Pinky's Book Link

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

N- is for Not Another Stupid Quiz!

                                                      Photoshopping by Scotto



A to Z April Challenge

See that photo up top? 

According to Facebook that image is what epitomises Pinky Poinker. 

 I used that intriguing new app on Facebook which scans your photos to discover which celebrity you resemble. Naturally I was titillated with excitement when it popped up in my feed and was compelled (due to a mixture of vanity and curiosity) to give it a go and I was matched with the gorgeous Jessica Alba.
It’s an uncanny resemblance really (cough).

Perhaps if you shaved thirty years off, left me on a sunbed for a few days, and allowed a plastic surgeon to dig around with a scalpel and silicone-filled syringe for a few months… there’s the small possibility a short sighted Jessica fan might corner me in the IGA and demand an autograph.


According to Facebook, if I was a Muppet I’d be Kermit.

And according to the complimentary Facebook team I have the same intestinal fortitude and character traits of Daenerys Targaryen. 

And according to another quiz on FB my defining colour is... pink (surprise, surprise).

Are you like me? Do you waste valuable time completing inane quizzes in order to glean insightful info? 

Engaging in rubbish like "Which Friends/Downton Abbey/Famous Food Chain Are You ?" when you should be doing something more productive like… well anything really.

There’s even a quiz for which element you are on the Periodic table. How bloody ridiculous is that? I’m Helium by the way.

Now, I happen to know most people cheat on these little quiz things anyway. 

Most punters are already aware of what character from whichever show/category it is they want to be… so they second guess and answer the questions accordingly.

Are you one of those people? I dare you to try my mystery quiz. I’m not revealing the possible outcome until the end!
Go ahead… and be honest, don’t peek!

Remember to keep a tally of what letters you choose the most.

Presenting Pinky’s, 
     
“Which famous (something) am I ?" quiz.



1. Your feel most at home in…

A. Nightclubs

B. Caves

C. Lush Cultivated Gardens

D. Forests and Parklands

E. Tunnels.


2. Your taste in attire includes…

A. A push up bra

B. As little as possible

C. A nice fitted jacket

D. A flower in your hair

E. A stylish waistcoat


3. Your best friends…

A. Are a bit on the shady side

B. I don’t have any friends

C. Get me into trouble all the time

D. Have need of my support

E. Are a bit crazy


4. Your favourite meal would be...

A. Anything from a cocktail platter

B. Steak Tartare

C. Organic Salads

D. Nuts and berries and other healthy fare

E. Tea, cupcakes and crumpets


5. When faced with adversity you’re more likely to…

A. Get blind drunk to blot out your problems

B. Attack your problems head on with determined ferocity

C. Attempt to run away from your problems but inevitably become trapped

D. Put on a brave front but in reality be trembling in your boots

E. Make yourself elusive to avoid trouble at all costs



6. Your friends would probably describe you as…

A. Flirtatious

B. Moody

C. Adventurous

D. Humorous

E. Unreliable


7. What's your favourite movie…

A. The Devil Wears Prada

B. Silence of the Lambs

C. Rabbit Proof Fence

D. The Deer Hunter

E. Sliding Doors


8. Favourite song...

A. Love is the Drug by Bryan Ferry

B. Psycho Killer by Talking Heads

C. An English Country Garden by Jimmy Rodgers

D. I Get Knocked Down by Chumbawamba

E. Rushing by Moby



Okay… the big reveal. This is will perhaps change your entire perspective on your life. Or not.

You have just completed a quiz to find out what famous rabbit you are.

Mostly As

                                    Jessica Rabbit

Image Credit


Mostly Bs

                   The killer rabbit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail


Mostly Cs

                                        Peter Rabbit

Image Credit


Mostly Ds

Image Credit
                                  Thumper from Bambi



Mostly Es


Image Credit


                               The rabbit from Alice in Wonderland

Hope a certain rabbit stops by your place in a few days!
Which rabbit are you?

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

M is for My Girlfriends- Divine Secrets of the Blah Blah Buzz Club




Blah Blah Buzz Club AGM Agenda

 Meeting Time and Date: Monday 5:00 pm 

Meeting Venue: Yacht Club

Attendees: Committee Members: 


Kyles (President) Shazza (Vice President)
Kaz (Treasurer) Pinky (Secretary)
Lee-Lee ( Advisor of all things to do with relationships because she reads Cosmopolitan and is the youngest and closest to hipster we have).

Apologies: To the staff at the Yacht Club for making them stay back and put up with us all night.
Agenda Items:
1. Minutes of the previous meeting: 

Recalled out loud in the car on way to the Yacht Club by Pinky – Kyles was supposed to have sent bulk texts out to other members regarding tonight’s meeting. 

Kyles insists she thought Shaz was supposed to be doing it. Small quarrel ensues in car with accusations flying and tempers flaring. 

Our chauffeur, Shaz’s husband Michael, turns radio up and puts foot down on pedal to speed up process of offloading us so he can go to his tennis game.

                         (L-R) Kyles, Kaz, Pinky, Lee-Lee, Shaz.


2. Business arising from previous Minutes: 

Disputed matter is eventually settled that it was no one’s fault other members weren't notified.
It's unanimously decided Pinky should have the first shout.

3. Correspondence
Pinky (secretary) reiterates verbal warning by each of our husbands to behave ourselves on girl’s night out.

Menus are handed out and youngish Lee-Lee reads them out to other oldish committee members as everyone has left reading glasses at home.



4. Discussion of what “behave” actually means. Nothing conclusive deduced. 

Pinky decides to order Atlantic Salmon.

5. Reports:

Treasurer Kaz, reports that as Pinky is a member of the Yacht Club she will have to pay for all the food and drinks tonight and be reimbursed, in order to receive member’s discount for the other cheap skates. 

Pinky argues that she can’t possibly carry five drinks at once or remember five meal orders and it’s agreed an elected member will come and help her.

As Secretary, Pinky agrees that any notes taken down during evening must be dealt with and recorded on blog but omitting details of salacious and rowdy behaviour. Scandalous or unflattering photographs are banned with the exception of extremely funny ones. See item 3.

It’s voted and passed that what happens at the AGM stays at the AGM.

6. Subcommittee reports:

Lee-Lee reports that when Pinky returns from ordering drinks at bar she has accidentally ordered one too many. Pinky acknowledges that she did wonder why the round was so expensive, then to cover up her mistake, insists she bought the extra drink in honour of our fallen comrades at home watching MKR.



7. Election of Office Bearers

All offices are reinstated but Shaz is appointed “Gopher” as well as the position of Vice President.

8. Guest Speaker

A slightly annoyed lady at table beside us asks if it would be possible to keep the noise level down, especially Kyles' raucous laughter.

Kyles explains we are all teachers and letting our hair down on school holidays.

After hearing us incompetently attempting to sort out money exchanges in order to pay for dinner, same lady makes observation that no wonder kids are like the way they are today if they are being taught by the likes of us.

Committee members begin to loudly throw fake school name into conversation to cover tracks and avoid possible consequences.

9. Motions on Notice:

11:00 pm, Motion by Kaz to move on to the Australian Hotel to discuss General Business because the weary Yacht Club staff had turned the lights out and were bundling us out of now closed and deserted restaurant.

10. General Business:

Discussion of the presence of any interesting prospective suitors for Kaz (our single lady) in proximity at the Australian Hotel, followed by quick scan around room by committee members. 

It seemed eligible gentlemen were thin on the ground down town on a Monday night.

Suddenly a fitting candidate is identified.

Newly elected Gopher Shaz, is sent on reconnaissance mission (on behalf of Kaz)  to investigate suitability of intriguing stranger in mint green t-shirt as possible point of focus.



Discussion of possibility of going home when Pinky looks at watch for first time and notices it is 11:40 pm; two hours past her bedtime. 

Entreaties by Pinky to call it a night are dismissed by other committee members.

Shaz buys another round of drinks.

11. Notices of Motions: 

Motion set for scheduling next meeting as this hotel was closing.

Motion proposed by Kyles to call into Maccas drive thru on way home.

Motion to stuff Kyles into baby seat of (designated driver) Lee-Lee’s car as she is smallest.



12. Next Meeting: 

To be advised.

13. Meeting Close

Pinky attempts to slither into bed without waking Scotto as time is now 1:30 am and ‘some people’ have to work the next day.
Scotto gets up to go to loo grumbling under his breath and Pinky knows she’s been sprung.

Giggles herself to sleep remembering fun night with the Blah Blah Buzz Club.

Inspired by Rebecca Wells' book about the joys of sisterhood.


Linking up with Essentially Jess #IBOT

Monday, April 14, 2014

L- is for Looking Out My Bedroom Window.



A to Z April Challenge


The weather was a bit wild and woolly on Saturday night. “Look!” I said to Scotto on Sunday morning. “It’s been raining!”



Overnight our property value had doubled with glorious water views unexpectedly thrown into the equation.

Unbeknownst to us, Cyclone Ita had paid a visit but fortunately our only casualty was a bread board blown into the sink in the kitchen.

Just like Mrs Mangel, I spend a considerable amount of time peeking through my bedroom blinds snooping on the comings and goings outside Chez Poinker.


                                  

On the weekend I stick my nose through the slats in order to discover how many teenagers have spent the night. The number of P plated cars parked out the front is a dead give-away.

Before there is even a single painful knock on the door I can spot the Foxtel salesman trudging up the path with a determined look on his dial. The soon to be thwarted salesman that is; outfoxed by an indisposed Pinky hiding in her bedroom, muffling her psychotic laughter and pretending no one is home.

I observe underhanded members of the public drive up beside the council bin opposite the house. They get out of the car solicitously checking no one is around to witness them throwing a huge bag of stinking prawn shells in the bin, unaware that Pinky Mangels is watching their every move.

One day as Scotto and I lay on the bed trawling the Internet on our laptops (that’s not a euphemism), we observed a criminal act going down right in front of our house.

A car pulled up containing a group of feral looking teenage boys (not actually related to Pinky for a change) and one of the boys climbed out carrying a dodgy plastic bag. 

He looked around discretely, clearly checking there were no eyewitnesses to whatever it was he was about to do.

“’Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello,” said Scotto putting on his best impersonation of a copper from The Bill. “What’s this joker up to then?”

The young ruffian walked towards the grassy river bed and deposited the mystery bag underneath a bush then coolly wandered back up to the car, jumped in and drove off with his Neanderthal beanie-wearing mates.

“Ermahgerd!” I squealed at Scotto. “That was highly suspicious, Scotto! What do you think that was about?”

“I don’t know,” replied my manly man husband. “But I’m going to check it out!”

“Nooooo!” I begged him, clinging to his ankles as he shuffled towards the bedroom door. “What if it’s a bomb and it blows up in your face?”

“It’s not a bomb, Pinky,” a transformed Jason Bourne avowed, “I’ll be back.” 



Gawking through the blinds in trepidation I watched my fearless hero wearing his macho gardening gloves (with the yellow tulips) swagger across the road and delicately retrieve the item of interest.

                                         Image Credit

It was spray paint… about $200 worth of fluorescent spray paint. It was too much paint for the purpose of the sickening habit of sniffing but enough to paint our entire suburb red, so to speak.

In true Mangel style we called the police who came and collected it.

All I can say to our neighbours is this...

The Poinkers are here to fight for truth, and justice, and the Australian way. We have your backs Australia.

I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride, even though sometimes we have to be steady, and give up the thing we want the most. Even that third glass of Chardy.

Whatever life holds in store for me, I will never forget these words: ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ This is my gift, my curse. Who am I? I'm...

...you’ve stopped reading haven’t you?

Hello? Anyone there?

Hello?


Linking up with Kirsty at My Home Truths 
and Emily at Laugh Link

I Must Confess

Saturday, April 12, 2014

K - is for Kissing Cousins.


                 Mum holding little baby brother Damo, (L-R) Sam, Kimmy and Pinky.

A to Z April Challenge

Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Kissing cousin- noun

: a person and especially a relative who you know well enough to kiss in a formal way when you meet.


I have twenty (first) cousins altogether but I only keep regular contact with two of them; via Facebook mainly as we all live in different cities.

Back in my childhood, every second year Mum and Dad would pack up the Citroen and at three o’clock in the morning we’d be dragged out of bed for the road trip up to Cairns to visit the cousins. Even now when I’m forced to wake up at that ungodly hour I have flashbacks of those trips.

Mum would make us eat a bowl of Weet-Bix before we left which would invariably be regurgitated by my little sister Sam all over the back seat of the car as we drove over the Cardwell Ranges.

I’d be sitting in the back beside her, complaining for the remainder of the trip about the stench of vomit. Mum would incompetently endeavor to clean it up in the dawn light with a box of Kleenex; whatever remained after the poodle had licked it up anyway.

Dad was adamant we had to leave early to escape the North Queensland heat because there was no such thing as air-conditioned cars back then.

As we drove into Cairns at eight o’clock in the morning my excitement would reach fever pitch. Jewel and Cheryl, my older cousins were my idols. Kimmy, the younger cousin, hung around with my sister Sam, but I liked to hang out with the worldly-wise older girls in their sophisticated caravan in the backyard, milking them for classified information about sex, boys and other mysterious phenomena.

                                 Cheryl and Jewel circa 1968

Who do you suppose told me how babies are made?

And who scared the willies out of me by retelling the urban myth about the bloke on top of the car bouncing the head of the girl’s boyfriend?

Both girls were set a punishing regime of piano practice every day by their musician father and I remember sitting patiently waiting for them to finish so I could hang around again like a bad smell; in a way only the quintessential pesky younger cousin is able.

In my eyes both girls were so gifted, beautiful, artistically talented and stylish. I was besotted.

One afternoon back in the late sixties, sitting under their old Queenslander style house they introduced me to my all-time favourite song; the song I've told Scotto I want played at my funeral.



They’d take me for a walk up to the shop and buy me an ice-cream and allow me to hang out when their friends came over. Even the boys.

When they were older they’d return from holidays in the big smoke looking all glamorous with long, auburn-dyed cascading hair, sky high platform shoes and the kind of sparkly clothes little Pinky would salivate over.

They related stories of meeting celebrities when they were in the big smoke and I luxuriated in vicarious pleasure.

Imagine meeting the stars of Skippy in real life!

                   Cheryl holding baby Thaddeus with her daughter Emily.

Cheryl has remained my closest cousin over the last forty years and from fitness camps in the eighties to funerals, weddings and family visits in the nineties and naughties, our relationship has endured.

                              Pinky holding Hagar, Cheryl seated, Kimmy on right.
                           Not sure who owns the rest of the kids!

                                And she’s still beautiful!

Do you have a favourite cousin?

Friday, April 11, 2014

J - is for Just Visiting



Have you ever read The Giving Tree? It’s a beautiful story about unconditional love. The type of unconditional love a parent has for a child. I cry every single time I read it.

I went to lunch with the girls today to a restaurant called Jam Corner (which is another “J” word) and I was going to write about that but I haven’t been able to concentrate because of my darling nineteen year old son lying beside me playing what he describes as a fusion of hiphop, rap, reggae, R&B, dancehall, blues, jazz and soul on his phone whilst singing loudly and tunelessly in accompaniment.



But that’s okay… he’s my son.

“Can I borrow your phone for a sec?” he’d interrupt me. “I've run out of credit and need to text someone.” 

When I finally wrestled it back from him I noticed he’d made eight outgoing calls.

But that’s okay… he’s my son.

As soon as I rounded the corner and saw his ute in my driveway I thought how fortunate it was I’d had a big lunch and wondered if there’d be anything at all left in the fridge.

“Why don’t you buy food anymore Mum?” he grumbled, as he scoffed down my cherished golden rabbit Easter Egg. The one I’d been saving for Easter Sunday.

“Mainly it’s because you don’t actually live here anymore, Padraic!” I replied indignantly, watching as he wolfed down the prized rabbit in two bites.


But that’s okay he’s my son.

I could hear him rummaging around in the fridge five minutes later and a voice bellowed from the kitchen, “Is this chicken alright to eat?”

“It’s fine,” I sighed. “Go for it.”

“Smells funny,” he commented scornfully, tossing it back in disgust.

And it’s not just food. Our house acts as a giant warehouse full of towels, sheets, mattresses, Eskys, fold up chairs, buckets for bait, the odd external hard drive... all free for the taking. Nothing needs to be returned and rarely is.

But that’s okay. They’re my kids.

So for any mum out there reading this, please don’t fret when your kids grow up and move out. They never REALLY move out at all. 

Not until they've used up every scrap of sawdust anyway.

But as I said… it’s okay.


Thursday, April 10, 2014

I - is for I of the Tiger!

                                                     
Image Credit


A to Z April Challenge!


Yes I know, eye cheated. Oh well.

If you read my post about my son Hagar traipsing off to Thailand to celebrate his 21st birthday with his gorgeous girlfriend Meggles, then you know how uneasy I was about their safety. 



Short of laying down on the tarmac in front of the plane I did everything I could to thwart his adventures.

Well… the latest paparazzi snaps to emerge on Facebook reveal the quality of drinking water should have been the least of my concerns.


The concept of Hagar becoming Fancy Feast for a couple of ravenous tigers never occurred to me. 



And the notion he and Meggles may choose to hurtle through the jungle at a great height never even entered my head.


Meanwhile, on the other hand things have been quite dull and boring here at the Poinker Ranch.

This is the type of mind-numbing conversation I had with daughter Lulu, when she was sitting on the couch biding her time before going to work.

I was off to the shops and because of the Chihuahua’s propensity to pick a fight with the German Shepherd out in the backyard, I needed to make sure my inattentive seventeen year old daughter locked the little dogs inside the house before she left.


And if you suspect I nicked this routine from a certain 70s comedy troupe you’re wrong. Sometimes life really does imitate art.





Pinky: Lulu! I’m going to the shop. Can you please make sure you leave Celine and Pablo in the house when you go out?

Lulu (playing with her phone absent-mindedly repeats back instructions):

Lock dogs out if I go out.

Pinky: No. Don’t let them out if you go out… unless I’m back first.

Lulu (still preoccupied with phone): What?

Pinky: The dogs!

Lulu: So… don’t let the dogs in until you come back.

Pinky: No! I might not come back!

Lulu (vaguely processing information): So…. when you come back, I let the dogs in.

Pinky: Lulu, stay here and keep the dogs in when you’re about to go out!

Lulu (dreamily): Or you come home.

Pinky: This isn’t difficult Lulu. Focus. I’m going out and I want the dogs kept inside if you go out.

Lulu: Right.

Pinky (dubiously): Right. I’ll be off then.

Crickets chirrup in the distance.

Lulu: So I don’t have to do anything except let them out when they need to go.

Pinky: Yes… unless you’re going out.

Lulu: Maybe I’d better stay here until you get back.

Pinky: I think that’s a very good idea dear.


Wednesday, April 9, 2014

H- is for How I Interviewed Myself One Day

                                                               

A to Z April Challenge

Shamefully, sometimes when I read other people’s blogs I am enveloped in a warm and treacherous cloud of jealousy. 


“I’m not commenting on that post!” I’ll think. “It’s too clever, too funny, too much… better than moi.”

When I see a post with scores of comments I’m often consumed with envy. 

When I come across an interview a blogger has written about another blogger I occasionally feel green with envy. As green as a green eyed, green snake in green grass with its horrible eyes bulging in resentment.

Why? Why? Why? Why doesn’t anyone ever interview me?

So I’ve done exactly what any bitter, unpleasant blogger would do and interviewed myself. Or rather my arch nemesis Magenta has interviewed me. Please enjoy.


Magenta: For those of you that have never come across her site, Pinky Poinker writes a blog here..

I thought we might connect with Pinky today and find out what really goes on behind her silly writings and trivial meanderings.

So firstly Pinky, the question on everyone’s lips, what is the secret to your youthful appearance?

Pinky: (Throaty laugh) Hahaha! Why thank you Magenta! Ummm… I’d have to say 5% genetics, 5% Photoshopping and 89% preserved in wine.

Magenta: That’s only 99% Pinky.

Pinky: Is it? Okay then… another 5% preserved in wine.

Magenta: But that’s…. never mind. So Pinky can you tell us what motivated you to start writing a blog?

Pinky: Revenge. I wanted to get my teenagers back for all the dreadful things they were doing to me. Public shaming you might say.

Magenta: That’s very acrimonious Pinky. Has there been any fallout from your exposes and revealing stories?

Pinky: Well, they did unfriend me on Facebook… but they still turn up for spaghetti bol every week so they can’t be that upset.

Magenta: Now they’re grown up Pinky, where do you see your blog going in the future?

Pinky: Cats, I thought. There really aren’t enough cat pictures out there on the Internet. Or perhaps I could write about menopause and how it makes you sweat a lot and become a bit weird.

Magenta: I think those ideas may have already been covered at length, Pinky. What about your passions? What are your passions?

Pinky: Well… I do tend to get very passionate about the unanswered questions in our world. For example; when is it appropriate to use a semi colon or a colon? And what does a colonoscopy have to do with it?

Magenta: Where and when do you do your fabulous writing?

Pinky: Generally speaking, I sit on the couch downstairs every afternoon, write my post and edit it meticulously three or four times. Then I go for a pensive walk along the river analysing what I’ve written. Then I come home and delete what I wrote; scream at Scotto that I couldn’t write a decent blog post to save my life, Scotto gets me a wine and promises to do a nice little graphic for me, then I tap out my literary work of genius based on inspiration from what’s on the six o’clock news or Deal or No Deal.

Magenta: What do you do when you develop writer’s block?

Pinky: (Shrugs) I look at funny dog memes on Facebook.

Magenta: What’s your favourite post you’ve written?

Pinky: The one about the day I split up with Jon Hamm. It was difficult at the time but I got through it in the end. The link!

Magenta: Who are your favourite bloggers Pinky?

Pinky: Magenta! I could never name my favourite bloggers because by naming a few you are dissing the rest and I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Just sayin’. Not that anyone has ever hurt my feelings. Much. 

Magenta: What has been the most important thing your blogging career has taught you thus far Pinky?

Pinky: My poems aren’t very popular… at all. Ever. None of them.

Magenta: Okay to conclude the interview I’m going to say a word and I’d like you to respond with one word or phrase…

Magenta: Fun                      Pinky: Factory

Magenta: Shopping            Pinky: Trolley

Magenta: Fashion              Pinky: Magazine

Magenta: Wine                  Pinky: Rack

Magenta: Life                     Pinky: Line

Magenta: Holiday               Pinky: Inn

Magenta (sighing): Book    Pinky: Case

Magenta: Movie                  Pinky: World

Magenta: I think you misunderstand Pinky. When I say the word you are supposed to respond with something poignant, not just a word that goes with the word.

Pinky: Really! Is that so? I’m sorry, but if you don’t like my answers I’m bringing this interview to a close. Now!

Pinky overturns the coffee table, stomps out of the room and slams the door on her way out.


Linking up with Grace at With Some Grace





Tuesday, April 8, 2014

G is for Getting Pinky to Stay Awake




 Pablo the Chihuahua and his older sister Celine the Mini-Foxy, hate it when Pinky has a Nana Nap in the school holidays.

It interferes with their interaction time.


     Oh no! Pinky's not getting ready for another nap is                 she? What? Is it every bloody day then?




I'm telling you Pinky! Too many naps aren't good for your health. It's just a blood sugar drop after lunch that's making you tired. Stop being an old woman Pinky.



   Come on Pinky! You need to go out and get some fresh air                         and sunshine! I'm begging you.




    How about you throw my dinosaur toy for me? That's fun!





Excuse me Pablo but I think that's MY dinosaur toy thank you                                         very much.




Look! Here's your bag Pinky. Why don't you go for a drive to                       the shops? You could buy something nice!




Or you could read some magazines! Look! It's the Women's                                  Weekly... your favourite!





   It's no good Pablo... she's got that sleepy look about her.                                           We're in for a session.




        Might as well just lay down and wait it out. Sooo boooring!


                                                             

         You're right Celine. I think Pinky's starting to snore.




                         She's out like a light. Silly old bat.




I'll just lay on her stomach so if she wakes up I'll be the first to                                            know.



              Think I might catch a few Zs myself actually.



                                    Zzzzzzzzzzzz.......