Authenticity is the key

Last night when I got home from work, Bonnie was having a nap and a very excited Clyde met me at the door gibbering on that Daddy took him to the shops… he got to ride in the fire engine outside of Coles… he got to drive… Bonnie was in the back… etc… etc.

When Bonnie awoke…

Me: Did Daddy take you to the shops today?
Bonnie: Yes. We bought bananas and strawberries.
Me: What did you get to ride on?
Bonnie: Uuuummmmm….
Me: Don’t you remember?
Bonnie: Oh yes, a fire engine with no ladder, no hose and no siren
Me: Oh, that doesn’t sound like a very exciting fire engine.
Bonnie: No. I call it a car!

For Women over 30

Finally, some recognition...

This is for all you girls 30 years and over....and for those who are turning 30, and for those who are scared of moving into their 30's!!!! This was written by Andy Rooney from CBS 60 Minutes -- Andy Rooney says:

As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?". She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women.

Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They always know.

A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off "you are a jerk" if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress. Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage

Yesterday I happened upon a photo of myself taken when I was about 15…

I knew that bearing and rearing children would have an adverse affect on my physical being and I was prepared for this. Example…

I’m a lot rounder… softer than I used to be, my hipbones are but a distant memory. I can live with this.

The stretch marks on my hips are like shiny white road maps marking out the path to squishy-ville. I can live with this.

I have a right bicep that would rival Arnie’s due to constantly scooping up children. I can live with this.

I have a scoliosis-like shaped spine from balancing children on my hip. I can live with this….

But why, oh why did my boobs have to get smaller? Is this God’s cruel practical joke on me? I had bigger boobs when I was 15!!!

The kids are young… I haven’t got that attached yet. If I return them… can I get my rack back???

What has become of me?

Monday to Thursday I have to get myself and two children out of the house by 7.30am so I act like a drill sergeant screaming instructions at uninterested, uncooperative cadets, but I have a routine and most mornings I can calmly walk out the door on time.

Friday’s are a completely different story. I only have to get one kid to school by 9.00am and the school is about 200m away from home so our morning is much more relaxed. With no structure, inevitably every Friday morning ends in a mad panic trying to get out of the house on time. This morning was no different. At 8.55am I had Bonnie at the front door going through the normal checklist…

Got your lunch? Check.
Combed your hair? Check.
Breath minty fresh? Check.
Got a handkerchief? Check. (Yes Mum, I send her to school with a hankie)
Got your hat? Check.

“Let’s go… quick c’mon”. The kids were out the front, I was half way out the door when I looked down and realized I was still wearing my ugg boots! I stopped and actually considered leaving them on.

Had I really descended this far into Westy-ville? No! I won’t give in so easily!

Having a problem finding a pair of shoes, I again considered wearing the ugg boots. Another quick look under the bed and I found a shoe that matched. Finally!

How long will it be before I’m standing at the back fence in my dressing gown with my hair in rollers gossiping to the neighbours? Someone throw me a life preserver???

The first porno I ever saw…

The subject of porn was raised yesterday and it sent my mind back to the first porn movie I ever saw.

To make a short story long… My best friend’s folks had a couple of friends visit from Queensland and at that time Sir Joh was in power and porn was banned. Upon their arrival in NSW their first stop was to the video store to rent some porn…I’ve always been a bit afraid to rent porn, has it been taken out of the video with sticky fingers by the previous viewer?... but I digress…

The next day Michelle and I, two horny 12 year old girls returned from netball to an empty house. The adults had only got half way through the movie the night before so we checked the counter on the video, rewound it and settled in for a viewing of “Puss in Boots” (about army women). After about an hour of watching the video in stunned silence, we heard the car pull up in the driveway, checked the video counter, rewound to the appropriate place, put Video Hits on and sat around looking bored.

The adults came into the house and promptly told us to “bugger off”, so we went into Michelle’s room and left them to watch the end of the video. Now, the TV faces a doorway, off which leads Michelle’s room… so we snuck out to the hallway and stuck out heads out in the doorway to watch the rest of the movie.

Mrs T (Michelle’s mum) being the sex kitten that she is, was busy ironing and at one point looked up from the ironing board to the television and saw a face she did not recognise… “who’s that?” she asked, and to my utter dismay, Michelle yells from our hiding position in the hallway “THAT’S PUSS!!!”.

Needless to say, I didn’t get to see the end of the movie, but it is a happy little memory I take everywhere with me.

Michelle, your adolescent antics could keep this site going for years, but I’ll let you off with only this one (last thing I need is any retaliation!).

Mundine Vs Green

I was watching the boxing last night and during a pan of the crowd I realised the women were as scarce as teeth in a geriatric facility.

I have a plan to get the women to the boxing… the promoter should team up with a local fashion designer and the “card girls” could change outfits every round and stage a fashion extravaganza. The men can enjoy the carnage and the women can enjoy the couture.

Before you know it, women will be begging their partners to take them to the boxing!

Where's all the sugar?

Last night Bonnie, Clyde and I were having a tea party with pretend tea, pretend sugar and pretend milk… water was not even involved in this tea party.

Bonnie made me a cup of tea, spooned in some pretend sugar and handed the sugar bowl to Clyde so he could make himself a cup of tea. After he took the lid off the sugar bowl he promptly threw it across the room and threw a huuuuge trantrum. He started punching at his cup and saucer and yelled at Bonnie… “YOU PUT ALL OF THE SUGAR IN MUMMY’S TEA!!!”

I retrieved the sugar bowl and with my pretend bag of sugar, refilled it and handed it back to him. He said “thanks Mum” and went about spooning his pretend sugar into his pretend tea!

Sleep walking can be a messy business

A couple of nights ago, it was very late I was lounging around watching TV when Bonnie wandered into the lounge room, walked over to the fireplace and pulled down her pants. I suddenly realised that she wasn’t awake and was about to wee in my fireplace. I scooped her up and rushed her to the toilet – just in time.

Talk about attitude...

My kids, much like many children, don’t like to clean up after themselves.

Last night I couldn’t find a space on the floor that wasn’t covered in toys… so I went on my usual mad-woman rampage screaming at the kids and threatening to throw out every toy in the house. This threat always works with Bonnie and she got her arse into gear and was tidying like a girl possessed while Clyde just sat and watched. I told Clyde to start putting his toys away, to which he responded… “NO!” So I picked up his favourite toy, a wooden garage complete with petrol pumps, and headed for the front door. Bonnie threw herself in front of me so I couldn’t get out and started howling “Pleeeeease, don’t throw it out”. I gave Clyde a steely eyed gaze and said “are you going to clean up or am I throwing out your garage?” He looked me in eye, shrugged his shoulders and said “throw it out and clean up yourself”.

I'm Finally on the Scoreboard!

As most of you would be aware, Napoleon is never wrong… and if he is, he can manage to turn it around so it’s anyone’s fault but his own.

The other night, Clyde started whinging at about 2.30am so I went to investigate. He was face down, curled up in a little ball so I went to turn him over and he was soaked… from head to toe. I touched his bum and to my utter dismay, he had no nappy on. I managed to sponge him down, get him changed and put him into bed with us.

At 4.30am when Napoleon was readying himself for work…

Me: Clyde was put to bed with no nappy on last night
Napoleon: When did the bugger take it off?
Me: While I was in the bath last night you came and got his step. Did you put him on the toilet?
Napoleon: Yes, but I didn’t know that….
Me: You didn’t know what? That he hadn’t put his own nappy back on?
Napoleon: (looking around the room… searching for someone/something to blame)… Okay, I’ve got nothing!

Latest Score....

Napoleon: 134,758
Shelley : 1

Paris Hilton sent to rehab… for gambling!

I stumbled upon this article and found it quite amusing…

Paris Hilton’s parents have ordered her to stay away from their Las Vegas casino after she lost her $239,000 Bentley GT in a poker game...

I know gambling is a serious problem, but Paris isn’t exactly struggling to pay the mortgage and feed the family. With the amount of money she has, it couldn’t really be considered gambling, could it? Gambling is taking a risk, and I’m sure she didn’t blink an eye when she lost her Bentley… surely any losses by Paris could be considered a donation to charity!

Is this the face of an Angel?

No, it’s not!

After his bath this evening, I was putting Clyde’s nappy on him before bed and he pried apart his bum cheeks and told me to… “smell my stinky bottom”.

Racer, do you have some explaining to do? What have you been teaching your nephew?