How I'm Going to Make over a Million Bajillion Bucks

I’m sure you’ve heard of the Elf on a Shelf.

The Christmas tradition was launched in 2005 and rapidly snowballed into a multi-million dollar franchise: year-over-year growth has averaged 149%, sales hit $16.6 million in 2011 and I can’t find figures beyond that but I’d bet a Christmas bauble they’re still doing quite well.

In 2005 my youngest, Lulu, was nine years old and far too worldly to accept the whimsical tale of a stuffed goblin who was sent as a spy from Santa to deem whether or not she’d been naughty or nice… so I gave the purchase of said festive mole a big miss.

Millions of other mothers out there didn’t apparently.

I, however, have had a brilliant idea!

Instead of a mere Elf on the Shelf, I’ve created a variety of characters more suitable for the older kids.

One complaint from mothers worldwide is that E.O.T.S. has to be moved around the house each night after the kids have gone nighty-nights. Unfortunately, just as in the case of the tooth fairy, after one too many spicy, mulled wines Mums were forgetting to move the little critters leading to suspicion and doubt as to the Elf’s credibility.

My specially designed Santa secret agents come in sets of twelve so won’t have to be moved much at all. Most areas of the house will be covered and not only that, will contain in-built camcorders! 

You'll have black and white evidence about who's nicking the alcohol, coming home late or doing their chores around the house!
You won’t miss a THING your teenagers get up to!

Let me introduce you to… 

Pinky’s Christmas Snoops

 Bear on the Stair: for when they try to sneak in late.

           Bunny on the Dunny (downstairs toilet)

Meerkat on the Beer Mat: protecting the liquor cabinet!

       Ernie on the Gerni: dropping hints about chores.

                        Lion near the Iron: self explanatory

                     Cow near the Puppy Chow

                 Dog on the Bog: upstairs toilet

                        Feline on the Clothes Line

                        Giraffe on the Path

                        Unicorn on the Front Lawn

                      Swine with the Wine

                    Goblin in the Rubbish Bin

So what do you think? Am I on to something?

How to be an UN-EVIL Stepmother

One central character who has not yet been introduced into the insane adventures of Pinky Poinker is “Petal”.

                               Petal at three years of age.


I first met Petal when she was three. Her father and I had only recently met and I remember her soulful brown eyes staring intently and suspiciously at me from the backseat of the car. I think I won her over that day with a princess Barbie and a Happy Meal.

Yes… you guessed right. Pinky is a Stepmother.

Normally Petal lives with her mother in the Southern Queensland Highlands where it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. The first thing she does when she arrives at Chez Poinker is tear up the stairs and burst into each of her step-siblings bedrooms to announce her arrival.

                             Petal now at twelve years of age.

She then smothers the dogs with kisses, greets the cat and shimmies into her swimmers without delay. Petal then proceeds to spend eight hours every day thrashing around the pool, only taking breaks for the occasional bag of crisps or an icy-pole. I’ve never seen such a water-baby.

The word ‘stepmother’, has bad connotations and stepmothers generally get a bad rap in the press eg; Cinderella, Snow White etc.

I’ve made a list (derived from my personal experience) on how you may avoid being labelled an ‘evil stepmother’ with all its unjust implications.

Don’t spend too much time in front of the mirror comparing your beauty to hers and throwing hissy fits when the mirror smart mouths you.

Try to tone down your natural, maniacal laugh.

Don’t take her to the butchers, order a beef heart then put it into a jewelled box and keep it on your dresser. She might get mixed messages.

Don’t over pluck your eyebrows into sardonic arches.

Don’t wear black, day in and day out.

Don’t walk around the house in a tiara and make your stepdaughter call you Baroness Poinker.

Don’t make her sweep the fireplace.

Don’t make her do the washing up every day and call her “Palmolive”.

Don’t hang around turrets.

Don’t have a crow as a pet.

Don’t go offering her apples all the time, especially if they’re red on one side and green on the other.

Get rid of any warts or large moles on your face.

Book an appointment with the dentist to replace missing teeth.

Above all, … don’t keep pumpkins around the house or you may discover she’s been sneaking out at night.

What’s in your Handbag? Pinky Reveals All.

Image Credit

Well… I’ve been waiting for a national magazine to call me requesting a feature story on “What I keep in my handbag” and it’s not been forthcoming so I guess I will just have to do the feature myself.

What Does Pinky Store in her Hermes Handbag?

1. Aromatherapy drops to dab on my temples in times of stress.

2. My Chanel No.5 perfume which I NEVER leave the house without.

3. Caviar hand cream I picked up in Paris.

4. My Apple iPhone 5 because I'm such an Apple fanboy :)

5. Lancome lipstick so I'm always looking my best.

6. The Little Book of Calm to keep me centred.

7. A manicure set for those little snags.

8. Rescue Remedy to get me through the busy day.

9. A holiday snap of the family skiing at Aspen last Christmas.

GAMIN!

1. To say something you really don't mean and make sure everyone around you heard it. (Urban Dictionary)

This is what is really in my handbag...

1. A plethora of old, scrunched up grocery receipts.

2. An asthma puffer (even though I don't get asthma unless I eat pickled onions) because you never know!

3. Some yoyo string Scotto wants me to take to work for Kyles' husband Troy???

4. Half a packet of Soothers circa January 2013.

5. A Breast Cancer Pen.

6. Chewable Disprin for the inevitable headache.

7. Berocca to keep me awake.

8. Sorbolene hand cream I picked up at Coles.

9. A half chewed packet of Nicorettes.

This must be why I haven't heard from any women's magazines huh?

Pinky Bites: How to Avoid Cooking for an Entire Week.

With Padraic and Lulu both off for a week at end of school celebrations there's only 20 year old, Hagar and husband, Scotto left at home... so Pinky has decided not to cook for a week.

Below you will discover seven gastronomic delights my family go mad over. Your ravenous family may find them equally yummy should you, on occasion, feel too weary to drag yourself into the hot kitchen and instead languish in a tepid, bubble bath with a glass of champagne and Michael Buble serenading you in the background.

Sunday night (Preparation time for your forthcoming week of hedonistic indulgence)

Sassy Spaghetti Bol- Pinky Style

Quickly brown 1 kg Mince.

Throw in a can of tinned tomatoes and a jar of tomato paste plus a cup of water. Stir every 10 minutes for 30 minutes and serve on boiled pasta. Delicious extravagance.

Monday Night

Left over "Sassy Spaghetti Bol!"

Tuesday night

Pinky’s Tender and Voluptuous Chicken Wraps

Heat chicken tenders in oven for 20 minutes.

Add crisp, shredded lettuce, cheese and barbeque sauce encased in soft wraps and it all looks and tastes just spliffy darlings!

         

Wednesday night

Pinky’s Hot-Ding-a-Dogs

Take one hot dog and place inside an open hot dog roll. Bazinga darlings!

Add barbeque or tomato sauce and cheese as desired. Simply scrumptious!

Thursday night

‘Steak Pinky’ with Cheeky Crunchy Potato Batons

Toss a steak over three or four times in an oiled pan until it’s succulent… you know what I mean, wink, wink.

Place Potato Batons in oven on 230 degrees for twenty minutes.

Presto! Bon appetite!

Friday night

Middle-Eastern Kebabs with Fluffed Rice a-la-Pinky-style.

Buy pre-made and marinated kebabs from Deli. Place in oven at 180 degrees for twenty minutes.

Place sachet of rice in microwave for 90 seconds. Make sure you squeeze the sachet sensuously beforehand.

Pour rice on plate and add desired kebabs. Lick your delicious fingers afterwards.

                        Here's one I prepared earlier!

Saturday night

Pinkster Hamburgers with the Lot

These beauties take about 2 minutes to cook on both sides. Add to a burger roll and with various salad items in the crisper this makes a truly opulent meal fit for a King… or Queen.

Sunday night

Pinky's Golden Arches Special!

Some people caution that Schoolies is a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah and that any parent who allows their kids to attend is sending them straight to an eternity in Hell.

I reckon at least mine will eat better than if they stayed at home this week, possums!

The Melbourne Cup: Straight from the horse’s mouth.

Next Tuesday, the first Tuesday in November, the proud nation of Australia stops for the premier thoroughbred horse racing event of the year, the Melbourne Cup!

What goes on in those horses’ heads on the day, I often wonder? The pressure must be unbearable...

According to this sporting website, verbal intimidation is the backbone of physical competition but surely it wouldn't be an exclusively human domain. 

Throughout history, sport has been flooded with unusual characters who possess a flair for the dramatic and I’m certain the commonplace sledging is not confined to the jockeys in the racing industry.

Imagine the trash talk going on between the horses in the stalls as they wait around for the starting gates to open before the race…

Fiorente: (last year’s runner-up) I’m just looking around to see who’s gonna finish second ma homies!
Dunanen: Come on Fiorente! .You've been scratched more times than a lottery ticket.

Fiorente: Horseshit I have! Besides… It ain't braggin' if you can back it up.
Green Moon: Well, you two losers can take a hike. Get your popcorn ready, 'cause I'm gonna put on a show.

Red Cadeaux: Yeah, right Green Moon, I've seen bigger flanks on a Shetland pony.

Brown Panther: Hey! Foreteller! What does Red Cadeaux’s dick taste like?

Foreteller: I don’t know, Brown Panther. Ask your wife.

Dandino: Yo! Ethiopia! Ray Charles has seen more track than you.

Ethiopia: Sorry, I can’t reply to that… I’m a little hoarse… heehaw.

Fawkner: You should be the horse with no name, bro!

Mourayan: Shut your face, Sarah Jessica Parker!

Seville: Nobody talk to Silent Achiever… That mare’s got PMS… Pissed-Off Mare Syndrome, he haw he haw!

Super Cool: You should talk Seville. You're just like a tampon. Only good for one period.

Seville: Super Cool...after the race I'm gonna build myself a pretty home and use you as a bearskin rug, a#$hole.

Masked Marvel: Hey, Mount Athos! So... how’s your wife and my kids?

Mount Athos: Thanks for asking buddy! The wife’s fine. The kids are retarded!

Royal Empire: Hawkspur… ...Hey man, does your trainer know you're out here?

Hawkspur: F#ck off Royal Empire… my left nut gallops better than you do.

Mr Moet: Give it up Hawkspur, when you were born your mother got an apology letter from the articifial inseminator.

Simenon: Don’t sweat it Mr Moet. I heard Hawkspur broke down in his last race and couldn’t giddy-up.

Jet Away: Hee ha hee ha hee ha.

Precedence: Awwww… why the long face Hawkspur?

Forgotten Voice: That’s a clown question idiot.

Just when you thought Pinky couldn't get any sillier huh?

Anyway… Pinky's tip for the Melbourne Cup is….

Never try to heat up a can of peas in the oven.

Ian Botham for his famous cricket sledging comment.
The Bleachers Report from whom I adapted the horsey trash talk!
http://bleacherreport.com/articles/1238737-the-50-best-trash-talk-lines-in-sports-history

Pinky's Conspiracy Theories

After last night’s expose on cats I thought I’d check the Internet this afternoon to see if Mr Google had ranked my post at all. 

Well guys… it seems like I’m not the only individual to come to the conclusion that cats are extra-terrestrial. When I typed in “cats are aliens”, a whopping 10 200 000 results came up. I must have been hiding in a closet somewhere when this particular conspiracy theory was trending. 

Pinky’s post was ranked on page nine so I guess that’s not bad considering the volume of competition out there.

I do love a good conspiracy theory.

A few years ago I joined the The Flat Earth Society for a laugh.

The website’s mission statement describes how for years the world has been duped into believing our earth is round when in actual fact the earth is flat. The society’s head honchos back this up with ‘scientific data’. It’s all tongue in cheek and poking fun at the bizarre rubbish espoused by the multitude of nut bags out there.

There are some even weirder conspiracies around though.

# Redheads are the offspring of aliens because they all look alike.

This is my mate Greggles…

And this is Ed Sheeran...

Go figure... (I'll be in a sh#t load of trouble for that).

# The anti-Christ is among us.

Yes… it’s the producers of reality television turning our brains into porridge.

# Sonny Bono was murdered on the ski slopes.

Who’s Sonny Bono again?

# All the really famous people in the world (even the Royal family and key role players in political parties) are just disguised ‘Lizard People’ who normally live underground. They’re deviously plotting to take over the world.

                          Ric Okasek: Lead singer of the Cars!
I know...not nice Pinky!



# The Queen ordered the MI5 to kill Princess Diana…

Think about it. If Princess Diana married Dodi Fayed the queen would have been able to send grandsons Harry and William into Harrods for some brilliant discounts, so that just doesn’t make any sense at all.

# The Moon landing was fake.

Well, my dear old departed Grandad advocated this theory but he also supported the view that Harold Holt was kidnapped by Chinese spies in a submarine so I’m not sure how reliable he was.

# Michael and La Toya Jackson are the same person.

Yeah? So what? Donny and Marie Osmond were the same person weren’t they?

Cats are aliens. No joke.

Scotto was sitting beside me on the couch watching this video on his laptop and as I peered over his shoulder I came to a staggering conclusion.

Cats are not of this world. Cats are aliens in a furry disguise. They’re most definitely extra-terrestrial creatures sent to spy on us, and eventually take over the world.

Don’t get me wrong… I’m not saying I don’t like cats, I just think they’re hiding some terrifying secret to do with eventual world domination.

Think about it. Cats were mentioned once and once only in the entire Bible and there’s even some question if the reference was actually referring to a cat at all.

If they weren’t on the Ark how did they survive then?

You tell me. 

I know for a fact cats deplore water, so I’m sure they weren’t doing backstroke otter-style in the flood waters.

The Egyptians, on the other hand, revered the moggy, even mummifying them to be entombed along with the Pharaohs. If a cat died in an Egyptian house the entire family went into mourning just as they would if it had been a family member. Everyone in the house shaved their eyebrows.

 Cats were presented with jewellery… cats were big in the fertile crescent.

Throughout the centuries cats have adapted their vocal ability to… wait for it, this is f#cking scary… imitate the sound of a baby’s cry in order to get attention. 

Does that not sound mildly malevolent? This is probably why you always see firefighters lifting a bedraggled cat from the after rubble of an earthquake. 

The burly and dedicated fireman risks his life thinking he can hear a baby beneath the layers of debris then has to mask his bitter disappointment when he discovers it’s only a cat.

Have you ever wondered why they don’t send cats into space? Apparently the French planned to launch a cat called Felix, into space in 1963, BUT… Felix escaped. Can you imagine the security the French would have had surrounding the mission? And yet the space station was outwitted by an ordinary old cat. That’s freaking bizarre if you ask me. Monkeys, dogs, mice, guinea pigs, fire flies, rats, mealworms and even cockroaches all went off into space without a hitch… but the cat? No fricking WAY. That cat probably had an alien spaceship waiting around the corner for it.

Think about how cats are portrayed in Hollywood; Dr Evil and Mr Bigglesworth, Mr Jinx in Meet the Parents, those sh#tty Siamese cats in Lady and the Tramp, Church from Pet Cemetery to name but a few fearsome felines that raise the hackles on the back of my neck.

I think I’m going to start keeping a closer eye on my cat.
You know… cats spend two-thirds of their life sleeping… but are they actually sleeping? Perhaps that’s when they’re connecting to the mother ship.

Cats can jump up to five times their own height and run at 49 kms per hour. Some experts believe that cats have magnetised cells in their brain that help them to find their way home. Phone home ET??

Even weirder… cats have no collar bone. This means they can squeeze into any orifice their head can squish through. There is a documented story of a cat called Andy who survived a fall from a 16 storey building. Could any other animal boast the same luck? A bird maybe…

I rest my case.

Cats are aliens.

(Just as I was about to post this, an ungodly scream from outside my front door frightened the effing bejesus out of me, seriously. It was the cat… I think it was warning me not to reveal its secret to the world. Now I'm scared.

                    This is my baby smother-er, Chelsea.

Photoshopping: Scotto

What really lazy bloggers do when they can't be a#sed to write.

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(Hand and bellybutton modelling by Scotto)