42 Comments

The Twelve Hunks of Christmas

At last some Christmas porn worth (ahem) pinning.

Everybody grab your beverage of choice and sing along with me.

On the first day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Channing Tatum

Joy to the fecking world!

Joy to the fecking world!

That beats a partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Flight of The Conchords

Christmas time is business time

Christmas time is business time

That beats two turtle doves so stick your partridge up your pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Russel Brand

Ho Ho Ho is right Rusty!

Ho Ho Ho is right Rusty!

That’s an improvement on three French hens and two turtle doves so jam your partridge up your pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas the internet gave to me.

Damien Lewis

My My - Damo the red haired crumpet.

My My – Damo the red haired crumpet.

Which was waaaaaaaay better than four calling birds (WTF), three french hens, two turtle doves and a sodding partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Kit Harrington

Errrrrramaaaagaaaawd! Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

Errrrrramaaaagaaaawd! Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

 

Mrs Slocombe's retort!

Mrs Slocombe’s retort! Are You Being Served This Xmas?

I’m sure we’d all take Kit over four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a sodding partridge in a pear tree. But five gold rings? That’s a close call.

On the sixth day of Christmas the internet gave to me.

Colin Firth

Its Love Actually even in that sweater (lets mix up our Richard Curtis films)

Its Love Actually even in the infamous sweater (lets mix up our Richard Curtis films)

That wasn’t quite as good as five gold rings but I’ll take it.  You can shove your six geese a laying, four calling birds , three french hens, two turtle doves and your partridge up your pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas the internet gave to me

The Bondi Hipsters

It would be aihronic but aihrony is so 2012.

Walking in a hipster wonderland…

That beat the bejeepers outta seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying (seriously?), four calling birds , three french hens, two turtle doves and the partridge in a pear tree. I’m still oscillating on the five gold rings.

On the eighth day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Clive Standen – Thanks internet!

Now there's some bells I'd like to jingle!

Now there’s some bells I’d like to jingle!

Oh my. Forget the eight maids milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, four calling birds , three french hens, two turtle doves and the partridge in a pear tree.  I’m still keen on the five gold rings however.

On the ninth day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Ian Somerhalder

Hark the herald angels sing Ian is a red hawt thing.

Hark the herald angels sing – Peace on earth, goodwill to hawt men.

Why would anybody want nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree? Five gold rings I can understand.

On the tenth day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Chris Pratt

My Oh My. Check out the baubles.

My Oh My. Check out the baubles.

That may or may not beat ten lords a leaping depending on who was cast as the lords. So sod nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.  At this point I’m hanging on to the five gold rings.

On the eleventh day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Tom Hiddleston

Baby make my dream come truuuuuue. Cause all I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuu.

Baby make my dream come truuuuuue. Cause all I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuu.

Ah Tom – its scientific fact (and nothing to do with my subjective opinion) that Hiddles is the world’s third hawtest man behind my next hunk of Christmas and Dadabulous.  I’d ditch the five gold rings for him.

Anyhoo all together now – stick the eleven pipers piping, ten lords leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and your partridge up your pear tree.

Ok. Lets bring this baby home. Just when you thought my chance has passed I go and save the best for Fass.

On the twelfth day of Christmas the internet gave to me

Michael Fassbender – You’re standing under the mistletoe Fass, how convenient!

 

Have yourself a Fassy little Christfass.

Have yourself a Fassy little ChristFass.

Sing it loud, sing it proud – Fass is hawter than twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, five gold rings, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves and a fecking partridge in a fecking pear tree.

Phew Thank God that’s over.

Technically I have given you 14 hunks of Christmas. Underpromising and overdelivering is integral to my style. Just to underscore my point – here’s Viggo Mortensen

Peace of earth, Goodwill to hawt older men.

Should older crumpets be forgot and never brought to mind? Hell No!!

and that picture of Colin Firth.

Oh my - all your Christmas just came at once.

Oh my – all your Christmas just came at once.

 

So who would you like to stuff your (ahem) stocking this year?

Mumabs (aka FassBrenda) wishes you a Merry Crumpet and a Hunky New Year.

 

Notes

Channing Tatum was selected by Kirsten Tatum of Kirsten & Co.  http://www.kirstenandco.com/

Kit Harington was hand plucked by Hugzilla Harington.  http://hugzillablog.com/

&

Ian Somerhalder was chosen by Em Somerhalder of HALOM.  http://havealaughonme.com/

 


15 Comments

New Celebrity Fragrances

Celebrity narcissism (or in Kim Kardashian’s case arsisssism) knows no bounds. It isn’t enough that they inflict their oiled up backsides on our social media feeds, dress us in their signature clothing lines and parade the minutiae of their lives as reality TV? Apparently it’s not. They want us to smell like them too.

It seems like all the listers from A to Z have their own perfume.  According to Wikipedia (yes someone had enough time to collate a Wiki page on this) Brittany Spears has lent her name to 16 different fragrances. That ought to keep K-Feds bank balance smelling sweet.  Antonio Banderas ( the latino crumpet which I rank as my daggiest crush but – that’s a whole other blog post) has a collection of colones under the “Seduction” banner. The marketing campaign for  Seduction is laughably cheesy. Just imagine Derek Zoolander advertising “Blue Steel” aftershave and you get the picture. Actually don’t bother imaging it – I’ll give you the picture.

Antonio splashes Angelina Jolie

 

Here’s our hero seducing none other than Angelina Jolie with his big blue splash. To my mind the connotations are quite obscene. (If they are not to your mind why are you reading this blog? You are not filthy enough. Click away).

At the other end of the spectrum One Direction have two signature scents – Our Moment & You and I. Doubtless 1D could sell anything from toilet paper to tax returns but seriously who would want to smell like five barely pubescent boys on a hormonal rampage? P-eeeeeew!

I would not want to smell like one teenage boy let alone five of them!

I would not want to smell like one teenage boy let alone five of them!

The fragrance that really puzzles me comes from that marketing behemoth some people know as The Beckhams.  Dave and Vic’s “Intimately” line is quite the turn off for this cougar.

Seriously who would want to smell like The Beckhams getting intimate? Eeeeeeeuw.

Who would want to smell like The Beckhams getting intimate? Eeeeeeeuw.

I have decided to get in on all this celebrity stink action. You may not have guessed but there’s a marketing genius inside of me (he looks like Don Draper – HONK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and he’s just busted loose all over Photoshop CS6.  With no further ado I present Mumabulous’ new range of male celebrity fragrances just in time for Christmas.

 

Class4 med

Shane Warne Klass med

 

krass med


TAs denial med

If you’re going to lower the tone of the political debate you may as well be non-partisian about it.

but as Bill doesn't get about in Speedos he is not nearly as much fun.

but as Bill doesn’t get about in Speedos he is not nearly as much fun.

And finally as his existence in the Parliament stinks its natural that Clive Palmer should bottle his own odor.

Clive palmer 3

 

Why the PR agencies aren’t knocking my door down in a frenzy I will never know.

Celebrity scents – do you own any?

Who do you think would make a great fragrance ambassador?

Which celebrity do you want to smell?

 

Love

Mumabulous


27 Comments

Madonna’s Triumph?

A triumph for all women rang out the headline in the Sydney Morning Herald’s Daily Life section last week. Just what did this triumph entail you may or may not be curious to ask. A narrowing of the gender pay gap? A reduction in domestic violence? Affordable childcare?  NUP. Madonna flopped her tits out – again.

http://www.dailylife.com.au/health-and-fitness/dl-wellbeing/madonnas-topless-photos-are-a-triumph-for-all-women–whatever-their-age-20141203-11ywei.html

Madonna  recently posed for a provocative photo spread in Interview magazine (I’ve heard of that publication which in itself blunts any cutting edge it may lay claim to). The material girl is seen gyrating about in classy lingerie, fetish gear and in one shot bares her breasts. The triumph referred to in the headline lies in the fact that at age 56 Madonna actually looks good.

Its a classy lingerie shot but a triumph for women?

Its a classy lingerie shot but a triumph for women?

As you know Mumabulous is far from prudish. The sight of Madonna’s boobies does not shock me. Mind you western society has had over 30 years to acclimatize to Madonna’s breasts. Their shock value has diminished somewhat. Ironically she’s often praised as being the queen of re-invention but here she is in her late 50s dishing out the same old schtick. Bondage gear be soo 1992.

This latest addition to Madonna’s (ahem) body of work has me oscillating like Little Britain’s Vicky Pollard. I’m all “Yeh but, Nah but, Yeh but, Nah but”

This is me looking at Madonna's tatas.

This is me looking at Madonna’s tatas.

On one hand I am genuinely pleased that an older woman (at 56 Madonna certainly qualifies) can be considered attractive and sexual. On the other I am more than a little irritated that women feel they need to whip their tits out to be viewed as valuable and relevant to society. Where does it end? Will Madonna be slapping her fun bags against her gold plated Versace zimmer frame as she totters triumphantly into the the nursing home.

The wonderful Caitlin Moran has provided a very simple litmus test for what she calls “patriarchal bullshit”.

“You can tell whether some misogynistic societal pressure is being exerted on women by calmly enquiring, ‘And are the men doing this, as well?’ If they aren’t, chances are you’re dealing with what we strident feminists refer to as ‘some total fucking bullshit’.”

Overwhelmingly successful middle aged men are NOT undressing to garner attention and demonstrate their worth. Why then should Madonna feel compelled to?  Madonna is sitting on the very pin prick of the pinnacle of success. According to Wealth X she recently upsurped Sir Paul McCartney as the world’s richest living recording artist with a net worth of approximately US 800m. Now there’s some bodacious assets!

http://www.billboard.com/articles/news/6334796/madonna-paul-mccartney-worlds-richest-list

Surely all Madge needs to do is flash her bank statements to prove a point. Meanwhile Sir Paul, despite being an A-grade crumpet in his day, is not known for his edgy naked photo shoots. (Believe me I looked hard for them ). Madonna’s male peers – think George Michael, Bono, Prince, Bruce Springsteen etc are keeping their clothes well and truly on. This is a blessing in the case of Prince* but I’d be happy  to see The Boss lose his classic white T-shirt. An outstanding (really really outstanding) exception to this is Jon Bon Jovi.  The photo below is indeed a triumph for women of all ages.

Oh my! The sisterhood thanks you JBJ.

Oh my! The sisterhood thanks you JBJ. You give feminism a GOOD name.

If anything, when an aging gentlemen in possession of a large fortune wants to prove he’s still “got it”, he keeps his gear on and poses with a scantily clad young lassie. I point to Exhibit A below in support of my case and apologize profoundly for any retinal damage caused.

And so this is Xmas. And what has Geoff done. He's bagged himself a hawtie. Bare boobs and bare bum.

And so this is Xmas. And what has Geoff done? He’s bagged himself a hawtie. Bare boobs and bare bum. Everybody sing now!

To my (albeit warped) way of thinking true gender equality wont be achieved until we’re copping sights like this on Instagram.

A very Gina Christmas

A very Gina Christmas.

I think we’ll be waiting for quite some time. Meanwhile the voice of reason came from my husband when he said ” What kind of messed up society are we living in when flopping out your tits is a triumph? That’s a terrible message to women – telling them that the most important thing they can do is get naked”.  Whoa – Go Dadabs! Nikolaj Coster-Waldau I insist that you take this shirt off and hand it to my husband immediately. Win / Win!

because Game of Thrones is known for its feminist credentials.

because Game of Thrones is known for its feminist credentials**

So what do you think?  Is Madonna posing in her underwear at this late stage of the game a triumph for women? Or is it merely more evidence that women are valued by their looks above everything else? Doesn’t she look fab though?

Love

Mumabulous

* I am a BIG fan of Prince’s music.  The Little Red Corvette is one of my fav songs of all time. BUT I’d prefer he didn’t nude up.

** Nikolaj Coster Waldau plays Jamie Lannister on Game of Thrones – just one of several reasons why YOU SHOULD WATCH IT!

 


20 Comments

My First World Issues

Last Sunday was particularly arduous. Swimming lessons followed my five year old’s birthday party. I returned home from the reservoir of toxic chemicals sometimes known as the Des Renford Acquatic Centre at 4:30pm. Drinks o’clock was half an hour away but that didn’t bother me. Nor did the fact that we had drained the open bottle of chardonnay. I grabbed one of Dadabulous’ Cascade blondes and flopped on our bed starring out across our ocean glimpses.  I mumbled to Dadabs that I couldn’t really complain but folks you know me by now. Not having the right to complain wont stop me none.

Life in Chez Abulous is beset by a myriad of first world issues. Here are some of the more taxing;

Have I ever mentioned that I have five bathrooms? Here’s an investment tip for you – buy shares in this stuff. We are keeping the company afloat.

We keep this company solvent.

We keep this company solvent.

Meanwhile perversely on the statistically rare occasion when both of my girls need to relieve themselves at exactly the same moment – they converge upon the same bathroom despite being spoiled for choice. It’s inevitably this one.

The fancy one.

The fancy one.

In our household we experience

Glitter-geddon

Glitter-geddon

Sticker-geddon

Sticker-geddon

Glue-ageddon

Glue-ageddon

Toothpaste-ageddon

Toothpaste-ageddon

and

F8%king soap scum.

F8%king soap scum.

Perhaps its a sign that the end is nigh and I won’t be able to get my house clean for the Messiah’s second coming. Judgement day is fast approached and I will be found wanting.  At the same time you know you are in a party house when you come across hidden stashes in the bathroom.

Ozzy Osbourne never had a stash like this.

Ozzy Osbourne never had a stash like this.

Whilst the grime is taking over the doll population is exploding.

They're multiplying like bacteria.

They’re multiplying like bacteria.

Its outpacing the plaster figurine boom.

The house can no longer support the plasters.

The house can no longer support the plasters.

Its enough to make you want to get plastered.

Sadly this is just apple juice.

Sadly this is just apple juice.

The odd thing is we’ve only got two male toys in the house.

Surely these two can't be responsible?

Surely these two can’t be responsible?

Things in the kitchen are no better. My fruit bowl is full of

f%^king brown bananas.

f%^king brown bananas.

There’s only so many banana muffins one can bake and consume.

We are experiencing problems with technology. Mainly the lack of screens.  Team Abulous consists of four members but we only have two PCs. Even worse there is only one Ipad.

Our precious.

Our precious.

These are merely the tip of the proverbial ice-berg. Delve deeper and you’ll find a myriad of trivial but the nonetheless annoying problems like ;

  • The logistics of parking between two SUVs
  • Sequins embedded in the carpet
  • The delicate art of washing tulle
  • Deciding which items of plastic junk to keep and which to donate to the charity bin.
  • Milk wars – your child wants you to purchase the carton with the pink label then refuses to drink it because its skim.
  • Too much crumpet in the neighbourhood. I have almost permanent whiplash from turning my head to have a perve at a fresh one every few minutes.

What First World problems are affecting your household? Do you have solutions.

Love

Mumabulous


27 Comments

Who Are The Mummy Mafia?

Cate Blanchett, arguably Australia’s most successful actress, (although IMHO she doesn’t hold a candle to Toni Collette in Muriel’s Wedding) recently did an intriguing expose for Porter magazine.  I was unaware of Porter Magazine until now. It shouldn’t suprize you that high fashion is not my bag and if I must look at glossies I prefer Men’s Health.

CB2

Anyhow the article is choc  full of stunning highly stylized photos – that’s not the intriguing bit. In the revealing personal interview which justifies the expensive photo shoot, Cate claimed to be intimidated by the “Mummy Mafia” at the school gate. “You know [the other mums] are observing how you parent” she tells the magazine then elaborates with “there is a certain circle of people – and we all get insecure – who then ask, ‘Why can’t she brush her hair?’ You just have to shrug that off.”

I’m not judging the fact that Cate feels like she’s being judged. Being a mega star she’d inevitably attract intense scrutiny whatever she does. I can only say full kudos to her for doing the school run when she could offload that menial task on to a stunning 21 year old nanny.

What has aroused my curiosity is that so called Mummy Mafia and the school gate Judgey McJudgersons have raised their heads yet again. Who are these people? I’ve heard el mucho chatter about them in on social media and in real life. Apparently the school drop off at certain  private schools is a style competition akin to Fashions on the Field at Spring Racing. Legend has it that yummy mummies parade about in their Channel and Jimmy Choos. I repeat – who are these people? I have never encountered them. In my suburb cut off denims and birkenstocks are on point.

Cate on the school run looking like she actually has brushed her hair.

Cate on the school run looking like she actually has brushed her hair.

My school run is usually a rushed affair. I’m often famished from not having organised f breakfast and  delirious with dehydration because I haven’t managed to get a glass of water down my throat. A pair of Target shorts is thrown on over the tank top I’ve slept in. Much like Cate, I dont brush my hair so much as scrape it into a pony tail. Its a very poor showing and I certainly deserve a place at the bottom of the social ladder. Yet here’s the thing –  when I interact with the other parents I never feel judged. Most of them are in exactly the same boat. The lack of high gloss and glamour is overwhelming.

The "drop off" at Cranbrook - or so I'm told.

The “drop off” at Cranbrook – or so I’m told.

The usual pleasantries are exchanged. Mothers moan about what a crap morning they’ve had  and arrange play dates. There’s a smattering of Dads on drop off duty. My conversations with them have ranged from the direction of international currency markets to Ozzy Osbourne’s drug taking which is equally erratic.

If there’s any judgement its self judgement. Some of my peers have managed to get their careers back on track and are working on exciting creative projects or even better – travelling. By comparison I judge myself to be the world’s most boring, ineffectual person.

Talk about school gate cliques, bitchiness and competitiveness refuses to die down despite the fact I have never experienced it. It must be going on somewhere. Is it happening in your galaxy? Who are the mummy mafia? Have you experienced their savagery at the school gate?

Mob wives - is this the Mummy mafia?

Mob wives – is this the Mummy mafia?

Or are the overwhelming majority of  parents at your school lovely and down-to-earth?

Love

Mumabulous


13 Comments

The Comet vs The Ass

It’s no exaggeration to say that Wednesday November 10th was an epic day in human history. The European Space Agency (ESA) landed a washing machine sized probe on a comet! This achievement was lauded as being on par with the moon walk. Lets put this event in context.

After being launched in 2004 the Rosetta Space Craft (which carried the probe) traveled 6.4 billion kilometers to catch up with the comet which is hurling through space at a speed of 20km per second. That is faster than Usain Bolt after a tin of red bull but not quite as fast as I would move if Tom Hiddleston rang the door bell. To make things trickier because of the micro gravity on the comet, the 100 kg probe weighs 2 grams out there. Landing the probe is effectively like dropping a piece of paper on an uneven chunk of rock whizzing through space somewhere between Mars and Jupiter.

Its a technical achievement that has been described as being like throwing a dart in Sydney and having it hit a bulls eye in Perth. Its also been called “the sexiest space mission that has ever flown into space”. However I disagree the sexiest space mission was the journey featured in Prometheus because Michael Fassbender wore a tight T-shirt.

Whilst the event aroused the public’s imagination it was somewhat overshadowed by A BIG FAT ASS. That’s right – Kim Kardashian poster girl for Assiscistic personality disorders chose to break the internet the following day.

 

Here’s how the discussion transpired at our place.

On Thursday the 11th of November my husband came home and remarked that the landing of the Philae probe on the 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko comet had attracted very little media attention. He actually said “there wasn’t much coverage of the comet in the paper”. I told him that there was a good reason for that. Specifically Kim Kardashian had just flashed her ass in an attempt to break the internet. So much like the comet, there literally wasn’t much coverage of the ass in The Paper Magazine. (Boom Tish – thank you, thank you – I’ll be here all week)

“Aaah”  said Dadabulous “that explains it”.  God bless him, my husband had remained ass-unaware for the entire day. Its a sign that he’d spent his work day actually working rather than killing brain cells on social media. Dadabs went immediately to the boudoir and sat on the bed with the iPad. “Are you checking out the ass?” I queried. Its funny how  KKs rear end has taken on an identity of its own. Its not Kim Kardashian’s gluteus maximus anymore, its just “The Ass” – much in the same way U2’s guitarist is known as “The Edge” and their lead singer is “the Wanker”.  Dadabulous said “Yes, and what an ass it is. It’s huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge”. He turned the iPad towards me to reveal this.

And its dimpled too.

And its dimpled too.

My husband (bless his cotton socks yet again) is more interested in an epic space voyage and a feat of engineering than KK’s epic proportions (which are also a feat of engineering).

It wasn’t until the following day that Dadabulous encountered “The Ass” but only because Boris Johnson tried to park his bike in it.

This appeals to my husband's sense of humour.

A boon to sustainable transport and juvenile senses of humor.

In my 44 years on this planet I have never seen humanity ricochet between the utterly sublime and the completely ridiculous in such a short time frame. The analyst in me decided to run a brief comparison of the two events to make sense of it all.

Resources used:

Rosetta mission: Has been twenty years in the making, involved the expertise of 2000 people and cost 1.4 bil Euro.

The Ass: Something similar.

Relative sizes:

Rosetta mission: The  67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko comet is is approximately 4.1 kilometres  by 4.3 kilometres wide.

The Ass: Significantly larger.

The comet compared to LA from the IFLS website.

The comet compared to LA from the IFLS website.

The Ass relative to the comet

The Ass relative to the comet

 Odour

Rosetta mission: From its chemical signature scientists believe the comet smells like rotten eggs, horse urine, alcohol, and bitter almonds. Ewwwwwwwwwww!

The Ass:  From the look of it I’d guess it smells like silicon and olive oil. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Outcomes

Rosetta mission: Analyzing the composition on the comet may give us a greater insight into how the solar system was formed and indeed how life began on earth.

The Ass: Bears witness to the silliness of social media. Caused an acute shortage of olive oil in the USA. Invest in olive groves now.

Social Media Statistics

Twenty four hours after touch down the twitter statistics according to the Wall St Journal were ;

Rosetta mission: 479,434 tweets

The Ass: 307,782 tweets

Whilst neither “broke the internet” its heartening to know that the comet received more social media attention. However the Ass controversy just keeps on going. The Ass has been scrutinized from just about every angle – its impact upon feminism, its racist overtones, the extent to which it has been photo-shopped.

I conclude with this Sir PatStew meme.

pat stew

 

Do you wonder at how the human race is so ingenious yet dumb at the same time?

Got any favorite Ass memes?

Isn’t PatStew awesome?

Love

Mumabulous