21 Comments

Life Hacked

Are you thinking about using the services of a Life Coach? Let me save you hundreds of non-medicare rebated dollars by giving you the low down. They will tell you is to formulate some goals. Once these goals are tabulated, they will check  your weekly progress and put a proverbial rocket up you if you fail to achieve them. That’s $150 thank you very much.

Here at Chez Abulous we dont need to pay for life hacking because our lives are well and truly hacked.

A life coach will put one of these up you. Its as painful as it sounds.

A life coach will put one of these up you. It’s as painful as it sounds.*

Dadabulous exemplifies a successful life on all levels. Early in our marriage he informed be of his personal mission because forewarned is forearmed.  He was not going to slide passively into decrepitude with age. On the contrary he  plans to go out with an extended roar.  The hills of the eastern suburbs will truly come to life with the sound of his whinging. If anything (no matter how trivial) even vaguely pisses him off he will fire out missives of complaint to the perpetrator, the newspaper and the local MP. His role model would be Victor Meldrew of One Foot In The Grave but he can’t stand that kind of gentle British comedy. Its yet another thing for him to complain about.

Dadabs gets his grump on.

Dadabs gets his grump on.

Many people dream the dream but Dadabs lives it. We recently sampled a local French bistro sans kids. Although the food was good it did not represent value for money. Dadabs is a keen seeker of value for money. ( Funnily Bunnings always represents money well spent whilst shoe shopping doesn’t). The complaints came thick and fast. The bistro was asking top dollar but forced the customer to pay for vegetable sides, corkage was exorbitant and the communal seating was inconsistent with the outrageous pricing. The diatribe continued on an off throughout the evening and into the following day. I reminded him of his goal of becoming a grumpy old man and commended him on how close he was to achieving it.

Dadabs was compelled to justify this dubious honour. He explained that as a man ages he only gets better at three things;

1) Sprouting hair from the ears and nostrils.

2) Farting

3) Complaining

The conversation then morphed into the most intellectually rigorous debate of our relationship. I argued that much like sexual prowess, farting peaks in adolescence. No creature farts with more gleeful abandon than a teenage boy.  Dadabs and I will have to agree to disagree on that score. Meanwhile he remains resolute in his mission to become a cranky old grouch.  I have no doubt he will fulfill this goal by the preciously young age of 47. (He’s 46)  Aren’t you feeling inspired?

Whilst my husband is on top of his game, I am barely treading water. I have made it my mission to become the dirtiest middle aged woman since Patsy Stone but I seemed to have stalled in my quest.  For one thing I’m not going to the gym because I’m distracted by self indulgent pursuits like housework. This has removed a couple of good perving hours from my week. However I take consolation in the fact that  I am still paying gym membership and making a real contribution towards building the hunks of the future. It should be tax deductible.

patsy med

Living my best life.

 

Moreover I’m seriously falling down in the cougar fashion stakes. I’m missing the ab to my fab. Just look at my leopard print shoes? Scuffed and disgraceful. I’d upgrade but I dont have time to waft around Bondi Junction Westfield like a yummy mummy,  middle aged dowager. There’s so much wrong with that sentence.  It shows just how far I’ve strayed from my true calling.

I need an upgrade.

I need an upgrade.

Meanwhile my sassy seven year old says I should team these boxer shorts with cat ears and be a cougar for Halloween. I dont know where she’d get an idea like that. It is however entirely appropriate for the occasion. It’d be the scariest costume on our block, if notthe whole of Sydney.

Can you think of spookier attire for Halloween? I can't.

Can you think of spookier attire for Halloween? I can’t.

The other area where I am letting team Cougar down is on the drinking front. I confess I’m all Friday night Facebook talk but very little action. I managed  two glasses (and relished very sip) of this cab sav last night and I’ll match it with two tonight. I’m sure you’ll agree its a feeble effort.

I'm not consuming nearly enough.

I’m not consuming nearly enough.

 

There’s now way in Hades I’d pay for the services of a life coach so I am turning it over to you. Blog fans could you hack my ‘abulous life ?  How can I get back on track on my journey towards becoming a dirty old lady?

Is your husband a Victor Meldrew?

Farting? – At what stage in life does it peak?

Life hacks like or loathe?

Love

Mumabulous

* Yes the rocket is Dadabs handiwork. He is polymath.

 


22 Comments

A Banal Bucketlist

People spend hours of their lives that they wont get back  compiling lists of things they plan to do before they die. I find bucket lists intimidating, not to mention redundant. There’s no need to specify that you want to do things before you die.  Conversely there’s not much point in setting goals for after you die. Although I being the quirky individual that I am, aim to donate my corpse to medical science. I would love for medical students to use my cadaver in a prank (do med students still do that sort of thing?) so someone could at least get a laugh from my demise. Dadabs is fully aware of my wishes but argues that medical science would not want my body.  In this sense medical science is like most men I have encountered. A running theme in my life would continue into the great beyond.

Bucket lists are normally filled with lofty aims like not only scaling Everest but all eight of the world’s highest peaks, trekking bare foot to the South Pole and making it more than half way through  James Joyce’s Ulysses. These things are hard. They involve effort and commitment, traits that I lack in droves.

I dont know how I became an under achiever. It may have started when I considered that cliched question often asked by motivational types – “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?” I briefly assessed my list – run my own Hollywood casting agency, have one of my tunes performed by Weird Al Yankovic* and see the Cronulla Sharks win the NFL premiership. Reality bit hard as I recognised that failure is indeed an option.

Perhaps I should formulate a list of less ambitious goals. Humble achievements are still achievements right?

I present for your inspiration Mumab’s Banal Bucket List.

1) Win a Nobel Peace Prize for mediating between rival factions at the local P&C.

2) See the MacBeth movie starring Michael Fassbender on the big screen. This may not sound like much but negotiating a leave pass, finding a willing babysitter and convincing Dadabs to see a Shakespeare adaption involve tricky logistics. Getting all of this right is like landing the Rosetta space craft on the 67P/Churyumov–Gerasimenko comet. Its possible but its takes millions of man hours and the expertise of thousands.

What - I haven't Fassed you in months.

What ?- I haven’t Fassed you in months. But Oh My he is still hawt.

3) See Flight of the Conchords live – difficult for the reasons explained above but certainly worthwhile.

4) Slice an onion without feeling like I’ve been attacked with a can of mace.

The rings of evil

Rings of evil!

5) Similarly remove my shoes at the day’s end without being overcome by noxious fumes.

6) Experience a good hair day.

Selfie

Selfie

7) Leave the house without forgetting an essential item like a child’s sun hat or drink bottle.

Dont you forget about me.

Dont you forget about me.

8) Consume this award winning bottle of McGuigan’s sparkling wine in one session.

Can we do it in one hit?

Can we do it in one hit?

9) Brush my children’s hair without the neighbours calling DOCS about the screaming coming from our house.

10) Have Dadabulous do the laundry – twice in the same decade.

A husband free zone.

A husband free zone.

 

What’s on your Bucket List – banal or otherwise?

Love

Mumabulous

* You’re Gonna Hear Me Snore & Eye Of The Cougar are great candidates. See http://mum-abulous.com/2014/08/04/ive-been-thinking-about/

 

 

 

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22 Comments

Do You Ever?

As much as I like to kid myself that I am a quirky original who broke the proverbial mold, I doubt that my inner experience is unique. Do you ever

Look at your kids and think “How did my inferior genetics create something that gorgeous, funny and brilliant?”

I can guarantee that these two won’t be asking themselves such questions.

Dont you just wish they would Sod Orf

Nor these two.

They can Sod Orf too!

They can Sod Orf too!

Nor these two when they inevitably get around to breeding (which should be soon as George isn’t getting any younger)

These two can especially Sod Orf!

These two can especially Sod Orf!

On the topic of George -(which is something I know a number of you would like to be on). Did you observe the George/Amal nuptials with seething resentment? I just wanted to scream “Sod Orf! and stop being so sodding stylish and perfect you bastards!” Why cant Amal be pictured in her Panda slippers from K-mart or with a Lisa Simpson band aid hiding a broken fingernail. Is it because she has never entered K-mart in her life nor broken a finger nail?

FYI - its really difficult to photograph one's own finger.

FYI – its really difficult to photograph one’s own finger.

Do you linger on the toilet long after your essential business is finished just sitting like a vegetable?

Are you so tired that your bedroom fantasies don’t require crumpets to be satisfying – just a comfy mattress and crisp freshly laundered sheets will do?

The hunk is optional. The wine is NOT.

The hunk is optional. The wine is NOT**

Are you possessed by an overwhelming urge to drink at 10 am on a Monday morning? Does this urge persist until 5.01 pm on Friday evening?

Do you ever plan a digital detox? Your mind is full of idyllic visions of how  productive you’ll be when you’re not frittering away precious minutes on Facebook? Do you imagine life will be much richer when you’re fully in the moment instead of constantly scanning  your news feed? Do you look forward to a day when you’re not comparing yourself negatively with the fabbo lives of others on Facie and Instagram? It never happens right? We remain slaves to the screen.

The celebrity nude photo hacking scandal is a shocking. Do you wonder why 100s of celebrities are taking obscene selfies and storing them on the Cloud? Don’t these people receive enough admiration? Apparently they need to admire themselves as well.

Are you hoping that if Kyle Sandilands has uploaded any (ahem) compromising shots on to the Cloud, the black hats* leave them well alone. May they keep a wide berth of Kyle’s wide girth.

Does reading the Murdoch press make you feel alive? A bit of outrage invigorates the soul.

You make me feel alive.

You make me feel alive.

Do you tut tut with the best of them when successful women are objectified but find jokes about Tony Abbott’s speedos and satellite dish ears amusing? I do – I am not pure of heart.

Do you inwardly cringe when your seven year old belts out “So let me get you in your birthday suit. I’m gonna bring out the big balloons”? She’s  got no idea that its rude but the penny is bound to drop soonish. I’m not looking forward to that moment.

Have you given your kids the “talk”? I narrowly avoided it recently when P1 asked the question that every parent dreads. Team Abulous were all having lunch in a bustling Hunter Valley restaurant when she came out with “Muuum – Is Santa real?” Like a seasoned politician I tried to dodge the question by turning it back on her. “If Santa is not real how do all those presents get under the tree?”

“You put them there?” she fired straight back. Obviously my seven year old is too smart for these shenanigans. I had to think on my feet. “Now let me ask you something? Is believing in Santa fun?”

“Yes” she replied. “Would Christmas be as much fun without Santa?” I continued. “No” she admitted. “Well that’s your answer” End of discussion and points to Mumabulous. I was narrowly spared from confessing that Santa is a sham in front of my almost five year old. Not that P2 was listening. P2 was too busy whinging about the colouring sheet the wait staff had given her. She didn’t like the picture.  Truly I wonder how P2 puts up with the incompetence that surrounds her.

Can you relate to any of this?

Am I just saying what everyone else is thinking?

Love

Mumabulous

 

 

* A cool IT savy (not an oxymoron) way of saying bad guy hackers.

** I have no idea who this dude is but I cant complain too much.


42 Comments

Ultimate Solidarity

It seems to me that the issues that threaten to tear friends, family and even civilization as we know it asunder are often the most trifling. Technology has banished some of these pressing questions like Beta vs VHS or Holden vs Ford to the annals of history. Only a few die hards cling on to these ancient rivalries.  Other quandaries like The Beatles versus The Rolling Stones seem to spring eternal, gaining new life with every passing generation (unlike the Stones themselves – by what miracle is Keith Richards still alive?). Some conflicts are seasonal – arising only in September- like which NRL team is the most despicable  – Manly, The Broncos or the Bulldogs? The argy bargy reaches fever pitch over the October long weekend then blows over like a summer breeze (or a coke snorting footy groupie).

Oh to have been a fly on the wall that evening.

Oh to have been a fly on the wall that evening.

In modern society nothing is more divisive than confection. The war between M&Ms and Smarties rages on. Within the M&M camp there is a civil conflict between peanut and non peanut. Crunchie sadly appears to be winning its epic struggle with Violet Crumble. I risked ripping my family apart when I asked my brother in law (Uncle-abulous) about his preference for a new Tim Tam flavour. He suggested Turkish Delight! Argh! I did not know I had married into a family of culinary Philistines. I told him that Turkish Delight is an abuse of innocent chocolate. The answer that I was looking for was Cherry Ripe. Dont even get me started on Bounty. Its putrid.

Somebody call the police! Good chocolate is being abused!

Somebody call the police! Good chocolate is being abused!

Within my marriage I run a daily gauntlet of minor conflicts. I marvel that with as many as 2 out of 3 marriages lasting, the divorce rate is so low. The biggest source of tension in my relationship is the toast. I’ve been known to fancy pale and interesting men but when it comes to toast a rich shade of mid brown appeals. Dadabs thinks that by over cooking the toast I am going to give the whole family cancer. I  think that Dadabs is paranoid about cancer and if you are going to die anyway you may as well enjoy crunchy toast. Dadabs also believes that I overuse cleaning products and  exposing the whole family to carcinogenic chemicals. This only strengthens my point that he is paranoid about cancer. Why does he not understand the principle that the more cleaning agent you use the cleaner your surfaces will be. Clearly its a case of

You like potato and I like potahto
You like tomato and I like tomahto
Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto.
Let’s call the whole thing off

We are fortunate that social media provides a platform where we can mass debate. If Facebook is anything to go by (often its the only thing to go by) the question du jour is “To burqa or not to burqa?” Many Australian’s are preoccupied with discussing what they find more confronting – an Islamic woman in a burqa or Tony Abbott in Speedos. Of course I am being facetious. There’s a more serious discourse going on here about tolerance and the rights of the individual versus the need to keep Australia safe from terrorists. However I feel that the resulting furore has thrown a burqa over more pressing issues. For example I wish there’d been as much public discourse on whether we should again send troops to the Middle East.

Despite all the seemingly unresolvable conflict around us  I’ve observed green shoots of hope recently.   Australians of all color and creed are uniting in their condemnation of Blake the Bachelor. Apparently he proposed to one of the dolly birds (as he was contractually obligated to do) then bailed without explanation when the cameras stopped rolling. The chorus of “jack ass” is deafening and the verdict that his behaviour was “Not cool” is unanimous.  To me its proof that it is possible to set aside our differences and realize that the things that unite us are stronger than those that divide. All it takes is some trash TV. Who would have thunk that The Bachelor would lead to ultimate solidarity? Go Team Australia!

 

Let me hear you say "Jack Ass"

Let me hear you say “Jack Ass”

 

What are the great ongoing arguments in your life?

Do you feel that your disdain for Blake has brought you just a little bit closer to your fellow citizens?

Does the world need more trash TV?

Love

Mumabulous

PS: Time for me to confess that I did not watch The Bachelor. I didn’t watch Offspring either. Despite giving birth to two kids I sometimes wonder if I am infact a woman.


17 Comments

The Boss’ Wife

I see my ‘Abulous life as a fairy tale. Except that I’m more like one of the Ugly Sisters who having been thoroughly rejected by Prince Charming takes up with the Palace IT guy instead.  It turns out to be a remarkable twist of fate – almost as if the fairy Godmother was looking out for the ugly sister on the sly. The Palace IT guy has a mind like a diamond, abs of steel and a heart of gold. Through his esoteric knowledge, techno wizardry not to mention entrepreneurial flair he is highly sort after in the Kingdom. He does very nicely thank you very much.  Another analogy is a jaded thirty something Guinevere becoming bored with the macho posturing of Lancelot and Arthur and running off with Merlin. ( Only in this case Merlin’s magic is his mastery of C+ and other mystic tongues).

So the shoe didn't fit

So the shoe didn’t fit

 

Marry the Palace IT guy instead.

Marry the Palace IT guy instead.

 

So by whichever sorcery brought it about, Mumabulous finds herself in the position of being the boss’ wife. I suppose it confers a certain amount of status in a quaint pre-feminist sort of way.  It is something I did not expect and was certainly not groomed for (as my last post about language will attest). Luckily for me Dadabs is not Sir Schmooze-alot so I haven’t had to do much of the typical “executive” partner thing. I’ve avoided he conference and dinner party circuit. Dear Lord – could you imagine it? Mumabs making risque puns and honking was Dadabs tried to butter up clients at swish events?

Now that I’m actually going into the office I am expected to conduct myself with some decorum in front of the staff. It has been a challenge – as if getting dressed and getting to work wasn’t challenging enough. The first major problem is the way I address my husband. I try to call him by his given name but occasionally I lapse into “home speak” and refer to him as “Daddy”. (Clearly as parents we haven’t lost our identity). Its all to easy to address him as “darling” and even easier still to call him “&^%&#@”.

I try to keep the conversation about the kids to a minimum. However sometimes I find myself regaling Dadabs with tales of my epic struggles to get the kids ready for school & daycare – complete with my own interpretation of their interpretation of the latest Katy Perry song. I don’t think the Gen Y staff really need to hear or indeed see any of this. It might put them off parenthood and the country needs more smart people to breed.

 

But I'm nowhere near as embarrassing as the office Dalek.

But I’m nowhere near as embarrassing as the office Dalek.

 

Most of all I’ve got to watch the seriously bad puns. I embarrassed Dadabs a few weeks ago. He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh and muttered ” Some clients want me to wave a magic wand”.  To which I said “Oh Daddy there’s magic in your wand”. “Daggers” is the best description of the death stare I got after that clanger. He mouthed “Shut up, shut up”. Another time I had to send an invoice to a gentleman whose compound surname had “bush” in it.  I said  “that sounds like a porn name”. The staff member who was sitting nearest at the time chuckled. I dont know if he actually found it funny or he was just being polite to the boss’ wife.

Could you imagine Cinderella acting that way in front of her Prince? Nah me neither. Would I want to swap places with her? Not on your life. Ugly sisters rock!

How do you handle work events with your spouse?

Love

Mumabulous

Roger med


20 Comments

The Morning Person

The clock radio read 6.00am when she sprang out of bed full of vim and vigor. She was greeted by a view of the rising sun, a luminous mango colored orb hovering gracefully over the glassy ocean from her bedroom window. She slid on a pair of jeans noting that they were feeling slightly looser around the hips and wandered downstairs. There her husband stood in front of the sink. Warm, soapy water caressed his muscular forearms as he scrubbed the last of the breakfast dishes. Apparently her seven  and four year girls had both eagerly gobbled up their Weet-bix and fruit without complaint. Having shunned the morning cartoons they were now playing together happily in the family room. The tune of happy giggling made for soothing background music.

Not Dadabs but close enough.

Not Dadabs but close enough.

Mumabs took the opportunity to escape and headed out into the glorious morning sunshine to her local high street.  She ordered a large skinny cappuccino at her favorite hipster cafe and made mildly flirtatious banter with the handsome strawberry blonde barrista. His resemblance to Tom Hiddleston was uncanny she marveled. If that were not invigorating enough, the first sip of milky ambrosia brought her fully to life. She even contemplated jogging back home but dismissed that thought as a momentary lapse in sanity.

When she arrived back at Chez Abulous she found her computer unoccupied. Her seven year old had not commandeered it to watch Total Drama Island. She sat at her uncluttered desk. It was remarkably clear of kids artwork and general debris. In this zen like space she got in a good 10 minutes of uninterrupted social media time.

Breakfast was also a leisurely affair. She savored every mouthful of Bircher muesli with grated pink lady apple whilst scrolling through Facebook on her phone. (Which nobody snatched from her in order to take innumerable butt selfies)

Then she attended to her morning ablutions without an audience. Happily her daughters were starting to appreciate the value of bathroom privacy. Her hot shower was particularly luxurious for not being punctuated by screams of “Muuuuuuuuum, Muuuuuuum”. Indeed she relished being able to stand in the cubicle serenely contemplating Michael Fassbender the day ahead without the interruption of a small person attempting to bash the bathroom door down. Apparently this morning no one urgently needed a piece of fruit cut up – or if they did it could at least wait for five minutes.

 

A place for quiet contemplation.

A place for quiet contemplation.

When she emerged clean and refreshed her girls were brushing their teeth unassisted. Her seven year old got dressed without detouring via the computer to watch yet another episode of Total Drama Island. The delightful first grader put on her fresh underwear and school tunic without jumping on the bed or performing a rousing  rendition of Katy Perry’s Firework. The proverbial icing on the cake was the manner in which Miss 7 donned her white cotton school socks without complaining about lumps and itchiness.

Meanwhile the four year old had eschewed her normal choice of onsie or swimsuit and  dressed herself in a daycare appropriate outfit complete with sensible shoes. Mumabulous almost heard the singing of angels – Hallelujah!  Perhaps it was just Jeff Buckley on the radio.

Oh my - sequins!

Oh my – sequins!

 

Then she woke up. Reality freakin’ bites!

dishes med

 

This is what I live with.

This is what I live with.


30 Comments

Gimme Some Lovin’

If you are an aficionado of blogs and all things social media you will be aware of the epic shindig that just happened on the Gold Coast. Doubtless you know who wore what, who hung out with whom and are able to quote every drop of inspirational ambrosia that spilled from convenor Darren Rowse’s lips. The Pro-blogger event is meant to be a gathering of the who’s who of the blogeratti but this year it wasn’t. This year Mumabulous’ conspicuous absence cast a dark shadow over the hallowed halls of the QT hotel.

The entire she-bang was much the poorer for omitting my session on adding  humor to your blog through the strategic use of the word “honk”.  As I am a generous soul I will give you a small taste.

Dirk Digler for parliament. Now that’s what I call an honorable member! HONK!

A well placed visual for comic effect.

A well placed visual for comic effect.

I tell you he won’t be the biggest dirk in the joint. HONK!

And the word play keeps coming. HONK! HONK!

BTW - Its September 1 - Boregust is over.

Dirk Digler and Amber Waves in Boogie Nights. BTW – Its September 1 – Boregust is over.

Cheekiness aside, I  have been subjected to  a constant flow of shiny happy bloggers having the time of their lives through my Facebook feed. It brings back the fragile emotions of my High School days. That Goth chick not invited to the party with the cool kids – AGAIN. It sux to be me.

This is me not going to ProBlogger

This is me not going to ProBlogger

The stupid thing is I don’t feel ostracised by the blog community. As I sit alone at my desk in rainy Sydney, a glass of shiraz in hand, I am feeling the love of the blog world. It’s all because of Liebster.

LL

Liebster  is basically a chain letter that circulates the blogosphere.  Bloggers answer 10 questions about themselves then create another 10 questions for 10 fresh bloggers. The whole thing expands  exponentially until everyone in the universe is touched.

Over the past few weeks I was lucky enough to be tagged by these lovely ladies.

Kirsten & Co 

http://kirstenandco.com/

You Learn Something New Everyday (affectionately known as YLSNED)

http://emhawker.blogspot.com.au/

Hugzilla (affectionately known as the anti-thermomix)

http://hugzillablog.com/

 And I got a Versatile Bloggers Award from Pinky Poinker – same stuff, different format

http://www.pinkypoinker.com.au/

 Unfortunately I cant do justice to them all as answering 40 questions would make cumbersome reading. Instead I will stick to the first three questions from each.

First cab off the rank is Kirsten:

What was the last thing you ate?  

This afternoon Dadabulous recreated the vanilla slice of his child hood. It was a retro concoction complete with sao biscuit crust. The fancy pants even drizzled chocolate over it. More interestingly the last thing I drank was a cheeky glass of Wolf Blass Founders Selection Shiraz.

Vanilla Slice Slice Baby!

Vanilla Slice Slice Baby!

What’s your favourite colour?

I love the green of money and the pink of my pink diamond engagement ring (you need a microscope to see them but they are there.)

Photographic proof

Photographic proof

Summer or Winter?

I can answer this by saying young men don’t stride up my local high street in their bathers during winter.

Next up is YSNED:

What’s your favourite chocolate flavour?

Generally speaking if its not over 70% cacoa it doesn’t rate.  Mind you have you tried Lindt Creme Brulee? Oh My. If the essence of Fassbender were chocolatified this would be the result.

Oh my!

Oh my!

What song do you play to get you in the mood for a party?

“Its raining men” by the Weather Girls. It gets me seriously pumped for a long afternoon of pass the parcel and musical statues.

What’s the funniest/strangest way you’ve ever injured yourself?

On a first date I feel off a bar stool and hit my head on the way back up. Luckily for me the date was unchivalrous and laughed. NB:  It wasn’t Dadabulous.

Your turn Hugzilla:

What was your favourite subject at school?

History – Bonnet dramas are hawt.

How easily do you wake up when your alarm goes off?

Not very.

You could never miss a single episode of which TV show?

GAME OF THRONES!  If you skip an episode you return to find your favorite characters are dead!

Finally Pinky has asked me to relate seven things you might not know about me. In the interests of symmetry I’ll keep it to three.

1. I’ve just done a 2 day course in Illustrator hence the new look blog. Its what happens when amateurs are let loose on the Creative Cloud.

2. Whenever Dadabs chastises the girls for joking about poos and wees I burst out  laughing.

3. Nikki Minaj has confused me. I have spent all my life thinking that my size 10 butt was too big. Now it seems it is nowhere near big enough. I cant win!

 

By now anyone who’s ever blogged has been Liebstered so its time to call an official end to this.

 

Did you go to Pro-blogger and have an absolute blast? Go on rub it in.

Are you feeling loved by the blog community?

Mumabulous out.