been gurgling for a couple of days, but today it is worse."

"Why didn't ya call me a couple of days ago?"

"It wasn't bad enough then, I didn't think I'd need a plumber."

"But you said it was gurgling two days ago."

"Yeah, but the pipes are old, they always gurgle a bit.  It's just that now they aren't draining.  So can you come out tomorrow?"

"Well you shoulda called me two days ago."

"It wasn't a problem two days ago."

"Well, I woulda been able to fix it two days ago."

"But you just said you can come tomorrow."

"Yeah.  But I can't come now because I'm in the middle of doing the chops, I've got the barbie goin' so it'll have to be tomorrow.  Ya shoulda called me a few days ago."

"OK, so we could keep going back and forth like this now or how about I'll just see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, OK, see you tomorrow."

What do you reckon the call out fee for a plumber on a Sunday morning is worth?  Geez...