First World Issues

Is your life beset with very minor inconveniences which could best be described as “first world issues”? Welcome to Chez Abulous. I’ll show you mine.

To begin with I am peeved that Barbie’s car is significantly hawter than mine.

Hawter than a Mazda 2?

Hawter than a Mazda 2?

I have a walk in wardrobe. Yay! High fives all round. But all too regularly I can’t find my stuff in it.

Items of clothing disappear into this vortex

Items of clothing disappear into this vortex

Clearly I don’t have enough shoes.

there are still some empty pigeon holes.

there are still some empty pigeon holes.

If you have daughters your house is likely to be absolutely riddled with these things in every possible color, pattern and permutation. They appear in the most unlikely of places – under cushions, in the vacuum tube, behind the toilet, in the back of the fridge. Perhaps you’ve even taken to accessorizing your gym gear with them yourself. The glittery pink numbers are particularly fetching when teamed with lycra. Unfortunately you can never find one when your Year 1 girl is screaming for you to put her hair in pigtails and you have five minutes to get out the door.

Elastics are breeding!

Elastics are breeding!.

I’m not entirely sure what a wazoo is but I do know I’ve got bougainvilleas coming out of mine.

Its like Night Of The Living Dead.

Its like Night Of The Living Dead.

I have lost my exercise mojo and ergo I am feeling extremely nawt hawt.

This is motivating me to do several sets of middle finger lifts.

This is motivating me to do several sets of middle finger lifts.

Luckily my mojo for calorific treats is unaffected but my health conscious husband insists on buying unsalted nuts. I have to salt them myself.

Salting Dadabs nuts.

Salting Dadabs nuts.

Meanwhile some lazy sods simply could not be arsed scrambling their own eggs with a fork.

Prescrambled eggs. Now I have seen it all.

Prescrambled eggs. Now I have seen it all.

I may have given you all the impression that Fassbender is my greatest love but the truth of the matter is that it’s chocolate. If pure bliss could be condensed down into a square inch like a neutron star it would be this stuff.

chocolate honeycomb!!!!!!

chocolate honeycomb!!!!!!

It HAS to be Violet Crumble. Nothing else will do. This Crunchie shite is a poor impostor. Do you think I can find Violet Crumble at my local Colesworths? There are rows of floor to ceiling confection but nary a Violet Crumble in sight.

What's wrong with this picture?

What’s wrong with this picture?

Did the Violet Crumble go the way of the Polly Waffle and the candy cigarettes? I believe that the current scarcity of Violet Crumble is unAustralian and that Tony Abbott should do something about it. Bring back the VC with the Knighthoods TA!

Bryan Ferry was a Slave to Love.

That'll kick start your mojo.

That’ll kick start your mojo.

Sadly, I by contrast am a slave to a four year old. However I don’t think that is strictly a first world problem. It’s universal.

When she says "bake" we bake.

When she says “bake” we bake.

In truth, like Bryan I am a Slave to Love because I do love my golden haired girls.

What are your first world issues?







Whilst stuck in peak hour traffic I spied this on the side of a Sydney bus.

It was the ultimate irony.

It was the ultimate irony.

I remarked to Dadabulous “Oh look – there’s that guy from Breaking Bad”. At the time I neglected to mention that  Aaron Paul was looking rather fetching with his designer stubble and rock star leather jacket. ( I thought I’d save that observation for you guys).  Dadabs eyes widened “Oh yeah it is too and check the Bugatti!” This very simple exchange pretty much sums up the difference in how we see the world. I swear Scarlet Johanssen could have been writhing in a bikini on that movie poster but Dadabs would still be “checking the Bugatti”. He’s more interested in the actual machinery than the piece of crumpet driving it. The converse is true for me. I’m more like “Oh look a hunk in some kind of a car”.

“Didn’t James May beat a speed record in a Bugatti?” I added trying to make Bugatti related conversation. Some might accuse me of suffering from taste bud/rectal inversion syndrome but I after 20 seasons of Top Gear I still have a spot for James May – and its soft. Dadabs merely went on to regale me with factoids about how many Bugattis are produced every year and how fast they can actually go because that is how he is wired.

Eye candy for Dadabs

Eye candy for Dadabs


and lovely James for me.

and lovely James for me.

Nowhere is the difference in our thinking more apparent than in our choice of viewing. When he’s not engrossed in the latest “conquer the known universe” type computer game or tinkering in the garage with his wood he can be found glued to the digital TV station 7 mate. He is into those super mega, hugemongus engineering project type shows which I dont mind as I love engineers. (When it comes to hats on men I like em hard ). On the other hand I catch him chuckling at programs which show case human stupidity at its most extreme eg: “Tattoo nightmares”, “Hardcore Pawn” and in a similar (ahem) vein “Pawn Stars”.

The other night I wandered into our TV/play room to be greeted with “I’ve just started watching Jackass. I can rewind it back to the beginning for you if you like”. I cant tell you how thrilled I was.  I want to watch Jackass about as much as he wants to sit through the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice again or anything featuring Dame Judi Dench (other than Bond).

Dame Judi rocks my socks but not Dadabs

Dame Judi rocks my socks but not Dadabs

Meanwhile this is just awesome!

Meanwhile this is just awesome! Every lake needs one.

I marvel at how my highly intelligent and creative husband can be reduced to a quivering puddle of laughter by the antics of Johnny Knoxville and his troupe of overgrown 12 year olds. There’s only so much I can take of these dudes whacking (and in one case electrocuting) each other in the testicles.  Admittedly I did titter at their coke and mentos shenanigans but when the bodily fluids started flowing it was time for me to exit.

Jackass - the ultimate in hilarity

Jackass – slapstick at its most extreme.

OK - I laughed at this.

Coke and mentos a classic recipe for hilarity.

Remembering significant dates is not Dadabs strong suite. Last week I quizzed Dadabs as I edged towards the fridge calender “Guess what is coming up soon?”.  He answered all to quickly and all to enthusiastically. “The council clean-up”.  “No, our 6th wedding anniversary” I shot back sternly. “Really I am more concerned about the council clean up”.  Apparently he is not one for sweeping romantic gestures on those significant dates. To his credit he dug deep. He arranged a baby sitter and celebrated with  Kir Royal (which is a fancy French way of saying champagne with Ribena) and a very satisfying Thai meal with some good friends. I cant complain. I am also happy to report that we got rid of a huge amount crap at Council cleanup – specifically five dead hard drives.

Council clean up - a significant event for Dadabs.

Council clean up – a significant event for Dadabs.

So happy anniversary Dadabs! I love you just as you are – a red headed tech/entrepreneurial whiz with six pack abs who also happens to be handy with a screwdriver. I think I can tolerate a bit of Jackass for that.

How is your partner wired?




Shock, Horror!

Those Shocking Backpackers!

Recently there has been much shrill commentary in our local rag, The Wentworth Courier (aka The Wentie), about the disgraceful behaviour of backpackers. They really are the scourge of the Eastern beaches. How dare young people come to our wide brown land and enjoy themselves especially when their Wicked Campervans are taking coveted water side parking spaces.

Darn foreigners are taking our parking spots!

Darn foreigners are taking our parking spots!

Really –  viewing Wolf Creeks 1 & 2 should be a mandatory condition of getting a working holiday Visa in this country.

If Wolf Creek doesn't deter them nothing will.

If Wolf Creek doesn’t deter them nothing will.

The latest outrage occurred at our local tennis club when a group of young visitors took to the court naked. Shock! Horror! The club happens to be in a well lit thoroughfare so high fives all round. Personally I am disgusted. I mean why was I informed after the event? I would have happily volunteered to officiate the match because Gen Y needs rules, structure and guidance. On the other hand they can do without clothes.

Like this - only they were naked.

Like this – only they were naked.

Had I been there I would have declared every serve an Ace and the score to be Luv all. HONK!!!!!!!!!!!  I will refrain from making comments about pairs of furry balls because I am not that uncouth.

A visual metaphor

A visual metaphor

I demand a re-match with plenty of prior notification on social media. Meanwhile backpackers carry on, carry on!

Fantasy Getaway

Sometimes I find myself feeling disenchanted with my lot in life. Spending time at home with a four year old can do that to a person even if you have the world’s coolest four year old (as P2 is). To lift my spirits I have taken to looking at travel porn and recently discovered this in the Sydney Morning Herald.

Its not been photoshopped - it really is a pink beach!

Its not been photoshopped – the sand is really pink.

Its a pink beach on Komodo Island Indonesia, one of only seven in the world. The sand appears pink because it is littered with the shells of creatures called Foraminifera. If a pink beach is not remarkable enough for you, these guys can often be found strolling along it.

Komodo dragons - worlds largest lizard.

Komodo dragons – worlds largest lizard.

A pink beach criss crossed by dragons. It sounds like a truly mystical experience like something from a fantasy novel. All I know is I want to go – get me a plane ticket right now!

I could camp out in one of these.

I could camp out in one of these.

A crafty husband

Dadabulous has been playing with his wood again. He needed to furnish the new office but couldn’t find a board room table that he liked. Naturally he built one from scratch as you do. I swear if the guy ever needed a satellite he’d source the components on Ebay, cobble the thing together in our garage and launch it from the back yard.

if you build it they will come.

if you build it they will come.

So he built it.

Dadabs works magic with his wood.

Have you ever played nude tennis? Would you admit to it if you had?



Here’s that pink beach again.


Oh my!

And here’s Paul Bettany again.

Oh my.

Oh my!


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


A Man’s Company

This is one of my favorite jokes because it resonates with my personal experience.

Q: When does a woman enjoy a man’s company?

A: When he owns it.

Boom Tish

I’ve gone off to work in Dadabulous software development business. Who said that sleeping with the boss gets you nowhere? Doing the accounts for my husband would not have featured highly on my adolescent list of dream gigs. It would have been out ranked by more glamorous career options like foreign correspondent, Booker prize winning novelist, screen writer and massage therapist to Keanu Reeves. ( I had quite a thing for the dude back in 1989).

Keanu's performance in Bill and Ted's was topped only by his work in Point Break.

Keanu’s performance in Bill and Ted’s was topped only by his work in Point Break.

At the moment however its just too convenient an option. One’s own husband is the ultimate family friendly employer. I mean your boss is not going to get angry at you having to leave early to collect a sick child. Note this happened twice during my first week of being in the office.

So far it is OK. Keeping tabs on our money is something I care deeply about. On the downside for not the first time in my working life I have been plunged well and truly in the deep end. I’m doing a job where I have no experience using a system I am unfamiliar with. The previous book keeper left a big mess and there’s no one to show me the ropes. Once again I’m in clean up mode and the pace is glacially slow. Why does it always seem to fall upon a woman to sort this shite out? At least the amounts I have to reconcile are in the tens of thousands rather than the millions which was the case when I was working for a big arsed American investment bank.

Dadabulous - if Dadabulous looked like Ashton Kutcher as Steve Jobs.

Dadabulous – but Ashton is not as cute as Dadabs even when playing Steve Jobs.

Between work and finishing my TAFE course blogging has somewhat diminished as a priority. So I’ll leave you with a few random thoughts. Some of you claim to enjoy those.

Bieber Fever

Here’s a bandwagon that I had no desire to climb on but Dadabulous’ reaction to the whole Bieber debacle surprised me. One evening over dinner he declared with a hearty chuckle “Justin Bieber – what a legend!”. The remarkable thing about this comment was that he actually knew who Justin Bieber was. Most pop culture sails comfortably over his radar. He remains entirely oblivious Twerkgate and thinks the Kardashians are Star Trek villains.  By stark contrast he was able to recount Bieber’s Ferrari racing incident in great detail and made reference to some of his other misdeeds like being caught with a private jet full of weed. “He’s f#$king awesome. He just does whatever he feels like and there’s no consequences ” Dadabulous concluded.  Bemused I asked “Surely you can’t like his music?”. “Oh does he sing?”

He's got a Ferrari but he's too young to drive. Dont you just hate him.

He’s got a Ferrari but he’s too young to drive. Dont you just hate him.

I think many of us watch these celebrity train wrecks with a heady mixture of amusement, disgust and jealousy. Who wouldn’t want to do whatever the fork they feel like, whenever the fork they feel like it with whom ever the fork they please? Most of us refrain because we realize that actions have consequences. Some of us even have a sense of common decency. Bieber merrily lacks both these qualities and is living an unadulterated dream (for now at least). We love to hate him and hate to love him for it – unless of course you are part of the happy few who couldn’t give a toss.

I’m excited

Folks I’m excited. Alexander Skarsgard has been cast as Tarzan in a movie. You know what that means? – an entire movie with ASkars romping around the jungle in leopard skin jocks.

Reimagine this scene with ASkars and Margaret Robbie.

Reimagine this scene with ASkars and Margaret Robbie.

Actually that’s not why I am excited but I bet some of you are now.  I am all a quiver because there’s been a significant break-through in stem cell research. Over the past few months Japanese researchers have developed a relatively simple technique to make ordinary adult cells revert to an embryonic state. This means they can grow into any type of bodily cell. According to paper published in Nature the team took cells mice transformed them into stem cells and reinjected them into mouse embryos. They found that the engineered cells integrated perfectly into the bodies of the developing mouse pups.  If the method can be replicated in humans the implications are huge. It potentially means that we’ll be able to kick start damaged organs into regenerating themselves. Its important to keep in mind that this is very early days and the research is being subject to intense scrutiny. Even if it can be proven to work in humans it will be many years before it can used in any practical sense. Still having stuff like this on the horizon gives me reason for great hope. Perhaps we’ll have a future where the blind can be made to see again, paraplegics will have their damaged spines repaired and cancer and alzheimers will be historical relics. That’s more exciting than ASkars – a little bit. In the meantime I predict that sales of leopard skin jocks will skyrocket.

Reasons to be cheerful

Reasons to be cheerful



PS: Do I even have to say that I would prefer to see Fassbender as Tarzan? That would have me swinging from a vine screaming “Aaaah Aaaaah, Aaaaaaaaaah!” Much like this really…..




Its Like Totally Random

Gold: In days of yore when the Egyptians were pre-occupied by a minor infrastructure project known as the Pyramids, I worked for a stock broking firm. One of my colleagues was a failed actor. It seems a tad harsh to describe this guy’s preferred career as “failed”. He embodied many of the traits necessary for actorly success. He was tall and built like a brick dunny, handsome but not impossibly so. More importantly he was charismatic and very, very funny. Unfortunately for Tom ( he was blessed with an actorly name), its not all about looks, charisma and talent in that order. The streets of Hollywood are strewn with attractive, charismatic and talented people who never made it. Its about luck and (I hate to use this term) X factor – an undefinable quality that strikes a chord with people at a given time.

Always enterprising Tom turned his talent for persuasive bullshit into equities dealing. Whilst on paper that sounds like a natural progression, Tom didn’t seem to “feel it” like some of the others. Perhaps he wasn’t such a great actor after all. My boss for instance was hooked into global markets for every waking hour of the day, every day of the year.  It would be a considered an OCD like mental disorder if it didn’t make people rich.

My former boss - no not really. We weren't that exciting.

My former boss – no not really. We weren’t that exciting.

Tom flogged a rag bag collection of dodgy mining start ups to high net worth investors who enjoyed a gamble. He’d spend the rest of the day talking like a pirate (especially on international talk like a pirate day), quipping about the sexuality of the rest of the dealing desk and impersonating Rick Astley. (He would turn to the guy next to him and say with great sincerity “Hey Jon, We’ve known each other for so long. Your heart’s been aching but you’re to shy to say it” This would usually be met with an enthusiastic “f@#k off” but the two would disappear downstairs for a ciggie at regular intervals).  The trading day commenced with a meeting where the team would wank on  about  discuss what happened in international markets over night. Tom’s job was to provide a run down of global commodity price movements. When discussing the price of Gold he’d burst into the classic song by Spandu Ballet. This never failed to provoke a reaction from me because I love that song. It cut through any pretentiousness like a knife through butter. I kinda miss him.

Your overnight commodities run down was GOLD!

Tom old mate your overnight commodities reports were GOLD!

But I hope you give Rick Astley up.

But I hope you give Rick Astley up.

Useless song lyrics: Last week  I had the unbridled thrill of visiting the Homemaker Centre in Alexandria. I know – rock n roll all night and party every day people!

The Homemaker Centre - will the partying never end?

The Homemaker Centre – will the partying never end?

Walking through the sliding glass doors my ears were assaulted with a barrage of 1980s easy listening classics. When I heard “Waiting for A Girl Like You” by Foreigner it struck me that I knew it word for word. I am deeply ashamed. Of all the things I could have used my neurons for, this piece of aural cheese is engraved upon my cerebral cortex. Perhaps its because there is a resonate truth in the lyrics.  Feel free to croon along.

Maybe I’m wrong

Won’t you tell me if I’m coming on too strong?
This heart of mine has been hurt before
This time I wanna be sure

I’ve been waiting for Tom Hiddleston
To come into my life
I’ve been waiting for Michael Fassbender
A love that will survive
I’ve been waiting for Colin Firth
To make me feel alive
Yeah, waiting for Damien Lewis
To come into my life

Hang on a minute. That’s not the lyrics to a classic piece of yacht rock.  That’s my celebrity hall pass list in order of preference set against some bad 80s sax.

Is your head full of useless song lyrics?



Footnote: Whilst doing “research for this post I stumbled upon this rather interesting picture of Spandu Ballet. They appear to have been caught smuggling five budgies out of the country. Now that really is GOLD and I could not keep it to myself. Boy bands don’t do this sort of thing anymore and pop music is all the poorer for it.



Small Talk

Melbourne Cup day marks the beginning of the period officially known as the “silly season”. It’s highly appropriate given that the Cup is arguably the silliest event of the year. I enjoyed it immensely back in my child free days. Whilst there is always a chorus of consternation about crass displays of drunkeness from the punters, I’m all for this type of horse play.

drunken horseplay

Drunken horseplay

Giddy up

Giddy up

In times gone by the Silly Season meant behaving in a ways that would make Austin Powers quip “Oh behave baby!” and regretting this behaviour until the next silly season swung around so I could disgrace myself afresh. Nowadays the pointy end of the year is heralded by a few tame school and daycare functions. Nobody over the age of five gets naked at these events. Typically modest quantities of chardonnay are consumed and the conversation is politely child-centric.

AP med

While I have no desire to relive the shenanigans of yesteryear, I sometimes wish I could take the festive small talk off on a tangent. I’ve been thinking about ways to inject the tangential into otherwise bland social pleasantries.

To begin with, when Miley is mentioned, as she no doubt will be, I may strike back with something like ” Yeh Wrecking Ball was interesting for all the wrong reasons but have you seen the video of Commander Chris Hadfield covering Bowie’s Space Oddity actually in space?” Ground Control to  Major Tom – Booyeh!

When the former commander of the International Space Station was filmed performing the Bowie classic ( in weightlessness), it caused a collective Nerdgasm. The earth moved for geeks and space junkies everywhere even though our hero was floating 370kms above it.


World's coolest music video is technically off world.

World’s coolest music video is technically off world.*

I’ve fallen in love again and God himself (aka David Bowie) has given Commander Hadfield his divine seal of approval.

Lamest excuse ever to post a photo of Bowie but c'mon it Bowie man. Bowie is hawt!

Lamest excuse ever to post a photo but c’mon its Bowie man. BOWIE! Bowie is hawt!

If my party companions haven’t abandoned me by this stage its an easy segue from Bowie classics to the question “Is there life on Mars?”. The answer is looking increasingly negative but the effort to find life further afield is ramping up. Astronomers have discovered over 1,000 exoplanets (planets outside our solar system) so far and serious dollars are being pumped into technology that can pick up the chemical signals of life across the galaxy. Well life as we know it Jim.  Astro biologist types think that the presence of methane and nitrous oxide is a good indication that ET is at home. The unimaginatively named European Extremely Large Telescope* (due to go online in 2022) should be sensitive enough to make out chemical concoctions on planets over 4,000 light years away. I wonder how people will react if/when they detect something. It’ll cause quite a stir despite there being exactly two thirds of five eighths of sod all chance human kind will have any meaningful contact.

I'm guessing this wont be a problem.

I’m guessing this wont be a problem.

In my experience some people are total suckers for the alien conversation. Forgive my gross stereotyping but these people often work in IT and spend too much time playing Dungeons and Dragons. As I can’t just talk to my husband at these functions, I’ll have to come up with a fresh tactic. Politics can be relied upon to stir the blood.

I may try raising the threat of double dissolution should Tony Abbott’s repeal of the carbon tax be blocked by the senate next year. The prospect should have most people howling “Oh God Nooooooooooooooooooo” and diving for the drinks esky. However there’s a certain percentage who will get really riled up and that my friends is entertainment. Some will strike up the war cry of “bring it on! I can’t wait to kick that d#@k head Abbott out before he takes this country back to the 1950s”.  Others will dig their heels in and declare “Damn straight those pinko, greenie clowns must repent the carbon tax and stop masturbating while they are at it”.  If you get one of each in your  group just sit back and enjoy the fireworks.

Ironically just releases more carbon.

Ironically just releases more carbon.

So will I be talking rockstar astronauts, exoplanets and politics at my next Christmas function? Probably not before three chardonnays and a good helping of cabanossi.

Classic hors d'oeuvre

Classic hors d’oeuvre

Would you be game enough to make chit chat with me at a Christmas party? How do you plan to deal with tedious small talk this silly season?



* What is it about heroic types and homo-erotic moustaches? Its a look that only suits one person, and he’s technically a polar bear.

Captain Barnacles rocks the porn star mo.

Captain Barnacles rocks the ironic mo.

* European Extremely Large Telescope – Oh my there’s fun to be had renaming that thing.


Getting Rusty

If you’re reading this blog you obviously haven’t been living under a wi-fi inaccessible rock. In all likelihood you’ve seen Russell Brand’s interview with Jeremy Paxman which aired on October 23rd. The exchange was remarkable in that it was a celebrity interview which was NOT comprised of complete twaddle. Here’s the link just in case you missed the hype.


Rusty's pen is mightier than his sword.

Rusty’s pen is mightier than his sword.

Rusty gave us something meaty to get our chops around and I mean that in the most cerebral way possible. I applaud him for that. Yet I take issue with some of the things he has to say. He needs a good talking to and I’m just the one to give it (a talking to that is).

Before I launch in I need to qualify that I too, have been seduced by Russell Brand. Initially I thought he was a just dirty Katy Perry dumper but I read a couple of his articles and was completely blown away. The dude’s a wordsmith. His pen is indeed mightier than his sword. Given Rusty’s reputation as a pants man extraordinaire that’s quite a statement. Even Alain De Botton constantly retweets him, affording him a status higher than Proust. (Sorry – a pretentious reference to Alain’s How Proust Can Change your Life which I haven’t read. My life has stayed the same).

Here's a celebrity love in. Jemima Khan is allegedly dating Rusty. Alain de Botton wants to bromance Rusty and Harry Styles gets more action than all of them put together.

Here’s a celebrity love in. Jemima Khan is allegedly dating Rusty. Alain de Botton wants to bromance Rusty and Harry Styles gets more action than all of them put together.

In the interview Rusty states that the western system of governance is broken and calls for a revolution. Time for some direct quotes.

Paxman: “In a democracy that’s how it works.”

Brand: “Well I don’t think it’s working very well, Jeremy. Given that the planet is being destroyed, given that there is economic disparity of a huge degree. What are you saying? There’s no alternative? There’s no alternative? Just this system?”


Paxman: “You don’t believe in democracy. You want a revolution don’t you?”

Brand: “The planet is being destroyed, we are creating an underclass, we’re exploiting poor people all over the world and the genuine, legitimate problems of the people are not being addressed by our political class.”


Paxman: “What’s the scheme, that’s all I’m asking. What’s the scheme? You talked vaguely about a revolution, what is it?”

Brand: “I think a socialist egalitarian system, based on the massive redistribution of wealth, heavy taxation of corporations and massive responsibility for energy companies and any companies exploiting the environment…I think the very concept of profit should be hugely reduced. David Cameron said profit isn’t a dirty word, I say profit is a filthy word. Because wherever there is profit there is also deficit. And this system currently doesn’t address these ideas. And so why would anyone vote for it? Why would anyone be interested in it?”

Listening to this titillated my inner social democrat. Isn’t it wonderful however that he is questioning the nuts and bolts of our system and inviting us to do the same thing? It would all be as dandy as Rusty’s attire except for one small point which rubbed me the wrong way. (I’m sure that Russell is unused to women telling him his point is both small and rubbing ineffectively. Honk!).

Russell Brand does not vote. Russell has intellectualized his choice but it is still WRONG.

Brand: “ But it’s not that I’m not voting out of apathy. I’m not voting out of absolute indifference and weariness and exhaustion from the lies, treachery, deceit of the political class, that has been going on for generations now. And which has now reached fever pitch where you have a disenfranchised, disillusioned, despondent underclass that are not being represented by that political system, so voting for it is tacit complicity with that system and that’s not something I’m offering up.”

Its understandable. “They are all as bad as each other”, “It doesn’t matter who you vote for, you’ll only get a politician”. Such cliches are true and getting truer with each election we have to endure. Still I strongly, strongly believe we should respect our democratic right. In fact I feel we are acting like spoiled first world brats when we don’t.

In our malaise we forget that throughout the course of history hundreds of thousands of people have died for this right. People are still suffering immensely for the sake of democracy – Arab Spring anyone? Yet Russell would have us waste this invaluable privilege. Having to chose from our sorry crew of leaders every three years is a royal pain in the arse but imagine having no choice at all?

I am sure that if Rusty was living under the regime of say Robert Mugabe, Colonel Gaddafi ,General  Pinochet  or communist China he would not be so down about voting. Similarly had he been a woman at the turn of the last century he’d undoubtedly be all for universal suffrage.

Emily Davison sacrificed her life for woman's suffrage.

Emily Davison sacrificed her life for woman’s suffrage.

Yes Russell – our system leaves much to be desired but refusing to vote is NOT the answer. I’m going to lean on another writer I admire deeply to help make my case. Veteran journalist PJ O’Rourke headed the foreign affairs desk at Rolling Stone throughout the 1990s. During that time he travelled to pretty much every third world fracas going. Lebanon, Libya, South Korea, the Philippines, Gaza, Managua – you name it PJ was there. He writes;

“I can sum up everything I’ve learned about trouble in a few words and I will. Civilization is an enormous improvement on the lack thereof. So called Western Civilization as practiced in half of Europe, some of Asia and a few parts of North America is better than anything else available”.

I regularly go to bed with Ph O'Rourke

I often go to bed with PJ O’Rourke

You can wag your finger about corporate greed and environmental destruction until it falls off but you cant deny this statement. Russel I urge you to speak up, agitate for change, take the to streets and hold our system accountable. But when polling day rolls around man up, get your skinny-jeaned arse to the booth and tick all the right boxes.

Did Russell Brand make you feel a little heated last week?



Get on your bike and VOTE Rusty!

Get on your bike and VOTE Rusty!


The Real Aussie Bachelor

Reality TV is a misnomer. It should be called Surreality TV. Take The Bachelor Australia for instance. According to scurrilous rumours half of Sydney’s Eastern beaches set already has. If the hearsay is to be believed Tim Robards is quite the man tart – a situation which I  applaud. Ker-chink! Ker-chink!

Rumour has it that The Bachelor

Rumour has it that The Bachelor

is a man tart.

is a man tart.



Despite my lack of interest in commercial television, Tim has crossed my radar. He was featured on a dirty great poster on the side of a bus when he crossed it – a bendy bus no less. Perhaps his appeal is too large to contain on a standard bus but I digress. My first thought bubble was “Another carbon copy of a lame American formula? Just what the country needs”.  I find the concept behind this show depressing. Is the singles scene really so dire that 25 attractive and intelligent young women have to fight tooth and nail over one Ken doll of a guy? (Actually, as a graduate of the singles scene I can assure you – IT IS. Which is not to say it can’t be fun).

Of course the show contravenes the most basic feminist principles. Germaine Greer would be rolling in her grave except she’s not dead yet ( She is merely suffering from relevance deprivation syndrome). Political correctness can be a bore and viewing everything through the prism of feminism does not make for great entertainment. I fully get that The Bachelor is the televisual equivalent of a Big Mac and super sized fries.

Germaine is not amused

Germaine is not amused

The issue I have with the whole thing (despite not having watched it) is that Tim Robards hardly represents Australian bachelorhood. In my dating days I became well acquainted with the bachelor class and  I did not encounter anyone remotely like Tim. I did work with a guy who looked a bit like him (tough job but someone had to do it). The dude in question was unsurprisingly NOT a bachelor.

Perhaps a more accurate depiction of a typical unwedded Aussie male would fall somewhere in between these two characters.

Is Bogan Brett the typical Aussie bachelor?

Is Bogan Brett the typical Aussie bachelor?

Or would you prefer the bronzed surfer dude?

Or would you prefer the bronzed surfer dude?

My own personal dating experience yielded a disproportionate number of IT professionals but there has always been something about me and techie guys. I think it is the fact that they are not particularly fussy.

Two of my old flames ( I wish Roy is cute)

Two of my old flames ( I wish – Roy is cute)

The well known demographer Bernard Salt suggests that the typical Aussie bachelor is in fact overseas (perhaps cruising the bars of Bangkok), vigorously working the land or hiding down a mine shaft. However I doubt you’d find too many Tim Robards clones in Mt Isa.

As for the dates the singletons are treated to on the TV Bachelor – Wow! Lets just say its not what I have typically experienced following a few” getting to know you” emails. I re-iterate I do not watch TV* so I had to turn to Wikipedia for research purposes. (Yes there is a Wiki page devoted to the series). Apparently the lucky ladies are flown by private jet to Byron Bay to go horse riding along the beach. On another occasion a gaggle of girlies were taken on a helicopter ride over the Blue Mountains. There have also been glamorous photo shoots and fantasy shopping sprees in high end jewellery stores. I had to wait four long years and a pregnancy for my go at that one!

What a great mount. The horse aint bad either..

What a great mount. The horse ain’t bad either..

In my experience a date usually means some kind of variation on drinks, dinner and a movie. More often than not the dinner is Thai accompanied by a BYO bottle of wine. You might get Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc if your date is classy. You will most probably view an action block buster in a multi-plex theatre with him shouting the barrel of popcorn. If your date is serious he may squire you to an independent cinema and sit uncomplainingly through an art house film. The fewer explosions and car chases therein the greater the pressure to put out at the end of the evening.

Apparently the ratings for The Bachelor are dropping like Robbard’s boxers leading Network TEN to change the time slot. I’d wager however that flaccid interest in the concept will not deter TEN from making a series two, three and beyond. You’d never expect a TV network to allow a tired concept to die with dignity.  Meanwhile I’d suggest that if the producers want to inject a dash of virility to their flagging franchise they should start with a generous dose of “real” reality. Here a some new real Australian bachelors who are ready, willing and able to take the starring role. Just sit back and watch the sparks (and the mobile phones) fly!

Warnie - a real Aussie bachelor

Warnie – a real Aussie bachelor

Sparks and phones will fly with these two.

Sparks and phones will fly with these two.

Fess up. Do you watch the show? What’s your opinion of it? Would you like to see more realistic Reality TV?



* By now you probably don’t believe me.


But I can still have fun…

Recently my personal odometer clicked over to 43 years. Bloody hell! Turning 40 was for me like riding the crest of a wave. I shimmied about in size nine skinny jeans as I celebrated with family and friends. At 43 unfortunately the wave has crashed upon the rocky shores of aging. Lets just say, aging gracefully without cosmetic intervention is over rated.

Being Mumabs, I  can think of many scenarios to ease the pain of the situation but none of them are clean – except for this one.

It doesn't matter how many times I see this - it NEVER gets old.

It doesn’t matter how many times I see this – it NEVER gets old.

Albert Einstein was a mere whippersnapper of 26 when he published the original theory of relativity in 1905. By contrast its taken me until age 43 to come up with my own theory of relatively. Are you ready for it? Mumabs theory of relativity for the year 2013 is……

The older I become, the hawter everyone else becomes relatively.

My regular morning coffee on my local high street is doing my head in. I mean why are all these young girls and guys so ridiculously smokin’ hawt? I don’t remember people being so hawt in the 1990s*. No wonder the polar icecaps are melting. Then I pause and remember its just basic physics as encapsulated by my law of relativity. (It may also be the eastern beaches effect. I swear there’s a door bitch on Anzac Parade turning away the nawt hawt).

On the positive side, aging can provide a “get out of jail free card” for not looking my best. When I am inevitably disappointed by what I see in the mirror, the horror is soften by thoughts like;

“The situation is not too bad for my age”

“Well everyone else is in the same boat and its sinking fast”

and finally

“Its not going to get any better but bugger it. I can still have fun”

So for me its shoulders back, tummy in and lets go and enjoy the day. Carpe diem and other cliches.

Oh look. Some of my favorite crumpets are lining up to wish me a Happy Birthday. How sweet!

Trust Professor Brian to find something comforting in mathematics.

24-Brian-rainbow1 meme

But Viggo honey, I think you might be shopping from the wrong catalogue.

Oh well. Immaturity I can do.

Oh well. Immaturity I can do.

Meanwhile beautiful Tom has the right idea.

tom-hiddleston med

As you wish Baby cakes.

As you wish Baby cakes.

Just when you thought my chance had passed, I go and save the best for Fass.

There's an Oscar winning performance coming right up.

There’s an Oscar winning performance coming right up.

Oh my! I’m short of breath. I cant believe I am saying this but you boys will just have wait. Dadabulous is taking me out for a romantic dinner at a funky bistro. Put the champagne on ice. We are on our way.

How do you have fun on your birthday?

Many Happy Returns


* This might have had something to do with the ankle length skirts teamed with Doc Martens – and that’s just the blokes.