The Day I Got Lucky.

So I have just finished binge watching four concurrent series of Game of Thrones. The fact that this is newsworthy should give you an indication of just how exciting life here in Chez Abulous really is. If I’ve gleaned anything from GoT its that my life as an Eastern Beaches housewife is as pampered, comfortable and safe as it gets. ( I’ve also gleaned that Kit Harrington and Iain Glenn are smokin’ hawt). In the Game of Thrones the players stare down death everyday and twice on Sunday’s. All too often  they come off second best. No one is immune – not even the uber smokin’ hawt.

Two hawt bros but only one of them survives to the end of Series 3

Two hawt bros but only one of them survives Season 3.

In stark contrast I feel like I’m going to die if 10 am rolls around and I haven’t had my coffee*. You can tell the time by my moaning about this – it is that reliable. When I am heard to complain “If I dont get a cappuccino now I’ll die” you know its 9.30am. Its got to be a real cappuccino made by the artisan hand of a skilled (and preferably hawt) barista. That Nescafe shite wont cut it when it comes to matters of life and death.  Also over the past seven years many is the occasion that I felt like I was going to die of boredom. Particularly during those endless hours spent at the park, playgroup, swimming lessons and viewing In The Night Garden.

This one is from Bake Bar in North Randwick

This one is from Bake Bar in North Randwick

There has only been one occasion when I sincerely believed my number was up. I wish it were an heroic story like falling down an ice crevasse and crawling my way to freedom (that was Touching the Void) or having to drink my own urine whilst stranded in the wilderness (That is every episode of Bear Grylls and Todd Carney on a big night out). Sadly my brush with the Grimm Reaper was much more mundane.

Bear Grylls surviving the outback.

Bear Grylls surviving the outback.

Back in the BC (before children) era shorty after Dadabs and I shacked up we took my chariot on the epic trek to the Gardens of The East. Which is a fancy pants way of saying I drove my shit box Mazda 121 to our local Westfield – Eastgardens. Calling it the Gardens of the East makes may life sound vaguely exotic. That bottle green 2002 Mazda really was a box of shite. Dadabs risked dying of embarrassment every time he stepped inside it. On the one occasion he actually had to drive it he found the experience so humiliating he decided there and then to buy me a new car. But I digress.

Chariots of Shite

Chariots of Shite

Whilst we cruised down Avoca St towards Anzac Parade Mother Nature unleashed an Almighty Gale. She can be a bitch that way. The gumtrees that lined the avenue bent and groaned helpless in the sway of the cyclonic winds. Then I saw it – a bloody great tree branch hurling straight towards my windscreen.

Like many a movie cliche time slowed down. I watched stunned as the log inched towards us as if in slow motion. I didn’t however see my life flash before my eyes. My one thought was “you’ve got to be kidding! It can’t end today, I’ve only just found a half decent boyfriend and been promoted at work”.

Just when it looked like all was lost and I wouldn’t get to finish the report on the mining services company that I had been working on the log lowered its trajectory. It smashed into my radiator with a sickening thud. Water leaked out all over the road. Dadabs and I had been spared by a matter of inches. Talk about getting lucky!

The car limped into a side street and we walked back to the former Chez Abulous determined to restart our journey to the Gardens of the East in Dadabs chariot – a firey red Mazda 3. Brenda and David having avoided their demise lived on to become Mum and Dadabulous. Even the Mazda 121 carried on heroically for several more months until it was deemed unfit for a successful software developer to be seen in.

Since that day luck has been on my side and Game of Thrones is the closest I’ve come to experiencing another brush with death.

How about you? Have you ever stared your mortality in the face?



*If you noticed that very bad GoT pun, you are as nerdy as I am. High five!

OK – enough with the GoT references already.


That’s Entertainment

There’s no denying that Mumabulous is a late bloomer (arguably a non-bloomer). The fact that I married for the first (and hopefully only) time at aged 37 shows that in many important respects I’ve dragged the chain*. However never have I been so far behind the proverbial curve than when it comes to the institution that is Game of Thrones.We are well into Season 4 and I’ve only just caught on.

My reluctance to get onboard with GoT had nothing to do with a lack of encouragement from Dadabs. Since the series began he has been trying to convince me to watch. “You really should  watch Game of Thrones – its a romance” he’d urge.  Sure it is – when your definition of romance is hoards of buxom wenches and some nimble sword play. Fellow bloggers also recommended the show because Kit Harrington!

This should have been all the motivation I needed...

This should have been all the motivation I needed…

Nevertheless I resisted. I reasoned there was only room in my heart for one televisual obsession and that was Mad Men.

Completely obsessed by the shenanigans at Sterling Cooper and Partners.

Completely obsessed by the shenanigans at Sterling Cooper and Partners.

Then Vikings came along and I realized that despite having a small (but remarkably firm) chest , I’ve got a really big heart. It’s roomy enough to accommodate all the crumpets. Infact my heart is like the Tardis – bigger on the inside.

I've got plenty of room for Rollo and Ragner (sod orf Lagertha)

I’ve got plenty of room for Rollo and Ragner (sod orf Lagertha)

My infatuation with the Vikings only strengthened the case for Game of Thrones in my husband’s mind. I’d enjoy  45 minutes in Hunkytown (aka iron age Denmark ) every Monday evening and report back to Dadabs about the double crossing, politicking and shirtless sword fighting that went on. “Well” he’d say “If you think that’s good. You should watch Game of Thrones. It’s all about politics and back stabbing”. “But I thought you said it was a romance?” I’d query. “There is some romance in it” he’d reply. (Note that it has gone from being “a romance” to having “some romance in it” – a bit like Pride and Prejudice has some action sequences).

Matters came to a head over a weekend when two lots of friends reiterated that I “really must watch Game of Thrones”. Dadabs, being a take charge kind of guy, made an executive decision. That Sunday evening after putting our girls to bed early, the box set was pulled out and I  was seated in front of Game of Thrones series one, episode one. Like Daenerys Targaryen I had embarked on a long journey and I had know idea where I would end up or if indeed I would make it to the end alive. Also like Daenerys I was surrounded by beefcake

and hawt chix

and hawt chix.

I’ve since had what can only be described as a GoT binge. From my experience so far, its safe to say that everything you have heard about it is true. For example ;

  • Kit Harrington (aka John Snow) is hawt.
  • The plot is as complicated and as convoluted as the Australian tax system.  I’ve had  to refer to flow charts to work out what’s going on.
Seriously you need to flow chart to work out what is going on.

Seriously you need to flow chart to decipher  GoT

  • Stemming from the above point, cast members other than Kit Harrington are hawt but I dont know their names.
  • Peter Dinklage is AWESOME.  He is so much AWESOMENESS condensed into the smallest possible package. The Dink is not just a star – he is a neutron star.


  • Kit Harrington is one sweet babycakes.
  • Its very violent. Heads literally roll every five minutes.
  • Women disrobe on the flimsiest of premises. Needless to the nudity rarely adds anything to the plot. If you have never seen a pair of tits, I would strongly recommend watching Game of Thrones. One episode is enough to give you a very good idea of what they look like. If I were a betting woman I’d  wager that the writer George RR Martin did not get laid in High School. (Here’s the thing – neither did I! None of the best people did).
Two important plot points.

Two pert-inent  plot points.

  • Oh my! Kit Harrington is some tasty crumpet.


Sorry - this only makes sense if you've seen the show.

Sorry – this  meme only makes sense if you’ve seen the show.

Do you get GoT? Are you Mad about Mad Men? Do you go beserk for the Vikings? What’s your TV obsession?

If you’ll excuse me I’m off to watch another episode of Game of Thrones.

Winter is coming.


Love a good mash up.

Love a good mash up.




Non Transcendence

For reasons that should be obvious, I was keen to see Johnny Depp’s new film – Transcendence.

Obviously Johnny Depp is still smokin' hawt!

Obviously Johnny Depp is smokin’ hawt!

Then I read the reviews. The Rotten Tomatoes site (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/) only gave it one star. One Star? How could a film featuring both Johnny Depp and Paul Bettany only rate one star? It must really be utter rubbish.

If this pair of crumpets

If this pair of crumpets


Sorry - I mean this pair of crumpets cant lift a film out of the doldrums I dont know what will...

Sorry – I mean this pair of crumpets , cant lift a film out of the doldrums I don’t know what will…

Perhaps the critics and movie going public are struggling with the film’s central premise. Johnny Depp plays a scientific genius working on a mega quantum computer ( much like Dadabulous). That for a start strains credulity.  After being fatally injured by neo-luddites he has just enough time to up load his consciousness on to said mega computer. The digital Johnny then asks to be hooked up to the interwebs and proceeds to use the entirety of human knowledge to take over the world.

The idea of humans becoming digitally immortal is a common sci-fi plot device – that means the human brain is transferred into cyberspace and hence lives on forever fighting off spammers and Russian hackers. Some serious scientific types believe its a real possibility for the not so distant future.  Stephen Hawkings for instance supports the idea (he also thinks information leaks out of black holes – whatever that means).

I'm concerned that this hole is leaking.

Oh no my black hole is leaking!

Ray Kurzweil, the renowned futurist and head of engineering at Google honestly believes the interwebs will be awash with uploaded brains by 2045. (I’ll be 75 then – just in time to get on board.) This goes to show that overpaid techies have some odd ideas.

I say “what the heck?”  I’m prepared to accept some far out concepts for the sake of entertainment – like mutants with superpowers, time travel, intergalactic space flight and the Norse God of Mischief slipping through the time space continuum and conquering the earth*. ( In fact I’m all for the latter scenario. Loki is far more trustworthy than Tony Abbot and is welcome to wink at me anytime. I ask – who would you rather see in lycra?)

What I can’t swallow is the notion that a man (I am being sexist) with his consciousness permanently plugged into the internet would be capable of world domination. Upon upload most men would head straight to a website with the words “big n’ bouncy” in the domain name never to be heard of again. My own husband, (god bless) would make a beeline for the Bunnings online catalogue – a place where comparing the size of drill bits is not a euphemism. There his disembodied mind would fritter away several decades looking for a screw.

Spend eternity looking for a screw at Bunnings.

Spend eternity looking for a screw at Bunnings.

He’d most likely spend a few years pranking still living friends by hacking into their bank accounts and writing “for male escort services rendered” next to any deposits. ( His posse find that schtick uproarious). Then he’d spend the rest of time jumping between MMOs – that’s Massive Multiplayer Online games for those not clued up on nerd speak.

Whilst we are being sexist, it is unlikely that an uploaded female brain would fare much better. Not when there is so much online shopping to be had let alone the temptation to fall down a Pinterest rabbit hole for eternity.

Oooh cute dress from Review (NOT sponsored)

Oooh cute dress from Review (NOT sponsored)

As for myself, living inside the interwebs would give me the chance to read and comment on all the blogs I’ve been meaning to get around to. Eventually I’d take the scenic route to Pinterest via Shirtless British Men of Tumblr and distract myself by pinning some Shirtless British Men. Currently my Pinterest is full of

Life of Brian

Monty Python memes


and 80s indie rockers.

and 80s indie rockers. Ah vintage Moz!

It could use a spruce up. However as long as I have a consciousness my Pin Boards will remain a cupcake free zone.

Mumab's Pin Board

Mumab’s Pin Board

In the future it seems the transition between life (as we know it Jim) and death will be barely noticeable for most first worlders. Yet it sounds like some kind of purgatory to me. You know that feeling you get when you aimlessly scroll through Facebook or Twitter thinking that you’re wasting your life? – extrapolate that to infinity. Personally I don’t want to achieve immortality through a brain upload. I want to achieve it by not dying.**

Digital mind uploads – Heaven or Hell? And where would your consciousness hang out?




* This is a reference to the Avenger’s & Thor films in case you are totally ignorant ;-)

** Borrowed from a Woody Allen line. I know Woody has done some bad stuff but its still a great line.


Trivial Pursuits

Dadabulous and I have recently crashed through the 10 year barrier. Prior to his welcome entry into my life I considered 10 months to be a long relationship and 10 days a significant one. Heck – even 10 hours counted. Still I am grateful for the romantic misadventure of my youth. They’ve made me realize that the grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence. In fact the grass on the other side of the fence is brown, patchy and unkempt.

At the moment I am well chuffed with my husband. I am the envy of (some of) my girl posse because not only is Dadabulous creative with his wood in the bedroom,

Yes - he made our bed frame.

Yes – he made our bed frame but I neglected to make the bed.

he cooks fancy meals  garnished with fresh herbs from the garden. The time he adorned the tomato and bocconcini salad with basil flowers has gone down in the local folklore. People are still awestruck. 

The famous basil flowers.

The famous basil flowers.

That's what I'm talkin' bout.

Meanwhile Dadabs is no dill.

All that is merely bouquet garni in the casserole of life. I am currently impressed with him because his actions last weekend were truly remarkable – perhaps even revolutionary. Feeling the first chill of winter he wanted some fresh track suit pants but they were all in the washing pile. You know what he did? Without a word of complaint he put on a load of washing himself! He then hung it all out and brought it all back in when it was dry. He didn’t fold it – that would have really been pushing the envelope.  I was astounded when confronted with a tub full of clean washing that I had not participated in. “David – did you do this? Who are you? I dont know you anymore”. I’m sure his reaction would have been similar if  I’d put the garbage out. I might even be rewarded with sex if I took on that particular chore. Sadly we’ll never find out because it aint gonna happen.

I dont put out.*

I dont put out.*

We’re lovers not fighters here at Chez Abulous and things are incredibly harmonious. It’s so harmonious in fact that my Aunty thinks its unnatural. Really if we were anymore harmonious we’d both fall into a coma.  Luckily we’re able to spice things up by bickering about absolute trivia.  To illustrate;

Recently I was faced with the following choice in the door shelf of our fridge;

An open block of Black and Green's Organic Chocolate

An open block of Green and Black’s Organic Chocolate OR


A virgin block of Whittakers.

A virgin block of Whittakers.

To the non chocolate aficionado this may seem a bit like choosing between say Benedict Crumpetbatch and Colin Firth. They are similar types and equally tasty (OK Melbourne Mum – I know which you’d choose) but in actuality Green and Blacks contains NO sugar.

no sugar


Naturally  I eschewed the Green and Blacks and tore straight into the untouched gold wrapping of the Whittakers. When Dadabs caught me in the middle of this transgression he was irate. “We already had an open block! You should finish the open pack before starting a new one”.

“But I dont like that one. Its got no sugar”

This riled him up. “You’ve spent the last ten years telling me how you’re a chocolate snob and how you only go for the good stuff. I get you the the top line organic stuff and you reject it. You’re a hypocrite and a philistine.” To which I answered “Well you’re a %&*$ and a #@*^”.

And that is how I win any spousal argument.

Do you have these kind of fracas in your household? How do you win?



*Not Dadabulous. Dadabulous does not own  ugg boots or a pair of undies that can be seen in the light of day.




Slices Of Life

Many successful and classy bloggers give alot of themselves. Whereas I just give alot of crumpet. Some of the more affecting bloggers provide a window to their lives and invite everyone to peer in. Normally I find peering at crumpets more interesting but I’ve decided to experiment with a change of pace. I’m going to make like a “normal” blogger and give you some slices from my life.

This is how pretty much every day begins. I enjoy a ration of 10 minutes of blissful alone time whilst I trot down to the beach to get a “real” coffee. Seeing the sun come up over the ocean is merely a bonus.

There are many crumpets out training at this time of day.

There are many crumpets out training at this time of day.

Its all down hill from this point onwards.

Its all down hill from this point onwards.

Back at home I have



and basil out the wazoo.

Its faulty. (Hands up who got that very poor TV pun)

Its faulty. (Hands up who got that terrible TV pun)

I’ve mentioned the out of control bougainvillea in previous posts. Dadabulous finds it therapeutic to hack at it with a lethal looking hedger trimmer. He tells me he is training for the zombie apocalypse. I could take this as a sign that my husband has a) played too many computer games and b) watched to many episodes of The Walking Dead. Instead I choose to take comfort in the fact that he is skilling up for the inevitable zombie Armageddon. It helps me rest easier at night.

Bougainvillea for Dadabs to hack at.

Bougainvillea for Dadabs to hack at.

Lamest excuse ever to post a pic of Andrew Lincoln. But who needs an excuse - he is a crumpet.

Lamest excuse ever to post a pic of Andrew Lincoln. But who needs an excuse – he is a crumpet.

Here’s something I never thought I’d have. A pine.

No not Chris Pine.

No not Chris Pine.


An actual pine tree.

An actual pine tree.

I can see how you got confused there. Both are quite wooden. Still I wouldn’t remove either from the yard.

Do you ever do this – convert Sunday night’s roast into a curry with the help of a tin of coconut milk? I am turning into my mother,  your mother

and everybody else's freakin' mother.

and everybody else’s freakin’ mother.

Meanwhile I bake much but  I don’t like to talk about it.

Lets keep this quiet.

Lets keep this quiet.

Its my dirty secret.

Its my dirty secret.

Dadabulous recently acquired new office space in the middle of Hipsterville central. He immediately set about funkifying it. It was not enough that he built the board room table with his bare hands, he created a post modern art work to go with it.

Its a homage to the buildings industrial heritage.

Its a homage to the buildings industrial heritage.

I know you are wondering if the chains came from our own personal collection and whether the whips are missing them. You’ll be disappointed (or perhaps relieved) to hear that they were sourced from Ebay.

Step around the corner and you’ll encounter this. Its the definitive sign that you’ve landed on planet Software Developer. Yes really – my husband has an inflatable dalek in his office.

Our Dalek is looking a tad flaccid.

Our Dalek is looking a tad flaccid.

The inner city suburb where we work really should be renamed Funky Town. In stark contrast to the buttoned up world of stockbroking there is nary a suit to be seen. They are worn only by those foot soldiers of Satan aka real estate agents who can be spotted patrolling the joint. Otherwise pretty young things prance about in leather hot pants and Doc Martens – and that’s just the blokes!!!!!!! No seriously – I have never seen so many skinny jeans, hipster beards and thick rimmed glasses concentrated in such a small area. I luff it (to shamelessly borrow from another blogger who actually has some style).

Like the Gen Y’s I am getting in on the shorts as work wear action. Clearly I have an under supply of shame.

What to wear to work when your office is in Funky Town.

What to wear to work when your office is in Funky Town.

Meanwhile you know you’re in Funky Town central when its not a cafe – it’s a caffeine lab. I love what these people do in a test tube.

lab medI’ve given you gardening, fashion, a sunrise, baking, crumpets, another fine example of Dadabulous’ wood and a blow up toy. What more could you want in a blog?

Hows your life looking these days?

Happy Easter


PS: Congratulations to all those who rated in the Kidspot Village Voices. I’m not jealous, peeved or miffed in any way to have been completely overlooked this year. :-(




Postcards (& Other Randoms)

If I were Yoda I would say things like

yoda med

You have to imagine me doing the voice.

Yup – this really is me.

football meme med

World’s second most over used meme.

I’m not even interested in it from a crumpet perspective. I prefer men with necks and unsmushed faces. Moreover although I have absolutely no problem with brawn its brains I covet. For me when it comes to equations

Oh my Prof Brian.

size matters. Oh my! Prof Brian. (Potentially a new meme)

If you are one of the thousands of footie fans out there I really don’t mean to “dis” your passion. Nor do I mean to imply that anyone who plays league is unintelligent, although getting thwacked around the head every weekend can’t be good for you. Let me explain my position. I was born and bred in Sydney’s Sutherland Shire which means a rusted on allegiance to the Cronulla sharks. Mention this to anyone outside the insular peninsula and their reaction is inevitably

A Sharks fan? Fecking hilarious.

“A Sharks fan? Fecking hilarious!”

To the district’s eternal shame the “mighty” Sharks have never won a premiership, are cursed by a “finals hoodoo” and have an uncanny knack of “snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.”  They actually reached the grand final in 1978. I remember it clearly as it was a momentous occasion for my family and possibly the high light of my father’s life. Naturally we were crushed by the Manly sea eagles.

Nowadays Sharkies fans commiserate by circulating this sort of thing around social media.

sharks med


Cronulla meme med

As I have since escaped to the light side of the Georges River I could deny my past and start supporting the local team – the Eastern Suburbs Roosters. Yet my “Shireness” runs deep. I feel as though loyalty to the Sharks has been branded upon my very soul.


World’s most over used meme.

Its far far easier to feign complete disinterest. I’ve since reached a point where the disinterest is no longer feigned.


If you are part of the vast Australian middle class, you have probably spent many a child hood holiday in budget accommodation up and down our coastline. You are more than likely all too familiar with the local gift store and its plethora of tacky souveniers. Among the piles of shell jewellery

shell necklace med

and the ubiquitous kangaroo scrotum

and the ubiquitous kangaroo scrotums

chances are you’ve encountered this fair dinkum Aussie bloke

with remarkably well toned buttocks.

with remarkably well toned buttocks.

I swear I have seen him at every seaside location I have ever visited in this country. He really gets around. What’s more he’s been baring those gluts for donkey’s years. Admittedly this guy is always grossly out numbered by cards featuring scantily clad Aussie sheilas but we’re not interested in that.  The dude’s broad brim hat demonstrates a sensible approach to sun protection. I’m sure he remembers to slip, slop, slap – which would be an interesting event to witness.  Meanwhile this adorable little fellow doesn’t need to given that his sun screen is built in and soft to touch.  All Aussies know that koalas can really shred the tube.

A ridgy didge Aussie gromit.

A ridgy didge Aussie gromit.

This stuff really brings out the poet in me.

I love a sunburnt country

A land of naked rears

Of  random surfing koalas

And roos chugging cold beers.

roo med

Are you a rusted on sports fan? What are your favorite kitschy souveniers? And which memes are you completely over?



I'm bringing out all the classics today.

I’m bringing out all the classics today.


Your Inner Voice


I’ve just submitted my final TAFE assignment and I’ve got one more exam to go before the whole thing is done and dusted. I can almost taste the freedom. It’s so very, very sweet like sunshine and lolly pops.

What freedom tastes like.

What freedom tastes like.

I can’t tell you how motivated I currently am to kick on with my career. I really can’t. In fact I am positively chomping at the bit to throw on a bejewelled kaftan (a tent of magnificence ) and swan about like a professional in a variety of exotic locations. Palawa Island in the Philippines is a good enough place to start. Oh my this is some titillating travel porn.

This works for me.

This works for me.

This too.

This too.

I'm so excited and I just cant hide it.

I’m so excited and I just cant hide it.

Hold on a minute… Didn’t last week’s post also feature a stunning South East Asian island destination? Is this blog becoming repetitive?

Thanks Fass. Have I ever told you that you are HAWT?

Thanks Fass. How unusual to see you here and OMG you are still HAWT!!

Your Inner Voice

Now I’m going to veer off on a totally random tangent. It is said that the key to self love and hence happiness is changing your inner voice. Its an interesting concept. I am fed up with my nasally Shire girl whine*. I would much rather my inner dialogue took on the soothing tones of

Benedict Crumpet-batch

Benedict Crumpet-batch

Not to be confused with a batch of crumpets.

Not to be confused with a batch of crumpets.

The really awesome thing about this is that as it is my internal voice I get to write the script. This means the Crumpet-batch says lines like ” Hand me a microscope because girl your butt looks miniscule in those khaki shorts” and “I demand to see your birth certificate because there is no way you look 43″. He’s such a talented actor always gives an Oscar worthy performance. It is convincing enough to have me doing my own rendition of Summer Nights.

Well-a well-a well-a, huh. Tell me more, Tell me more.

Well-a well-a well-a, huh. Tell me more, Tell me more.

And so he tells me more. Things like – “Hey girl – I saw these in the supermarket and I just couldn’t resist getting them because they remind me of you. I can’t wait to try it out when I do the next load of washing”.

Small but mighty - is really putting a positive spin on it.

Small & mighty – is really putting a positive spin on it.

And ” I got this as well because

I'm so ready for your jelly".

I’m so ready for your jelly”.

Oh my – I can feel my self esteem swelling by the minute.

Do you ever indulge in travel porn?

Who would you like your inner voice to sound like?



* For those of you who are unaware of my shame – Dadabs and I were born and breed in Sydney’s Sutherland shire but didn’t meet until we were in our mid thirties and living in the inner city.

PS: My apologies to Melbourne Mum who is the biggest Crumpet-batcher in our blogging community (We’ve been disallowed from calling Benedict fans “Cumberbitches”-(http://melbournemum.com/2014/02/18/the-retort-files-cumberbitches/ ). Its only his voice I want – I swear.


Out Of Control

Normally I go about my daily business unconcerned about the reportage in the tattle rags but this headline gave me great cause for alarm.

Omigawd! Be alarmed!

Omigawd! Be alarmed!

Oh My!  KK’s butt is “out of control”. Does that mean KK’s famous derrière is a major threat to society? Has it morphed from a weapon of mass seduction into one of mass destruction? All I know is I’m worried.

This story conjures up the scenario deftly described in Andy Griffiths’ apocalyptic Bummageddon trilogy. The series starts with The Day My Mum Went Psycho – which is what KK’s appears to be doing right now! In the books twelve year old Zac Freeman is discombobulated (discom-BUM-ulated?) when his rear end keeps detaching itself and running away.  When he follows it one night he uncovers a global conspiracy (conspir-ASS-y?) of bottoms. The bums of the world are planning to render all of mankind unconscious by creating a planet wide fart. We can only hope for humanity’s sake that this is NOT what KK’s posterior has in mind.

KK's autobiography?

KK’s autobiography?

Meanwhile the Bummageddon series should be made into a movie franchise. It is hilarious (or as my father would say “a hairy ass”) and could turn KK into a major film star (because currently we are just not seeing enough of her ). Perhaps Miley Cyrus could co star as her rear end is not backward in coming forward. What are you waiting for Disney?

Miley comes forward backwards.

Miley comes forward backwards.

Speaking of bums – here is a well toned and bedazzled set.

Nice segue eh?

Nice segue eh?

I have not yet watched The Real Housewives of Melbourne or RHOM as it is affectionately known. However it has already taught me a thing or two. Firstly it has turned my preconceived ideas about Melbourne upside down. I apologize in advance to any Melbournites who may be reading for the gratuitous use of stereotypes. I thought that Melbourne prided itself of being a bastion of good taste, refinement and understated elegance unlike brash Sydney which has a harbor and beaches to compensate for it’s lack of couth. There’s nothing understated about the RHOM posse.

RHOM has also shown me what’s missing from my humble eastern beaches existence – SEQUINS and BLING. I probably should have learned this from the uber blog Faux Fuschia but there’s six real housewives so the message is amplified.  By contrast my life looks like this.

Real housewives of the eastern beaches.

Real housewives of the eastern beaches?

I wake up too late, throw a rumbled pair of khaki shorts over the Best and Less underwear I’ve slept in and do the school run before showering. Thankfully I have a hat and sunglasses to preserve my dignity. Being the eastern beaches everybody else manages to look effortlessly chic whilst doing the same thing. The real Real Housewives of the Eastern Beaches could be a blog piece in itself.

If RHOM is anything to go by its not only sartorial razzle dazzle that I lack.

One pair of angel wings - hunks included.

One pair of angel wings – hunks included.

I need to get me a set of angel wings and a pair of dark swarthy hunks to affix them. One hunk per wing is a pretty good ratio as far as I am concerned.

Finally in an argument which should be filed under “first world issues” Dadabs has forbade me from doing botox even though I am so ready for it. He views it as a vacuous and  narcissistic pursuit and believes inner beauty is far more important. ( He even says he doesnt care if I put on weight – bless him!). However for all his politically correct talk I suspect this is the real reason.

Dadabs would rather look at wrinkles.

Dadabs would rather look at wrinkles.

Have you watched the RHOM?

Do you share my concerns about KK’s renegade butt?



PS: I promise to raise the tone next week as I dont think I could go much lower.

Meanwhile – Richard Roxburgh! Nuff said.

RR med


How To Be A Dirty Old Lady

I wandered into one of my local coffee establishments and casually flipped through a publication entitled “Living The Dream”. I mistakenly thought it was an advertorial about coastal real estate when in fact it was a how to manual for grey nomads. It made me realize how tantalizingly close I am to fulfilling a long held dream of my own – the dream of becoming a dirty old lady. I’m ploughing into my mid 40s and analysis by the Ponds Institute has shown that my wrinkles are 15% deeper than they were a few years ago. I’ve even sprouted a few fresh ones. In the meantime I’m sure you’ll agree I haven’t become any more respectable – at least not on the inside where it counts.

Being a dirty old lady is an ignoble goal for us all to aspire to and if I can do it anyone can. Here are my best tips on how you too can live the dream of being of being a dirty old lady eastern beaches style.

1) Two of your attributes should be increasing in size as you age. They are your sunglasses and your husband’s bank balance. What did you think I was talking about dahling?

Your sunglasses like your husband's bank balance, can never be too big.

Your sunglasses like your husband’s bank balance, can never be too big.

2) Identify your worst bodily asset and flaunt the heck out of it. Afterall the Kim Kardashian has built an entire industry out of doing just that.

If it can work for KK it can work for Mumabs!

If it can work for KK it can work for Mumabs!

3) Be sure to wear your exercise gear when you frequent your local cafes. People will think your wealthy husband is funding your gym and coffee habit and you wouldn’t want to do anything to discourage this impression.

The right look for your local cafe.

The right look for your local cafe.

While we are on this topic

4) Female only gyms? Ha Ha Ha – That’s hilarious. You really had me going there.

5) Do not attend exercise classes. Do you really want to be in a room with 20 other women who are hawter than you? Go instead to the free weights area. Those boys will appreciate the audience.

Dont deprive him of an audience.

Dont deprive him of an audience.

6) Is your beach dominated by svelte honey skinned teenagers? ( I say YOUR beach because YOU like totally own it). Don’t be intimidated. Intimidate them right back by wearing skimpy bikinis for maximum cellulite exposure.

My cossies - be afraid! Be very afraid!

My cossies – be afraid! Be very afraid!

Alternatively out-bling the whippersnappers with your kaftan collection.

The louder the better

The louder the better

Do you need more inspiration? Here are some absolutely fabulous role models.

ab fab med

Sweetie dahling.

Being a man does not stop Dame Edna from being a dirty old lady.

Being a man does not stop Dame Edna from being a dirty old lady.

Betty White comes in like a wrecking ball. Isn't she gorgeous!

Betty White comes in like a wrecking ball. Isn’t she gorgeous!

I wanna rock it this hard when I'm 74!

I wanna rock it this hard when I’m 74!

I want to buy a motor bike with a side car and take off on a foodie adventure.

I want to buy a motor bike with a side car and take off on a foodie adventure.

The Queen of Dirty!

The Queen of Dirty!

Have you got any tips for me?

Who are your favorite dirty old ladies?




Tween Angst

According to my 6 (and a half) year old P1 this is a very uncool lunch box. Apparently your lunch box you  is a factor determining the pecking order in the playground. When I picked this up in Target I was unaware that I was purchasing social death for my child. In retrospect the fact that I was in Target should have given me the heads up. I guess as a mother I am an ignor-anus which is defined by the Dags Dictionary* as someone who is both ignorant and an asshole.

How uncool is this lunchbox?

How uncool is this lunchbox?

By contrast this lunch box is acceptable. Naturally P1 and P2 are squabbling over ownership. Don’t ask me why. To my parental eyes its like comparing Ryans Reynolds and Goslings. I can see very little difference in it myself and who cares when Fassbender is twice as hawt as both of them put together.**

This is socially acceptable - who knew?

This is socially acceptable – who knew?

I am informed that the Fassbender of the lunch box universe is the Smiggle range. (That wasn’t intended to sound rude but you’ve got to agree the words “Fassbender” and “lunchbox” belong in the same sentence) This was decreed by the arbiter of good taste and sophistication that is the girl’s eight year old cousin. No parental reasoning can stand in the way of that opinion. The tribe has spoken and it said “thou shalt have Smiggle”. I resisted P1′s whining and pleading for this particular number and now she has to deal with the daily humiliation of eating her play lunch from a lame pussy cat shaped vessel. I am well on my way to becoming a fully fledged embarrassing cow of a mother. Imagine how diabolical I will be by the time the girls hit their teen years. Mwah Ha Ha.

P1's object of desire

P1′s object of desire

With the new school year just commenced P1 has begrudgingly accepted the pussy cat face but only because “it will fall apart soon” . I guess I will be seeing you in Smiggle.

Another rite of passage signifying the transformation from tot to tween is the switch from ABC 4 Kids to ABC 3. P1 has deemed ABC 4 Kids “too babyish” and refuses to have it on. P2 echoes this sentiment but happily watches Play School when P1 is not around. If it has not happened yet in your household it will soon. It won’t be long before you too will be pondering whether the mildly risque but highly surreal material your child is watching is really age appropriate. Fans of Jimmy Giggle and/or Sportacus may find their child’s shift in viewing habits a little disappointing. Rest assured there is el mucho eye candy on ABC3. The problem is that the ABC3 crumpet looks like it can’t legally drink yet. Go ahead and oogle. You’ll make Stifler’s Mom proud.

This is you watching ABC3

This is you watching ABC3

P1′s current obsession is the program Total Drama Island. She loves this Survivor parody despite having no clue about the original Survivor. Apart from being an avalanche (sometimes literally) of toilet humor the show has introduced her prematurely to the world of teen dating and relating. It has also taught her some slightly dirty ditties. The other day she came out with “Hey Mum – Beans beans – they’re good for the heart”. I cut her off with “Yes I know that one darling” and we both cackled like grotty school boys. To top it off the show has given P1 her very first crush – the bad boy Duncan.  Last weekend at the beach I caught her writing in the sand with a stick “I love Duncan”. Better that than Justin Beiber. Like any worthwhile fan girl she has done her own artistic interpretation of her idol.

In case you cant tell P1's drawing is on the left.

In case you cant tell P1′s drawing is on the left.

Now I hate parents who blow smoke about their child’s talent as much as the next person but seriously I think its a really good drawing. Mock if you will but I think there’s some real artistic ability there.

Are you experiencing Tween Angst?

* Dags Dictionary by Richard Glover is a book about words that should exist – but don’t. With nearly 400 freshly minted words, and based on the hit ABC radio game.


** Some may disagree with this assessment but I have put my subjective opinion into a simple mathematical formula. You can’t argue with the math!

Michael Fassbender = 2 x ( Ryan Reynolds + Ryan Goslings)