Friday, December 21, 2012

Here on the Eve of Destruction

**pulls out a box full of fresh tissues**

We are all going to die this today. The Mayans said so and while the Mayans had no idea of what life would be like in the space age, they faced their own fears and deaths in their society's equivalent. But their destruction didn't come via orther people and, according to them, neither will ours.

There's a calendar showing the time to countdown here 

And now a message from our sponsors brought to you by the letter M and the number 2012, from

Since the Mayan calendar is based on cycles (read our article on How Does the Mayan Calendar Work to learn more), December 21, 2012 merely indicates the end of a cycle that began on August 11, 3114 BC. While there are wild interpretations as to what this date means, and many holiday resorts are booked out on this day, there is no evidence from any Mayan literature suggesting that the world will come to an end.
It is simply the end of the current Long Count, and December 22, 2012 will be the beginning of the next Long Count, or cycle in the Mayan calendar. In fact, the Mayans have names for the Long Counts, and the fact that they've named Long Counts beyond this one suggests that this won't be the last. It is significant, however, that we are entering a new cycle in the Mayan calendar.

This one sounds more like us.

Right, off to do a few last minute jobs, can't be shuffling off without everything being organised, eh ;0)

Thursday, December 15, 2011

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Time for a few (belated) Xmas gift ideas and I know that there really IS something for everyone at THIS site.

A few of my personal favs that I would be happy to find under my Chrissy Tree (if I had a tree) are:

#5 - Bigfoot Statue

#4 - Medieval Hand Blades (Useful if you have a Bigfoot in the garden)

#3 - The Water Jet Pack (this looks like fun apart from having to get wet...)

#2 - Jedi Bathrobe

#1 - Five Fingers Knife Set

Happy shopping and don't be stingy - who wouldn't love a Giant Gummy Bear or a Syringe Needle Pen in their stocking :-)

Merry Christmas!

Monday, August 15, 2011

Fucking WOOF!

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I wasn't going to blog, but I will anyway.

This sad arsed, piss poor excuse for a dog is Tyler. But he does have a pedigree longer than a really long thing, if that helps.

Lovin' da comb



We adopted him in January after Nushie left us forever in December. Not a day goes by that I don't miss her horribly.  But now we have the shortest big dog in the world, with an all consuming appetite for anything not nailed down (that is below knee level) and a green dragon to cuddle under his blankie with then it's time to go nigh nighs. Well it IS winter...

At least he's not a drug dog


Sunday, November 21, 2010

It's been a while, eh

I don't blog any more. I sort of lost the urge. And the interest. And ability.

But we got a new kitten (Bubba), after we lost Thomas Cat to a vehicular misjudgement of some description. The other cats are just charmless, annoying receptacles for food. The dog is healthy but elderly, forgetful, one half blind and the other half deaf.

The boarder was a complete weirdo bitch who got her psycho arse kicked out back in March after giving me shit for objecting to a bog garden being created in the middle of the carpet in my upstairs lounge, so don't ever rent your house to Melissa Bull, she'll treat it like the wrong end of a trailer park but you could always paddle in the shallow end of the gene pool with her if you're desperate.

My sister aged into a low life lazy bitch who can't be bothered to do anything to help her elderly father and expects me to do whatever he needs because she has a job and I don't. If spending your time hiding from life in a library basement pretending you know what need, filial duty, hard times, pain and suffering is, well yep, she has a R_E_A_L job. 50 years old and never actually did any living - no kids, no pets, no proper travel, just endless boring pictures of birds and rocks and clouds in remote parts of NZ and they all look the same after the first couple of hundred, nothing and nowhere with any culture or history. Sad.

Kids are ok, weather is nice and the silverbeet, spinach, raspberries and strawberries are ready to eat. The goldfish are fat and healthy, gardens are almost weeded and the hose has 2 holes in it. Something to do with the lawnmower...

The ex of 2004 has been caught mounting a camera in the bathroom to take pics of his stepdaughters, so he is on bail waiting to see the Judge soon. What a dirty lowlife prick. Glad he's an ex.

Now my hands are tired and my arms are sore and I remember why I don't blog any more.

So, this is Bubba when he arrived at about 3 weeks old


and this is him 2 weeks ago at 8 months of age, in the plum tree the night before visiting the vet to have his own plums removed

Bubba 8 months

Isn't he just lubberly??

I'll get back to you if I think of something else to say ;-)

Saturday, January 30, 2010


**pulls out a fresh tissue, cleans the monitor**

I was bored.

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: What's cleverbot?

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Am I Cleverbot?

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Who is my wife.

User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: You just said you werent why are you lying to me?

User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: I'm not cleverbot.

User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: I think you just asked me a cached question that isn't appropriate to ask the person that visits your website.

User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Tobrevelc.

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Huhfj.

User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Cleverbot is EVIL.

User: Cleverbot.

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User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Maths.

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Hello, I am here with my wife, Maria.

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Goodbue.

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: I am not Cleverbot.

User: Cleverbot.

Cleverbot: Damn you.

User: I fucked over cleverbot - cleverbot repeated itself :-) I win!

I bet you are bored now, too, eh. *snort*

Friday, January 29, 2010

Purrfect ending

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Just the other day, I introduced you to Gerry Big Puss, the Ancient Wanderer.

On Tuesday, he had to be out down as the vet couldn't do anything to help his degenerating mouth issues that were sapping his appetite, and his weight. We planted him in the garden beside Merlin and near Jaffa.

Big Puss, he has gone where the good puddies go.

Somehow I think he and Merlin would have lots to chat about :-)

Sunday, January 17, 2010

On acquiring more stuff

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Back in early December, we adopted a new cat. Not sure why, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time.

Creature of impulse, me.

Anyway, we adopted this little lady here, Treasure.

After going AWOL for a couple of weeks, she came back and settled into a routine of sleeping in my bed at night, eating on the windowsill and spending her days hiding under the trailer. Suddenly and without warning this week just gone, she decided the time had come to join the household by announcing her presence at dinnertime and demanding a share. Now she dines in the kitchen and does a sweet little Oliver impersonation asking for more. It breaks my heart to tell her "get fucked, you greedy little tart". OK, I lie, it doesn't break my heart at all being the person sleeping with cat farts.

The same night Treasure showed her face again, we were ourselves adopted by this extremely elderly, emaciated and ever so slightly loony blighter here - now named Big Puss and affectionately known as Gerry (Geriatric). Cos he is.

He wandered in the door right on dinner one night and made himself at home. We aren't sure whether he was off on his trip to Rainbow Bridge and was sidetracked by the smell of freshly cooked schnitzel (yes, it WAS schnitzel night that night) or whether some complete arsewipe had dumped him thinking he was on his last legs and not worth paying a cattery to house him over the holidays in case he snuffed it, but either way he decided that our house was his house, and so was the neighbours at the other end of the driveway.

Jerry can't chew very well, has no front teeth, has his tongue hanging out all the time, can't remember when he last ate (so eats frequently) and gets gently removed from the neighbours house at night in case he carks it in their lounge. I guess they aren't very into dead cat first thing in the morning. He has a real thing for milk and finely chopped schnitzel and doesn't even deign to sniff soaked cat biscuits. Oh the peccadilloes of age and the lengths mere humans will go to to accommodate one such as he. Lew seems to like him, saying it's about time we had at least one cat that would sit on a lap, even if it was only long enough to cadge some kai. The old bugger even caught a bird last week, leading us to believe our lot of lazy excuses for felinity should watch carefully and take notes on the act of fending for oneself in a pinch.

I think they will be more likely to sit on the edge of the trough and wish that today's newest acquisitions would come close enough to sample with dry feet:

Yes, tadpoles and almost-frogs. They went in the big trough with all the goldfish because the bath is full of paradise fish fry which might get eaten.

I can tell you what the cats won't be eating tonight, our stash of this, caught by all the boys whilst in Thames last weekend

and Nushie won't be getting any, either

even though she loaned her support during clean up when the boat came home by staying out of the way.

Oh the joys of summer, eh!

But seriously, 5 freaking cats....

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Household ecstacy

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

My vacuum stopped working the other day. Just didn't switch on. I took it apart, I cleaned all the contacts, I banged the dirt out of it and reassembled it, but it just wouldn't go. I gave it to the Old Man to look at. After I disassembled it again (I'm getting good at this) because he has a sore wrist, I left it with him to see what he could do. A few days later, he said it was all good, so I could come and get it. After I reassembled it (getting faster every time!) it works brill - the intermediary switch on the cord rewind was stuffed as he just bypassed it.

The cleaner will just have to put on her big girl pants and coil it up by hand.

Anyway, as I was putting it back together, I mentioned to the Old Boy how, if he had told me 25 years ago that I would be all excited about fixing the vac, I would have told him he was nuts.

Imagine how bloody ecstatic I am over buying this, then

It's a Samsung SRS537NW 539L Side By Side Refridgerator/Freezer.

And it's mine, allllllll mine [insert scary mental house-bitch cackle here]

Fuck it's big but...

Monday, January 4, 2010

This will fuck ya

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Ok, so the New Year is a few days old, H had a birthday yesterday, Adam broke my camera, Santa is really an old fart and I bought a new fridge cos mine snuffed it.

But I still felt I needed something else and thank Goddess for Cleverbot!

Clever wee bot - cleverbot

Cleverbot: Are you sitting comfortably?

User: Yes.

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User: A little.

Cleverbot: A little what??

User: A little comfortably.

Cleverbot: Pink Floyd?

User: Yes, I am numb.

Cleverbot: What is number 7.

User: 6.

Cleverbot: Yes!

User: No.

Cleverbot: No!

User: I think.

Cleverbot: You do not think you are programmed.

User: Yes.

Cleverbot: I don't think you are, either. You're too clever for that.

User: No you are.

Cleverbot: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

User: As much wood as a wodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

Cleverbot: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? The answer is 42.

User: No 52.

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User: No.

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User: How old are you?

Cleverbot: Too old.

User: No shit.

Cleverbot: No, He.

User: No, she.

Cleverbot: Indeed.

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User: Yes!

Cleverbot: So you are alive.

User: Yes.

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User: Yes!

Cleverbot: Indeed.

I'll never look at 6 the same way again...

Go have a play, it's kinda fun!

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Are you the 1/100?

Or is it me? **pulls out a fresh tissue and snorts**

For the last week or so, the Crime and Investigation Channel has been advertising an upcoming programme about psychopaths and running a short trailer featuring images of people overlaid with an audio track that for some reasons manages to mention the word psychopath while the screen is filled with a picture of Gee Dubbya.

Is this some form of blatant, latent, very belated piece of electioneering propaganda or just a lucky happenstance? I'd like to think it's the latter.

I said I'd like to, not that I did ;0)

Here is the US trailer for the programme.

After that little number, somehow I found myself drooling over Gary Moore, I mean who wouldn't, right?

and whilst I laxed back to the Blues, I pondered that, if a definition and diagnostic symptoms of psychopathy are to be believed, the goal posts are going to have to be moved on a regular basis because psychopathy looks like the new black. Look at some of these listed traits and then tell me they aren't becoming more prominent in our youth.

Charming, eh.

PS this is a better ending

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Hone your black motherfucker

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Once upon a time, we had golliwogs. They were cool. We knew they represented a part of the human population and were held in the hearts of kids everywhere with fondness and affection. One day, someone decided that golliwog was racist and the next thing you know, poof! they weren't allowed in childcare centres, kindergartens, story books and you couldn't buy one in the shops. I don't think you can, even now.

Words like nigger and golliwog became signs of racism and were quickly expunged from the vocabulary of all rational-thinking society.

A bit down the line came laws about racist speech and hate speech and God help anyone who called someone a nigger, let alone a term like black motherfucker.

Last week, one of our non-pink ethnic type MPs got himself into a little spot of bother when he ditched a piece of his tax-payer funded, overseas representative meeting schedule to take a side jaunt to Paris with the missus and followed that with an email conversation with former Waitangi Tribunal director Buddy Mikaere in which showed where this particular MPs sentiments about his white skinned countrymen lie...

The email from Mikaere which drew the vitriolic response started: "Gotta ask the question eh? Who's paying for Hilda?"

The response from Harawira: "Gee Buddy, do you believe that white man bulls*** too do you?

"White motherf*****rs have been raping our lands and ripping us off for centuries, and all of a sudden you want me to play along with their puritanical bulls***."

Harawira added a postscript that he would be happy for the email to be made public: "If you want to take this to the press, go right ahead." more

Now I may be wrong, but if I can't refer to the Hones of the world as niggers or black motherfuckers, how can he get away with calling people white ones? Is that one more insidious little example so rife here of the Maori Double Standard where they want all the White Man's knowledge, his money and special rights as well? How fucking unusual! They scream about stolen land, white man's greed, and happily grow gorse and ragwort of huge tracts of Maori owned property because they are too lazy to clean it up, head into Politics and sponge off everyone with a bottle of piss in one hand and the other grasping anything not moving and then they call US white land-raping rip-off motherfuckers.

Hey Hone, go put on your grass skirt and get back to your pitiful whare on your shared ancestral scrubland and give up all the fancy toys, cars, plane rides, booze, KFC and anything else this white motherfucking race has given your "people" over the last couple of hundred years that your seem to treasure so highly and then you might just see how far Whitey brought a black motherfucker nobody called Hone Harawira.

They didn't have newspapers back then to show the world the opinion of one arsewipe Maori politician (as if anyone would have cared), but then none of them could read, anyway.

He's apologised for the email, but not the sentiments here, and you can read his pretend apology here.

Get a big one up ya Hone, you stink worse than dog shit under my shoe and the whole world knows it. I don't accept your half arsed pretend apology as anything more than what it is - hiding the bodies and wiping up the blood afterward because you fucked up big time. You're not so fucking sharp after all, are you.


Too good not to post!

Friday, November 6, 2009

uʍop ǝpısdn

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I watched a fantastic documentary tonight by Stephen Fry about bi-polar. It was very, very interesting, in some places very moving. Sometimes even I could empathise with Mr Fry's descriptions and I'm not bi-polar (I think it missed me). It gave insight into how one small thing can just fuck up life and turn your world uʍop ǝpısdn. Really.

It made me think about the wider implications of the out-of-warranty breakdown of other body features and the fallout; a path we are all walking in some form or another and I thought of two men whose lives have really been turned uʍop ǝpısdn, each walking the same trail, heading for the same unwelcome destination but chalking different landmarks along the way so they can find their way home.

I salute you both.

PS - Dear Mr Fry. We think you're very cool. Sincerely, Tish.
PPS - Can I have one of your overstocked PCs please? TIA.
PPS - Did I mention cool, yet?

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

I'm sorry but


**pulls out a fresh tissue and dabs**

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

I'm baaaack

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

You missed me, eh. Come on, I know you did, don't be shy.

I have been on hiatus. That means I've been in a mental/physical/spiritual place that I didn't feel like blogging from. But the Spiritual news this week was too good to pass up (being the spiritual beastie that I be) - that Pope Bishop/King Brian I (he of the self-elevated titles and huge bonus) has just gained himself 700 virgins sons to kiss his ring and swear undying allegiance to Him. He's all upset because the backlash the media unleashed upon his Royal Bishopliness hasn't been very favourable to the Worldly One, which is hardly surprising when most of the thinking country isn't in a cult, nor are they dumb enough to see his "First Fruits as anything more than Spiritual Jam, or wet enough to think that any of this shit is normal.

Speaking of wet, that reminds me of a very old joke about two nuns sharing a bath and one says to the other "where's the soap" and the other one says "sure does". Think about it...

Michy, thanks for the shove to get my arse back here. We'll do physical health another night :0)

Monday, August 3, 2009

Wake up!

I'm back.

Now, if this comes with a dryer option, I want one ;-)

The Alternative Clothes Cleaner can also be used as a stylish and comfortable living room chair, making it a good-looking, multi-functional piece of furniture.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Snow business

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

H and her Youth Group went off to the snow at 4.30 this afternoon. Nearly five hours later they realised they were not where they were supposed to be. Someone forgot to tell the drivers that they were staying in Turangi and when H sent me a txt at 9.02, they were just leaving Taihape.

Taihape? WTF?

An hour+ further south than was desirable. In the dark; in the cold; without a clue.

Several txts back and forward discussing where they were and making sure they were indeed on Highway 1 and not National Park route and wanting to know "how long to Turangi", a Google search and a 2 phone calls later, they were confirmed to finally be heading in the right direction back up Highway 1. Last txt from H was "here nw nite love you".

A good lesson in planning a trip in daylight and pre-trip communication. Especially by the drivers. At least wasn't snowing on the Desert Rd - I'm sure she would have mentioned it.

As an aside, modern communication technologies do make some things so easy, eh. Here they are rocking on down the road at probably 80k in the dark on a strange road and the drivers don't even know where they are going and these upstanding Church Youth leaders are probably trusting God was taking care of them tonight when in reality it was Telecom, a satellite or 2 and Google courtesy of 50,000 years of Geekdom.

Geeks rock, eh.

PS - I'm back. ;0)

Friday, June 26, 2009

Where's the oinkment

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Missed me? I missed you :-)

I got sick - a flu thing. I couldn't talk, I couldn't swallow for days. I'd drag myself out of bed and pretend to take care of business then crash back into it wishing I could stay there. I had high fevers, MS spasticity for Africa and at times couldn't walk, stand or lie down from the pain. My legs gave up along with my voice and I got a wee bit stuck one morning when the kids were asleep and I couldn't "do" for myself and needed help but couldn't get anyone's attention.

It wasn't great so I am going to get a personal alarm that will wake the dead which probably means it will wake sleeping teenagers as well.

Old people, young people, everyone still wanted a piece of the sick, middle aged person's pie and the plate came up empty.

Highlight? The sexy doc at the after hours clinic where I ended up being taken when I couldn't cope and a chest infection was looming to go with the throat infection.

Two weeks down, my anti-b's have run out, my chest infection is almost gone and I can almost talk without straining a foofoo valve but dayam, it's been a rough few weeks. I've barely even walked outside, let alone achieved any gardening.

Other selected items of importance:

Wacko Jacko snuffed it and so did Farrah Fawcett. So did lots of other people around the world, but they weren't famous so I can't tell you who they were.

Thomas has an abscess on the side of his face by his whiskers but decided doctoring wasn't required. It's almost gone. He also decided that eating at only one residence wasn't enough so has been dining in style at the neighbours before coming home for dinner and bed with Ads. Except for one night when staying by their fire was preferable to cold tootsies in the frost.

Frosts have been extreme and a pain in the bum washing ice off the car in the mornings.

I finally bought a new oven, but I haven't had a chance to get a sparkie to come and install it yet.

Best of all, I finally got to see the new Star Trek movie and it was GOOD.

At least I didn't have swine flu - I have no idea where I would have stashed all that pork.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

In his own words

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Adam came out of the kitchen tonight and said this;

"I hate cat food containers. No matter where you go in the room, the cats on them are looking at you".

I would have thought that was a good enough reason to get off his butt and put the shopping away, eh. He's right, though. I think it's a conspiracy...

Friday, June 5, 2009

4am wake up call

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

From this

to this

All I had to do was elbow him in the rib and he was all lovey dovey.

No wonder I can't get any sleep at night!

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


**pulls out a fresh tissue**

It's a beautiful sunny day outside and I am sitting inside fixing the kids bloody computer. It fell over with a virus a month or so back, a nasty one and I just couldn't be bothered cleaning up the mess left behind when one of them visited something dodgy on the net and Avast let me down and didn't stop the infiltration of cyber-germ warfare. They have been forced to use the old, slooowww dual boot linux/XP box in the meantime and I finally got sick of the whining and started fixing it.

And fixing it.

And, well, you get the picture.

Their trouble free, goes and goes and goes old Compaq box just didn't want to go. I got the damn thing working fine except for a small problem of damaged components that wouldn't open ports to the outside world - ie no internet. It wouldn't let me repair them. Replacing them didn't work. I couldn't restore their disk image because Ghost couldn't read the hard disk.

It wouldn't even let me reinstall XP. Bastard thing.

So I took the hint that their main drive isn't a happy camper, stripped it back to the chassis and rearranged all their hardware, cleaned every nook and cranny of it, replaced all the proprietory Compaq screws that only a butter knife will undo with proper screws, replaced the CD writer with a DVD writer, put another spare hard drive in as a master drive and now, finally, it is installing XP like a good little computer on one partition of the drive.

Then all I have to do is move the data on partition #2 to another drive, format it, repartition the disk to be full size minus a small pagefile partition and reinstall all their multitude of games and apps and God knows what else.

A couple of days pissing about will have cured the whining, whilst the fighting over whose turn it is on the PC will crank up again.

A girl just can't win.

I think I'll go hide in my room and write a shopping list - it's time to replace my nearly 6 year old generic PC with a new, built by me jobbie and consign this one to being a movie and music network media server tucked away under my desk and thus free up a shit load of hard drive space on all the machines.

All I gotta do is figure out how to pay for the components... and not fuck it up during construction!

Monday, May 25, 2009

Plumb going dry

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I haven't done anything at all interesting in the past week. The gas hot water tank shat itself and we had no hot water for over a week, so we all got to see the inside of a few of other people's bathrooms whilst begging ablution facilities from those who did have hot water. The best part of 2 grand later, our new hot water tank was fitted and all nice and hot (well, what's the point of cold, hmmm?) when the greater pressure of the new system blew the hot tap fitting apart in the top floor "kitchen". Then all the water had to be turned off and the mess mopped up.

Currently, that fitting is plugged off while we make a few modifications to the existing pipes and fit some new hardware up there, making it more practically usable in the long term. This means we finally have the freedom (yes that's what it feels like after so long) to stand nekkid in a hot shower and luxuriate in hot water for as long as one wants. I didn't realise how much I loved a nice hot shower until I couldn't have one on demand.

Tonight, I made a yummy chicken curry with poppadoms for dinner. Not a bit of it was left over and everyone cleaned their plates with gusto.

Two hours later, I was emptying my stomach regularly for an hour or so with much greater gusto when something in the dinner (I'm picking it's the poppadoms) disagreed with my cast iron constitution and finally sent me crawling into bed with a basin, moaning and groaning like the broken arsed sad thing I was at the time. Hours later, I don't feel sick any more but I feel damned delicate and in need of pampering and coffee. Seeing as how the kids had all gone to bed by the time I woke up, I've made my own coffee and gone without the personal pampering a good coffee-making child can give.

Oh, such a sad existence. I've gone right off poppadoms after only one taste. Thank the Goddess, Ads is on exam week so isn't off to school at sparrow's fart in the cold every day and I can have a few sleep ins. All this stress just knocks me flat.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Burning desire

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

The snails are at it again, bonking that is and Mrs S has laid a third lot of eggs. God help us.

The butternuts are about ripe; the gardens are almost weeded and pruned; the bath just needs some black polythene, rocks and water to transform into a pond and some fish to make it a fish pond. The gas hot water cylinder is on strike; the mongrel fucking neighbours on the next section over cut our macadamia tree off without asking everyone; there are few MS'y things I'm attempting to come to terms with and I'm not Happy.

I'm not any of the other six dwarves, either, but H could be when she slouches. We don't call her our Evil Little Circus Midget because she looks good in bright colours, you know - we call her that because she's Grumpy.

Being short was just a bonus.

Saturday, May 16, 2009


**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I'm going to be a Nana.

I don't quite know when because the mother-to-be hasn't told me and indeed, doesn't even know nor care herself and you know how there is never any definite date for these little occurrences because babies usually arrive when they are ready, but I have to say I'm not particularly surprised given the amount of time they have been spending joined at the proverbial pelvis.

Anyway, here is a pic

That's my babies, there in that pinky thing stuck on the glass. There is another one just like it stuck to the glass 8 inches away from that one and some time in the next 2-4 weeks they will hatch out, drop into the tank and either get gobbled up by the waiting guppies or start growing.

I'm not quite sure what I am going to do with tons of baby apple/mystery snails... and no, eating them is not an option.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Watch the S car go.

**pulls out a fresh tissue, wipes**

They have hardly stopped fucking, today. Or is that, they have hardly fucking stopped, today.

Either way, I'm think a short, but potentially sweet life could be had as a snail next time around. Beats the hell out of being a fat, desexed and pampered cat, which is what I was planning.


The only difference is the pampering, you realise, and I'll have to find a way to handle getting wet.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Getting screwed

**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I bought a couple of golden apple snails for the fish tank last weekend. I just wanted something a little more interesting than a guppy to look at, you know? But they are cool and sprint around the tank on their feet, doing all sorts of strange things. We've had the little brown snails in there for ages but they are really boring despite their prolific breeding.

I'd never really thought about sexy snails and what they do to get their funk on, but sort of thought baby golden snails would be nice. A bit of Googling suggested, not being hermaphrodites they needed a Mummy and a Daddy snail to perform snail intercourse to fertilise a bunch of eggs to be laid on the glass above the water line. I knew about the eggs - the Mystery snails used to leave them all over Mum's big tropical stock plant tanks back in my fish farm-teenagehood, dotting the concrete like crispy, pink berry fruits. But I was ignorant of their reproductive necessities.

Our snails have filled in every possible visual blank imaginable - Snail Sex 101

They fuck for over an hour a day. Every day.

Who would have thought snails had it so good, eh?

Sunday, May 3, 2009


**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I haven't been feeling myself for a few weeks and spent a bit of time playing with Facebook applications instead of blogging boringly if methodically without motivation.

If you are already on Facebook, you will know about applications and if you aren't, you probably don't give a shit anyway, but these little gems are fun. Why, just this past week, they have managed to point out what sort of Dwarf I would have been -

Grumpy. Lack of excrement.

What sort of brain I have -


How smart I am -

*cocks one eyebrow"

Where I should live -

I don't think so, Tim.

What book character I should have been (like wtf??)


Then I found proof I was sane

*does a little dance*

and rounded it out with a really big woodpecker.

Because I could.

PS - Oh and my eyes are fine, just a little optic hypertension creeping in but I've buggered my shoulder replacing the chain that broke on the swing seat under me and Ads the other day.

It was very funny at the time :0)

Monday, April 27, 2009


**pulls out a fresh tissue**

I was sitting out in the Bahama Hut a few minutes ago thinking how pleasant it was out there at 11pm with the night sounds being blown around by the wind and the gentle cracking of the possum crashing around in the bamboo and I got to thinking, as you do, what the Hell is so fascinating about a clump of bamboo when it has no fruit on it? Why live in a barren waste just to trot across to the neighbours to nosh on their avocados? Why not live in the avocado tree at the neighbours? Cos, like, I was stuck in that bamboo for fully 5 minutes the other day and I can quite confidently say, I didn't see anything exciting about it at all.

Of course, this not seeing might be because my eyes are a bit naff, that ridge of high pressure invading my eyeballs that I was yapping about a few weeks back but it's more likely that the possum is just a dork...

Dork - slang for penis, amongst other things. Sometimes an affectionate nickname, sometimes spat out in frustration. But I bet this takes the cake for Dorkdom. It came to me in my mail (thanks, Shane) and just goes to show how big a dork someone can really be.

Dear Diary

Tomorrow I am going to see the eye specialist about the pressure in my eye balls that is much too high to be normal but has existed too long without making me go blind to be glaucoma.

It was noted in the eye man's report in 2001 when MS first came to live with me on a permanent basis.

I want my MRI, dammit.


Sunday, April 26, 2009

Crochet, a dying craft?

**pulls out a fresh towel**

My Nana didn't knit or crochet, but if she had, I don't think they would have looked like these...

This is my, er, favourite. I think.

Certainly something a little different to give that beloved new grand child, eh.

PS - spot what's wrong with the co-joined teddies...

Friday, April 24, 2009


**pulls out a fresh tissue**

Our old girl had her birthday the other day - Nushie is 9, definitely a graceful old lady.

Looking at her, I got to thinking how right that old saying might be, the one so many people have trotted out and giggled at in the years we have been the owners of a mighty Shar Pei.

"Dogs look like their owners".

Oh I just laugh and laugh every time someone (usually the same friend) trots that one out but maybe they have seen a truth I missed until tonight - we do have some resemblances...

  • She is short. So am I.
  • She a natural brunette. So am I (underneath whatever dye I'm wearing, anyway).
  • She is stiff and sore after lying or sitting down, so am I.
  • She's as ugly as sin to those who value outward appearance over worth, and so am I.
  • She is old and wrinkled, need of a face lift and mostly taken for granted. So am I.
  • She is resigned to spending her days in useless sleepy boredom and so am I (almost).
  • We both like riding in the car, we both have trouble getting to the loo in time, we both have a facial hair problem and we've both been spayed. 

  • Best of all, we both get told to move our fat arse.

And what more could a fat, old bitch want on her birthday than scones, cake, pikelets with jam and 3 rides in the car.

Speaking of middle age, I thought sex in the Middle Ages was Nookie in the Norty Forties, but it looks like I was wrong...

Thursday, April 23, 2009


**pulls out a fresh tissue**

This young lady, Adele has a wonderful bluesy, blowsy voice.

I love it.

I'm sorry to say I was not familiar with the song, even though it's been covered by more artists than you've had hot crumpet (well, than I have, anyway), nor did I realise it was a Dylan song and there are some excellent versions of it on YouTube, but I'm also sorry to say the worst version is definitely the one done by Bob. No-one can murder a terrific Dylan song like Bob.

*waits for Flattie to untangle his knackers and deliver a withering broadside*

I'm dead meat now, aren't I?

Thank God the car was repaired today; they can put my box on a trailer behind it and tow me up to the Crem. Speaking of boxes, I still haven't finished designing mine. I'm still leaning towards flaming currency, though. After all, everything in life is some form of currency, isn't it? God knows, we seem to never stop paying, one way or another...

Monday, April 20, 2009

Mongrel fucking cars

**pulls out a fresh kitchen towel roll**

I don't like my car. It failed a WOF this morning on front brake pads, not unexpected cos it's been a bit spongy and soft for a wee while and I'm a hard braker lol. I didn't mention the rough CV joints on accelerated turning, and neither did the WOF guy so maybe they aren't bad, just annoying, but tonight the transmission shat itself. By that, I mean it stopped moving and started grinding when I was backing up at the vege shop. It didn't want to go forwards, either. Going via reverse to get to park was interesting - the grinding got louder. Starting in Park was fine, until one exited via Reverse and then everything ground and it still went nowhere. It even grinds in Neutral.

Now it's parked up at the vege shop locked in their yard, me and the dog walked home (not far but too far for me *sigh*) and I'm kicking myself that I remembered to lock the bitch up. Maybe tomorrow I could be claiming the insurance money cos some shits burnt it out, being parked in the dark, isolated area it is. My insurance still covers me for $2500 agreed value, it won't be worth the cost of a new tranny, the car's only worth $800 on a good day.

Up side?

I could have been in the 5 o'clock rush, or way over the other side of the Bridge, or somewhere on the open road - Open Road might not have been pretty.... Instead I was 300 metres from home and a 1km tow to my mechanic.

It did it BEFORE I spent $150 on it on Friday to get the new brake pads fitted.

I have the Corolla to use as necessary, but being a manual my legs aren't too good for too long.

I have so far managed to withstand the impulse to drive the Corolla down there and unlock it.

It just caps off a really, really crappy week.