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It will soon be Halloween.  Much of our culture is now Seppo, why don’t we make a big thing of it? On the one hand, I love lollies and scary things, but I’m glad not to have to come up with two costumes a year, I suppose.

Discuss

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157 Responses

  1. LOL. thanks MM and WTF is that rodent inside the jack o’lantern? And what’s the other costume requirement? Easter? Because as Danny Darko demonstrated, a rabbit suit is all you need for multi-tasking.

    I have a fabulous plan to escape the trick or treaters, this Halloween. They won’t be able to bug me with their ADHD jitterbug procession round the block, because I will be in flight mode, from WA back to Vagus. So unless the little darlings can get themselves airborne and can match the speed of my platinum class qantarse zoomstick, they are shit out of luck when it comes to thieving my precious sweeties.

    My worst fear is that there’ll be one on the plane in the seat behind me, with a sackful of tartrazine and a squealing computer toy.

  2. As a representative of the Grumpy Old Bugger demographic I naturally believe that Trick or Treaters should be pelted with rotten vegetables until they’re very sorry. Except for the girls in “Slutty Witch” or nurse or vampire etc costumes who should be made to wear them all day for a week, that we might point and laugh while surreptitiously perving.

    You’ll note that the GOB demographic is also the group which finds the horribly ineffective “naming and shaming” of juvenile offenders appealing. Not to mention draconian anti-bikie laws. In fact, we GOBs would love to see the return of the stocks, the lash and the stoning of fornicators. Unless they’re people “like us”, in which case you can mind your own fornicating business.

    Ahem. Now that I’ve had my medication I’m fairly neutral (with beige accessories). As long as the wee kiddies are safe and not destructive, dressing up can be quite fun. Good an excuse as any I guess.

  3. Meerkat, Q. And the two costumes were one for each boy, but you’re right, that’s wasteful. Despite the height disparity, I’ll make them Zaphod Beeblebrox.

    Greybeard, have you got any links for “Slutty Witch”? Not for Halloween, just, erm, recreational purposes.

  4. http://www.escapade.co.uk/animal-costumes-sale/peter-rottentail-costume-scarey-bunny.asp

    The bunny costumes at that website look like they’ve been designed by Kardashians. So I found you a better one. See? Halloween and Easter, sorted.

    Very cute meerkat, BTW.

  5. Here’s my 10 cents worth:

    http://www.heavy.com/comedy/2012/10/the-20-worst-halloween-costume-fails/

    Be warned – a loud and annoying pro-wrestling ad will pop up when you go to the site – once it’s closed, though, the pictures are worth the annoyance. Especially Gary.

    But if you want funny rather than disturbing, try this:

    http://www.damnyouautocorrect.com/13707/12-halloween-autocorrect-fails/

    • Gary is the gem. Words fail me but yes, ISSUES.

  6. Heh heh heh. Autocorrect, it is the comic genius of the technical age.

  7. I showed Catty’s links to Fifi. Now she says I’m not allowed to play here any more. But why was she laughing so much?

  8. Was that Chris Hemsworth? Norse god my bottom. He’s just a big girl.

    • Be very careful about saying “Norse god my bottom” aloud. It could be mistaken for a prayer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

  9. Because he’s worth it,

    I don’t know about Norse God My Bottom, but I’m very familiar with Thunder Thighs.

  10. Heh heh, L’Oreal. Too funny. We saw a billboard for the new Thor movie OTW to the coast and the Bloke was lamenting that Thor is a bit of a pompous twat, really. And a bit of a disappointment compared to how he remembers him from comics way back when he were a lad. He was commenting on the hair and saying that in the comments, Thor’s hair was much more lush, wild surfer dude type hair than the style cut he’s got in the current big screen productions.
    So, nice timing, Khan GB.

    One more week and we will be off to WA. This time around I am preparing by using my new-found tech skills to load up some entertainment in case the plane movie sucks. Although the bloke now tells me that if you’re on a big plane, they give you an ipad with a selection of movies to amuse you for the five hour flight.

    Anyway, instead of books, this time I thought I’d take my ipad and my kindle so last night I downloaded a movie off itunes for the first time ever. Surfing movie, Blue Crush. I have managed to synch the Big Mac with my ipad and transfer stuff over, so hats off to the geniuses at the fruit store for finally teaching me some basics. This despite my continuing epic fail to install new software on the Big Mac. (Greggles, I will shriek at you in November for help with that but truly, I think the thing to do is to give up and get a new Precious)
    The bloke is having a freakout about our download limit over one fecking movie, so – sigh – I suppose I will have to look at our plan and figure out WTF that is. All I do here is read blogs, twitter and the news so it’s not like I could have burned out our download limits doing that. Still, who cares?
    Since we’ll be spending so many hours flying over the desert I figured I’d need some ocean to look at to break up the tedium of it so huzzah for surfer chicks.

    Anyway, we are getting very excited at the prospect of hols & seeing my family in WA and also visiting Albany. Had my annual mammagram last week & the tech said that she’d worked the mobile unit in that region for several years and it’s simply beautiful. I wonder how on earth they keep the mammogram truck warm in such a cold part of the world? Brrr!! Anyway, looking forward to that and the chance to see Chazzles & his lovely lady wife again. We plan to drive back through Margaret River & Busselton so the bloke has booked some nice hotels for us so we can use up some of his squillions of frequent flyer points. We will be AWOL from 21 – 31 Oct so if I have trouble blogging then, you’ll know what’s to blame for the silence – i.e. my tech lessons will have been to no avail.

    Gorgeous weekend here in paradise, we went house hunting at the Old Coast, mostly at this stage it’s market research so we get an idea of what things sell for. Golly there’s some horrors about, we saw a house that was probably a lovely little beach shack on the Tallebudgera estuary at some point until some tradie butchered it with ‘home improvements’ which has cut off all of the light and circulating air in the house. There were a whole stack of young newly-weds cooing and gurgling because it had a nice kitchen and a lovely outlook over the creek – so someone will buy it, for far more than it’s worth, and my guess is they will be so miserable inside it that the marriage will crumble. Sorry, bugbear of ours – good design for tropical living is really not hard to achieve, you just need light and airflow. I think there’s way too many tradies on the old coast trying to make a living by doing up old houses and sadly they’ve stuffed up a lot of them by cutting off the natural light & air flow. Much like those idiots did with the boarding house next door. It got to 26C on the weekend and every single AC unit flicked on in Bog Hollow. Environmental terrorism, if you ask me.

    Anyway, we had a lovely time cruising around the southern end of the Old Coast & then the bloke decided to head north & check out his new building site beside the hospital at Griffith Uni. OMG, Surfers Paradise. It used to give me the shudders in the 80s when all my boarding school mates wanted to hang out there and now it’s 50 x worse. I don’t think I’d been there for about 20 years, well, apart from a day trip to see the baby polar bears for my 40th BD with the Bloke and Miracle Girl & a friend of hers. Speaking of which, email from her mum saying she is now allowed out for 4 hour trips with family in a Maxi Taxi occasionally so Huzzah for that. Well, this is long and my ipad is spitting the dummy so, later, folks. Happy Mondays to all of you.

  11. That’s the worst part about being young. You don’t know what you want until you haven’t got it. And by the time you realise what you haven’t got, it’s too late to get it. Those newlyweds will learn the hard way, just like we had to.

    Miracle Girl is truly living up to her name. Good on her!

    I might not be around much for the next couple of days. There’s a few reasons for this:
    1 – Today would have been my grandfather’s birthday. I’m a bit fragile about it.
    2 – The littlest kidlet will be having a birthday this week, and wants Adventure Time cupcakes for his whole class. Today is the only day I have the time to attempt making dozens of little Finns and Jakes – if I don’t totally suck at it and give up. Which I almost certainly will. Then tomorrow I have to bake and decorate dozens of cupcakes and make up dozens of party bags. Joy!
    3 – Gran fell off the toilet and broke her other hip. She is pretty messed up. MIL is dreadfully upset, so I will be offering to go with MIL to visit Gran in hospital today and tomorrow.
    4 – The Boss is working out of town, so I get to deal with all this on my own.
    I will drop in whenever I can, but any spare seconds I get will probably be spent in my pyjamas, rocking and muttering on the bottom step.

    Enjoy your Monday. IF mine is successful, and IF I ever work out how to transfer photos from the iPhone to the BigMac, I shall post photos of Finn, Jake, and Gran’s truly impressive bruising.

    • Yep, what the marsupial rabbit said. Hugs all round and tell your Gran the Invisible People you talk to wish her all the best. Poor Catty. You just rock and mutter all you want.

  12. Oh Catty that sucks. All of it, and trust me, I know how anniversaries can be. But your poor Gran. That’s dreadful news.
    Give her a big gentle hug from all of us, and save the biggest smoochiest Life Sux hugs for yourself.
    xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

  13. Poor Catty. And poor, poor Gran. Big hugs and virtual chocolate.

    Why couldn’t that darn child have the Blobby Princess? You could achieve her by half chewing a wine gum. Less rocking and muttering, more bubble baths and chocolate. Just stick photocopies of Finn and Jake on to shop-bought cupcakes. If you use enough fondant underneath, no one will notice.

    LYLT xxxooo

  14. Actually, Catty, you could stick pictures of them onto tooth picks and make them into flags for the cupcakes. Dog help you, I’m so glad I don’t have to do these stupid things. I would be sending in a traybake and they could just FKN be happy with that. Decorating is most definitely not my thing. I made a traybake family chocolate cake for a toddler niece’s BD years ago and I spelled out her name in smarties on top. The mothers were all amazed as the kids scoffed the cake and came back for seconds, and thirds, and they said they had never seen their children eat actual birthday cake before, they usually just ate the lollies off the top, licked the icing and dropped the cake in the dirt.

    Lesson learned.

  15. I have spent ALL DAY making little Finn and Jake faces. I’m about to go and finish putting Jake’s little noses on. Then I’ll set the faces out to dry overnight so I can put them on cupcakes tomorrow night – after I’ve baked three dozen of the bloody things. They’ve worked out pretty well, actually, but I’ve been informed I haven’t made nearly enough. See if you can guess what I said to that? (Hint: first word, Stiff. Second word, also starts with S.)

    Poor old Gran is having a rough time. Yesterday she was in good spirits, albeit annoyed that her massive surgery scar is preventing her from getting out of bed and creating havoc in the wards. Today, however, she is confused and distressed. Overnight she was having drug-induced hallucinations/nightmares, and is now convinced that some evil, bearded men have been taking her into the hospital basement to do heinous things to her with medieval medical equipment. At least, the nursing staff tell us it’s drug induced hallucinations/nightmares. I bloody hope that’s all it is, because if there really are bearded men locking patients in the basement, Gran won’t survive long enough to make it into the nursing home she had just paid $400,000 to stay at. Poor darling.

    In other news… before he died, my grandfather gave my mother her mum’s watch (Nan died some time back). It was way too small for mum and her sisters, and it’s not the sort of watch you can adjust. So mum sent it to me. It arrived today, and I can’t help feeling like it’s a gift from my grandfather. Especially as it fits perfectly. Bugger. I’m going all silly again. I’m going to lock myself in the wardrobe until Jake’s noses force me to come out.

  16. That’s no good, Catty. On the other hand, Gran won’t need the pain meds for too long, so hopefully the drug effects will wear off soon, too.

    I still miss my grandparents. Still, we’re lucky we had relationships with them. Some people’s grandies die too soon for them to know them, others are separated by geographical distance or family feuding.

    Have you had your bubble bath yet? It wasn’t optional, you know.

  17. Sigh. Now the Big Mac is having seizures when I try to load both your blogs. I think I’ll just replace the bloody thing when we get back from WA. MM I cannot fathom the depths of evil that smoulder forth from those photos, unless of course they’re all serial killers to begin with. Scary.
    Catty, well done on the creativity score. I would never have the patience to do what you’ve just done. Nice timing with the watch, what’s up with that, have they switched your mother’s medication, perhaps?
    Fingers crossed that poor gran stabilises soon. Tell her I sympathise, I have bizarre reactions to all sorts of prescription medications and even fecking antihistamines are enough to make me see little hairy men in the corners of the room. Spray some lavender aromatherapy around the room, it’s like mortein for Moya-Moyas, worked a treat when my niece was in the psyche ward having a breakdown.

  18. BTW, Q, bon voyage and have a smurfing good time. Hope you enjoy a fabulous trip!

  19. Yep. Have fun Q, and here’s an image to take with you for that smurfing good time. http://thechive.com/2013/10/03/halloween-horror-cosplay-costumes-done-right-34-photos/scary-halloween-cosplay-2/

  20. Zombie smurfs, maybe the cake decorator’s association of Logan can do that for their display at next year’s Ekka?
    We aren’t leaving till Monday but I have that much frigging running around to do between now & then that I’m not sure how much computer time I’ll get.

    Remember how the ipad trembled at my touch when I tried to post at your blogs this am? Sigh. I went to optus at Carindale to see if they could sort out a few issues for me & help me track how much stuff I’m downloading. Only using about 1/6 of our monthly quota but in establishing that and asking them to stop addressing me as ‘Mr’ on my monthly bills, I managed to blow up the internet in the Carindale optus shop and the damage went all the way to India. At least I don’t feel so bad that all my fecking about trying to get optus passwords and such to work yesterday wasn’t down to my ineptitude. It’s down to my Zaptitude for blowing up tech.

    Sigh. Shop nerds and an entire row of call centre staff in India got the giggles and have decided that Humpybong has it right. When the machines rise up to take over just send me in unarmed and I’ll take out the first wave with a hiss and a glare. FKN technology. I wasted an entire afternoon at Carindale trying to sort that out and the worst of it is I got so GD distracted that I forgot to buy a donut. And then I get home & discover that the Scribe is scoffing one.

    Meh. I need batter and grease to recharge my Tech Destroying Powers.
    You reckon they’ve got the lights back on in Mumbai, yet?
    Hmm. Maybe not.
    *slinks off to blow up the kettle & toaster, having already blown up the electric roller door.*

  21. I read somewhere that if you have a bellyful of onions, you won’t zap any appliances. I have heard tell from somebody who might or might not know that it also works with potatoes, but I’m not sure I believe her. I only tend to zap things when Aunt Irma is in residence – and that’s the time I usually have 200g of Kettle Chips floating around my digestive tract.

    The cakes were duly dispatched to school this morning. As I had been warned, there weren’t enough. Seb came back from a long holiday today, and looked most despondent when everybody else got a cake and he didn’t. I felt so sad for him that I’ve managed to make a couple more Finns (that’s all I could do, as I only had a tiny bit of skin colour left for his face). I went to the shop and bought a 4-pack of cupcakes to put the Finns on, and I will be popping up to the school at lunch time to give the kidlet a cake for poor little Seb.

    This might sound soppy, but to be honest it was far better than the vacuuming I’m supposed to be doing. That’s last week’s vacuuming, by the way. This week’s vacuuming will have to wait until mid-November. Oh, wait, that’s when the middle kidlet’s birthday rolls around. Make that December.

  22. Some day genetic engineering will produce mice that eat dust and fluff and excrete something that smells pleasant. I think I’ll call it poopourrie. Genius.

  23. Leave the vacuuming long enough and – voila!

    You will have generated a lovely carpet of dirt, dog hairs, shed skin cells, half-eaten biscuits and deceased insects. I call it “Slut’s Rug”.

  24. Yeah I have that from one end of the house to the other, at the moment. I’ve been putting off vacuuming until my feet stop aching and it’s only just occurred to me that the only way this will happen is if I go out and buy myself some new shoes from the podiatry shop. Ones with proper support, as my favourite pair of boots are now well over 5 years old & that’s probably why my feet ache after a day of tramping about in them. I hate shoe shopping, with a passion, but I suppose if I want to enjoy tramping about all over WA for the next two weeks, it’s a necessary evil. Think of me. And think of the sales girls. They normally have to pull every single fecking pair of shoes off the shelves before they find a pair that fits my freakish feet.
    It is beyond me how normal women enjoy shoe shopping, after an afternoon of that hell & torment, I’m about ready to be sectioned & dispatched to the psyche ward.
    Catty who is Seb? I’m lost. Good on you for going beyond the call of vacuum duty to supply them with cake, though. You’re a trooper.

    Eeek. Just got off the phone from Miracle Girl’s mum. I haz a house to defluff. Catty you’re a champ.
    BBL.

  25. Where are these “normal women”, at least re feet? A woman I worked with eventually sent exact tracings of her feet to some place in Hong Kong and finally got shoes that didn’t cripple her at a reasonable price. Fifi & both our daughters have problems with different sized feet, odd bumps, small heels and so forth that lead to the “try every pair” situation. Most women I know have complained about aching feet and ill-fitting shoes. Maybe we all have weird feet? Bring on the custom-made shoes I say! 3D printing in something soft? And I know your pain Q. My elastic-sided Docs still look great after 10 years but they just don’t have the bounce any more. I may have to (erk) go shoe shopping.

  26. Crocs is the answer, but sadly the question is “What is the most comfortable shoe on the planet?”, not “What looks halfway reasonable?”

    Q, Seb is the poor little boy who just got back from a long holiday, only to find that he missed out on one of Catty’s Adventure Time cupcakes. Surely everyone knows that!

  27. yes yes, but what I can’t understand is: Why didn’t Seb take an extra day of holidays? I think it’s a plot to send Catty insane. Can’t you girls smell a conspiracy here?

  28. I can’t help but think poor little Seb is up against it from his christening on.

    Tell me it’s short for Sebastian, not Sevastopol. Or Sebum.

  29. Yep, it’s short for Sebastian. And yep, he was supposed to come back a day later, but pressured his parents to let him come back on Wednesday so he could see the littlest kidlet on his birthday. You’re right, Quokka, it was a plot. But I don’t care, as long as my Slut’s Rug retains its lush and verdant appearance. After months of cultivating it, I’d hate to ruin all that hard work by actually vacuuming it. It’s good to have a name for it now – thanks Morgana.

    Shoe shopping is like bashing your head against a wall. It feels so good when you stop. Greybeard, you should get this mob in China to make shoes for your womenfolk:
    http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2011/10/20/order-lost-in-translation_n_1021286.html

    And now I have to go and make more cake. The kidlet’s relatives (including the Teen) are coming over tomorrow to shower him with more presents and cards. We’d have done it on his actual birthday, but he had to sing in the school choir that night. He was very good.

  30. Oh, sweet boy. Enjoy the party, Catty, but if the Teen’s coming with her latest squeeze you might want to bake two cakes.

    Don’t decorate it – just leave it in a bucket.

  31. With the eggs on top. And don’t skimp on the påté.

  32. argh, I don’t think I can face that skit this early in the morning. Not after having hommos for dinner.
    Well, I have tackled the ordeal of shoe shopping and as I suspected it hasn’t been possible to replace my beloved comfy riding boots. The saddle shop still stocks the brand but they’ve changed the style & the new ones rub on my scar tissue so stuff that. I gave up and decided it will take two pairs of shoes to replace the old ones so I got a pair of Merril trail/hiking shoes from the podiatry shop at Indooroopilly (with the usual chastisement of ‘why aren’t you wearing orthodics?) and then I nipped off to the fabulous shoe shop at West End & frittered away another $200 on a new pair of Docs. I figure it’s better to give the money to the shoe shops than the osteopath, before the mangling works it’s way up my spine.
    So I got the usual lecture from both shoe sale ladies about how a foot as smurfed up as mine needs to be firmly encased on all sides so that it doesn’t slide around looking for some unnatural way to weight-bare.
    Hm. Have I used the right Bear in there?

    Anyway, they’re right, I’ve been wearing the Merrils non-stop and I’m definitely feeling a lot better for it. And I have been on the toe constantly, as I’m trying to reduce the slut-decor for Miracle Girl’s mum. I worked like a mad thing yesterday while the sparkies were here all day installing AC in the living/kitchen/dining (one big kick arse system that will devastate the balance of nature every time I turn it on) getting the house in order. And it worked – that or Miracle Girl now has enough short-term memory to warn her mother that I was panicking she’d think I’m a pig – because when I brought her over for the tour at 2.30pm she took one look in my pantry and said ‘OMG Quokka I can’t believe how organised you are, you’re putting me to shame.’
    I just gaped at her with the big ‘Que?’ forming on my lips and wondered if it’s already too late to save me from mother’s OCD genes.
    So I had to explain that I’m still waiting for child services to turn up and carry me away if the cupboards aren’t neat and clean enough. She thinks I’m safe & the $800 worth of alphabetised tupperware in there should fend them off, but I know where the cocky shit is so I’ll have to get the Dyson onto that, just in case. Then I can leave feeling safe that DOCS won’t be sitting on the porch waiting for me when we get back from WA.

    Meh. House-sitter aside, it has to be done, because the Bug Spray people are due the day after we get back so the kitchen needs to be clean so that I don’t disturb the gunk they poke into dark corners to kill all of Greybeard’s 6 legged pets.

    So, just as I thought it was safe to sit down & put my feet up, the bloke got in from FNQ and said ‘What’s wrong with the cat?’
    Turns out she had a reaction to something in the vaccine on Wednesday, so her neck had puffed up and there was a big red swollen burn mark between her shoulder blades where the needle went in. And me, bad mother that I am, had failed to notice. So we had to go back to the vet for tests and an anti-inflammatory shot. We think she’s OK and within a few hours she was acting more like herself but farken, not what I needed two days before we dump her in boarding school. Poor little princess. And to think I was posting pictures of her twitching and glaring on twitter, going ‘This is how POd my cat is after her trip to the vet.’ I am a bad mother, and if my tupperware containers of kitty crunchies weren’t so neatly aligned in the cupboard no doubt kitty services would hear her yowls and arrive to take her away. Poor kitteh. If that’s what it’s done to her neck I hate to think how Yuck she must have been feeling since the jab. I knew she was pissed off but that’s normal after a vet trip and to add insult to injury, when the sparkies arrived yesterday I had to move her water fountain so that they didn’t drop crud in it. She kept going and sitting in that corner glaring and yelling abuse, so I thought she was just pissy that she didn’t have her fountain on. Sigh. Poor little princess.

    Speaking of yuck, how is your gran, Catty? I hope she’s not seeing gob-i-lins anymore. That’s nasty. I can’t believe she’s broken another hip, poor thing.
    I thought of her when I was up at the horsepiddle the other night. Miracle Girl was feeling boisterous when I showed up so the staff let me stay well after hours, until she’d calmed down and was ready to nod off. Her room-mate told me a fascinating story about the patient who steals her underwear. I was tempted to ask if perhaps it was the Underpants Gnomes (South Park ep) but the thought that that nurses wouldn’t thank me for fuelling her knicker-related paranoia stopped me.

    Apparently they are thinking of releasing her from BIRU as early as January, which is both good and bad, as her poor Mum doesn’t know how she will cope with a brain-injured adult child who can barely walk, and a husband with Alzheimers. So one of them will have to go to a nursing home & she thinks it will probably be her husband. Jeebus. There are days when I’m glad I don’t have parents or children.

    Anyway, it was lovely to have MG’s mum here for a cuppa and a chat yesterday & I hope she enjoys her stay here. It will just be a few days here and there, but its nicer here than the hospital flats so she should be able to relax.

    Meanwhile, no rest for the wicked, I’d best get on with it, I haz more cleaning and organising to do before we fly out on Monday. Getting v. excited about our trip and the thought of seeing my cousins. Oh, and our kayaks are due to arrive today. We’re thinking we might leave them safe in their packing cases until we get back, we’ve got so much to do before we go & my foot/spine is that creaky, the last thing I need is to risk slipping on a boat ramp. I might wait till we’re in screaming distance of my osteo before I attempt that. Very exciting though. So fingers crossed we have lovely weather for that 1st weekend in November for our maiden voyage.

    Yay. Two more sleeps and we’re off to Perth. Can’t wait.
    happy weekending, ladies. I’m off to Dyson up some cocky shit.

  33. Hehehe. Underpants Gnomes.

    I can’t banter today. I have to take our poor old dog for The Last Trip to the Vet. She hasn’t eaten for two days and one of her lumps is bleeding everywhere, the cancer has obviously won.

    Stupid feelings.

    Have a lovely trip, Q. Catty – yes, how is Gran doing?

  34. Oh, poor kitty! You should teach her to talk, (like my erstwhile neighbours’ cat) so she can tell you when she’s suffering instead of using that generic ‘Not Happy, Jan!’ stare that all cats use when they’re annoyed. (I.e, all the time.)

    You would hate my house, Quokka. It really is filthy. I can’t clean the walls because the paint is so old that Jif takes off paint but leaves the dirt. Yes, a paint job and new carpet are on our save-for list, but the Boss keeps adding things to the top of the list. Apparently we need a caravan, and we need it now. *sigh* Meanwhile, the kidlets are doing their utmost to cure me of my desire for a clean house. Yesterday I found:
    *A 2-inch chunk of chocolate from a Magnum ice cream under the sofa (among other, indescribable, things).
    *A 1-inch chunk of Magnum ice cream chocolate on the rug under the coffee table. (not from the same Magnum).
    *A large streak of chunky chocolate on (and around) the bathroom door handle. (I refuse to accept it could have been anything but chocolate).
    *Dried Pepsi droplets sprayed for at least two metres up the hallway walls.
    *Popcorn (a LOT of it) under the table and computer desk in the study.
    *Chewing gum smooshed onto the non-slip mat in the shower stall.
    *Black scuff marks in the bathtub. (Still haven’t worked out that one).
    And this damage was done on a school night. You should see what they can do with a whole weekend. That isn’t even all the damage, either. There was more, but by the time I got to the bathtub scuff marks, I gave up and turned my energy to CAEK. Eating it, not making it. I figure if DoCS show up here, good luck to them – they won’t even be able to find the children amongst all the filth and hoarded crap.

    Not that I plan on being here. I’m going to hide out in Quokka’s suitcase and run away to Perth. It sounds like fun, and I could use the break.

    Miracle Girl sounds like she’s doing well. Excellent news! And she’s sure to do even better with her mum so close. You’ll probably get home and find she’s moved into Casa Quokka too. Hospitals have a habit of kicking people out far too early. Gran had hip replacement surgery last Saturday night, (worse than the other hip, this time she needed a massive pin in her thigh), and they’ve already shunted her off to the rehab centre. Stupid hospital. She can’t even walk yet, so how’s she going to do rehab? She’s over her drug induced attacks, though. No more high spirits, or depression, or scary trips to the basement. She’s now back to her cranky, pushy self. Thank goodness. I love that woman, and plan on modelling my own descent into old age on her.

    I’m glad you found shoes, Quokka, even if they’re not the ones you set out to get. Finding shoes to fit Bear feet can’t be easy.

    And now, I have to go and make CAEK for the descending locusts. Good plan, Morgana, I shall make two. There’s a massive heap of other food to distract them (mainly popcorn. From the study. Waste not, want not), so hopefully the rest of us will manage to get a bit of cake as well. But just in case, I’d better charge up the cattle prod.

  35. Yes, the same happens to my walls too, Catty. What a shame neither of us can wash them. Terrible shame.

  36. Oh Morgana, not your big lovely Wooll-Eff. I had no idea she was sick, I’m so sorry. How are the boys doing? And who will protect your house from the Gob-i-lins once she’s gone?
    Condolences from me and the bloke. Big puppies simply do not live long enough. That sucks.

    As for your crumbling house problems, I’d extend my sympathies but frankly I’m jealous. I’m finding bits of my 13 yro 2-pac kitchen that are starting to go that way but the glare off the bits that now shine is enough to burn any retina that comes close enough to critique it so I’m not too bothered by it. Probably what led to me needing new spectacles so recently, really.

  37. Oh Madam, I’m so sorry. I missed your earlier post about your puppy. How horrible, how totally horrible. I hope the boys aren’t hurting too much – I’d say the same for you, but I know you are. Although your poor doggie isn’t suffering any more, you still have to suffer through missing her. My heart hurts for you. Big sympathetic hugs, darling girl.

  38. Thank you, ladies.

    I keep trying to think of it as a mercy … that if it was Mum, I’d just have to sit with her while she suffered. But she was such a good girl – security team, walking buddy, co-parent.

    The twins seemed to know I was sad, yesterday. One or both of them were on my lap as much as possible.

    We’ll be OK. Thanks for the kind thoughts.

  39. They are sweethearts, Flot & Jet. And I’m sure they’ll miss big puppy too. Think of all the times she’s opened the pantry for them & given them access to forbidden treats. Imagine how much work it will be for them to break in the next hound puppy & train it to do stupid things that benefit cats and which the dog will be blamed for. How are the kids holding up? I remember how worried you were when the last dog had to go to the vet & the Elf Boy shocked you with his resilience. Let’s hope he’s still that distractable.
    Big hugs, MM.
    xoxoxo

  40. Cats are a comfort, aren’t they? So is CAEK. And so are hugs. I can’t send you cats (Uncle F’s little effort caused the railways to change their livestock shipping rules), or caek (I ate it), but here are lots of e-hugs for you: (0) (0) (0) (0) (0). Let me know if you need more.

  41. Yup. Hugs indeed and manly back-pats for the lads. I love big woofly dogs that know perfectly well that they’re people and just part of the family. They are a joy but our furry people just don’t live long enough.

  42. So true.
    I am still in a mild state of paranoia about letting the dog out up in the back yard at night since he got poisoned by whatever horrid thing he ate a few weeks ago. That was a near miss. I am still eyeing off Not The Owner next door in Bog Hollow wondering if he inadvertently got something that she’d put out to dispatch a native animal or a feral cat. The vet was undecided on whatever the hell had poisoned him other than it really FKD with his liver, which rest, no fats, and high doses of St Mary’s Thistle seems to have sorted out in the last few weeks.

    Probably another good reason to move to the Old Coast, really.
    Farken. My grandmother and my aunt used to poison the neighbour’s cats and smile sweetly while they did it. I hope it isn’t something that comes with age, like tinnitus and grey hairs sprouting from your chin. Deafness and dementia is something I can deal with, but if the Get Off My Lawn ‘tude is destined to devolve into the will to kill your neighbour’s pets, I’m moving to Tasmania to take advantage of the Euthanasia deal they’re pushing for, down there.

    As much as I loathe Satan’s Gardeners, I couldn’t bring myself to poison one. Not while I’m still limber enough to wield a bow & arrow, anyway.
    Motherfu…oh sorry, I forget, this is a family show.

  43. MM and I were having a little cry yesterday … sorry, MM doesn’t cry, it’s not manly. I’m told his eyeballs were sweating.

    I asked EB how he was doing.

    “I’ve forced myself to move on.” he replied.

    “Well, that’s good, sweetheart. How did you do that?”

    “I imagined that she was in a much better place.”

    So we all had fun expanding on the joys of doggy heaven, where you can eat human food, sleep on all the beds and take humans for a walk when YOU feel like it.

    That’s a worry about poor little Reilly though, Q. He couldn’t have somehow got at some antifreeze? That’s sweet and hepatotoxic. Glad he’s on the mend.

  44. EB is a wise little soul.

  45. He is. I don’t know where he gets it from.

  46. Good parenting would be my guess.

  47. I would have said ‘the voices in his head’ but mothers know best. I am glad your family is recovering. I would add to their list that wherever she is, she can fart all she likes and the people around her will say ‘good doggy that smells like butterscotch, give us a cuddle’ instead of running out of the room shrieking ‘Nerve Gas, Evacuate or Perish.’ Poor puppy.

    Yeah, thanks MM. The vet said it’s hard to say what he got but as he bounced back so quickly and his liver enzymes were back towards normal levels after the 4 weeks, all is well that ends well.
    It must have been something a crow dropped in the yard, so I just assume someone around here is intent on poisoning something that’s annoying them and they don’t care what else gets taken out as collateral damage. I’m choosing to take that as validation that the neighbours drive someone else around here as nuts as they drive me. It probably was Not the Owner at Bog Hollow, though. I’ve scarcely seen a turkey since she threatened to poison them & there’s usually 7 in the nut tree.

    Well, my creatures are all safely tucked up in boarding school now so I don’t have to worry about that for 2 weeks. I let Not The Owner know that I was quite distressed that the dog had been poisoned (not pointing any fingers but as a justification for my hysterics on Saturday night) via an email to the rental management so if it was her doing the poisoning, hopefully that might shame her in to not doing it again or else if someone in the office knows it was her they might quietly dob her in. There’s a lot of dog lovers out there.

    So I figure we’re safe till the next batch of hatchlings grows up to annoy her, and meanwhile we have decided the dog is no longer free to trot around the back yard unsupervised at night. We release him into the courtyard. There’s a nice loud BANG on that door as it sticks so with luck every single one of those nocturnal BANGS will wake her and the little Beehatch that parked us in on Saturday.
    I am having happy fantasies of selling Casa Q to the ginger family down the road and giving Mummy Cuddles a drum kit as a parting gift to the neighbourhood.

    Meh. I think I need a holiday.
    Oh yeah.
    I haz a plane to catch. Do excuse the radio silence. Catty, my ipad says it has storage issues & I don’t know how to tidy it up till my next mac lesson. My bad for downloading movies so I don’t get tortured by plane stuff. So if I don’t check into your blog till Nov it’s because the ipad crashes every time I try to scroll down the page. Stupid fruit tech.

    OK ladies, and Evil Pirates, happy Monday, I am off to WA.
    xoxoxo

  48. Y’all have fun. We’re hoping to head for Melbourne as soon as we’ve helped Hairy Greybeardson move to his new, all-male, sharehouse. He has the family curse of book-hoarding so moving is always good exercise. I wanted to have a polite lunch with de-crusted cucumber sandwiches (lie) for us before going (true) but dang family keep cropping up. It will happen! Haven’t seen MM & EB for years Madam but they still sound great. Except, you know, for that trying-to-kill-Greybeard thing in EB’s case. I don’t cry either but sometimes I get dust in my eyes. Dust, ok?

  49. Bon voyage!

    I can’t believe you’re still getting parked in, though, Q. Maybe you need to refresh the heads on pikes across the front yard?

    In your case, probably mummy dust, GB. You wouldn’t recognize MM, he’s enormous. I suspect you’d know EB at once, however. He still has the same assessing and murderous twinkle in his eye.

    I’m glad to hear that Hairy’s quarters are now lesbian free. Next time he has to bail someone out of a strip club it’ll be one of his bloke housemates, as nature intended.

  50. Hmmm…. the lesbians down the street have been evicted from their caravan, if Hairy GBS ever needs any new flatmates. What is it with lesbians and caravans?

    Have a wonderful trip, Quokka. I hope you’re still able to converse whilst lounging on the beach sipping pina coladas. What? No beach? No pina coladas? Huh. Well, at least remember not to take any travel sickness pills on the plane, so you can get a good stream of vomit going in the direction of any small children who start kicking your seat. Oh, and good move with the milk thistle for your doggie. I used that to clear up the Boss’s liver once, when it almost dissolved in scotch. Happy to hear your pup’s on the mend.

    Madam, you really, really need an iPad. You can blog in a bubble bath with an iPad. The only downside is you have to use both hands to blog in the bath, which means the only way to serve your bathtime vodka is in an IV bag suspended from the shower rail. Actually, that’s not much of a downside, is it?

  51. Before I get a Precious, we need a new dog. Spookily, three people yesterday recommended an Irish Wolfhound, one of who was Uncle RV whose opinion I hold in high esteem.

    If anyone has anything to say against Irish Wolfhounds, speak now or forever hold your peace.

  52. Thanks for the bon voyage wishes, all. We flew over in an airbus which was all tricked out with mod cons so I got to watch Iron Man 3 (again) on the tv screen over my food tray & then the Sapphires (again). Pretty cloudy so couldn’t see much of the desert below. Getting the Zoo to boarding school was the usual torturous exercise with Ron (the fat one) getting horribly car sick, and by the time we made it to the Roundabout of Doom at Logan (that’s the tipping point) they were all looking green around the gills and crying and unloading their stomachs and bowels. There was a right nasty mess to clean up so the staff locked me in a sealed room with the monsters & watched, horrified, through the glass at the production involved in making them Nice again.
    The owners are friends so at least I know they’ll be safe and loved in our absence. I think it’s fair to say that the cats looked pretty shitty with me & I suspect it’s not just car-sickness but calculated revenge. As usual Riley bounced off joyously without a backward glance so no need to worry about him, he’d already forgotten we’re alive. Which says it all about how pleased he is at the prospect of having a holiday from our evil cats.

    Well, we have hunkered down in the Novotel in Perth. There’s a lovely view of the Swan & while the internet connection is dreadfully slow & won’t load the BOM radar or Catty’s blog or the newspaper (Must be too much data) it is lovely to be here. I really did need to get out.

    And yeah, MM, ditto to the parking thing. I think my front yard could definitely use a few more heads on pikes so I’ll get right onto that when I get back. Meanwhile it is just lovely to be away from it and I’m already starting to feel less like a deranged shrieking harpy and more like a normal human being again. Possibly that’s delusion but whatever, it feels good.

    Hopefully we will have a quote in from the builder sometime in the next few weeks, and he can set a start date to make a mess in the back yard. I was so POd at Not The Owner’s attitude about the parking (not my problem why are you yelling at me) that I decided our new terrace out the back (beside her deck & her flat) would be far more viable as a rental property if it had a basketball hoop attached to the roof of the pergola by our terrace.
    i.e. Ba-doing, Ba-doing, Ba-doing, Ba-doing x infinity + shrieks + balls going into the yard at Bog Hollow and squishing her pretty flowers.

    MM, I’m glad you’re thinking about getting another Wooll-eff.
    I love Irish Wolfhounds although I imagine that picking up after them could involve some sensory mortification.When I were a lass we moved into a house in Wellington St/Petrie Terrace which had recently been vacated by a family of grifters and drug dealers with three Irish Wolfhounds. The neighbours were pleased to have us there instead of the dealers so I assume however much noise we made (lots) it was infinitely preferable to the howls of the wolf-hounds & the 24/7 house calls from their customers.

    I must confess that if I wanted a guardian dog I’d go for a German Shepherd but that’s a childhood fondness of mine. The Australian sheep dogs seem lovely too, there’s one down the road from us and she is a gorgeous girl and so well behaved. I assume that’s nothing to do with training or education as since the couple who own her put so little effort into instilling obedience or civility into their children that I can’t imagine them bothering to make any more of an effort with the dog. Must be genetic. Well, that or she just sits on the owner’s lap while he smokes dope and strums his guitar and she’s just really, really Mellow.

    Well, sometime or other today we should be catching up with those of my cousins who aren’t at work, in school or hooked up to a dialysis machine. (nasty stuff & she’s not eligible for the queue for abandoned kidneys because she’s a smoker) So I’m looking forward to that. I’ve got some little gifts for the kids so I hope they enjoy them, and I brought some of those “Jen’s biscuits’ that they sell at the Rock & Roll Deli because they are awesome & I was too busy house cleaning to want to make a mess and make any of my own. So they should go down well as my contribution for am or pm Tea.

    Tomorrow we drive down to Albany where we’ve rented a beach-house for 4 nights. I think it’s meant to rain and be cold and windy but that’s part of the appeal for me, after hot stinky smokey Brisbane. I will take lots of pix and email them to you when we get back.

    Meanwhile, somebody please tell me that Mayhem’s wedding isn’t till November as when I went to grab the gifts for the children I realised I’d forgotten to post hers. Oops.

    Anyway Ladies and Potato Gun People, have fun, and Khan GB, good luck trying to separate Hairy GBson from his lesbians. I’m sure it’s easier said than done. After having made himself so useful to them I’m sure they’ll be reluctant to part with him. So best of British with that.
    Which reminds me, the Bake-off is on Gem tonight & the bloke thinks it unlikely I will be able to stay awake for it. That’s how much he knows about my devotion to CAEK.

  53. Mayhem’s wedding is not until sometime in November. In fact, she hasn’t even posted out the invites yet, unless the Letterbox Gnomes have stolen mine.

    Have a lovely trip, Q. What a mercy your rellies don’t live in the Blue Mountains!

  54. I’ve already got a present for Mayhem and Fireman Sam. It was an odd choice of gift, (I got the idea from something she said on Twitter once), but on the up side they won’t end up with two of them.

    Your trip already sounds awesome, Quokka. But you forgot to pack a couple of things – me, and Morgana.

    The Irish Wolfhound is a loyal and dependable doggie, but big. Watch out for the long tail knocking things over. They’re fine inside or out, but they need good bedding (like those trampoline bed things) as the IWH can have problems with their shoulders. They don’t live too long (up to 10 years), and often when they go it’s from cancer. There’s also a genetic liver problem that can kill them, so it’s best to have the puppy tested before you buy it. IWH’s love to chase things – not usually kids – but possibly the twins if they get excited. Speaking of getting excited, you should never rough-house with an IWH puppy. Gentle training leads to a gentle adult. They’re very big dogs, and you don’t want them taught young to be boisterous or they’ll knock you for six when they’re full size. They need plenty of space and probably half an hour exercising a day (the rest of the time you’ll probably find them lounging on the sofa with a packet of schmackos and a trashy novel). Grooming is fun, what with all that wiry hair, but shouldn’t take more than about 15 minutes with a strong wire grooming brush two or three times a week… plus a bath whenever he gets too stinky. My verdict? A good choice.

  55. Awesome!

    Thanks, Catty. We’ll see how we go.

  56. That sounds like my concerns over German Shepherds. They are so different now to when I was a kid, bred to have those low hips and funny legs (half dog, half frog). They often have congenital hip problems and are very prone to arthritis. Actually i think loopy dog breeders have done terrible things to a lot of “pure” breeds over the decades. Maybe a Border Collie or some other working dog? They’re still relatively healthy. And there was a neighbour who had a very quiet dog named Springer. Sort of looked like a dingo (because it was) but well-behaved.

  57. I’m not energetic enough for a working dog, GB. I love a hound because they’ll stroll in the morning and then lay down for most of the day.

    My ideal lifestyle, really …

    • Hey that sounds exactly like me! If Fifi ever kicks me out (and why would she) maybe i can apply for a job as lazy hound to the household?

  58. Suuuure, Greybeard. You go down into your genetic modification lab to ‘lie down for most of the day’.

    Unless, of course, you have Mayhem’s Mum’s rats trained to do all the work and you actually do lie down for most of the day.

    Now I’m frightened.

  59. Apparently the second generation experiment is developing exactly as expected. She has recently mastered the skill of blowing raspberries, which she demonstrated during our last video chat. Not so evil you say? Pretty mild you aver? But no. she apparently loves to do it while feeding. Her mother rang to complain – as if we could do anything. Except laugh. And laugh and laugh since we could hear the strangely muffled raspberries, even over the shrieking of her poor mother.

  60. Oh, the humanity.

    Tell her to flick the evil spawnlet on the cheek. Well, it works for when they bite. I’ve never heard of another bub doing it on the breast.

    I’m fascinated to hear what comes out of her mouth when she starts to talk.

  61. Oh, that is so cute! Can someone please take a video camera when the little monkey is picked up from her first day at kinder? I really, really want to see the stunned looks on the teachers’ faces.

  62. And their shaking hands, as they drain their hip flasks.

  63. Yep. Youtube gold.

  64. Promise me we’ll never let her and EB spend any time together. I don’t think the Universe can stand it.

  65. I’m picturing your future grandchildren. Now I’m REALLY frightened. Have you considered a boarding school for EB? Say, in Switzerland?

  66. Back to dogs, are you quite sure about a Collie Madam? Even this one? https://twitter.com/jarra_mackem/status/393105406635307008/photo/1

  67. Adorable! I’ll take a six-pack.

  68. Cute.

    But here’s the thing. I can barely be bothered grooming myself, the children get a thrice weekly hose-down if they’re lucky … a long-haired dog in my house would end up looking like Bob Marley within a fortnight.

    And not in a good way.

  69. You hose your kids down? Bugger that. I just let mine play in the rain.

  70. I am inclined to trust Uncle RV’s opinion. He knows dogs and he knows you, so I would expect him to know a good match. I am trying to remember the name of a story I read donkeys years ago about Irish Wolfhounds and it’s completely eluded me. I suspect it was a series of books written for YA/teens.
    Sound familiar to the bookworms among you?
    Oh wait, that’s all of you.

    Albany is gorgeous today, cool and squally and wild. I may have to go back to the Emu Point cafe and see if they’ve got any more of that Leek & Potato soup left as it is the perfect day for it & it really was fabulous.

    There’s more galahs outside my bedroom window & there was a flock of them on the beach yesterday arvo when we went for a walk. Also lots of bunnies, I’ve seen two in the driveway this morning and one bounced past me on my walk yesterday. There’s a sign up saying that the locals are meeting for a Fox Shoot one weekend soon. It was next to the pony club sign so I wonder if they still go out on horseback in red coats to do it. I think Albany was the first port & settlement in WA so it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s some old customs to match the architecture. Since google is failing me, I got humpy to do some checking and he said that there’s a 4 berth shipping terminal here and they get cruise ships visiting and they export mainly wood chips. We were wondering what the big piles of stuff were near the port. And why there’s a massive stage/theatre right beside the port, with only nominal supplies of parking spaces. It’s a sleepy little place and aside from the steady supply of grey nomads, we’ve been wondering how the town manages to keep it’s economy alive. Cruise ships, huh. That does explain the overpriced African shop just up the road from the port.

    wish you were here, its simply gorgeous.

    • Sorry, Q. I never read doggie stories when I was younger. They disturb me. Foxes, too – so this little gem is likely to get the kidlets’ lips sewn shut if they don’t stop singing it:

  71. How odd to think of people getting on a cruise ship to dock at a sleepy town in WA and buy overpriced African artifacts.

    Those tourist dollars should be spent on overpriced Australian artifacts, dammit!

    Q, are any of your rellies arty? Maybe you could open up an art gallery, then we could all come and visit. I love leek and potato soup. And cold windy rain.

    TGIF. It’s Friday, I’m in love. With the weekend. Huzzah!

  72. I’m in love with cake. And Timothy Dalton. (O.k, so it’s lust. Close enough). I’d try baking Timothy Dalton into a cake, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea after that last little misunderstanding about whether the surprise guest gets into the cake before or after it’s cooked.

  73. Mmmm … Barbecued Long-Pork Buns.

  74. Speaking of CAEK, we found a bakery yesterday that made awesome apple pies. I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t buy more of his wares as he’s closed today, and I really, really wanted to try his Toffee Apple pie. He had awards all over the walls for all the prizes he’s won at regional shows. He won a prize for his Egg & Bacon pie at the Melbourne show so damn, they must be good. And if he doesn’t need to open on the weekends then obviously he doesn’t need to cater to the tourists because he locals are willing to keep him in clover. When he found out we were from Qld he was jealous as his favourite thing to do is to go to the casinos in SEQ. He was shocked when he realised we live 3k from a Casino & I’ve never been inside the ghastly FKR.
    WA people are weird, everyone we’ve met so far has this unholy passion for Casinos. I’m thinking we need to ship Canned Ooh and Clive over here, STAT.
    I’m picturing a line of Casinos dotted along the shipwreck coast, fleecing all the Americans on the P&O cruise ships. Weird to think that the cruise ships do this stretch but as we well know, people are crazy. Particularly cruise ship passengers.

  75. Mmm … Toffee Apple Pie.

    Catty, be a love and construct one or a half-dozen?

  76. Hmm… well that explains where Catty’s gone. I should have taken photos, but I thought we’d get back to the bakery before it shut.
    It was fabulous pastry with a lattice/crumble pastry top & a drizzle of what looked like butterscotch/toffee over the top. We stopped in at the Boatshed markets at Albany Harbour OTW out of town and I ate the best pastry snail I have ever sampled in nearly 5 decades of sampling such things. OMG it was good. Also the best mini-quiches I’ve ever had in my life. We’re already talking of retiring there. We may have to go back and see what it’s like in the summer as it is still wet and cool and misty (exactly what I wanted, seriously, I love that weather, it must be the Welsh ancestry from my great-grandfather’s side) and I would love to see what it’s like in Jan-Feb when the sun comes out.
    I found the pony club on our way out of town, they have a brilliant set-up. Trail rides all over hill and dale, up along the cliffs by the wind farm & the beach below it, and a field full of jumps including a water jump. A huge indoor arena where the members have lessons. Amazing facilities. Wow. In my dreams, or my next life, I’m living there.

    Well, after 8 – 9 hours of driving yesterday along some very windy hilly roads through the state forest, (Denmark, Pemberton, and a whole stack of tiny little towns where the only shop is the roadhouse/bottlo) we have made our way to Cape Naturaliste just north of the Margaret River.

    We’re in a little lakeside villa & I forgot to factor in that freshwater = frogs. An entire orchestra of them. May have to get earplugs from the concierge as I foolishly forgot to pack mine. When we were checking in last night the Bloke was trying to remember the name of his free restaurant points that he’s stacked up from the 3 years in Cairns & the concierge couldn’t remember either. So I suggested ‘Frequent Eaters’ & the staff all lost their dignified air & got the giggles.
    I suspect I may have introduced a new back-room cultural reference to describe their clientele.

    Anyway, we made the most of it as we ate (free) dinner and (free) cocktails and (free) Creme Brulee at the swish hotel restaurant last night and at midnight I woke up and remembered why I normally only eat hippy fare as I had indigestion from the combo of gorgonzola & cauliflower soup (they overdid the cheese), the mojito & the creme brulee with panacotta/blueberries/honey/pine nuts. I have NFI how the scribe manages to eat like that all the time. One meal like that and I remember why I seek out the kale & chick pea soup. Oh, the humanity.

    Today I will be hunting for a juice bar and a veggie burger. It’s a surfing community around here so surely there’s hippies running a wholefoods cafe somewhere.

    Did I mention to you guys that the wildflowers are still in bloom and there are birds everywhere? It is so beautiful here. Now that the frogs have STFU and the lake is full of honking ducks chasing each other from end to end it’s added considerably to the serenity. Two days here and on Tues night we are due back in Perth for dinner with Chazzles. Thursday we fly home. It’s not long enough, I want another week here.

    Well, the Bloke is awake so I am off. Happy Monday, ladies. I will go forth on the noble quest for CAEK & shall report my findings later.
    xoxox

  77. As a souvenir, kindly bring home some rain. Even a gentle drizzle will do. It is so bloody dry. But I’m pleased to report, not as hot.

    Continue to have a ball and check in with the next CAEK update.

  78. That’s one fabulous holiday. CAEK, frogs, and no housework. Q, if you do retire there, expect regular visitors. i.e, us.

  79. Hell, why not just acquire a property with a Catty flat incorporated?

    I could make do with a renovated shipping container or so, out the back.

  80. I think I’m on the road to making the bloke as much in love with WA as I am, so that might be a plan that could come to fruition, Catty. I think we’ve left the rain behind us in Albany, MM, Margaret River stopped raining a week ago (according to the locals) and it’s mediterranean climate in spring. i.e. beautiful clear blue skies and during the day you need a T-shirt & a light cardigan in case the wind springs up. It’s cool in the evenings but not cold. I am still savouring every moment away from SEQ’s Stinky Heat. I found ear plugs in Margaret River yesterday so we slept like logs & woke up to the last plaintive bleats of the frogs in the lake outside our window. There’s a duck nesting in the reeds below our balcony & she won’t leave her nest regardless of how much bread I tempt her with. Her husband, on the other hand, practically climbs through the window demanding more food.

    Which is a bit how I was when we discovered the fudge factory in the main drag of Margaret River yesterday. OMG Catty you would be in heaven. I considered posting some to both of you but it’s so soft I doubt it would travel well. Things usually take 4 days to cross from east to west. So I just ate lots and hope you’d enjoy the experience vicariously. Lousy friend, huh? You just have to come here, and stock up. The fudge was just another item on the long list of perishables that it’s not feasible to ferry back to Brisbane. Aside from all the amazing pastry shop items that I wanted but couldn’t possibly eat in one day, the standouts were the
    * Marinated feta from the Boatshed markets at Albany (wow)
    * Macadamia & sundried tomato pesto (no preservatives) from the Olive Soap Factory down the road near Yallingup.
    the ‘up’ on the ends of the aboriginal words means ‘place’, I’m told, and you see it all over the little one-horse towns that you pass through on the highway.

    Anyway, we were driving down to MR via the scenic route – Yallingup beach, it’s gorgeous, they have a surf shop and a hippy cafe & that’s it, unless you count the village that’s built up around the caravan park further up the road. I gather that’s my cousin Tracey’s home away from home. But I digress, we took the path less chosen & went past about a squillion wineries, and I did a radical u-turn when I realised I’d just gone past the turn-off to the Olive Soap Factory. i.e the Vasse-Virgin co. When I was googling veggie burgers I found a blog by a chiropractic student & I figured she wouldn’t steer me wrong when it came to hippy foods and organic produce & I was right. She raved about the Olive Soap Factory and for good reason.
    The bloke of course whined all the way about being forced to view a soap factory (we are in the wine region, I realise I am not normal) but once we got there I had trouble getting him out of there. The history of the company is that the family had children with terrible eczema so they researched it & started making their own skin care range from olive oil. It helped and it turned into their life’s work. So you can watch the soaps being made in the factory. I lost the Bloke in the skin-care testing section, playing with shower gels and shampoos. He & his nephew & niece have sensitive skin – hmm, should have thought of that & Xmas while we were there, really. Again, I doubt it will travel well.

    Not to worry, I regard this as a reconnaissance trip to scout out where to stay next time. I think you need at least a week to really make the most of it here.
    I got a really pretty bottle of blueberry vinegraitte for Chaz & his lovely lady wife – they insisted on paying for dinner last time we were out so I think a few treats are in order. It looks like blue syrup in olive oil as it separates out if it’s not shaken. Awesome looking stuff so I hope they’ll enjoy it.

    I could probably sit here all day describing how lovely the Margaret River region is so I won’t even try, I’ll just say that some day you both really should come here. It’s beautiful, and there’s so much to see and do. I think the idea is that you go stay at the wineries and just spend your day exploring. Even for someone as finicky as I am about food allergies it’s been really easy to find great food to chow down on. They seem to have struck a balance between snotty gourmet dining and hard-core hippy dietary requirements. I think it’s the surfer/hippy culture, demanding that the food be pure. I’m impressed. I was expecting to be tortured by what I call ‘Ricotta-Duck’ which is my term for snotty restaurants that use fancy foreign words to describe a menu laden with duck fat and drizzled with mashed pumpkin & blended peas.

    Well, the ipad screen is shaking so best I sign off. Ms Catty, I will get to your blog later, unless the bloke drags me out for a walk along Bunker Bay or worse, into the freaking gym like he did last night. Yargh. My butt hurts. He introduced me to something called a ‘cross trainer’ machine & I think I should probably get friendly with it on a regular basis if I’m to fend off my fears of osteoporosis. But truly, it is an instrument of torture. Thank God there’s a pool overlooking bunker bay and the sun is so gentle here I should be able to spend a good chunk of the day swanning about out there without worrying I will burn to a crisp.

    Happy Tuesday, ladies. I wish you were here, its just bliss.

  81. Gym? Dear Gods, the humanity. Isn’t this a holiday?

    Sounds lovely, though. Continue to enjoy!

  82. The Margaret River Chocolate Company once offered to send me a free sample if I signed up for their email newsletter. I never got the chocolate, but they do send me newsletters. Bastards.

    Hey, I wonder if they do chocolate frogs? And chocolate ducks to eat them?

    Also, I’m with Morgana. Gym is a nasty, nasty man and should not be allowed to accompany anybody on any holiday.

  83. His last name is Bo-Jones. He’s that bully from the Simpsons.

  84. Is that the bully with the beanie? Never trust a man in a beanie.

    • Damn straight! (Hides beanie collection with Phantom comics and Matchbox cars)

  85. Beanies may be iffy, but I do love The Phantom!

  86. Ghost who walks…. because he hasn’t got a pocket to put bus money in.

  87. I have just discovered that Truck Nuts are actually a thing. And now I need a Bex and a good lie down. *whimper*

  88. We’ve had them up here for yonks!

    My faves are the chrome ones.

  89. I found a packet of Road Kill in roadhouse in SW WA. I will load the pic onto the Big Mac with the rest to email you when I get back.
    As for beanies, the Bloke forgot to pack his (he has 3 back in Brisbane) and he grumbled and sulked when he got ice-cream head on our 1st day in Albany, and I was there with my purple Rottnest beanie (4 years old now, purchased on our last trip to Wadjemup) and I had my windcheater with the faux-fur lined hoodie. I also had a green fluffy scarf so I took pity on him chilling by the telly that evening. He wrapped his head up in my azure scarf & he still looked so cold that I unzipped my furry hoodie & he wandered round the house with that over the scarf to keep him warm. He threatened me with vengeance if I posted the images on the innerwebz so that’s an image I’ll have to entrust to your imaginations.

    We had a lot of trouble finding a beanie in Albany. The locals looked on him with scorn and said that now that it’s summer (apparent temp 11.5C & 40k gusts of wind and rain howling outdoors) they don’t stock beanies. So he spent a few days in that getup (at home) and just had to suffer till we finally found a beanie in the last place we wanted to set foot in, the Australiana store. I’ve still got ear-worm from ‘I’ve been Everywhere, Man,’ and it is all the Bloke’s fault for neglecting to Be Prepared.

    He had to choose between the Lions beanie (NFI WTF that was doing in a shop in Albany other than not selling) and the ALBANY beanie so thank Dog he’s disenchanted with his local football team or I’d have had to light the fireplace just for the pleasure of watching it burn.

    Gosh it was strange to go from such different climates, it was so hot yesterday in Perth that I was tempted to join the bloke when he went out for a surf at Marmion Beach yesterday. I’m glad I didn’t as the rip looked fierce & I was in no mood to battle it after my experience with the cross-trainer the day before. So I sat in a cafe eating chicken & avocado panini while he got smacked by the surf. It’s a rough beach, Cottesloe probably would have been a better choice but we ran out of time faffing about as we switched hotels. I will be back later on to slander the Sebel when I’ve worked up enough venom to do it justice. With Irma for company in the Qantarse Club later I have no doubt I’ll feel inspired.

    Well, that’s the Quokka Holiday Tails drawing to a close. The buffet beckons.
    Rodger, & out.

  90. Hope your journey went well, Q. Were the kitties and puppy glad to see you? I’m not too miffed about the lack of souvenirs; the Boss came back from an away trip with a chocolate eclair he bought from some award winning bakery. It was magnificent.

    Did Miracle Girl’s mum enjoy the house? No wild parties, I hope.

  91. Sulk. Eclair. All I got this weekend was Aunt Irma, as I scored the karate all yesterday. Still, MM came third in fighting and I’m not pregnant, so huzzah!

    Oh, I’d forgotten you’d had a houseguest, Q. She probably left the place immaculate with fresh-baked noms on the bench, right?

    Lord, give me strength. Baconing and then five more days at real work. So this means I’m half-way through my 12 straight days of work, I guess that’s something.

    Lounge-room lols:
    MM staggered back from some enormous task I’d asked him to do, like let the cats out or something equally arduous. He came back monologuing, ” … and I have to do everything around here, no one lifts a finger to help me …”

    Quick as a flash, EB replied, “I’ll lift you a finger” and displayed his middle one.

    Coarse, but funny.

  92. Sigh. Lost a long post when the ipad lost it’s internet connection yesterday so will try again.

    Sniggers at finger. Wherever do they learn these things, MM? & good work to your first born & also to you for making it this far through the drudge with your sense of humour intact.

    I don’t think MG’s mama showed, I didn’t hear from her but my text to her from WA failed to send & I failed to notice till I was back in the Qantas Club on Thursday. I got the monthly newsletter saying that her husband was injured & she hadn’t been able to see much of MG because he required care so I assume the added chaos to their already chaotic world must have thrown an oversized spanner into the works.

    All the creatures are immensely pleased to see us but particularly the cats. They’ve been busy letting us know that their stay at the 5 stay cat hotel run by our friends was an extremely disagreeable experience and we are never to leave their sight again.
    They yowled every time we tried to walk out the door, even to water the plants or tend the clothesline. When we went up to the spa yesterday arvo, they assembled in the foyer out back and sang the theme song to ‘Prisoner’.
    I could hear it over the bubble jets so I assume the rest of the neighbourhood heard it too. Not that I have any sympathy for our nearest and not so dearest, as now that I’m back from all that lovely peace, isolation & silence of Albany, the cacophony of noise that my neighbours make has hit me like a cement truck. I’m seriously considering asking one of my blackfella friends if he has any contacts who would come round here and do a smoking ceremony as there’s just no way these freaks are fecking normal.

    Mummy Cuddles was outside at dawn howling at the moon, as usual. I might get proactive with that one and drop off a leaflet for parenting classes & see if I can shame them into trying to do better. I assume they leave him on the kerb to howl in the hopes that it’s hard rubbish day and he’ll be gone when they’ve finished their coffee, and if the carrion don’t ferry him off to sell him on ebay the council crusher truck will show up & restore order to their lives, but I’ve come back from holidays disinclined to tolerate the Madelaine McCann approach to child-rearing.

    On the plus side the new people in the house that sold over the road seem to be quiet, considerate, well behaved, and have a functional understanding of how to park in a way that won’t prompt their neighbours to start yanking the strings on the chain saws, so that’s good. They had a halloween party the other night and they were very, very civilised. Barely knew it was happening. The Bloke thinks they are lesbian tradesfolk as they both drive tradie’s trucks and wander about hefting tools.
    Like. 🙂
    Wonder what I’d have to do to persuade them to change my tap washers and the light bulbs I can’t reach…perhaps they like CAEK?

    Erm, well, I’m getting on top of the chores. I have a few ugly things to do, i.e. bust out the Dyson to suck up the 6-legged Evil Dead, and I have to defrost the little freezer in preparation for all the lunches that the Bloke will require now that he’s not commuting to the Banana Republic for work. I want to get the house in order so I can put in some couch time over the next few days – I’m due at the dentist tomorrow arvo to have my crown fitted, meh. The Bloke tells me it hurts and it feels strange for a few weeks so I’m damned if I plan to come home from that to vacuum up cockies.

    Heh heh…I have to share. Remember the fit of exasperation I had just before we left, when I got parked in by one of our idiot neighbours and Not The Owner was less than sympathetic? I stepped out on the porch yesterday just in time to see her trying to angle her way out of her driveway as the same little **** had parked her in. Not that she has a particularly difficult driveway to exit, but the little **** had obviously factored that in and decided she could leave via the nature strip. It took her quite a while to get her car out & she had to do a lot of to-ing and fro-ing to master it, and she scraped her car on her driveway just as she thought she’d made it.

    So a big Thank You to the parking fairies for seeing to it that I was on hand to be amused by that. And fingers crossed that they have something special up their sleeves for her if she is responsible for poisoning my dog.

    The Bloke thinks that visiting WA has ramped up my hexing powers as he saw a few examples of Instant Karma with people who tried to Smurf with me on our travels.
    i.e. we were on the highway OTW to Busselton & I was in the left lane doing the speed limit when one of those idiots with a gardening franchise – let’s call it Dial-a-Dick – decided to tailgate & flash his lights to make me go faster. I didn’t, and it was obviously far too much trouble for him to get into the left lane and overtake me. I muttered nasty things under my breath & as he roared through a roundabout to overtake me & give me the finger, there was a nasty clatter as one of his mowers rolled off the tray of his truck & went under the wheels of a 4WD.
    The Bloke said it was me & I cursed him & since Irma was in the car with us, I’m sure it’s so.
    So let’s hope Dick has learned how to use his fingers to secure items to his truck with a rope, rather than just elevate the middle one & smack his car horn.

  93. Hehehe. Lesbian Tradies. If you can’t bribe them with CAEK, maybe red meat will work?

    Not The Owner is strange. I’m glad to think that she’s just been nibbled by karma. Even if she thinks she has her reasons, I really can’t stand people who tell lies. It makes everything unnecessarily murky and tedious.

  94. I love tales of the deservedly hexed getting their just deserts. Hope the 4wd driver gave him heaps. Also sniggering at the finger lifting MM. A sense of humour is clearly hereditary. I put photos on Twitter but D#2 had “upgraded” our bungalow with a bar fridge, fully stocked with the usual stuff. Sadly she also printed a minibar pricelist. Sigh. I blame her mother. Of course.

    We walk in in the morning and bub lights up a huge smile and waves her arms, then extends them for pickup/cuddle. She’s 99% sunny, except when a raging ball of fury. I’m too experienced to fall for her tricks of course . . oops, she’s calling me. Gotta go.

  95. Yeah I didn’t stick around and we just laughed and sped off at the requisite 70k/hour.

    Greybeard, I hope she’s charging you extra for the nuts you feed the brush turkey.

    And yeah, Not the Owner is an odd one. The Bloke pointed out before we’d even met her that no sane human being is going to take over that dump much less live in it. The lying is a strange choice of first impression to choose to make and it’s certainly a lasting one. If she hadn’t lied to me when she first met me I’d be inclined to think she’s just odd rather than intentionally and stupidly and perhaps poisonously deceitful.
    Then again she was pretty open and honest about expressing her wish to poison the brush turkeys so at least I don’t have to look far with wondering which of the morons around me would be so evil as to set out baits.

    The boarding house seems to be emptying out, there’s ‘rooms for let’ add on the innerwebz again, & I noticed a new tenant moving in. He set off the smoke alarms a few times early Sunday am before figuring out that he needs to smoke outside. i.e. On the stairs outside Casa Q. So I stomped down there to ask him very sweetly to go smoke his death sticks outside his own habitat as I don’t much care for it blowing in here. He was fine, and wandered off politely enough.
    He’s Irish, so no doubt he’ll forget the moment that he’s drunk, and going on history, he’ll be drunk far more often than his sober.
    So if she’s desperate enough to start taking in Ratsackers again then things must be dire.

    On the plus side absolutely every single Irish Ratsacker’s first act of tenanticide is to disassemble the smoke alarm in their flats, so the odds of Bog Hollow going up in flames have just risen dramatically. Which would be a pity, as the AC has actually managed to silence them & since my burst of angry doorknocking, none of the inhabitants seem to be willing to park anywhere near Casa Q. Then again, perhaps they’ve noticed the sea kayaks and they simply don’t want to risk having their passenger side winders speared by a 5m length of fibreglass as we try to reverse down the driveway.

  96. Why are you a Bog Magnet, Q?

    There must be something annoyingly familiar about your locale that has them moving in all the time.

    GB, is there an Irish equivalent of the scrub turkey, perchance?

  97. Well, I had a visiting Melbourne psychic here (as a client) when I first moved in & he said it’s because the street is Maldito. There’s a bad spirit roaming the street making everyone act like a$$holes (me included, some days). He said that my house is the only one that doesn’t have a big black aura over it & the only reason he didn’t tell the cab to keep going was because there was such a strong aura of white light over Casa Q. He asked me how I managed that & I rolled my eyes & said it takes all my strength of mind to stop the shadow creeping over the corners as it pushes at the boundaries every freaking day. He asked if anything bad had happened & I said well, yeah, apparently an aboriginal guy died outside our house in a motorbike accident a couple of years before we bought the place. That & there’s been god knows how much dysfunction trawling through the boarding houses next door since at least WW2. So he said that the dead guy is still there, with bad things attached to him, & the street needed a smoking ceremony.
    So I haven’t yet ruled out calling in the Ghost Busters.

    If you want a more practical explanation for the asshats, though, here goes.
    Geography & market forces. It’s the high percentage of rental properties in the market which lack off-street parking, particularly on the low side.

    The big problem for the street is of course next door. We never expected that the two old boarding houses beside us would last this long, we thought that when the original owner died they’d be snapped up by a developer & turned into some sort of exotic yuppy townhouse complex – with adequate off-street parking & hard working little yuppies ensconced within. That’s what happened to all of the coot’s other properties, after he died someone either torched them or restored them. So it’s just bad luck that the ugly little rat holes are still a going concern. His widow sold them seperately & at a point where the market was peaking so while the developers looked at them, they sold for more than a developer was willing to pay.

    None of the houses on the other side of the street have off-street parking so that makes them unattractive to anyone but slum-lords wanting to fill them with students. If they renovate them, they enclose the teensy-tiny airless little sleep outs & call them 4 bedroom houses, instead of what they really are, which is 2 bedroom houses with rat-sized sleep outs.
    Its not that expensive to install AC & that seems to be the accepted standard for students, rat-holes with AC. And these days all students drive expensive brand new cars & they don’t care if they get parking tickets or scratch and ding them because all it takes is one plaintive phone call & Mummy Will Fix it.

    According to the property report the rental market will change in the next few years, as by 2015 they are predicting there will be so many new units built in the UQ student catchment area that demand for rat-holes will be low & competition will be high. Landlords will have to provide more amenities (BBQ, pool, gym, good design/quality interior) and even so, because supply will exceed demand (more online learning means students won’t move away from home to attend uni) they will get less rent.

    I will have the Gen Y ‘Fix it Mummy’ demographic to thank for this as they don’t like living in rat holes, having grown up in pleasant surrounds used to every creature comfort, they expect to move straight into that. Hence the rush by developers to build them lots of lovely big gracious spacious units.

    As for the houses, the REAs that I’ve spoken to can’t understand why this area hasn’t taken off in attracting yuppy renovators in the same way that Bulimba & New Farm have. Both of them have awkward access (one road in & one road out & they’re clogged at peak hour) but that’s where the herd wants to be.

    So, instead of the high quality/fitout architect designed renos that you see in those suburbs, what you tend to see here is the hippy-home-handyman reno.
    i.e. bad design, hideous little rooms with no airflow, all in the wrong spot.
    i.e. kitchens in the west because that’s where they stuck all the chimneys in 1880 & people don’t understand that moving the plumbing & electrics is not that hard to do.
    i.e. the Flanders complained to council when we moved our kitchen into a different part of the house because they were sure it must be illegal to do so.
    Yes, they’re idiots but a lot of people do think that Demolition Control precinct applies to cracked terrazo floors and 1950s plumbing, too.

    The REAs are quite open about saying that pretty much every house on the market around here is sh!t. They are qlder cottages that are old, close together, on small blocks on hills which have serious access issues (add 15% to the cost of a reno for a hill with access issues) and it’s been a slum/student accommodation area for decades so the houses are seriously run down but council won’t let you knock them down unless you go to great expense to prove that only the rat droppings are holding them together. My nice neighbour, Jen, has been looking hard for a nicely renovated Qlder on a big block for the last 5 years. There’s nothing out there. Even the ones that look OK online, once you get into them the problems are obvious – they just haven’t made it into the photo-shoot.

    So it will change, over time.
    I’m hoping that once we renovate Casa Q it will set the ball in motion & inspire others to do likewise. Credit where credit is due, ours is one of the ugliest houses in the bloke so once it gets a makeover that should add considerably to the street appeal when other houses nearby go up for sale. I’ve come back feeling quite refreshed by our trip to WA so hopefully next year we will get that ball rolling.

    The Bloke had his first day at his new job yesterday & came home ever so happy because they seem organised and all the documentation is in order & he has a good team. He will be going to work in the valley till Xmas then I think they get 2-3 weeks off (huzzah, kayak adventures here we come) and next year he will have to start commuting to the Gold Coast to be on site. He whined about catching the train yesterday & that was a 10 minute trip so I told him that 2 hours on the train per day should motivate him to get our house bloody well finished so we can leave & go live at the old coast.
    I also told him that every minute on the train to the coast will be punishment for all the delays he’s caused with our build so I won’t have a minute’s sympathy for him when Karen from Coomera plonks down next to him at South Bank station and starts squeezing the pus out of her belly ring & her infected tatts.
    🙂

  98. Eeew. I just had porridge for breakfast, too.

    Does he like to play Plants Versus Zombies? I see a lot of gaming on a Precious in the Bloke’s future.

    Still, huzzah that he likes the new team. That helps a lot, I find.

  99. No, that will be me. 🙂
    During our stint out at Redcliffe he read a lot of books on the train and he was really happy about that. He has noise-cancelling headphones so if we can just get him some Feral-Filtering glasses that make the swamp dwellers look less they’ve just surfaced from the bottom of the Black Lagoon, that’ll be a help.
    where do I find such things in time for Xmas or his BD?
    Ebay?

  100. Just dress him like an undercover cop, and I think you’ll find they steer well clear of their own volition.

  101. Easier said than done. It’s against the law to carry a gun & it should be against the law to dowse yourself in Brut 33.
    Meh. I think I need to return to my twitching corner.
    I went to the dentist yesterday to have that crown fitted on my cracked molar. I whined on twitter but they all had far worse stories than mine so I think I’ll just retreat to the couch with some nice soft udon noodles to slurp on till the ulcers & bruising settle down. As usual they couldn’t figure out where to stick the anaesthetic to dull the feeling in my gums, because as you all know by now, I don’t have normal anatomy as taught in dentistry school. He warned me the third time he pumped me full of chemicals that this time I’d probably start to hallucinate.
    So, can somebody make that wildebeest shove over on the couch, and FFS where did it get that bow-tie and those tatts?

  102. Dammit! This would be the perfect time to deliver some purple-dyed rats or a turkey wearing a polka dotted bow. And here’s me in Melbourne.

    A friend trained as a dentist for a while before moving on to less pain-inducing pursuits. His favourite story was about giving an anaesthetic injection to a “volunteer” and trying to work it into the right spot. The patient was saying something like “hi hon i howder” in some alarm. So he stopped to get a clearer version. “It’s on my shoulder”. He’d put the needle right through the cheek and was squirting little bits of local onto the guy’s shoulder. Oh how we laughed.

    Anyway, we’re in full kid-wrangling mode and it’s just awful. https://www.dropbox.com/sc/9vhmoriza8rt6el/hngjB0y-hd
    https://www.dropbox.com/sc/3luxoef6hmo64ko/ui7c8r_lit
    For some reason she seems to find me amusing (no comments please) and will happily try to dismantle my head for ages.

    • Too adorable! She can’t possibly be related to you. I’d insist on DNA testing.

  103. Do lesbian tradies like CAEK? Well, der. Everybody likes CAEK. Including Hairy Greybeardson, who will probably move in across the road soon.

    Speaking of CAEK, I have been eagerly looking forward to Mayhem’s wedding. But here it is November, and I haven’t seen any invitations in my letterbox. If I’m not invited to the wedding, I’m going to get huffy and sell her wedding present on eBay, alongside all the feral filtering glasses.

    Nah, not really. But I will be depressed enough to take the wildebeest back to the sulking corner.

    Another speaking of…. if you can find out what tribe your blackfella came from, you might be able to track down their funeral song. If you sing it in your front yard, that will send the poor bugger’s spirit off into the Dreaming. It’d be better than trying to track down someone for a smoking – sheesh, you think tradies are unreliable? Wait until you’re running on Murray time.

    Meanwhile, the Teen won’t be moving into your area any time soon, Q. (lucky you!) She’s staying in the house above the pizza shop after all. Apparently the new pizza guy has told her she can have a job when he re-opens the place in a week or two. We’re running a book on how long she lasts there. I give it two weeks. MIL reckons a single shift. The Boss says she’ll come up with some excuse and not even manage that.

    Also, the Teen called Troll Baby’s new girlfriend a rat on Facebook. Next thing you know, I’M getting DM’s on Facebook from the new girlfriend’s sister, telling me I’m immature and rude. Why? My guess is drugs. Huh. Is this what genY has come to? Stalking your sister’s new boyfriend’s ex’s mother? This, Morgana, is why you should be grateful you never had girls. And Q, I think you should be grateful your neighbours are only bogdwellers. You know where you are with an Irish backpacker…. usually hosing vomit out of your garden. But at least they’re predictable.

  104. Yes, I was wondering about that, too. Are we wrong about the date? Have we all been struck of the invite list?

    I hope it’s not because the poor darling is still sore and has had to postpone.

    I can’t even untangle that fb sequence of events, Catty – other than to say that people take things that happen on fb FAR TOO SERIOUSLY. Don’t let it phase you.

  105. And this, ladies, is why I refuse to do FB.
    Any crazy nutter that you’ve never met and would cross the road to get shot of can hit ‘send’ and fill your email account with their lunacy.
    No thanks.
    No clue what’s happening with Mayhem’s wedding, we said hi on twitter yesterday & she seems OK.
    I think it has taken a lot longer to recover from her surgery than she’d anticipated & it involved a good deal more pain and suffering than she expected, so my guess is that’s what’s slowing her down.

  106. Poor Mayhem. When next you tweet, wish her well from me please Q.

    Oooh, and your postcard came in the mail. Lovely cows, thank you. I shall stick them on my office noticeboard, to counteract deadbeat frustration.

  107. Crap. The ipad just lost another long post to your blog. Perhaps it’s time to give up on blogging in bed?

    Glad you got the postcard, I had thought they were lost forever in the piles of crud we accumulated in our travels. So I only managed to post them when I found them, which was when we unpacked all the piles of crud on our return.
    Probably would have taken the same time to get here from WA anyway.

    Congrats on making it past hump day, MM. Practice threatening snarls in the mirror to use on your deadbeats and if you want overtime, you can come practice them here. Just had the same git in the silver hatch parked over our driveway but thankfully he moved. I’ve just had a word to my friendly neighbourhood parking inspectors so he can look forward to some regular visits from them. At least I’ve seen the driver now & know where he comes from (the other boarding house next door to Bog Hollow) so I know which doors to bang on at 4.30am on Saturday when I plan to back down the driveway with our sea kayaks on board. I’ve decided that BCC ticketing officers will be my back up plan & my first course of action will be the Dawn Door-Knock. Hopefully once will be enough to persuade the little smurf suckers not to do it again. 🙂

  108. A Phillips head screwdriver applied forcefully to the wall of one or more of their tyres would probably do the trick as well.

    Only downside, though, you’d wait even longer for the RACQ to clear your driveway. I assume people who can’t park also lack tyre-changing facility.

  109. Once the renovators show up, you’ll have lots of handy bobcats to scoop recalcitrant parkers right out of the driveway. Dump the scooped car in the middle of the street in front of Bog Hollow, and you’ve dished out two karmas for the price of one.

    On re-reading that, it’s no wonder I sometimes suspect I am an A-grade bitch, but know it for a fact the rest of the time.

    Morgana, dear girl, have you been browsing for Wherewolves yet? Puppy hugs are a tonic (just add Gin…). But if you want really positive Feng Shui, there’s a wildebeest wandering around in my sulking corner that you’re welcome to take.

  110. I’m quite enjoying the company of the Wildebeest Catty, but can’t say the cats would think much if I brought it home.

    I suspect the Greeks down the road are responsible for some smashed windscreens and flattened tyres which is why the little shites park up here, out of range of Cretan Vendettas.
    Since I’ve established where the Little Prince in the hatch resides (he looks like he’s related to that guy that fleeced Qld Health of it’s payroll account) I decided to do a letter box drop of all 8 flats in that establishment.

    So I’ve typed up & delivered 8 brief notes explaining that the yellow line over our driveway is there because we have difficult access & there have been a number of head-on collisions in that spot, including a fatality involving a motor-cyclist. (All true). As such the BCC patrols the street regularly, including after hours & weekends & there is a $100 fine for vehicles found over the yellow line.

    I added that vehicles over the driveway may be fined and towed, so if they wish to avoid being inconvenienced, it’s best not to park over my driveway.

    The towing part is wishful thinking but I included it because it could happen.
    ie. if a skip should roll down the driveway and flatten the FKRS, their cars will definitely require towing.

    It looks like none of the inmates at Bog Hollow 2″ collect their mail, so that reinforces my suspicions that they can’t read, don’t have licences, are driving stolen vehicles and probably need deporting back to some island in the pacific that’s about to be submerged as the polar ice caps melt.

    So I’ll see if that helps. I’m not going quite as insane over it as I was before hols but that’s because I have this lovely little toy to play with involving google searches of houses for sale at the Old Coast. And because I’ve met our local parking inspector whilst wearing a wet & low cut T-shirt so I truly believe he’s motivated to visit regularly and Smite with his mighty pen – er, dodgy samsung BCC council issue tablet.

    I am preparing myself for some joyous door-thumping at 4.30am on Saturday at Bog Hollow 2, though. I think it’s best that I wake as many of them as possible so that they all turn on their fury on their room-mate in the hatch. That’s why I thought it was a good idea to give them fair warning.

    Why do my own dirty work when I can deploy BCC council parking inspectors, get the cops to phone them at 2am and ask them to move their car, and, if all else fails, incite their flatmates to vent their fury on them for being woken by the crazy woman at dawn?

  111. OK, here’s Mayhem’s info from twitter.
    she said she’s reorganising the wedding.
    I asked if she’d changed the date or the groom & that’s a no.
    Yes to new catering and venue, invitations yet to be sent out.

    Still waiting to the answer of ‘Is there a red and yellow clown involved?’
    So will get back to you on that one when she gets back to me.

  112. If it is a red & yellow clown venue, Morgana’s +1 will have to be MacSmurf.

    Also, you’ve got a typo in that post, Quokka. Shouldn’t that read ‘Cretin Vendetta’?

  113. Hehehe. You asked her if she’d changed the groom. And we wonder why we don’t get invitations to things.

    I’d best source a new Wolf quick smart, to accompany Q on her dawn door-banging blitz. Depending on how much crack they’ve been smoking, these visa over-stayers can get a little toey.

    Happy Friday, ladies! This is the last event in my 12 day work marathon. If you need me over the weekend I’ll be in my pyjamas, snuggling up to the wilderbeest and burbling, quietly but incoherently.

  114. I was thinking of taking my wolf, all kitted out in his SLSC coat and cap, so that they get the idea that we’re there on official business. Depending how much crack they’ve smoked the night before, they might be confused enough to offer donations and/or buy tickets in a raffle.

    Bog Hollow 2# has changed hands twice since the Coot died & his selection of slums was sold off. I think it’s currently in the hands of an Indian owner who prefers not to have white tenants. And I can’t say I blame him, since the last one was a drug dealer who specialised in selling leafy greens to the local high school students. So the one bedroom flats tend to fill up with Asian/Indian families with a large collection of cooking pots & a couple of well-behaved & very loved children.

    Other neighbours have complained that they are noisy but I can’t hear them from two doors down & since the dealer graduated from UQ & moved on to bigger & better things (I expect he’ll become a QC) I’ve had very little to complain about from that lot. Most of them look like decent people who are struggling on low incomes and they aren’t stupid, so they’re not going to do things that will attract fines, phillips-head screw drivers, or the attention of the authorities. So The Prince must be from some sort of locale that hasn’t provided him with basic literacy or a sense of community. I’m thinking Logan.

    So, we’ll see.
    Funny you should mention screw drivers, as the BCC said they’d had a lot of complaints in the last few weeks (note: while I was in Albany so it’s not just me) & I gather it’s that particular vehicle. So when he approached his car yesterday I noticed that he did stop to examine the front driver’s side tyre. So as he didn’t make it home last night I suspect he’s stuck in Banyo thanks to a couple of thoughtfully placed roofing screws, courtesy of the Greeks down the road.

    A few more tenants moved out of Bog Hollow yesterday, I noticed the owner cleaning up their flat so that’s three empty flats in there now. There was a shitload of uncollected mail in 4 of the 8 letter boxes at Bog Hollow 2#, so I assume they’ve emptied out, too.
    So that means there’ll be a few less cars on the street until such time as the agent manages to fill them. Which may take a while. I took a look online & all of the units in the area seem to be emptying out and there’s ‘reduced rent’ notices on the newly built units, so I guess the rental market is struggling as the students all head home for Xmas.

    So the parking dramas may settle down over the next few months. I guess now we get to see if her gamble of evicting all the long-term tenants (who were mostly phd students, aside from Jesus & Mary & the Screamer in the back flat) back in January was actually worth it.

    We’re trying to hunt down Builder 2 to see if he’s got the landscaping quote done & if he wants the job & is willing to set a start date. So it would be nice if he can start in February, just in time to welcome the new batch of tenants, but if he does put it off for another 6 months, so be it. I will simply enroll at QUT & amuse myself learning all there is to know about addictions and family dysfunction.

    I hope you have a nice restful weekend, MM.
    Snuggle up to the wildebeest and help yourself to whatever may be left of my shortbread creams & chippies. I plan to be somewhere in Tallebudgera Creek smacking bull sharks with my paddle, so here’s hoping that the bloke knows how to tie a slip knot & the kayaks don’t fall off the roof of the car before we get past the Maccas at Buranda.

  115. Isn’t that why occy straps were invented?

    They’re fine, up to the point where you let a tensioned one slip and take someone’s eye out.

    Happy bull-sharking, Q. And enjoy the Long Vacation.

  116. If you want someone to study for addictions, Q, just come and watch my reaction when a claw machine appears on the horizon. I took the middle kidlet to an AMF bowling birthday party on Tuesday, and they had arcade games there. Dead set, I had more fun than the children. I even managed to break three of their machines. It was a hoot!

    Morgana, dear girl, you are a legend. (Which, if my anatomy classes are right, is a foot. Or a bottom, if you’re looking at the other end of the leg.) You deserve a long rest. Here, have some CAEK. Excuse the bite marks, the only thing I’ve eaten all day is a slab of Cookies and Cream cheesecake, and about 10 Panadeine. Bloody migraines.

  117. Don’t worry about the bite marks – I’m too tired to focus.

  118. Poor Catty, migraines suck. As does FT work, MM.
    If it’s any consolation the horsepiddle has kept me awake half the night, between incoming choppers and a noise which I assumed was those flying drones that the terminators send to hunt out the resistance, but the Bloke thinks they might be taking down a crane at the horsepiddle. Sounds like a jet plane trying to take off & stalling. Meh. gosh it will be nice, one day, to exit this noisy little ‘hood. I’m thinking dreamily of the silence and the bird sounds and the isolation of Albany.

    Don’t know if we’ll get to Tallebudgera today, the Bloke had trouble assembling the cradles on our roof-racks. He has just had another go at reading the instructions, I gather they’ve been designed by the same people who make the furniture assembly manuals for Ikea. So we will see how that goes. Fingers crossed it works and he doesn’t need to go to the kayak shop for moral and practical support. And fingers crossed that if he does manage to do it by himself, the boats don’t fall off before we get to the freeway.

    Um, we had cocktails last night so I put twitter aside to prevent dangerous dreeting. I have a vague memory of Mayhem’s tears reaching a climax with the announcement that the wedding has been postponed till February. Twitter, of course, will not load for me this morning so it looks like the small amount of drunken tweeting that I did last night must have broken it. Again.

    Right. I’m off to watch the bloke smurf about with roof racks.
    Wish me luck!
    And I hope you all have nice relaxing, migraine free days.

  119. Oh, dear… I hope the Bloke isn’t using his tap-washer tools to do the roof rack cradles.

    Good luck, and have fun. We’re looking forward to reading about it while we’re slothing on the couch with Tim Tams and vodka smoothies.

  120. It could be slow. He opened up the boxes with the kayak cradles, to fit them to the roof racks, and discovered that the second box has been tampered with and is missing several vital components. Which meant that I got to rifle through the contents of a packed and overflowing recycling bin looking for the receipt, which, of course, he had failed to document date or details of in our budget book. Grr. Couldn’t find it, so he’s had to track his credit card on line to see what date he bought it. They’ll have it in their computer records & he’s calling them now to see if they can Fux it.
    Sigh.
    Don’t you hate all the backpeddling that’s involved in life when someone else screws up?

  121. Well, Quokka’s vague memories are spot on ladies. We have (reluctantly) come to the conclusion that the wedding needs to be postponed. It really does make sense, because as you all so cleverly guessed, I’m really not physically up to doing what needs to be done in order to have a fabulous day. I should have made this decision at least a month ago, however I knew some relatives had made travel bookings, and didn’t want to leave anyone out of pocket. Yesterday, after some rather nasty intervention by my future in-laws, I bit the bullet, phoned said rellies, discovered that postponing won’t cost them anything in terms of changing dates and made the decision. (After consulting with my (currently) better half). Honestly, the man is a saint! He has taken such good care of me, and put up with tears, tantrums, weeping wounds and all manner of crap. He’s been thinking we should postpone, but knew that I’d so been looking forward to this one bright spot in what’s been a reasonably crappy year. He didn’t have the heart to disappoint me.

    Apologies for being so terribly slack as to not keep you informed, but know that you guys are TOTALLY on top of the invite list. Once the date is confirmed (probably 22/02) I will let you know. Just need to make sure it doesn’t clash for my aunts and uncles, and the future SiLs’ o/s travel plans. One is heading off on an NZ cruise, the other is off to Hong Kong. It really pissed me off that the solution one of them offered to the possibility of leaving rellies out of pocket if I postponed, was “they can still come down and just have a nice holiday” I don’t know about you guys, but my retired/pensioner relatives just don’t have the disposable income to take off interstate for three days just for the hell of it! My sisters-in-law do, and hence are remarkably thoughtless.

    Anyhoo, in case you’re still awake this far in, I finish with letting you know that even though I’m sad about the postponement, and pissed off with my SIL, I’m also quite relieved that I have time to do it all properly. The day will be much more enjoyable I’m sure.

    Now I’m off to see if Catty’s blog will cooperate. Q and I seem to have the same problem with it on the iPad, so is it us, or is it you catty? Maybe we should avoid it if Irma’s visiting any of you…. (Not me, I got rid of the bitch). After that I’m going to trawl through twitter and see if I can guess what Catty got us for a wedding present 😉

    LYLT xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  122. Well my ipad just crashed and burned and died a horrid death when I tried to install IOS7, so I’d suggest don’t try that at home unless there’s a grown up to show you how it’s done. I’ve restored it to factory settings which means that it’s behaving like bollocks with frostings of arse. Sigh.
    I foresee a visit to the Genius bar in my near future.

    Looks like it was bad timing to hex Khan GB with Melbourne cooties as he’d be handy to have around, right around now, to listen to me screeching ‘Fux It’.

    Mayhem, I think that’s very wise to put it off till next year, that should reduce your stress levels considerably. I’m sure you’ll be much more relaxed & able to enjoy the day when it does come around. Sounds like it’s all worked out OK so alls well that ends well, eh?

  123. I told you she needed more time to *ahem* ‘research’ wedding cakes. Nailed it!

    Glad to hear you’ve made that decision, Mayhem. After all you’ve been through, you should totes be slothing on the couch while Fireman Sam hand-feeds you peeled grapes…. or Tim Tams, if you can’t face all that healthy fruit. (shudder). I’m sure we can make room for you on the couch. Madam, shove the wildebeest over a bit, will you darl? Nah, don’t worry, I’ll do it. I have to get up to refill the martini shaker anyway.

  124. Speak his name and he shall appear! That’s a good decision I reckon young Mayhem. You’ll enjoy yourself far more when in good form. Hope I can get to the Mitre for Chaz day on Tuesday. This is too much like hard work! Today we possum-proofed the shed, shifted about a ton of hard rubbish and put up shelves. Less work, more baby! Actually she’s luvverly. I get hugs, kicks, glasses pulled off – a new favourite game and she even laughs at my songs. Wait till she finds out what they mean.

    Funny thing, but I’ve had no bloggety problems with the reviled Windows laptop or Andy, the lovely tablet. Even fixed Son-in-law’s laptop, added it to their network and remote printer. Particularly chuffed with that as it was such a bugger I looked it up on Tom’s Hardware (the Guru’s blog) and found that lots of others had the problem but no solutions. Tonight I’m off there to detail my fix, devious as it is, and affirm my geek status.

    Enjoy yourselves peoples and have a cockateil for me.

  125. And Mayhem, if you’re looking for wedding cake inspiration may I humbly suggest: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-birmingham-24871962

    Some women I know would like a bite of that.

  126. OMG a life sized Johnny Depp made out of Rice Crispies?
    It’s almost worth traveling to the UK to devour that. Not sure if I’ve mentioned this yet but my favourite treat from the Margaret River Fudge Factory was their Rice Crispy. It’s what a chokito would be if it was done proper-like.

    Mayhem & I found a Lego Johnny Depp in the toy department of DJ’s, or maybe it was Myers, when I was down in Vic last year. Very clever.

    Well, the ipad has been fixed, you will never guess what happened but apparently I pressed the wrong button somewhere. The red one that says ‘Self Destruct’, apparently.
    I had to go to the apple shop to fux it and in the process I’ve come home with a massive new 27# Imac. We’re in the throes of transferring files onto usb sticks to transfer it over so we’ll see how that goes. I decided I’d stuffed around with ‘puters for far long enough today so the new Big Mac can wait for installation till after we come back from kayaking tomorrow. Hopefully that will burn out some of the venom in my tech-destroying force field as it seems to be at lethal levels, at the mo.

    I ducked out to see Miracle Girl at the horsepiddle as I hadn’t been in since we got back (she’s doing well) & the Bloke actually thinks I’ll fare better than him at installing the new Mac. So I’ll get to that. Just nobody tell JB that I let a new Precious sit in a box while I sat around at the horsepiddle & went kayaking. He won’t understand, or approve, I fear.

    So, I hear that Morgana has a new Wooll-eff.
    We will require pictures documenting her arrival, including reactions from the pusskas.

    So, everyone, on three, we chant:
    Wooll-Eff, Wooll-eff, Wooll-eff!

  127. Excellent, Mayhem. I might actually have a chance of making it down in February. The PreFestive Season is a little fraught in Finance for wanderings off. Don’t stress and enjoy all the peeled grapes. Just keep them away from the wilderbeest, they give him gas and the runs.

    The cats have yet to experience Sari as we had to travel way out West to source her. I expect they’ll sniff her, decided there’s not much in it for them, and ignore her. Or use her for stalking practice in idle moments, if you’re Flot.

    Right, I better go continue my attempts at puppy piddle training. My house is too messy to be swimming in dog business. It’ll turn into one of those Houses of Horror from A Current Affair. Actually, maybe I should just let it go and sell advertising on the lounge room walls and the flanks of the wilderbeest.

  128. There’s a Chaz day on Tuesday? Why wasn’t I told? That’s it. Hand me the bloody wildebeest, I’m going back to the sulking corner.

    Oh, and what Quokka said:
    Wooll-eff! Wooll-eff! Wooll-eff!
    (Comin’ little Lambsey.)

  129. You probably weren’t told because you didn’t show up for roll call on twitter, Catty. Consider yourself summonsed to said event.

    MM your new baby Wooll-Eff sounds adorable. We will want photos. Not of the piddle training fails, I remember those all too well. I’m so pleased you have a new baby wool-eff in your life. I’m sure she’ll bring you all a lot of joy. Then she’ll eat your socks and vomit them up on the sofa but that’s just what hounds do, and we love them anyway.

    Well, I’ve set up the new Big Mac. I’ve yet to migrate all my files over & there were a few glitches, mostly USB fail, that I’ve yet to sort out. i.e. little scream-worthy issues, like why my ipad hasn’t been able to connect to the internet at all since dawn on Saturday am.

    So, Catty, I shouldn’t have any trouble getting onto your blog or anyone else’s now that my ancient iMac has been relegated to a dark dusty corner of the spare room. The new 27# Preciousss is behaving beautifully, thus far. Also, to ensure that naught goes awry, I’ve booked in for 1:1 lessons so I should learn all the tricks on it, so, Huzzah!

    This morning we managed (after about 2 hours of fiddling with ropes and roof-racks) to get our sea kayaks out on the water at Scarborough. It was probably a bit ambitious going out there, as the wind picked up and it got a bit rough & ready even that close in to the beach, but we had a lovely paddle and we saw a turtle floating along in the chop with it’s head doing the ‘up, periscope’ thing that turtles do.
    We had a lovely morning & the kayak adventure made the day disappear, well, that and installing the new Preciousss. Kayaking completely eliminates all of the snarling angst that builds up from sleep-deprivation and being woken at FU o’clock by helicopters, cranes, trains, door-doofers and this morning, dueting drunks wandering home up the street. There must be a special brand of endorphins that paddling releases as I’m still feeling totally chilled, in a way that no other form of R&R ever manages to achieve.
    So I’m convinced that the kayaks will keep me sane until we manage to escape the madness that seems to be entrenched in the ‘hood around Casa Q.

    Wish I had a photo of the turtle to show you. He wasn’t a particularly big one, probably the same dimensions as the Preciouss, really. Gosh it was lovely to see him close up. I think we’re gonna have some fun with our new toys.

    Oh well, it’s dinnertime.
    so don’t fret, Catty, now I haz the Precious, hopefully I’ll be free and clear of internet gob-i-lins for the foreseeable future.
    fingers crossed!

  130. It’s the water. Nothing feels as bad when you’re close to or immersed in a large body of water. Thank you, Coral Sea.

    Our official photographer has to charge his equipment. No, that’s not a euphemism, the camera battery is flat. Pix soon.

  131. I too look forward to your puppy photos. Who can resist a puppy? Not even Hitler apparently. Hoping to see Mayhem, Catty and others at the Mitre tomorrow night but this has turned into a lurgi after all. Curse you Melbourne. Fifi has it worse than me so I’ll take advan, er ply her with beverages and be generally kind.

    Hey Q, you know how Reilly and the Three Evils get to stay at Pet Alcatraz when you’re on holidays? Well (and yes, I know this is generous of me) I’m willing to mind your 27″ Precious. I’d feed it electricity every day and give it some healthy exercise and it could get to play with all the other computers. Great idea eh?

  132. Heh heh heh. I didn’t think you were an apple fanboi, GB, you must be far sicker than you know. Check your temp, I think you’re delirious.

    Too bad that you aren’t up to the task of spreading disease, er, communing with the burgerarti. Still, when you get back if you are still so inclined you are welcome to come pat the Preciousss and tinker with it to see what I’ve managed to FK up. And I’d love to have a house-sitter so you’d be very, very welcome. C
    Not that I know when we’ll get away for hols again.

    The bloke has had to sign something in his contract saying that he won’t take time off in the first six months on the new horsepiddle job. Which is why we insisted on rushing off to WA when we did, as he was owed 6 weeks hols by the last mob & he knows how hard it is to get away when you’re managing a construction project.

    They’ve now told him he has to take 2 weeks off over Xmas/early January so while it will be nice, he won’t get holiday pay so I don’t think we’ll be going terribly far. Well, not any further than the kayaks & the citroen will carry us. It will be lovely to have a couple of weeks to explore the SEQ waterways.

    Anyway, no rest for the wicked. GB, commiserate with Fifi on having to put up with you while she’s unwell. MM, looking forward to baby puppy pix!

  133. Faaark, I wish someone would tell me I have to take two weeks off over Christmas.

    I’ve started to have the hospital fantasy. You know, how if you just maybe compound fractured your ankle you could have a nice little rest in traction? Then I think of Miracle Girl and give thanks for my reasonably hale and hearty carcass.

    GWS, GB and give Fifi my deepest sympathies. She shouldn’t have to put up with being sick and away from home and you, sick, all at once.

  134. Yes, bring forth the puppy pix! I shall need them to cheer me up. It appears the Chaz day isn’t actually a day, it’s a night…. which is not going to work for me as tomorrow is the Middle Kidlet’s birthday. I could have snuck in to a lunch gathering (and bought her CAEK from some fancy bakery), but the Kidlet’s just put in an order for an Adventure Time CAEK, which I shall have to bake in the morning. Then after school I shall be hosting the extended family CAEK eating ceremony (the Teen is threatening to come over too). Once the extended family leave, I have to nag her siblings to do the homework they’re supposed to hand in on Wednesday – in other words I’ll probably sitting up until midnight doing the freaking homework myself… and all this instead of sitting at the Mitre drinking Coronas and swapping bullshit with Burgers. Madam, do you have any of that cheap Mexican Valium left? I think I’m going to need that too.

  135. That’s a bugger Catty. I was quite looking forward to a catch-up 😦

    GB, hope the awesome weather we’re having heals up your lurgi just enough that you can come out to play, at least for a little while. Hopefully Melbo will be there. Don’t think it will be a late one for me. I’m still a bit delicate, but I’ll be there at least for a while.

  136. I’m all out of Valium … or Debt Collector’s Helper, as it is known in these parts. Would you like to try some of this experimental antipsychotic? It’s called Gremlin Begone. I quite like it, except for the hairs I’ve sprouted on my chest.

    Of course, those might always be the harbingers of the Blessed Pause.

  137. Happy birthday to the middle kidlet! I hope you all have a lovely time at her party, Catty. Bugger that you can’t be in two places at once, unless of course you take some of Morgana’s mexican hallucinogens, which might just do the job.

    I’m not taking any Gremlin Begone MM, but there’s plenty of extra hairs sprouting where I’d prefer that they wouldn’t, and the growth just gets faster and lusher the more I pluck them out. If it’s not the Paws then in my case, it’s probably some latent werewolf DNA working it’s way to the surface. Is it too late to sign up for Movember? I could have a nice goatee by the end of the month, if I let it go, I’m sure.

  138. Amen, Sista.

    MM has been eyeing off my luxuriant armpit forests. One day, he aspires to be as hairy.

    Arooooooo!

  139. speaking of fluffy, I can’t believe how woolly my two boy kittehs have become since they had their haircuts in Sept. Miss Kitteh is due to go in tomorrow for her first summer haircut (she doesn’t knot/get furballs the way the boys do – so she always gets snipped later) & I’m thinking the boys will need to follow her in the next few weeks. Otherwise my Slut’s Rug is going to become as luxuriant as your armpits, MM. With the added adornment of dead and decaying roaches. Wow, they’ve been dropping like flies. I had no idea there were so many of them around. I’ll have to bust out the dyson again today. Meh.

    How’s it feel to be back on normal work hours, MM, your puppy must be enjoying your company?

    And Catty, how’d the BD party go?
    I finally googled ‘adventure time’ & I’m grateful I’m not the one making those cakes. I think I probably am due to make a cake today. Maybe a date & nut roll. I really missed my own cooking while I was away & I’ve been so busy since I got back that I haven’t had much time to indulge in it. Seems ridiculous to be this busy since I have no children to chase, I don’t know how you guys do what you do.

  140. Kidlet’s CAEK was teh awesome. I will post photos if I ever work out how to get them off my phone…. I’m still waiting for the Boss to transfer the Finn and Jake cupcake photos from the littlest kidlet’s birthday in October. It may take a while longer – he’s out of town yet again. It’s like the company has written down all the family’s birthdays so they can send him out of town for every single freaking one. I think he’s in Shepparton this time, so maybe he’ll bring the middle Kidlet back a few cans of crunchy baked beans and cheesy asparagus from SPC’s reject outlet.

    But on a positive note, while the boys didn’t do the dishes (which are still piled up on the sink), they did do their own homework. Yay!

    • Catty, one way to get photos off your phone is to email them to yourself as attachments. Presto, they’re on your computer without messing with cables and such.

  141. Morning all, Melbo and I have made an executive decision…. Lunch next Tuesday the 19th. I have an appointment at Peter Mac at 11, so we could gather at Mel’s Lonsdale st building around 12:30ish. Everyone’s invited, although I fear it’s unlikely Madam and the Q will be able to attend 😦 Catty, GB and Fifi, we’d love to catch up.

  142. Dang, and I had that day free.

    Heya MM, looks like I beat you to the post with the by-election. Who’d have thunk it? I thought Krudd had burrowed in like a tick & he wouldn’t be satisfied till the other 2/3 of his party resigned.
    Anyone want to take a bet on how long it’ll take for Clive to lose interest in serving the people, or from his POV, his own interests?

  143. Kudos, Q. However, I’m not betting on Clive, as I dispute that he has ever had any interest in serving the people.

    I may have told you, I know several people who work for him and he really is the crazy-as-a-cut-snake egomaniacal bully he often seems. If he sits for less than a week in total, I’ll be unamazed. There’s too much sit down shut up and not enough “Sssh, Clive’s talking!” in Parliament for his liking.

  144. Testify. Although I must admit that having him there makes the process of government that much more entertaining. He truly is an idiot.

  145. He is an idiot in the classic Queensland Parlimentarian mode, I couldn’t agree more.

    He’s a New Millennial Joh.

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