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Showing posts with label Satire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Satire. Show all posts

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Joe Hookey: Out of Touch Apology Speech.

"Joe's Apology Speech" accidentally emailed to Pinky...

Dear Public People of Austrailya,
I love poor people. I really love them a lot. I love them so much that I could even be friends with one if I was ever fortunate enough to meet one. Therefore it grieves me to think the peeps of Australia thought I was having a Marie Antoinette moment last week when I said that poor people don’t drive cars and shouldn’t be worried about the fuel excise; even though it’s true. 

They don’t fly helicopters either… or have private jets God love ‘em. But that's beside the point.

We won’t be reducing the fuel excise and it will not be affecting the poor unfairly because we will be making it up to them by penalising the Richie Riches in the following manner, don’t you worry about that codgers.

Firstly, poor people really don’t drive cars because they use the bus to do all their illegal drug transactions. They catch buses to Centrelink, they catch buses to the footy. In the interests of social justice we will not be raising bus fares. (Except in accordance with fuel prices, but that can’t be helped if the bus company deems it appropriate.)

Furthermore, poor people don’t have to buy as much fuel as rich people because they don’t have to visit relatives since they all live in the same rented house.

And as John Hewson said in 1992, you can tell which house in the street is the 'rented house' can’t you? It’s the one with the overgrown lawn because they don’t own lawn mowers so therefore don’t buy fuel.

(Actually the speech was written by his then press secretary, guess who? Tony Abbott)

Therefore, as youse all can see, this fuel excise will not affect the poor people, only the rich who have big lawns and have to visit their rellies in Majorca via a fuel guzzling Boeing 747.

In the interests of all the fine upstanding povos living in our fair land girt by sea, we will also be instigating harsher taxes on the Hoity Toities of Australia.

Financially challenged people don’t use spoons because they ingeniously save money on milk by eating their cereal with a fork. Therefore the government will be imposing a tax on spoons. But only silver ones… and those found in the mouths of babes.

Poor people don’t need NBN because they can’t afford computers anyway. (Thus, we will only deliver NBN to wealthy suburbs and up their rates. Fair’s fair eh?)

Poor people don’t need solar heating because they don’t have a roof over their head so we will be cutting out the feed-in tariff scheme to punish the rich. (I realise they fly to Majorca in Winter and Aspen in Summer, but the fuel excise they absorb for their private jets will bring them to their sun-kissed knees.)

Poor people don’t need to be able to pay house insurance. Let’s be honest, if a cyclone or flood struck it would essentially be a house improvement. (In order to slog those moneyed-up bastards we’ll allow insurance companies to go silly with raising their premiums). That’ll hit ‘em hard. Having to pay extra insurance on the luxury yachts moored in Majorca. No wait… Nevermind.

The Living off the Fatted Calf Pensioners: Gotta hate them don’t ya?

If they really are as poor as they make out then they should be at home with their lights out wearing fingerless mittens and eating cat food. The oldies don’t need to get the pension if they are seen to be living the high life. Grey nomad caravan parks and South Pacific cruises will be taxed accordingly. It’s time we clamped down on this rich, old people rort.

The fuel excise will raise the price of fresh goods due to transportation costs but poor people don’t need to buy fresh fruit and vegetables because they prefer cheap junk food so it’s a win/win situation.

It’s only the thin, rich people who eat fresh food. It’s gonna suck to be thin and rich huh?

University fees will go up and this will be a bonus for the poor. Once they leave Uni the poor kids can never get those good jobs anyway due to the ‘elite school’ old boys/girls' club so it’ll save them a step in their education. Let the posh buggers pay for their tertiary education and your kid gets straight into the nitty gritty of their hairdressing/painting apprenticeship, earning four years of pay before the Uni graduates even start on their $300 000 p.a. careers. 

Who’ll be ahead I ask you?

As I said, povos and all poor people hold a special place in my heart. And remember, when life gives you lemons guys… get up your chauffeur for not having limes cut up to go with your Corona instead.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Things to do when waiting for your husband to come out of the hardware store

Look in rear vision mirror and count your open pores.

Pluck long black hairs from behind your knees which you missed when shaving that morning.

Search through handbag for runaway barley sugar.

Pick fluff off barley sugar and eat slowly.

Closely observe people entering and leaving store and .give them an original Game of Thrones character name like; Petyr Baygon, Polish the Bannister, Jon Dyna-Gro and Eejit, Various Tarpaulins, Stains of the Bathatheon, Hoe-dor, Neon Spraytoy.

Push cuticles back on fingernails whilst acknowledging to self how unfunny those names are .

Count up how many calories you have already eaten today. Calculate if you refrain from eating for the rest of the day and go for an hour long walk wearing ankle weights you can possibly afford to eat an entire Dr Oetker pizza that night.

Recalculate possibility if you up it to a two hour walk.

Stare at the sky until you can see the white cells moving through the capillaries in your eyes. Watch them for a while.

See how many signs you can read whilst holding your breath.

Do twenty pelvic floor exercises.

Calculate calories you just burned.

Take reading glasses out of case and clean them thoroughly.

Put them on and look in rear vision mirror again.

Pull out spiky chin hair you didn’t see before.

Watch owner walk funny looking dog past you.

Make mental note to buy dog food.

Add up in head how much money you spend on animal food a week.

                  (Weekly purchase: not counting 8kg bag of doggy biscuits)

Try to remember why you bought so many animals.

Check phone to see if any of your kids who failed to come home last night have answered your numerous texts.

Notice there are no replies send more texts. Angrier ones.

Suddenly remember why you bought so many animals.

Jump in excitement when you see husband coming out the door.

Notice in alarm there is nothing in his hands and he is wearing disenchanted expression.

Brace self for another exhilarating wait outside next hardware store.

Friday, May 30, 2014

I'm Changing my Blog!!!


I need a niche.

My father sent me an email informing me I should stop wasting my time writing about myself because not only is it excruciatingly, mind-numbingly BORING… but Niche Blogs are the only way to make any money (and that is a very important fact of life as far as Dad is concerned).

Apparently niche blogs do better than blogs about… about… stuff like what I write.

So what the hell is a niche anyway?

I looked it up and this is what I found…

-A shallow recess, especially one in a wall to display an ornament or statue.

Why would anyone want to write or read about a hole in the wall?

My sister has a hole in the wall in her kitchen (still waiting to be re-plastered) from when someone, (no-one has ever owned up) had a few too many Christmas drinks and toppled into it… but that’s not very interesting.

I suppose you could write a heap of intriguing posts based on ‘a hole in the wall’, for example;

“Things I’ve seen whilst peering through a hole in the wall.”

“How to fix a sore eye after being poked when you were peering through a hole in the wall.”

“Holes in the Wall - their Personal Stories.”

“Ten Easy Yoga Positions you can do inside your Hole in the Wall.”

“Thirteen Insane (but true) things about Holes in Walls”

“How a Hole in the Wall once Saved the World!”

“Why No-one Talks about Holes in the Walls Anymore.”

“Will Holes in the Wall ever Rule the World?”

“The Eighteen Best ‘Hole in the Wall’ Youtube Videos Ever!”

“Why Holes in the Wall are like the School Bully!”

“Nineteen Ways Holes in the Wall are Completely Overrated!”

"Winter Accessories in the Hole in the Wall"

“Why Holes in the Walls are the Best Things since Sliced Bread!”

“Why Holes in the Wall are Sexy.”

“Twenty Unexpected Uses for Holes in the Wall.”

I think this was the sort of thing Dad was getting at. The options are bloody endless.

What do you think? Could I make a quick buck or should I stick to my lacklustre, narcissistic crap?

Thank you to Content Idea Generator for giving me these brilliant ideas!

Monday, May 26, 2014

"Game of Moans"

If you watch Game of Thrones you’ll probably know what the “Moon Door” is.

I’ve been wondering what you all think of the “Moon Door”? 

Have you ever watched as some unfortunate knight who happened to err on the wrong side of Robin Arryn; the whiny, thirteenish year old, breast-feeding demon, is thrown through the Moon Door and hurtles to his death and secretly wished you too had a Moon Door? 

Or is it just me?

These are the objects/persons I would love to mercilessly shove into the yawning abyss and gleefully watch them smash into a million pieces on the rocks below.

1. The guy who walks his two golden retrievers past our house at 5:30 am every Saturday morning triggering my Chihuahua to startle from his dreamy slumber and “BOWROWROWROWROW… BOWROWROWROWROWROW…BOWROWROWROWROW!!!!!!!” loud enough to make me bolt upright in bed, both eardrums spurting blood and heart exploding.

2. My Chihuahua.

3. The student who audaciously calls out loudly, “The cat ate my homework!” when said item is requested on Monday morning causing unnecessary and disruptive mirth in the classroom which takes ten minutes to deactivate. It does not make it an original excuse by replacing ‘dog’ with ‘cat’, nor is it slightly amusing and frankly, I wish the cat would eat him.

4. The two youthful gym guys at the supermarket who accost me at the door every day with their free introductory membership offers. I avert my eyes to the ground; I swerve swiftly around the donut booth, skulking on bended knees to avoid being seen, I pretend to be having an animated conversation on the phone… but they always manage to somehow position their pearly whites up in my face and harangue me until I scamper away clutching the pamphlets and promising earnestly to look over them carefully.

5. The person who decided cheap waxed toilet paper frugally delivered in one sheet rations at a time in workplaces was a practical and economical idea.

6. The people on television cooking shows who carry on like it’s an art form. It’s food! It gets eaten! Gone forever… no art!

7. My lap top when out of the blue it tells me, “He’s dead Jim!” It scares the hell out of me. Who’s Jim? Who’s dead? I just want to hurl the evil machine down the Moon Door!

8. That creepy, disturbing little Robin Arryn. Gosh I hope he goes next!

Monday, May 19, 2014

Thirteen Ways You Can Survive this Budget

After the recent Budget was delivered last week, it occurred to me that belts need to be tightened around this household.

These are my strategies and I hope you find them useful.

1. Firstly, I’m going to sell my husband’s beloved skateboard collection. He’s not going to miss them if I take one deck off the wall a week and flog it off at Cash Converters

Besides, as I've been telling him for ages, he’s too old for that sort of rubbish.

2. We’ll save electricity by not watching the telly anymore. We’ll find something else to do, like throw pebbles into a jar, play hopscotch, or sit on the front lawn and count how many red cars drive past.

3. We’re all going to have to drink more water. It’s very filling so we’ll save unnecessary expenditure on pointless things like food. Although water’s low on fibre, it’s full of fluoride which is excellent for your teeth and bones.

4. Of course we’ll have to live in the dark to save on power bills. Everyone looks more attractive in the dark and as I won’t be able to afford makeup that’s a plus.

5. I’ll steal other people’s lunch at work. Some of those people at work eat far too much anyway. Surely they won’t miss the odd yogurt going missing.

6. Naturally, from now on I’ll only give homemade presents. I've always wanted to get back into knitting anyway.

                                             Image credit

7. I’ll wear a surgical mask because I won't be able to afford to get sick. As a teacher this is paramount; being surrounded by snotty nosed kids all day and all. They’re better off not seeing my facial expressions anyway.

8. Shopping around for the cheapest petrol will save me heaps. My teenagers don’t need to drive around as much as they do... and sharing is caring.

9. We can rent out our walk-in-wardrobe to a University student. Things might get a bit awkward when I go looking for my bra in the morning but I’ll be cool with it if they are.

10. It will be necessary to lower our epicurean standards. If it’s good enough for the dog it’s good enough for us.

11. We’ll look for a cheaper place to live… and save on air conditioning into the bargain.

12. I’ll read our local newspaper for cheap outing ideas. There’s bound to be some wedding/engagement/21st parties we can crash… even the odd wake perhaps.

                                           Image credit

13. It will pay to research all my fringe benefits from work. Toilet paper, sugar, coffee, tea… it’s all there for the taking. 

Except I wish they’d stop buying International Roast (caterer’s blend).

Bloody cheapskates.

How will you save money? Any tips?

Linking up at With Some Grace.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Why I want to work in an all girls' school!

Miss Waddlington-Dandy,
Summerdayes Girl’s College for Eloquent Young Ladies,
Articulate Road,
Toff Hill.

Dear Miss Waddlington-Dandy,

I am writing to express my ardent interest in successfully applying for a teaching position at your refined and well-designed all-girls’ college.

Please allow me to convey how comfortably and quickly I would acclimatise to teaching placid, sophisticated young ladies as opposed to the fear and shocks of teaching in the confines of a classroom filled with rowdy and overly energetic ten year old boys.

I can easily picture myself wandering through your verdant grounds, reciting Wordsworth, accompanied by a small group of captivated pinafore-wearing ingénues. 

After a long leisurely stroll we would come to rest under an old gum tree and quote our favourite poetic lines from the Romantics at one another until, giggling and delicately perspiring in our white petticoats, we’d settle down to penning sonnets in our embroidered journals.

I cannot imagine even one of the young ladies dropping a ‘silent but deadly’ in the middle of our English lesson producing such an overpowering pong the rest of the class is wildly disrupted; urgently scattering in twenty-five directions with noses pinched and vociferous howls of objection.

The other girls wouldn’t then feel it was necessary to emulate the protagonist by forcing out excess, distasteful wind for the sole purpose of entertaining their fellow students would they?

The joke would not continue after lunch when a select few have refueled their capacity to manufacture the excess wind after eating cheese sandwiches and party pies with tomato sauce would it?

When gliding gracefully into the classroom clutching their satin-ribbon geography books, the Mademoiselles would never put each other in a headlock; tackle their victim to the floor and roll around screaming out things like, “Skylanders rule!” would they?

My charming young pupils would not dream of sneaking a collection of three hundred collector’s cards into their mathematics lesson and play with them under the desk instead of listening to their dedicated tutor waffle on about lines of symmetry I’m sure.They'd be too enthralled in my dulcet tones.

With these matters in mind, I reiterate my desperate plea that you might consider me for the upcoming position of teacher in your highly esteemed institution and I dearly look forward to hearing back from you. 

Please note; I gave birth to and reared four boys of my own. I feel it is time for a reprieve.

Yours Sincerely,

Mrs. Pinky Poinker

The Nuthouse


Monday, April 28, 2014

X- is for X Rated Pinky!

Pinky's Bodice-Ripper

It was early morning and golden rays of sunlight streamed through the dusty blinds reflecting in a dazzling rainbow along the wall. Pinky bit her plump, ripe, lower lip in deep concentration as her laptop delicately balanced on the silken skin of her knees. 

A diamond bead of perspiration, left over from her last hot flush, wobbled on the cupid’s bow of Pinky's sensual upper lip, threatening to splash down onto her keyboard.

“I’m so hot!” the sultry temptress murmured, elongating her slender ankle and kicking the satin bedclothes away with a soft sigh.

Scotto lay beside her, his musky scent of manhood pervading the bed sheets.“Awweuu…” he groaned with a deep rasping tone. “You’ve slashed my bloody shin with your toenail, Pinky. How long is it since you cut your toenails?”

“Since forever,” smiled the mischievous Pinky, raising her small chin in a trademark gesture of defiance.

“It’s bleeding, you made me BLEED!” scolded Scotto, raising a masculine brow. “For the love of God, Pinky, are there any Bandaids up here in the boudoir?” he pleaded huskily.

“No… but there might be a few downstairs,” the tiny minx retorted playfully, licking her lower lip in coquettish mirth.

“Could you come down and help me find a bandaid?” Scotto leaned towards Pinky, his long lashes blinking lasciviously, speaking in a anguished, desperate tone.

“Nope, sorry, I can't,” Pinky replied, adding a saucy wink. “I’m busy. Sorry.”

“Busy doing what? Surely you can get off the Internet for five minutes to help me look for a bandaid?” Scotto scowled, his puppy dog eyes darkened as a menacing storm brewed in his black irises.

“Nope. I’m in the middle of scrolling my Facebook feed! I couldn’t possibly help you… 'No' means 'no' Scotto...” Pinky trailed off, her finger tenderly but teasingly tracing across her mouse pad, her eyes rivetted to the screen.

“That’s enough, you taunting wench!” Scotto cried out as he sprang from the bed, luxurious black ringlets swirling around his chiseled jaw. 

In three vigorous strides, he reached the modem and jerked it violently from the socket. His long robust flanks glistened in the …. glistening light, and he turned to the mocking enchantress lying prone and susceptible among the glossy sheets.

As sleek as a black panther stalking its prey, he moved lustfully towards the bed.

“I command you woman! Move! I’ll carry you down if you won’t come of your own accord,” Scotto breathed heavily, his top lip curling in arrogant derision.

His gleaming torso bent down towards the bed and, tensing the beefy powerful muscles in his shoulders scooped the porcelain princess from her bed, ignoring her breathy, desperate protestations. 

Suddenly he froze, rooted to the spot on which he stood and gave a swift, sharp cry.

“My back! It’s my compressed disc!” he moaned in agony. “I can’t move, Pinky.”

As his rippling biceps seized, he dropped the writhing, sweaty Pinky like a hot potato to the floor.

He lurched forward on to the bed and fell into the billowing bedclothes, his massive trunk shuddering in relief.

“That’ll teach you to shut off my Internet you brute!” the feisty she-cat spat at him. “No man will ever tame me. Ever! And don’t you forget it!”

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Pinkypedia! Facts You Don't Really Need to Know!

There are many questions in life we all need to be answered so I thought I might start my own online encyclopaedia.

Please feel free to add any questions you have in the comments.

How long is a piece of string?

Double half its length. [1]

Why do dogs look like their owners?

This is a fallacy and it never happens. [2]

What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Neither, it was the kid on the box of cornflakes holding the box with the photo of himself holding a box with a photo of himself holding a box with a photo of himself…. [3]

Why does the moon look so big in the sky sometimes?

It’s an optical illusion. When it’s close to the horizon you’re probably on your third of the evening's Chardy/Sav Blanc and it just appears to look bigger. [4]

Why does the weekend go so fast?

Seriously? The working week goes for five days and the weekend goes for only two. Five take away two is … hang on… seven take away two is… it‘s just not as long okay! [5]

Why is it so hard to lose weight?

Basically, it’s because food and wine are so bloody lovely. [6]

Why won’t my eyebrows grow back?

They’re afraid after what you did to them back in the late seventies. [7]

Why can’t I make a bowel movement?

Cheese on biscuits. [8]

Why is the sky blue?

Because it recently lost its job, had a baby and was disappointed when Breaking Bad finished. [9]

Why is my poop green?

Too many green cocktails at the St Paddy’s Day party. [10]

Why am I always tired?

Life. [11]

Why is my dog throwing up?

It ate four pig’s ears; its own and three belonging to the other dogs. [12]

How can I make my hair grow faster?

Go on school camp where you can’t shave your legs. [13]

Why do I always see the same time on the clock when I wake up in the middle of the night?

Your clock is broken. [14]

What is the smallest unit of life?

A mouse. Or maybe a flea [15]

Who is the most powerful Jedi?

Mr Spock because he was extremely logical. [16]

Why isn’t my wife talking to me?

Because she is busy writing rubbish on her blog and you should never disturb a genius. [17]

When is Pinky going to stop writing this utter garbage?

Now. [18]

Notes: [1] O’Reilly “Musings of a Male Primary Teacher” [2] Pinky Poinker “Living in Denial” [3] Pinky Poinker “Who’s Old Enough to Remember This?” [4] Pinky Poinker “A Brief History of Moon Facts”[5] Pinky Poinker “The Time Traveller's in Strife” [6] Pinky Poinker “Body for Fun” [7]
Pinky Poinker “Raised Eyebrows” [8] Pinky Poinker “The Irritable Bowel and You” [9] Pinky Poinker “Popular Astrology  Astronomy [10] "Pinky Poinker [“The Irritable Bowel and You Part Two” [11] Pinky Poinker “Burning the Incense Stick at Both Ends” [12] Pablo the Chihuahua “The Hog Whisperer” [13] Pinky Poinker “ One Time on Band Camp” [14] Pinky Poinker “The Poinkerville Horror” [15] Pinky Poinker “The Voyage of the Beagle Chihuahua” [16] Pinky Poinker “The Star Wars Killajoy” [17] Pinky Poinker “It’s Probs Time to Cook Dinner” [18] Scotto  "About to Eat the Crutch From a Low Flying Crow”.

Linking up with Grace at With Some Grace for FYBF

Monday, January 27, 2014

In Praise of the Rubber Thong

In patriotic jubilation, yesterday (Australia Day) was spent at a family gathering hosted by my sister Sam and her husband Pedro. There was a backyard pool, a barbeque, lots of snags and lamb chops and the odd cool, refreshing beverage.

But it was what lay beneath the table that arrested Pinky’s attention and a quick spot check revealed just how Australian we all are. There was no official dress code, no requirement expressed on the invitation decorously sent via text message and yet we all chose to attend suitably and identically attired.


Pinky's Thongs*
                                                        Uncle Pedro's Thongs*

                                  Sinead's Thongs*

According to my go-to source of up to the minute information, Wikipedia, the ‘thong’ has been around since Egyptian times when they were made from papyrus leaves; but I beg to differ. 

They were invented and embraced by Queenslanders as more than just an iconic form of footwear. They belong to us and us alone... we have a myriad of uses for them!

                                               Scotto's Thongs*

1. They are ideal for leaving outside the front door for the convenience of slipping on when you need to walk across the front lawn to take the wheelie bin out. It negates the mandate to run the gauntlet of vicious spiky weeds invoking what’s known as the “Bindi-Eye Dance”. The best thing is the cane toads can’t hide inside providing the unsuspecting candidate with a slippery surprise.

2. Rubber thongs have the perfect aerodynamics for hurling at the wall when out of the corner of your eye you spot a flaming big cockroach tentatively making its way up the lounge room wall while you’re eating the dinner precariously balanced on your lap and watching Border Patrol.

3. Ever step in dog poo in rubber thongs? No problem. But have you ever tried to get dog poo out of the corrugated sole of your jogger? Found a small stick in the garden or a random ballpoint pen and attempted to gouge the excrement out bit by bit? Just when you think you’ve got it all you turn the shoe over and realise it’s soaked into the fabric. Rubber thongs can be hosed off… or just thrown out for that matter. They only cost two dollars at Coles.

                                Sister Sam's Thongs*

4. Rubber thongs save lives. My friend’s auntie’s sister-in-law’s cleaning lady was ironing when she received an electric shock and the only thing that saved her was the insulation from the RUBBER THONGS SHE WAS WEARING!

                              Greigor's Thongs*

5. Rubber thongs are perfect for our tropical climate cancelling out sweaty feet and invalidating nasty fungal infections like Tropical Toe. And when it gets too cold you can always wear them with socks!

6. Thongs are a social status equaliser. I once walked into a doctor’s surgery and guess who was wearing thongs? 

Me. But I wouldn’t have been put off it was the doctor.

7. Scotto has been known to chuck the odd thong at Ibis’s stealing the cat’s food, the television when Tony Abbott comes on the screen and our longstanding residents, the Mynah Birds, when they poop all over our patio table after he’s only just hosed it.

8. Personally I find rubber thongs to be the most versatile apparel in my wardrobe. Black thongs for good wear, white thongs for any time before Labor Day and pink for when I’m feeling flirtatious.

9. Top Tip: If your workplace health and safety people insist on you wearing closed in shoes my advice is to simply wear a bandage around one toe and you’ll beat the system for at least a week.

Anyone have any other uses I haven’t thought of?

*I may have accidentally mixed up some of the photos.

Posting at With Some Grace!... for FYBF

Sunday, January 26, 2014

An Immigrant's Guide to Australian Slang

Way back in 1947 my paternal grandparents arrived in Australia with their three young sons as ‘Ten Pound Poms’ which I suppose makes me a first generation Australian, on one side of the family anyway.

This is a newspaper from 1947. My grandmother is front row third on the right.

Thank God my grandparents made the decision to emigrate using the assisted passage scheme along with over a million others between 1945 and 1972 or I’d never have been born and that would have been a particularly disappointing outcome (for me anyway).

Excluding our First Australians, our Indigenous population (roughly 690 000 people), we’re all immigrants to Australia or the descendants of immigrants really, aren’t we?

It doesn’t mean any of us aren’t Australians... whether we arrived last year or with the First Fleet back in 1788.

I’ve never felt more Australian than the times I’ve travelled overseas.

Travelling around Ireland with five kids under eleven years of age and my then husband, was one time my antipodean identity was truly brought home to me.

* Mind you, Britain is our antipodes when you think about it.

I recall my five ravenous kids noisily spilling out of our ‘people mover’ in order to infiltrate a fish and chip shop somewhere in rural County Fiddle-ee-dee in 2000.

The patrons and staff fell silent, staring at us as if we’d just landed a flying saucer and emerged in lizard suits; especially as soon as the kids opened their mouths to speak.

“Or’ll have fish ‘n chips with termarda sauce, Mum!” they drawled in their Australian accents, scuffing their rubber thongs or bare feet on the floor of the shop. I examined the tanned faces and sun streaked hair of my tiny Aussies; a result of hours spent in our backyard pool and realised how alien we must all have looked and sounded.

When we finally touched down in Cairns after a month in Europe, the pilot announced our arrival in a typical Aussie twang but as we hadn’t heard it for a month it sounded as if he was taking the mickey.

“Why does he sound so Australian, Mum?” asked a puzzled nine year old Jonah.

A teacher once told me the Australian accent developed because there were so many flies and the English and Irish had to learn to speak without opening their mouths and letting the flies in. 

Try to speak in an English accent without opening your mouth very much… see!

It must be confusing for new Aussies to understand our accents let alone some of the words and sayings we have, so I’ve made a list of translations.

Dickhead: Anyone who cuts you off in traffic, burns off ahead of you at the traffic light in a souped up Commodore with a Chevvy badge or drives a Ute and has red P plates. On Australia Day they can be spotted with yellow and green zinc creamed faces wearing only a pair of budgie smugglers and a flag.

Bloody Dickhead: Same as above but gets really drunk and starts yelling at anyone who looks vaguely ethnic about how they should go back to their own country.

Bastard: Someone you can’t stand because they’ve slighted you in some diabolical way in the past.

Bloody Bastard: Someone you love because they’re a rascally rogue eg; “How are you, ya bloody bastard?”

Sanger: A sandwich usually containing corned beef and pickles or curried egg.

Sausage Sanger: A cheap form of food consisting of one piece of bread rolled around a sausage and can be bought outside a hardware shop on Saturday mornings. Found in abundance on Australia Day.

A Stephen Bradbury: When you win something by default. For example; when you’re playing Monopoly on Australia Day and everyone else loses interest and leaves the game to sleep off their sausage sangers and you’re the only one left.

Togs: Lycra sausage casings you squeeze into and attempt to hide behind a towel until the last possible second before you’re able to conceal your over-inflated torso in the swimming pool.

Are there bones in that?: What you say to someone who is choking on the coconut on their Lamington.

Pavlova: An ultra-sweet dessert used to throw at people on Australia Day when they cheat at Monopoly or do cannonballs in the swimming pool splashing chlorinated water in your plastic cup of Chardonnay.

Happy Australia Day you bloody bastards!

Thursday, January 16, 2014

How long has blogging REALLY been around?

Often when you mention the fact you write a blog, people don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about.

The thing is, women have been 'blogging' and using varied forms of social media to relate aspects of their lives and memories, political views and knowledge...since forever.

Cave paintings
Paleolithic Wife- Cooking Blog.

"Errg's Bites"

Full Moon, 17300 years ago

This is what my husband, Ugg brought back from hunting yesterday. Cooked it over open fire with nuts and berries I gathered. Fed a family of eighteen. Click on link for tasty recipe.
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Ancient Roman Graffiti- Political Blogger

"Claudia Reports"
15 March 44 BC

While Brutus was at the Senate meeting I went into the town square and blogged about that right-winged b#stard Julius Caesar. Something has to be done about that misogynist. Women should be citizens!

Ancient Egyptian Heiroglyphics: Journal Blogger

"Pinky Salwasi's Crazy Life!"

Shumo, 3100 BC

It's summer and the kids and I popped down to the Nile Valley for a swim. Nebtawi (hubby) went to the temple all day to pray to the Gods so we had the day to ourselves.Picked up a nice side of gazelle from the markets and just hope teenage sons are home to eat it for a change. Sick of keeping leftovers in the icebox.
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Normandy Craft Blogger

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"Catherine's Crafty Corner"
Tuesday, 1075.

Well, we are finally up to the 65th metre of the Bayeaux Tapestry! Only 5 more to go! Mathilda's playing a practical joke and embroidering a Where's Wally somewhere in the tapestry. I bet you can't find it! We have free give-aways to the first three readers who comment correctly!

Feminist Blogger- Venus of Willendorf
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 "Venus Greer and her Eunichs"
 25 000 BC

A Stone Age dissertation on why women should not be judged by their beauty.
I happened upon this when I was out gathering sticks yesterday. The statuette speaks for itself; please note the absence of a face or feet and the 'junk in the trunk'. Just what is the point of this? If I find the guy who carved this I'll hit him over the head with his own club. 

Marie Antoinette's Beauty Blog

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"Marie and You"
October 15, 1793

The big trend now girls is powder, powder, powder. I use a swanspuff to apply and you can pick one of these up at Targette for three livre. Make sure you apply plenty of white paint beforehand to cover up the Smallpox scars! Rosewater hides a multitude of sins my lovelies. For example when you haven't taken a bath for eight years! Gotta go darls, someone's knocking very loudly on the door...

Cleopatra- Fashion Blog

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"Cleo's Couture" 
11 August 30 BC

In my role as Queen of Egypt, I have to meet up with many diplomats and therefore attend many formal occasions. My secret to looking good on the carpet? Or rolling out of the carpet?
Bling! Some fabulous gold earrings and plonk on a wig... you're good to go. Those upper armbands are rocking it right now too, but I tend to shy away from the snake-shaped bands... they make me feel uneasy for some reason!

Friday, January 3, 2014

What Men Should and Shouldn't Wear in the Tropics

With 35+ degree heatwave temperatures across Australia over this Christmas period the only place to be is here…

Pinky, Kyles and Kaz on New Year's Day.

Pinky enjoying the icy cold waters at Crystal Creek today.

Even the dogs are getting in on the action…

                                Pablo and Scotto

Permitting the men to take over the task of cooking is paramount.

        Troy (right) had his phone on a timer to go off every 2 minutes so he would                                     remember when to turn the steaks over??? (Our boys can pull off                                           anything!) 

Much is written on the Internet about women’s fashion in the Australian summer's sizzling conditions, but I haven’t seen any of my favourite Queensland fashion/lifestyle bloggers writing about 'what' and 'what not' our men should be wearing.

So… I made a list.

1. Singlets

Unless you are under twenty-five years old (or have arms and a chest like Liam Hemsworth)… don’t do it in public.
N.B. Especially if you have grey underarm hair. 

2. Budgie Smugglers

Never acceptable unless you are a bona fide lifesaver and even then, make sure the leg elastic is secure because we don't want to 'accidentally' see any "Purple Speckled Robin's Eggs" poking out.


3. Shorty-short footy shorts.

Again... with the exception of actually being a ridgy-didge football player like Cooper Cronk, Billy Slater or Cameron Smith and are in the act of, well playing football... don't go there. Not only can the speckled eggs be unknowingly exposed but so can the Ding Dong McDork if you forget to put those jocks on.

4. Crocs/Sandals

If you drive an unmarked van and hang around schools... fine. 

Otherwise it's best to avoid these if you want to attract the ladeeeeez...

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5. The Sombrero Hat

Not only does this reflect the representation of "I don't like any woman as much as I love my sport" it tends to make you wear green and yellow zinc cream, scream out obscenities and look like a bit of a tosser.

So there you go guys.
Anything else that makes you girls or guys turn your toes up in the sand?

P.S. I'm only joshin', our men can wear anything they like as long as they're prepared to put up with us in our tracky dacks :)