Big shout out to the DILTP

I wrote an awesome post to my awesome Dad-in-law-to-be and my computer crashed and I lost it. So will make this short and sweet – COB – you rock! Thanks for reading my blog and still thinking I can marry your son, inspite of the numerous tales of drunken disorderliness.

Will write more soon as have loads to write – life has been jam-packed full of goodness lately!

x

Turtle paradise

With winter being over, there is one member of our family who gets more excited than anyone else. More excited, and much more active.. Mate, the turtle has been making his presence felt – she is up every morning to greet K and I as we sluggishly make out way to the coffee, she is awake at night to come and sniff our feet (that cold little nose can give you the shock of your life when you’re not expecting it!) and she is hungry, hungry, hungry. Like ALL the time.

This morning, we were woken by a loud banging sound, and K, bless him, jumped out of bed, knowing exactly what the problem was. He had seen it/heard it before – Mate was trying to get out from under the TV cabinet and had got a cord caught on her shell. Unable to move forward, she was banging on the bottom of the cabinet until K went to the rescue!

After being pulled to safety, Mate strolled up the passageway (probably to catch a glimpse of my lover in the shower – it is a girl turtle after all – who can blame her!) and wandered around our bedroom. I came out to the loungeroom to start working, and when I went up to see what she was up to, I found her in the shower… And then the idea for turtle paradise struck.

I filled our big bath with lots of lots of water… making it twice as deep as Mate’s tank.. And in she went.. Turtle heaven. Mate could hardly contain her enthusiasm as she did some deep dives, swam a few laps underwater, blew some bubbles up (a sure sign of turtle happiness), and finally came up for air. It made my cold heart sing with joy to see her so happy!

My friend came over to visit and I wanted to show my newly emerged from hibernation, happy turtle off. Azza took one look at the bath and said to me, in a very disgusted tone, “No matter how much disinfectant or cleaner you use, I would never bath in that bath again.”

But what about the happy turtle? “Who cares?” said Azza, “it’s gross.”

Note to self: some people love the turtle. Other’s, not so much.

GRQ

K and I have been trying to put our collective thick skulls together to come up with a fast and easy way to make some money. We want a get rich quick scheme that doesn’t take pyramid selling, busting our a$$es, illegal activities, or flogging stuff to friends.

I came up with the idea that I could sell people’s unwanted items on ebay and take a percentage of it.

K’s idea was a bit different. He decided we can open up a TAB account – for those not in Australia, the Totalitizer Agency Board is our biggest betting agency. This way we can make HEAPS of money betting on sporting events, on Australian Idol, and horse racing.

There’s is only one flaw in his plan. And that is that neither of us really know how to bet. I mean, we can put a few bob on a nag on Melbourne Cup day or whatever.. but knowing what team to bet on, to win by how many goals, etc.. Not really something we know how to do.

Anyone got anything they need me to sell?

My other new sister-in-law

A little while ago, I had my mumma to stay for a week and while she was here, I took her out for breakfast with the girls. Now, my girls are all lovely and they frequent this blog quite often. One of them, who I will call GG (Gong Girl), is an absolute riot. She has about 50 million friends on facebook (ok, so that might be an over-exaggeration, but there is probably about a million), she is well-travelled, she loves a drink and she LURVES a laugh. Basically, she is a great chick.

And my ma definitely thought so too. To the point where even at breakfast, she was like “I think I should introduce you to my son.” (ie. my brother, who has been mentioned in this blog before – as the brogan!) GG was getting a bit excited. (Obviously, she was thinking, “hell, if he’s half as fabulous as his sister, he must be a bit of alright!”)

I didn’t have the heart to tell GG then and there at the breakfast table, that my brother was a born-again Christian. Or that he loves musicals. Or that he likes to pretend he’s a bogan. So, I let it pass.

And my little mumma was so excited too.

I didn’t have the heart to tell mum that the next day I sent GG an email, breaking to her the cold hard facts about the brogan. But GG is undeterred. She reckons she can rustle up a bit of Catholic doctrine from her school days. And she even says that they can have a mutual love and respect from all things Andrew Lloyd Webber. Who knows, it actually might be a match made in heaven.

So, GG, if you are going to be my new sister-in-law, welcome to the family. Just so you know, the crazy brother is one of the more normal of the bunch. Leave your sanity at the door, and come on it!

Taking the plunge..

K and his brother-in-law did a sky dive over the weekend. (And as an aside, what a glorious weekend it was here in Sydney town – 27 degrees, perfect weather – and we are still in winter!) I have to admit to being a little bit anxious. Ok, I was fretting. After all, my dearest loved one was taking it upon himself to step out of a plane at 15,000 feet connected by two little straps to some crazy nutbag who chooses to do it for a living – death is only a strong wind and a tail spin away.

You’ve probably realised by the tone of this blog entry that K didn’t actually die on Saturday afternoon as he fell from the sky, but I was pretty nervous about it. My main reason being that things have been going so well for us and you always read about couples who are just so in love, and so ridiculously happy, and so about to start the glorious rest of their lives together, that these tragic accidents happen to.. you know?

I made sure my hair and make-up were looking ok before we drove down to the ‘gong for K’s jump – after all, if K was going to die suddenly, I figured that I had better capitalise on it by launching my international journalism career by appearing on National 9 news speaking eloquently and articulately about the tragic event. He would want that.

K’s sister and I were both worried about our men taking the plunge (me more so than she, I think) so we anxiously watched them get into their jump suits and receive some brief instruction. We waited with them in the waiting room until the person in charge asked them to move outside. We both stood, expecting a reassuring hug, a tender kiss, or maybe a (tentatively last ever) “I love you” from the loves of our lives before they jumped out of a moving plane. But what did we get? That’s right. A big fat nada. K and his bro-in-law turned on their heels and walked away without even a cursory glance in our direction. Cheers dudes.

So K’s sister (who in future entries, I’ll refer to as SIL – for she’ll be my sister-in-law one day) and I took our place on a blanket in the sun and waited for the parachutes to open in the sky above. We gorged on cheese, and would have guzzled wine had I been drinking, until our men landed about 10 metres away from us. Safely, soundly. Thankfully.

My hair and make-up had all been for nothing.

Banging them out (blog posts, that is.. or is it?)

“Wow!” I can hear you all saying, “she’s blogged again so soon!” I know, I know.. I’ve gotta keep you all on your toes…

My blog topic today: BABIES. So many of my friends are either in the process of churning them out, or have already popped one out recently. I saw a friend today for lunch who is onto baby number 2 and man, she was preggers! And she still has 10 weeks to go!

My bestie had a little one a few months ago. He is the cutest kid with big dimples and blonde hair and blue eyes.. who looks nothing like his Greek mother – I have no idea how she carried a kid with snow white hair in the womb when she has the biggest amount of dark brown Greek hair you have ever seen in your life. Think Effie from Acropylis Now but without the hairspray (and only without the hairpsray because it’s 2009 – in 1989, she did hairspray with aplomb).

And the mum-to-be I saw today had baby number one running around – again, a cute little girl with the most placid demeanour ever – but it doesn’t look like either parent. In fact, the mother told me, no-one is sure where she gets her brown eyes from, when no-one in the family, going back generations has brown eyes. The mother is blue-eyed.

Now, I did biology. I understand recessive and dominant genes. How does a mother with blue eyes and a father with green eyes have a baby with brown eyes? And a mother with dark brown hair, green eyes and a father with blonde hair and blue eyes – a baby with white blonde hair and hazel eyes? Hmmm. It confuses me.

Now, me and my man, are both brown eyed and brown haired – infact, K has a touch of Maori in him. So i can already imagine what our kids will look like (and no, this isn’t preparing you for any announcements!) – we will have one with blonde hair and blue eyes (because no-one in either family is blonde with blue eyes) and one will be a little Maori throw-back, replete with a chin tattoo and the tongue hanging out as though he were doing a haka at the rugby. And I will look like the hired help, nannying these two ankle-biters that look nothing like me.

Reporting in!

OMG!!! It’s been eons and eons… Anyhoo, so I have SOOOO much to blog here. For those ardent followers that have been reading my blog for a while now, you have all read about my various trials (many) and tribulations (fewer) on planet love – where the terrain is rocky and the journey strewn with hazards along the way – especially when you are walking the path with the dude I won’t even name – he who was abusive, foul and generally a not-nice guy.

Somewhere along the way, I parted ways with afore-mentioned inglourius basterd (or however they are mis-spelling it in the movies these days) and did some solo travels. Life was good, the view was clear, I was, like the Primal Scream song, movin’ on up.

And then I met K. Ahh K. Lovely, lovely K. And not only did the view get a whole lot better, but the journey much more fun – having someone who is as loose as me along for the ker-razy ride.

Anyway – enough with the bad travel analogy already.. my news is this:

K and I are engaged!!

Yay!! And life is good. The turtle is happy, the plants are all flowering in celebration, our friends and families are gorgeous. It doesn’t get much better than this!

Big love to all. And more soon. x

The new love!

Ok, so maybe not so new.. but relatively new to the blog, in that he hasn’t featured all that often. Mainly because he’s the reason I haven’t been writing.. We have way, way, WAYYYYY better things to do in our lives than write blogs. Heh, heh, heh (*dodgy cackle alluding to wanton bedroom activities).

Anyway, so, I have never told previous relationships about this blog – could you imagine if the bad, farkwit ex had the address? If it wasn’t all true, he could have sued me for defamation of character (except that he is, actually, an arsehole, a cheater, an abuser and an all-round loser. And the pot-head bogan was never going to find out about it – you can’t write things about someone and then have them read it (and I’m sure he would have once the haze/pot cloud lifted. So perhaps I’ve broken the cardinal sin – in that I have told my man about my blog. I referred to him as “K” in a previous entry and it stands for Kiwi, for those who have been brain-straining to work out if his name is Kevin, Keith or Koichiro Kawazaki – none of the above, btw!

So, now I have to say nice things.. Because not only does he KNOW about the blog – he asked me to feature him. And how could I resist when he looks at me with those gorgeous brown eyes, and flashes me his gorgeous smile.. So, my lovely K – this one is for you. You have that gorgeous Kiwi accent, even when you are being a duck (think about it people!), and I’m so happy we’re living together (in sin) in Sin-dney. I especially love that you are as dodgy as I am, and I’m still going to have lots of material for my blog!

Big love BB. x x

Mates for mates

Flatmate-that-I-love recently bought an apartment (congrats Ellereah – it’s gonna be great!!) and is moving around the corner. I am so excited for her as it has been something she has looked forward to for a while. But there is one member of our household that I think will be devastated when she goes and I don’t know how to explain to him that his other mummy has gone away.. Mate the turtle isn’t going to know what’s hit him when the flatmate no longer leaves her knickers on the floor for him to sleep in.

But not as concerned as I am for my flatmate.. She is going to love having her own place and love having her own space.. but I think she might miss the little thing that she has come to love nosing up against her foot when she turns the kettle on in the morning, or comes out to surprise her from under the couch when she is watching TV. (I secretly think she is going to miss having Mate go through her smalls when they have fallen off the clothes horse also, but we won’t go there). So I suggested to flatemate-that-I-love that I get her another turtle as a housewarming gift. They are the easiest things to care for – I go away for a week and Mate hibernates under the couch, he is so low maintenance it’s not funny, and he is clean and cosy wandering around the loungeroom.

I just need to convince the flatmate that it’s a good idea..

Melburn

Hi all! My last post for 2007. So, back in the southern city after a pleasant drive through the South Australian and Victorian outback (!). Was with my dad (see the earlier Elton John entry for a pic) and was trying to tell him how much better the drive (and I) would be if we were in a convertible cruising through the sunny, hot countryside. Dad was having none of it (it’s a waste of money, not sensible, you’ve got a good car (ie. the afore-mentioned chiko roll mobile), etc, etc (whatevs!)). In the end, I gave up trying to convince him – I figure, I’ll just rock up to his house one day when he least suspects it and ask him if wants to take a drive with the top down. He’ll be won over for sure…

Anyway, so back now to my home sweet home and my wife, and man, oh man, it is warm alright. 42 degrees today, which for an Adelaidean like me, is a normal summer day, but for someone who has been living in fair Sydney-town for far too long – roasting! Luckily, my gorgeous flatmate and I are sorted for our summer and inspite of 3a water restrictions, we filled up our fabulous pool and jumped on in. Instructions for use: Pool is best enjoyed after quite a few glasses of cask whoite woine and fun for the whole family – turtles especially love it.

 

We’ve only had it up for a couple of days, and I think I’ve already spent a good ten hours in it. If I didn’t have my father staying in my room (which overlooks the pool), we might have even had some German boys back for a Saturday midnight (3am?) dip – not as good as Coogee on a Sunday night, but not bad… Bwahhahahahaa!

Elton and Keith

Was invited by a very good friend to attend Billy Elliott in Sydney a couple of nights ago.. I didn’t go because I had other arrangements but would have been hob-knobbing with the rich and famous, ie. Sir Elton John (http://perezhilton.com/?p=10519)

But look at this photo.. My dad has been mistaken for Elton before.. hmmm..

  

Thanks for the offer of the free ticket anyway MT, you rock!!

Thanks to everyone for reading my blog

I can see all the hits and it surprises me! Anyway, just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. Especially DS and WAHID. You fellas both rock. Hot and lovely!

And thanks to the friend who just rang me and actually had me believing that he had joined AA. You and your flatmate are massive piss-heads and I actually thought it was a good idea and would have been more than happy to be your work-sponsor.. Ha, ha, ha. OK, so I am gullible. But maybe you should actually think about it. Shout out to both of you little drunks. xx

Onto other news. I’m in the hometown at the moment taking care of some family business and I always think it’s a bit strange coming back to the house I grew up in.  My brother and I had each moved out of home for about a week when our bedrooms were converted. My brother’s became the computer room and mine is now a guest room, and all of our childhood crap was unceremoniously put into big trunks in storage in the back sheds). It means that now when we come back home, we stay in the guest room but otherwise, everything is exactly as it was before I left. Including: Dad waking me up when he goes the toilet at 6am – the guest room is next to the toilet, and I don’t get woken up with the toilet flushing - when my parents had their kitchen overhauled, they (in a flash of wisdom) decided to move the exhaust fan from above the stove to the toilet. They also had it connected to the light so that when you turn the light on, it sounds like an aeroplane taking off in that tiny space - gives first-time guests a shock, that’s for sure. And the cat whining at my window every morning (the cat is old and I can’t believe it’s not dead yet – especially when it’s breathe smells so close to death). And my dad sticking to the habits he has cultivated for years.. the birds get fed at 5. The garden gets watered at 6. The dinner is put on at 6.15. The shows are watched and he is in bed by 9. Which leaves me sitting up, only onto my second glass of wine wondering who I can play with? Ahhh life.

Simpsonize!

I found a great site today and thought I would share it: http://simpsonizeme.com/ I put in a photo of my dad and it turned out pretty well I think – I especially love the eyebrows, they are scarily accurate. And it wasted a few more minutes of my exciting working day.. Try it!

 

My brogan

I had the family staying with me for a few days – well, the brother and the dad – the mum was at home getting her version of a holiday – ie. no dad and brother for her to look after. My gorgeous mum had rung me before the arrival of my younger brother in his beast of a deisel-consuming truck-thing and warned me that he had bought some new shirts especially for his visit over… flannelette shirts, no less. Apparently, he’s worked out I can’t stand them. When I was home for a visit at Christmas, the brother had proudly shown me his goatee beard, and advised me of his new found love for bourbon, whiskey and all things brown and alcoholic (and ridiculously potent smelling, if you ask me). He recently bought his truck-thing (it’s white – don’t ask me what sort - all I know is that it would take a hell of a lot of trees for him to be carbon neutral!) And it suddenly hit me then – my brother is a wannabe bogan (for those in the northern hemisphere that don’t know what a bogan is (and for those of us in the southern hemisphere who ever wondered whether bogans knew what computers are): http://www.bogan.com.au/).

Dear brother – I’m only saying this for your own good: bogan’s don’t know all the words to Phantom of the Opera, nor do they discern between a great Pinot Noir and a moderate GSM. They don’t wear expensive watches and can’t talk about religion, philosophy and politics as you do. YOU ARE NOT A BOGAN! It’s time to embrace your inner “nice guy”.