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Saturday, February 23, 2013

It's Oscar time again!

And the Oscar goes to …

Every year our good mate Greigor runs an Oscar betting pool. In honour of his efforts I have endowed my own family with Oscar accolades for their many dramatic and entertaining exploits.

Best Actress- 
And the Oscar goes to…Pinky Poinker (Me!)
Sick to death of nineteen year old Hagar pilfering my Lean Cuisines from the freezer for his afternoon snack I theatrically feigned alarm.
“Hagar, please don’t tell me you ate the Chicken Masala from the freezer! You do know that Lean Cuisines are especially produced for menopausal women don’t you? They are loaded with oestrogen!”
“What’s oestrogen?” he enquired with measured interest.
“It’s a hormone Hagar!” I continued melodramatically. “It’s not meant for growing men! You’ll start growing boobs if you don’t watch yourself.”
He has never touched my Lean Cuisines since.
Best Actress in a Supporting Role
And the Oscar goes to …Unspecified Ingenue
It was New Year’s Eve 2010 and fifteen year old Padraic was shoving a phone number in front of my face.

“ Hey! Momma Bear (Padraic’s nickname for me when he wants something), it’s Murdoch’s Mum’s phone number,” he insisted. “Murdoch asked me to sleep over tonight to play video games. You can ring his Mum and check if you like.”

Padraic was supposed to be coming to a party with Scotto and I, but I relented and rang the mother. I’d never met her and she sounded very nice and she promised to keep a close eye on them for the night.

At nine o’clock that night I got a phone call from eighteen year old Jonah asking me if I was aware of the fact that Padraic was on an Island eight kilometres off the coast, imbibing in the pleasures of an unsupervised teenage shindig.

I put two and two together recalling that Murdoch’s “mother” had sounded exceedingly young. I rang the number as it was still in my phone. 

“Can I speak to Padraic please?” I said tersely.

“Who?” came the confused and girlish reply.

“Padraic” I repeated.
There were muffled sounds in the background, 

“Oh sh#*!”… (here the voice deepened as the phone was passed to Meryl Streep Junior). 

“Padraic has just gone down to the shops with Murdoch. I’ll get him to call you back.”

“Yes, you do that!” I drawled. “Tell him his Momma Bear wants to talk to him.”

Best Foreign Film

And the Oscar goes to …Lulu

When Lulu was in Year Nine she went to France on a school trip, based on the concept of language immersion. She was to stay with a French family and attend a French school for two weeks. 
In order to extract the formidable financial outlay from us both, she convinced her father and I she would return with a better knowledge of the language. 

I was petrified about her going as at fourteen she was a bit of a dipstick. Ensuring she had a money bag to be worn under her clothing I lectured her endlessly about keeping all her documents securely ensconced in it. 

“Yes Mum, I know, I’ll be careful so can you please stop nagging.”

On the morning of departure, after putting her luggage in the boot and pulling out of the driveway on the way to the airport, I noticed something on the ground in front of the car. 
It was her passport.

Lulu managed to keep it together somehow and return safely but I don’t think she picked up one word of French. She promptly dropped out of the subject as soon as she got back. 
She also managed to do a lot of shopping when she was over there though.


And the Oscar goes to… Lulu

Lulu loves her camera and thought it would be funny to take a clandestine photo of me with wet hair, no make-up and shoving a huge forkful of food into my cakehole. She then posted it on Facebook to get a lot of likes from her friends. 

It was 346 likes at last count.

Best Action Movie

And the Oscar goes to… Scotto

The first time my husband Scotto met my parents he was sh#ting himself. As we had met on the internet, Mum and Dad were extremely suspicious of poor Scotto.

“How do you know he’s not a serial killer?” asked Dad earnestly.

“Or a paedophile?” chimed in Mum.

We invited them over for coffee and when they arrived we opened the door to greet them. Before anyone could say a word, Willy the silky terrier took the opportunity to abscond and shot through the door at high speed. 

Scotto kicked off his shoes chasing after the little fugitive as quickly as he could. Willy hurtled along the path at the speed of light and before long we lost sight of them. 

Half an hour later Scotto finally returned carrying the wayward mongrel in his arms. He was grazed, bleeding, red-faced and dripping with sweat. 

Great first meeting? 
My parents are massive dog lovers and Scotto could not have prompted a better impression if he’d tried.

Best Screen Play

And the Oscar goes to… Thaddeus

When Thaddeus was fourteen he came to me with a play script he’d written. His teachers wanted him to enter it in some competition or other and he wanted my opinion on it. After reading it I handed it back to him, 

“It’s really good Thaddeus. You’ve done well.”

In all honesty I hadn’t liked the play at all. In my opinion there were too many scene changes, outrageous characters, an unbelievable storyline and it just wasn’t funny. I would never have discouraged him though by telling him that.

Six weeks later I opened a letter to read that Thaddeus had won the Queensland Theatre’s Young Playwright of the Year. They wanted to fly Thaddeus and a parent to Brisbane so that they could workshop the play with him. Some professional actors would then perform his play at the theatre. 

What the hell do I know? 

This all played out beautifully and I was very proud of my son. I have to say I was never more thankful that I had kept my big idiot mouth shut for once.

What was the play about? 
Oh, a dysfunctional mother and her five rebellious kids. 

…I’m being serious.