Back To Reality

I shouldn’t be blogging. I really don’t have time right now. I am the sucker who acquiesced to a slumber party at Chez Abs tomorrow night instead of simply shelling out the big bucks for Sky Zone gig. What’s more the soon to be turning 8 P1 has told everyone, and specified on the hand drawn invitation, that it’s a theme party. Not just your garden variety Frozen party – Anna and Elsa are like soooo lame once you pass the age of six. P1 is opting for a retro classic with a touch of  psychedelia – Alice in f*&king Wonderland! I suppose I should be proud. It would be a rockin’ idea for a 25th with no parental improvement.

Rest assured the bong will not feature at P1s party.

Rest assured the bong will not feature at P1s party.

Here’s the thing about theme parties at this stage of my existence – in the immortal words of Sweet Brown.

Notime med

The reason I barely I have time to scratch my toes (I sit here with itchy toes as I write) is that I have recently joined the ranks of the employed. I’ve had a hefty dose of the reality that everyone else is complaining about. To all you working mothers out there – before I sympathized. Now I fully understand.

Where do I begin with this topic? Getting out of the house on time in the morning contains enough stress for the entire day. By the time I have wrangled the girls into their uniforms and implored them to brush their teeth for the millionth time I’m exhausted. I’ve discovered that children simply getting dressed is an event that defies the laws of physics. Breaking the light speed barrier is easier.  The regular catch cries in Chez Abs are “stop jumping on the bed, singing Everybody Dance Now and get dressed”, or “stop flashing your butt and get dressed” or “stop hitting your sister and get dressed”. Then when after an epic struggle they do get their basic uniform in place they refuse to put on their jacket. This is especially the case when conditions outside are Antartic. Lets hope global warming will soon relieve me of this problem.  Of course the second we get out of the door someone will have to go back and fetch some forgotten essential item like a hat or a library book.

The house is in a permanent state of disarray because household duties has fallen to the very bottom of the priorities list. More to the point I’m too much of a tight wad to fork out for a  cleaner despite the urging of many friends and  acquaintances. The hiring of domestic serfs would take a hefty bite out of my unspectacular remuneration making the whole thing unworthwhile.  First world problems – I got ’em.

Perhaps I can justify a cleaner after all.

Perhaps I can justify a cleaner after all.

Meanwhile dont get me started on childcare. I thought having two kids in school would save me some coin. Sadly what I’ve saved in long day care is being chewed up by after school care. Earlier in the week I had heart dropping moment when I say my bill for Vacation Care. Its going to cost me more than I’ll bring in for the fortnight (plus the gosh darn pupil free Monday on the first week back). Normally I could have rationalized this set back. However it came the morning after the devastating events of the Game of Thrones finale. I was despondent about Jon Snow* and the bill shock was too much for this fragile petal to bear. I would have run straight for the chocolate alas I am on a diet.

The Mummy guilt thing is kicking in. The kids often tell me that they don’t want to go to after school care although they usually appear to be having fun when I pick them up. They are constantly imploring me to collect them early. Extracurricular activities during the week are virtually off the agenda and the homework window is narrowing. I have an irrational sense that I am curtailing my kids’ potential.

Yes Mummy guilt is being felt. Luckily the guilt is counter balanced by the fact that my job isn’t exactly glamorous or high powered. Therefore I get to juggle Mummy guilt with a deep seated sense of career failure. As Hannah Montana sings “its the best of both worlds”.

Excuse me while I spend my last couple of remaining hours off this week cleaning the house.

How’s work life balance travelling for you?



Don’t read this next little bit if you care not for Game of Thrones.

* Are you butt hurt about Jon Snow? There simple has not been enough internet discussion about this very important issue over the past week. This world contains two types of people a) those who are obsessed with Game of Thrones and b) those who don’t get enough crumpet in their televisual diet.

I fall well within the first category and I am totally butt hurt by the events of the recent finale. My pain makes no sense given, as the purists repeatedly point out, Jon’s death was in the f&*king books and no one expects him to stay dead. He’s not even my favorite character for Chrissake. That honour goes to Tyrion. Anyhow I am butt hurt nonetheless.

Game of Thrones has form when it comes to killing off smokin’ hawt characters – Robb Stark, Oberyn Martell etc  however Jon Snow was exceptionally, astoundingly, ridiculously, improbably hawt. I don’t know how he could have spent so much time standing on that 700 foot ice wall without the whole thing melting and raising sea levels around WestorosHe is that darn hawt.  Really by rights the lands beyond the Wall should be a tropical paradise by now given Jon Snow’s proximity.

Secondly we’ve sat through five seasons worth of hints about Jon Snow’s parentage and potential possession of dragon wrangling power. It’s the world’s worst kept secret that Jon is really a Targaryen and hence has a direct claim on the Iron Throne.  We were all speculating that he is third head of dragon as per the prophecy yada yada yada. But gosh darn if he is really permanently dead this theory will crumble to ashes and means that someone inevitably less hawt is the real third head of the dragon.

Thirdly Jon Snow is one of the only people who has an idea of the true gravity of the white walkers situation. The very survival of the realm is at stake and Jon was critical to its defense (by virtue of his mystical powers and Valyrian steel sword). The realm will have to rely on Team Daenerys now and Lord knows they have issues.

Got Meme




Shite I’ve Learned From 1990s TV

There seems to be much nostalgia for the 1990s floating around the interwebs these days but none of it is coming from me. According to dictionary.com nostalgia is:

a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one’s life, to one’s home or homeland, or to one’s family and friends; sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time.

I don’t wish to return to the 1990s simply because I don’t remember them. I know I was there but seriously what happened? How can 10 years be kind of a blank? Anyhow I am scrapping the dim, dark recesses of my mind to give you this report on 1990s television.

Shite I’ve Learned From Melrose Place (1992 to 1999)

Melrose Place was a cheesily over the top drama about the tawdry lives and loves of a group of beautiful young people who lived in a stylish apartment complex on Los Angeles’ glamorous Melrose Avenue.  

Specifically this one.

Specifically this one.

The key takeaways.

1) Meet Jake. He is the leather clad, motor cycle riding bad boy with a penchant for taking his shirt off and fixing his Harley by the pool.

I could not find photographic evidence of Jake fixing his Harley shirtless by the pool but I know it happened. Trust me.

I could not find photographic evidence of Jake fixing his Harley shirtless by the pool but I know it happened. Trust me.

2) Amanda Woodward the advertising wunderkid and conniving nymphomaniac slept with bad boy Jake. Double thumbs up Amanda. Infact she slept with every male in the building regardless of relationship status except for the hawtest one.

because his character was gay.

because his character was gay. (BTW: Actor Doug Savant has aged rather well. Darned if I can remember the gay character’s name though)

3) In every group of hawties there’s always a ‘nice boy’ – the one you can happily bring home to your mother. At Melrose it was Andrew Shue  who played Billy. Billy was in a committed relationship with ‘nice girl’ Alison Parker. This did not stop Amanda from shagging him. Way to go Amanda!

Nice guy Billy succumbed to Amanda's charms.

Nice guy Billy succumbed to Amanda’s charms.

4) Everyone who lived in Melrose Place seemed to work for Amanda’s ad agency. That is not an ideal work/life balance in my book.

5) On the positive it taught me that the best way to deal with annoying colleagues and neighbours is to shag them.

6) I can’t remember whether Amanda shagged the nefarious Dr Michael Mancini who was married to the long suffering ‘nice girl’ Jane. My recollections are foggy but I am pretty sure that Michael shagged Jane’s malevolent younger sister Sydney. Sydney happened to be moonlighting as a high class call girl – an ideal career path for Amanda.

7) When I went to LA I was completely underwhelmed by Melrose Avenue.

Just how much hawtness can you cram into one apartment block?

Just how much hawtness can you cram into one apartment block?

Shite I’ve Learned From Beverly Hills 90210 (1990 to 2000)

Wholesome twins Brenda and Brandon Walsh navigate life in the fast lane when they move from Minneapolis, Minnesota to Beverly Hills. At West Beverly Hills the twins encounter  the offspring of the rich and famous like Tori Spelling. Fortunately Brenda and Brandon were both really, really, ridiculously good looking and achieved popularity in no time flat. Popularity is the ultimate litmus test of success after all?

The key takeaways.

1) Its High School Jim but not as we know it.

2) Actually the alpha chick at my high school did look alot like this.

A text book alpha female

A text book alpha female

3) Sadly none of the dudes at my school looked like this. There was a notable dearth of angst ridden, leather clad, motorcycle riding bad boys.

There were no  Dylan McKays at Kirrawee HIgh.

There were no Dylan McKays at Kirrawee High.

4) We did however have the equivalent of David Silver – the dude who started out in the dork camp but after handing out with Donna (Tori Spelling) became popular by osmosis. Our dux mysteriously became ‘cool’ by the end of year 12 after spending the preceding five years flying beneath the social radar. This proves that upward social mobility is possible. Unfortunately I am yet to experience it.

David Silver proved the upward social mobility is achievable

David Silver proved the upward social mobility is achievable

5) Meanwhile most of us wallflowers could relate to the plight of Andrea Zuckerman – the geek girl who pinned for the alpha male (Brandon). Whilst she had his  friendship, she was too dorky and unattractive win his heart or at least a date to the prom. Perhaps if Donna and Kelly gave her a makeover…….

Will the bookish Andrea ever get a date?

Will the bookish Andrea ever get a date?

6) When I went to LA was completely underwhelmed by Beverly Hills. I would argue that Mosman is superior (as no doubt would most Mosmanites).

So much to discuss and so little time. I haven’t even started on Dawsons Creek or Party of Five let alone the Seinfeld vs Friends debate which defined the era. This blog post will have a sequel.

Meanwhile do feel nostalgic for the 1990s? Can you fill me in on what actually happened during those ten years?

What 1990s show deserves the Mumabs treatment?












Shite I’ve Learned From M*A*S*H

Question: What was your parents’ favorite TV show?

I’ll hazard a guess and say that it was M*A*S*H. There’s a high statistical probability that your parents raved about M*A*S*H and chortled about how Hey Hey It’s Saturday wasn’t really a kids show. Infact detailed statistical analysis performed by the Australian Bureau of Statistics has found that 95% of all parents in the 1970s and 80s adored M*A*S*H. What’s more those that did not nominate M*A*S*H as their favorite show where either a) grouchy blighters who disapproved of the TV or b) complete bogans without a shred of taste*.

The M*A*S*H bell curve

The M*A*S*H bell curve

The series which centered of the high drama and high jinks at the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital” in Uijeongbu, South Korea during the Korean War ran for 11 years from 1972 to 1983. The Korean War itself only lasted three years. However the Vietnam conflict loomed large during the 1970s and the program spoke eloquently about the futility of war. It was also very well written with just the right mix of comedy and pathos with a sprinkle of crumpet. Our parents lapped it right up. It was provided something of a template for the flood of medical dramas that followed.

Despite the show ending over 30 years ago here are some of the things that have stayed with me:

1) Dear lord – over thirty years ago! Geez I feel old.

2) When someone yells “choppers” its never good news.

3) The surgeons led by Hawkeye Pierce were good engineers too. They’d set up an extremely efficient gin distillery in their tent proving that necessity is indeed the mother of invention.

4) Of course some people disapproved of this kind of behaviour.

5) Somewhat hypocritically.

6) And it was all a bit low brow for others.

7) My Mum fancied Major Charles Emerson Wincestor III.  Before you all gasp WFT Nanabulous! it must be noted that beneath Wincestor’s pompous posturing was a brilliant surgeon with a heart of gold.

8) I had a soft spot for lewdly named BJ Hunnicutt. I tend to gravitate towards second fiddles for eg I prefer Goose to Maverick in the comedy classic Top Gun.

9) The camp showers didn’t provide much privacy. Double thumbs up.

10) This resulted in much hilarity. Double thumbs up.

11) In any surgical unit there is always an Alpha-nurse who despite her hard assed demeanour and glacial exterior will erupt like Krakatoa in a moment of passion. At the 4077 it was of course Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan. Hot Lips was so called because when a tyrst with Frank Burns was broadcast to the entire camp (some cheeky scamp had planted a microphone under the cot) she was heard to utter breathlessly “Kiss my hot lips Frank”.

12) I seriously doubt Caitlyn/Bruce Jenner derived his inspiration  from Corporal Maxwell Klinger. Despite spending his war years parading a series of outfits that even Lady Ga Ga would think twice about Klinger never did get his Section 8 discharge. Instead ironically he fell in love with a Korean lady and stayed in the country he had been so desperate to escape from.

13) Who didn’t want to adopt Corporate Radar O’Reilly?

14) Oh my! Army surgeons are naughty boys.

15) Allan Alda will be Hawkeye Pierce forever. Playing an iconic role like that can be both a blessing and a curse for an actor. Whilst he was one of TV’s most popular stars at the time after M*A*S*H he faded from view largely. Over the intervening decades he showed up in various Woody Allen movies and some critically acclaimed series like ER and the West Wing but he always seemed like Hawkeye Pierce winging it.

16) I am one of those annoying people who loathes commercial radio. Whilst doing the drop offs one morning I switched on Linda Mottram’s program and happened to hear a wonderful man speaking about the importance of communicating science. It turns out the warm, familiar voice was none other than Alan Alda. At age 79 Alan is the founder and driving force behind the Stony Brook University Centre for Communicating Science. The facility trains up and coming scientists on how to best convey their work and ideas to the public. To me this is pure awesomeness. Firstly I love a non-vacuous celebrity story. It restores my faith in humanity when the privileged use their wealth and fame to do something constructive for the community. Secondly its a darned important cause. So three cheers to you Alan Alda. Hawkeye Pierce was great but I admire you much more.

Did your parents love M*A*S*H?

What other vintage shows deserve the Mumabs treatment?

Goose or Maverick?



* Actually I just made that up. This is a blog not the New York Times.


What I’ve Learned From Happy Days

You need to read this blog post in your best old lady voice.

Back in my day….

watching the TV (or the idiot box as we called it back then) was a very different experience to what it is now. There were no DVD box sets (because the DVD had not yet been invented) and there was certainly no binge watching your favorite series. In fact in the 1970s our lives were pretty much dictated by the networks. Whole populations sat down to watch the same thing at the same time and tolerated the ads. Some even joked that the ads were more entertaining than the main programs – a sentiment rarely expressed nowadays.

People who wished to avoid commercials were forced to stand up and physically turn a nob on the the TV set in order to switch over to the ABC. Note there was no SBS and therefore no nudity. At the time the ABC was distinctly uncool – with the exceptions of Countdown and Kenny Everett. I was not  permitted view either because of their corrupting influence. Its a small wonder that I became chaste teetotaler who has never so much as cast a lustful glance at a man let alone entertained impure thoughts.

I wasn't allowed to watch Kenny Everett because clearly it was too rude.

I wasn’t allowed to watch Kenny Everett because clearly it was too rude. Paul Hogan on the other hand was parent sanctioned.

Anyhow – every night before the National Nine News with Brian Henderson – the news you could trust, we watched Happy Days – a program that accurately portrayed the 1950s as a wholesome utopia. No wonder Tony Abbott wants to go back. Here are the life lessons imparted.

1) The gentlemen’s convenience at your local diner can double as office space. When the Fonz required a man to man discussion with any of the gang they were invited into his “office” ie the bog. I am sure that unscrupulous real estate agents have since tried to push this concept.

2) The red headed valedictorian is the most marriageable member of any high school clique. This lesson sank in and I married an over achieving red head. In keeping with the theme, if Dadabulous is Richie Cunningham (in an alternative universe where Richie is a gun software developer instead of a journalist) my brother in law is Ralph Malph.*

3) Any malfunctioning electronic device can be fixed by thumping it with just the right amount of pressure.

4) Success must always be denoted by a heartfelt “Aaaaaaye” and a thumbs up gesture. Two thumbs up is the ultimate mark of respect.

5) Jenny Piccolo (Joanie’s BFF) was boy crazy. “Aaaaaaaye”  and a double thumbs up.

6) Double thumbs up also to Pinky Tuscadero, a motorbike riding bad ass in hawt pants. What a feminist role model.

7) Ditto for Pinky’s guitar playing younger sister Leather. Chix rocked decades before the Spice Girls. (Which is a moot point because the Spice Girls don’t exactly rock).

Before Grrl Power was a thing.

Before Grrl Power was a thing.

8) The leather clad bad boy is really a marshmallow on the inside.

The bad boy in leather is never really that bad.

The bad boy in leather is never really that bad.


Sorry Rollo. You're a badass!

Sorry Rollo. You’re an utter  badass! and incidentally Errrramaaagaaaawd.

9) The average middle class American housewife aspired to do the housework in heels and full makeup. Thank heavens the bra burners came along when they did. Double thumbs up Germaine Greer.

Housework all day and not a hair out of place.

Housework all day and not a hair out of place.

10) In an episode that went to air on September 20 1977, the Fonz attempted to jump over a shark on water skis. The stunt was regarded as a desperate attempt to reignite floundering ratings. The expression “Jump the shark” was coined.  When a TV program or movie franchise goes to increasingly silly lengths to keep viewer interest it is said to have “jumped the shark.”

The Fonz - the original Shark Jumper

The Fonz – the original Shark Jumper 11)

11) Richie Cunningham found his thrill on blueberry hill.

12) I recently read that the actors who played Pottsy Weber and Ralph Malph are still besties who get together regularly. It made me smile to think that Ralph and Pottsy are still hanging out. Nowadays they are probably discussing grand children and super funds rather than chicks and the Fonz’ general awesomeness.

What shows marked your youth? Did they give you valuable life lessons? How hawt is Rollo? I know I keep banging on about it but seriously how hawt is he?



* Because my BIL is known for his sense of humor.



My not so triumphant return to work

The  rhinovirus is the scourge of human kind. Whilst we can mask the symptoms with paracetamol or (my particular favorite) codeine until we’re as high as kites, science isn’t anywhere close to curing the world of the common cold. Gosh darn science – its time to lift your game.

This week was meant to be triumphant for me. Instead I was laid low, reduced to a shivering, sniveling mess by you guessed it – the f%&king rhinovirus. On Monday I was primed to make my glorious return to the paid workforce (with an employer other than my husband). I had purchased a swag of stylish threads (including my first Leona Edmiston daahlingand was ready to rock into my new office like I owned the joint. I was very excited about the prospect of being in a workplace where I wasn’t expected to sleep with the boss.*  This is going to sound kinky ( way kinkier than Fifty Shades of Grey, not quite as kinky as Game of Thrones) but I was eager to make this new company’s accounts my bitch.  To my eyes there’s nothing more elegant than a set of reconciled bank accounts and a balanced ledger. (Wait a minute – there’s Tom Hiddleston in slim fitting dacks…..)

Oh my. Adam Scott is welcome to run his ruler over my ledger.

Oh my. Adam Scott is welcome to run his ruler over my ledger.

In the preceding week I’d enjoyed my last few days of freedom. I’d sent my kids to school despite their sniffles and protestations that they had sore throats. I whiled away the hours in typical Eastern Beaches Housewives fashion – lunching, shopping and watching the remaining episodes of Mad Men. It was wonderful but on the weekend karmic retribution hit hard. The fatigue, the aches and pains, the constant tickle in the throat, the wheezing and the alternate fevers and chills. By Sunday my delicate condition had worsened. Yet as a parent I could not afford the luxury of retiring to my bed. Instead I suffered the indignity of swimming lessons and a trip to the library. At that stage there was only a slurp of sauvignon blanc left and opening a new bottle on school night not an option. Unable to launch an alcoholic blitzkrieg upon my lurgy, evening was spent huddled under a doona on the couch watching Poldark drinking herbal tea. Sadly not even the sight of Aiden Turner in britches could cure my malaise. I turned in at an absurdly early hour hoping I could sleep it off.

Unfortunately the intense gaze of Aiden Turner can not cure the common cold.

Unfortunately the intense gaze of Aiden Turner can not cure the common cold.

No cigar! I awoke on Monday morning, my first day at work, feeling like pure and utter shite. There was nothing for it but to soldier on with a good dose of codeine. Getting kids out of the door is exhausting at the best of times. When you are sick and they are sick its a killer. The whole thing descends into an orgy of self-pity and hypochondria. Apart from the usual shenanigans like forgetting to get dressed because they are too busy whacking one another, the kids gave me a hearty serving of Mummy guilt. “But why do you need to go to work Mum? I don’t want to go to after school care. Can you make sure you pick me up early? I really need to get home early to do my homework”. Cripes! They’ve had it far too good for too long.

I had a taste of Mummy guilt pie.

I had a taste of Mummy guilt pie.

Somehow I managed to dress myself and everyone else and dump them at the school gate by 8.30am before staggering onto the bus. Of course seats were at a premium and I was forced to perch my butt next to an overweight gentleman who was also suffering from the f*&cking rhinovirus. In fact the whole bus coughed, sputtered and wheezed its way into town. I lurched into the office like a drunk pretending to act straight, doing my best to be appropriately perky and enthusiastic on my first day. The ironic thing was that everyone else in the office had the f*#king rhinovirus. The place was littered with boxes of tissues and we collectively swilled endless cups of tea. At lunch I gulped down a laksa hoping the chilli and garlic would provide a miracle cure.

This is how I think I look when I am sick at work.

This is how I think I look when I am sick at work.

That evening I collapsed. Dadabs couldn’t even rouse me at 8.30pm to watch a pirated episode of Game of Thrones.  The rest of the week was a case of wash, rinse and repeat. I’ve been slurping down chilli fuelled Asian soups, drinking tea like its going out of style and chomping on Soothers by the packetful. I still feel like crappola. Balancing work and family is hard. Balancing work and family when you have a cold is nigh impossible? I repeat – science you need to stop sending probes into inter galactic space and focus on the blight of mankind – the f$&king common cold.

After one day on the job

After one day on the job

How are you coping with the juggle. Can something as simple as a cold throw you completely off balance.











* I should clarify that for the past 18 months I have been doing the books for Dadabulous’ software business.


More Shite I’ve Learned From TV

When you are feeling directionless in life the best response is to drink alcohol and watch the TV. Its educational, enlightening and can often make you feel better about your current life circumstances. For instance whenever I find myself a little frustrated or dissatisfied,  I think to myself that things could be way worse – I could be Sansa Stark or (shudder) Theon Greyjoy.  In my previous post I bored you all by divulging what I have learned from my particular TV fetishes. This time I am casting my net a little wider. Here’s what I have learned from

Breaking Bad

The basic equipment, expertise and distribution networks necessary to set up a thriving Crystal Meth empire can be found at your local public high school. One can only imagine that sending your kids to a private school will give them access to an entirely better class of drug manufacturer.

Shaving your head and sprouting a goatie makes anyone look a like a BAMF yo yo. (That’s a bad arse mother f^&ker).

Plenty o' BAMF

Plenty o’ BAMF yo yo!

For male viewers Breaking Bad is a fascinating journey into the heart of darkness within every man’s soul. Meanwhile its a dark journey for female viewers for different reasons – there is no crumpet. Dark.

The Walking Dead

TWD is not about a relentless fight against the zombies. Its really about the psycho-socio dynamics within groups facing adversity. Even more so it’s about Daryl Dixon’s bulging biceps.  I would go so far as to say the over arching thematic of this show is Daryl’s toned torso.  I must add that his mighty cross bow isn’t in any way phallic. (Not at all. Meanwhile I know of some ladies who would happily park Daryl’s crossbow under their bed).

The cross bow deserves and Emmy.

The cross bow deserves an Emmy.

Thanks to the influence of The Walking Dead (and the plethora of rip offs) my five year old now believes we all turn into zombies when we die. When she comes of age I will show her Shaun of the Dead to demonstrate that some of us don’t have to wait that long. Meanwhile she always yells out “there’s the zombies” when we drive past a grave yard.

Teaming a black eye patch with a solid black outfit can make anyone look like a BAMF.

Watch out - more BAMF.

Holy shite! BAMF approaching!

I liked Andrew Lincoln before it was cool. Anyone remember “This Life” – about a naughty bunch of of lawyers in the 1990s? (Not to be confused with Ally McBeal).

They might look wholesome but they were really very naughty.

They might look wholesome but they were really very naughty.

Game of Thrones

What we’ve learned from Game of Thrones is the subject of acres of internet discussion. For me the major take away is that HBO has only itself to blame for the global explosion in online piracy. If they made this show accessible without having to sign up to FoxTel most people would do the right thing and pay.

Some other points of interest.

People who have read the books will take every opportunity to display their intellectual and cultural superiority over the plebs who have only watched the show. Their catch cry being “read the f^#king book”. The joke is on the book readers of course with the TV writers Benioff and Weiss diverging from the books significantly. Cue more outrage and disgust from the purists.

J = L+R

Dont read the spoilers.

Incest – don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. On second thoughts, it results in spawn like Joffrey. Knock it! Don’t try it.

I’d love to hear a female character utter the line “You wear nothing Jon Snow”.

Due to the GoT effect I’ve become increasing unshockable. Back in Season 6 of Mad Men Don Draper indulged in a menage a trois. Prior to GoT I would have been titillated by that but I’d only just witnessed Oberyn having a six way in Little Finger’s brothel.  So menage a trois – meh. Three might be a crowd but six or more is a party.

My GoT snog, marry, shoot.

Snog – Jon Snow, Marry – Jorah*, Shoot – F%&KING Ramsey.


So hawt!

So hawt!

Hawt damn

Hawt damn.

Make a dragon wanna retire man!

Make a dragon wanna retire man!

What have you learned from TV?

Which shows do you think deserve the Mumabs treatment?



* Why Jorah? – he’s a ruggedly handsome middle aged ginga much like Dadabulous. So it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. The mindless devotion to the Khalessi would be admittedly be a problem.













What I’ve Learned From TV

This week I am leaning heavily on one of my all time favorite bloggers – the wonderful Lydia C Lee of Where The Wild Things Were.  Lydia often reviews movies with reference to what they have to teach us. For one of those irritating people who rarely watch TV , I am somewhat obsessed with it at the moment. Here are a few things I have garnered from the experience.

Mad Men

As the final season draws rapidly to a close we are all awaiting the outcome with baited breath. Just what will become Don Draper, the tortured Madison Ave lothario, as everything he holds dear dissolves around him? Will Roger get rid of the pornstache (however appropriate it might be)? On this theme – whose gosh darn idea was it to put facial fungus on the gorgeous Ted Cheough? The only team member rocking the 1970s hirsute trend is Stan Rizzo – which brings me to the endgame I’m coveting. I really want to see Stan the man take Peggy in his ever loving arms! You know you want it Peggy! There’s something primal about that dude. Sure he is an arsehole but he’s less of an arsehole than he was at the beginning of the series. OK – its coming off a low base but my point is that Stan has developed a modicum of sensitivity unlike some of the others.

What will become of the gang?

What will become of the gang?

So what have I learned from eight seasons of Mad Men:

1) You need to rethink the outdated notion that corporate success is related to hard work. To scale the corporate ladder you really must spend your days lying about on your office couch sinking booze from your private stash.

11am? Booze o'clock.

11am? Booze o’clock.

2) Toking on joints enhances the creative process. Experiments with speed are worthwhile in terms of productivity.

3) Shagging your co-workers is unprofessional. Such behaviour will cast you in a bad light. Just kidding! You should root as many of your team as you can possibly fit into your schedule, particularly if you are married. Extra bonus points will be awarded for knocking up a colleague and not claiming responsibility.

Pete knocks up Peggy in Season One.

Pete knocks up Peggy in Season One.

The experience doesn't put her off married men.

The experience doesn’t put her off married men.

but she should be with Stan.

Stan is the one who loves her.



4) Bringing a ride on mower into the office will not end well.

5) Joan is a multi-dimensional character and her dimensions are out of this world! Boom-Tish!

6) Never do lunch with Harry Crane, don’t mess with Kenny Cosgrove and NEVER EVER under any circumstances accept a coffee from Bob Benson.

Roger channels Colonel Sanders.

Roger channels Colonel Sanders.


If there is anything missing from the Australian Mummy blogging scene, its a thorough analysis of the smorgasbord of hunks intense historical drama that is the Vikings. Lets have a little less Thermomix and a a little more Ragnar. I’ll get things started.

1) Perhaps Ragnar’s Gods and Athelstan’s God can be friends. Meanwhile there’s a bromance that makes me go “Oh My God!”

TVs hawtest bromance.

TVs hawtest bromance.

2) When the ice melts in the fjord we will go raiding.

3) If a mysterious vagrant with ripped abs wanders into your village while your husband is away, it is most probably Odin and you should definitely shag him.

4) When you are attempting to breach the walls of medieval Paris wearing a shirt is in fact a hindrance.

Shirts are for wimps

Shirts are for wimps

5) Lagertha – more like Shagertha. Double thumbs from me – you go girl. If the hawt but dastardly King of Wessex gives you a plough you really should let him furrow your fields as it were. Meanwhile if a young upstart betrays you and steals your earldom you should certainly shag him too, particularly if he is hawt (and that goes without saying for this show).

What do you do when your underlying steals your job? Depends how hawt he is.

Q: What do you do when your underlying steals your job? A: Depends how hawt he is.


6) Bjorn Ironside cops two arrows in the back and returns to pristine health within a few hours. However Khal Drogo dies of a flesh wound. Ooops -I’m getting my shows mixed up.

7) Lock up your princesses. A princess can’t so much as look at a Viking without falling pregnant.

Gisla cops a perve at Rollo.

Princess Gisla cops a perve at Rollo.

8) Princess Gisla – we could not help but notice the way you gazed lustily at Rollo as he shirtlessly breached your city walls swinging his mighty axe. Can’t say that I blame you – if someone has to breach your walls it may as well be a shirtless hunk with a mighty axe.  However there’s a dangerous precedent here – you are almost certainly pregnant.


This one has the interwebs divided. Some are relishing the high camp and melodrama while others are simply unmoved. Of course I am weighing in in favor.

1) I can’t resist men in britches. I hope to see a britches revival on the catwalks of Europe soon. Any takers? How about you Dolce and Gabbana?

2) If you are going to brood you can’t do it half heartedly. You have to brood hard or go home. No one nowadays broods as hard or as darkly as Aiden Turner.  In fact I believe Aiden’s efforts are comparable to the quintessential brooder – Colin Firth’s legendary Mr Darcy.  However Colin had the edge because he always managed to look constipated.  Aiden isn’t quite there yet. Perhaps he needs to skip his All-bran for the sake of method acting.


There’s some high quality brooding right there.


3) If you feel the need to cop a perve at your boss, I recommend hiding behind the bushes whilst he skinny dips. As I am married to my boss this advice is somewhat redundant.

4) In order to look suitably dashing whilst commuting up and down the Cornish coast, I advise mounting a mighty stead. A black one of course.

5) The Warleggans – proving that bankers have been bastards since 1783.

6) Frances Poldark is an unappealing wuss bag but the actor who plays him is  a total honey bunny in real life.

Kyle Soller - not my type at all. Just kidding! Yet another red headed English man.

Kyle Soller – not my type at all. Just kidding! Yet another red headed English man.

7) When you are clearing your fields with your mighty scythe wearing a shirt is in fact a hindrance.

I repeat - shirts are for wimps.

I repeat – shirts are for wimps.

8) Its a total waste of luxurious long curly dark tresses if they are not constantly wind swept – God Damn it.

Permanently windswept

Permanently windswept

To be continued…

What have you been watching? Any fellow Mad Meniacs out there – how would you like it to end?