Colourful Language

This week Blockbusting author Stephen King was interviewed for The Atlantic. In this discussion about the dark art of teaching writing, he revealed the phrases which give him a  proverbial dose of the shites.   For King nothing clears  (a-hem) writers blockage faster than the expressions “Some people say”, or “Many believe,” or “The consensus is”.  He also despises IMHO, YOLO, and LOL. The piece has done multiple laps around the world has triggered spirited discussion on social media.  I’ve been following it was interest because in my grumpy old age nothing  gives me more enjoyment than an orgy of “I hate that too”. (Except perhaps a light, crisp rose, a block of over 75% cacao Lindt and the spectacle of shirtless sword fighting Vikings).


Back in the day when I wrote about the stock market for a living, I was guilty of overusing the term “consensus” as was every equity analyst in town. There  was a consensus about the use of consensus. It got so bad that one of our dealers chided the research team about “sitting around the campfire of consensus”.  We also regularly dropped clangers like “scalable business model”, “leverage”, “synergies”, “share price catalysts”,  “the investment story” and (shudder) “going forward”.  No doubt had Stephen King been present at a stockbrokers meeting he would have let Cujo loose on the lot of us.

The consensus is Cujo's coming for YOU!

The consensus is Cujo’s coming for YOU!

Now that I’ve tumbled off the career trajectory, I’m still keen to irritate Stephen King and others through the use of IMHO. In my humble opinion, its more efficient than writing IMNSHO (in my not so humble opinion).  I’ve never exercised YOLO because I can imagine its what Justin Bieber said when he crashed that Ferrari. And even at my advanced age I know that LOL is naff. I prefer emoticons when I’m LOLing. ;-) (I’m not trying to argue that its cool).



Anyhow reading through the lively reaction to King’s comments, there appears to be a consensus about hating the term “going forward” or “moving forward”. Similarly many believe those who like punctuate every sentence with the word “like” should be like shot.  Also I was LMFAOing at the widespread distaste for abbreviations. I’ve got a few of my own to add to the linguistic stink list.

1) “The magic happens outside your comfort zone”.  The terms “magic happens” and “outside your comfort zone” are annoying enough on their own. Combining them is taking wankery to a whole new level.  If this sentence is used with a diagram illustrating where the “magic happens” my irritation goes off the scale.



My irritation depicted graphically. It's off the chart.

My irritation depicted graphically. It’s off the chart.


2) “On the same page”. It would have to be an excessively large page for us both to fit.

3) “Change the game”. Life is like Monopoly – some people buy up half the board and others pay rent. I’d rather play Catch n’ Kiss. Lets change the game.

4) “Hit the ground running”. I’d rather not hit the ground at all. It sounds painful.

5) “Think outside the square”. What’s wrong with the square? Its hip to be square.

6) “It is what it is”.  A redundant expression if ever I have heard one.

On the other hand, much of the old style Australian idiom has gone the way of the dodo and I would like to see it back a come back (Much like Christ is touted to do – any day now). My family were always (a-hem) colourful with their use of language and it baffles me that some of their sayings have dropped out of (or never made it into) the common parlance. For example when thirsty my father would say something along the lines of

“Bren I tell you. I am drier than a nun’s nasty”.

When doubtful of someone’s intelligence he’d say

“That guy wouldn’t know if his arse is on fire” or alternatively

“That guy wouldn’t know his arse from his elbow”.

Not knowing that your arse is on fire is a modern epidemic.

Not knowing that your arse is on fire is a modern epidemic.


My personal favorite was reserved for describing a person who was a bad -

“He couldn’t hit pussy in the arse with a plate of wheat”.

I wont tell you how he described bad drivers, save to say it involved digits and orifices.

My brother inherited my father’s interesting turn of phrase. He has been known to muse deeply about the comedic value of farts in elevators. However my favorite quote from him is one he uses when an issue is of little concern to him.

” I couldn’t give an f%^king rats ring in raspberry juice”.

Why that gem didn’t enter the mainstream dialect I will never know.

I guess this goes to show that whilst you can take me out of the Sutherland Shire and transplant into an affluent area you’ll never make me classy. Its just not in the DNA. And seriously blog fans would you want me any other way.

What sayings make you cringe? And which ones should be used more often?


LOL (as in lots of love)


PS: Dadabs gave me a years subscription to Photoshop for my birthday. He is delighted that I’m using it to set fire to Nicki Minaj’s arse.





Wife Fail?

If you are a wife and a mother you’d be forgiven for feeling somewhat picked upon of late. If the media is anything to go by we collectively aren’t getting much right.

To start with psychologist Dr Michael Carr Gregg recently released (and is marketing the bejeepers out of ) a new parenting guide – Strictly Parenting which wags at stern finger and labels us “crap”.

Shame on you - parents!

Shame on you – parents!


Then a young Personal Trainer by the name of Allan Trinh tried to spruike his fitness business by accusing new mothers of being fat, lazy and using their kids as an excuse not to prioritize their appearance. Great – now we’re not only crap at parenting, we’re fat, lazy eyesores.

To top it all off we’re apparently neglecting our husbands – or so the celebrity escort Samantha X argues in her new book. If you don’t have a TV set or access to the interwebs you may not have heard about this woman. Let me elaborate. Samantha X aka Amanda Goff is a former magazine editor turned high class call girl. In a logical step she married the two strands of her career and has just published a book.  “Hooked” is the  salacious tale of her double life as a school tuck shop Mum by day and $800 per hour sex worker by night. ( I can’t imagine any of our local canteen volunteers running such a line but you never know….)

The tabloid press has picked up the story and run with it because its text book click bait. Samantha/Amanda has spread herself absolutely everywhere (figuratively speaking of course) in brazen flurry of self promotion. She’s copped an avalanche of slut shaming for her efforts but I have a begrudging admiration for her chutzpah. The phenomena of call girls becoming minor celebrities and penning best selling tell alls is nothing new. Back in the 1800s London society was titilated by the memoirs of high profile courtesans such as Harriette Wilson and Cora Pearl.

The scandalous Miss Harriette Wilson

The scandalous Miss Harriette Wilson

Ms X puts her own 21st century spin her situation by calling herself a “naked therapist”.  Apparently she spends as much time sipping tea and listening to her clients as she does swinging from the chandeliers.   She notes that many of  the blokes feel neglected by their wives and complain about not being “heard”. Hmm. My first thought was that not many of them would be (ahem) ballsy enough to say that they are selfish pricks who are simply bored with their perfectly lovely wives.   My second thought however was an irrational pang of guilt. I wondered if I was giving Dadabs enough love and attention.   I doubt it was her intention but Sam X’s  observations suggested (to me at least) that this was just another way in which modern women are “failing”.

Its reminiscent of sex therapist Bettina Ardnt infamous comments a few years back. Bettina argued that many men (and some women too) were suffering in sexless marriages. The solution was for partner with the lower libido (usually the woman) to lie back and take one for the team. I’d suggest this is happening in most marriages already. Sam X’s musings seem to run deeper than wives feigning sleep or headaches however. There must be some serious disconnection happening if these guys are forking out $800 per hour for a cuppa and a chat with a happy ending?

Its easy to see how it happens. Between raising kids and juggling the housework, paid work and everything else women can often feel too mentally and emotionally drained to “look after” their partners. Tending to the relationship becomes another item on a soul crushing “to do” list.  Couples simply drift apart.

What do you think? Does Sam X have a point? Are women neglecting their relationships or is it just a lame excuse of the part of the paying clientele?

Do you feel that the media is constantly shaming woman and playing upon our feelings of failure?

How do you keep the connection in your relationship?



PS: This post is in no way intended to “slut shame” Ms X.  Women like her would not be taking to prostitution if there wasn’t a huge demand for it.


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.


Insulted By Experts

There are many things that nobody tells you before you embark on the journey of motherhood. One of them is the sheer indignity of it all. Throughout  pregnancy you’re poked and prodded willy nilly by strangers (and not in a good night clubby sort of way). Then there’s the birth itself – nuff said. After that you spend a couple of years smeared in food debris and worse. Finally your children learn to speak and that’s when humiliation really starts to kick in.

My girls are now 7 and 4. They are really quite verbose. If I were to put a positive spin on it, I’d say that they were both remarkably articulate. They both have a talent for flinging insults which surpasses their tender years. The downside is that their advanced A-grade trash talk is inevitably directed at me.  P2 ‘s development is particularly impressive for a four year old. Before hitting school she’s mastering the art of multi-tasking. She can move seamlessly between unconstructive criticism and bull shit with all the skill of a teenager.

Take this exchange for example.

P2: Muuuuuuuum. I want to wear my pink onsie.

M: Its in the wash darling. You’ll have to choose something else.

P2: You are stupider than I thought.

M: Excuse me! You don’t talk to your Mum like that.

P2: I said you were Jupiter.

Nice save P2. I could not be prouder.

Here’s another example where there’s no bullshit but plenty of attitude.

P2: Muuuuuum. Wipe my bum!

M: Just a minute I’m just helping your sister.

P2: Muuuuuum. I said wipe my bum!

M: Be patient.

P2: You are the worst Mum in the world!

M: Excuse me. You don’t speak to me like that. I am a lovely mother.

P2: Whatever! Blah, blah blah!


Dont let her angelic looks fool you...

Dont let her angelic looks fool you…

The pointy end of their wit is reserved for my cooking. OK – I’m not Nigella or Maggie Beer.  However I am not too bad in the kitchen. My husband has survived ten years of my cooking and no one in the household  is underweight.  Nevertheless the kitchen in Chez Abs barely gets a 1 hat rating. After producing yet another gourmet meal complete with fresh herb garnishing P1 (the 7 year old) heaped praise upon Dadabs.

P1: Daddy you should go one MasterChef.

M: How about me? Should I go on Master Chef too?

P1: No you are not a good cooker.

P2: Daddy is a better cooker than you.

Mind you this type of criticism is mild by P2’s standards. Meals are frequently met by a much more scathing. “Its yucky. There’s no way I am going to eat it” or “That tastes like 100 bums” and most colorfully “It tastes like a 1000 bugs crawling in my underwear”.

Seriously! Rewind the clock back 40 years – if I were to have given my parents that kind of shite I would have received a swift whack on the bum for my efforts.

It shouldn’t surprise you that according to my girls I smell. P1 is at pains to tell me that my butt is not “eco-friendly”.  Perhaps someone should slap a carbon tax on me. Nicki Minaj’s by contrast blocks out the sun and slows down global warming.

Meanwhile in world news:

Suits you.

In a stunning boon for sexual equality President Hawt’Bama held a recent press conference which set social media ablaze. Commentary focused upon his taupe suit rather than anything he actually said.


But is it tan, beige, bone, off white or ivory?

I think he looks rather fetching. Not everyone can rock a light coloured suit without looking like Richie Benaud but I think President Crumpet wears it well. It harmonizes with his youthful complexion. What was he talking about again? Oh that’s right just inconsequential issues like policy on Iraq and Syria. Back to the suit. If  light coloured threads are good enough for James Bond (several James Bonds infact) they’re good enough for the leader of the free world.

Roger Moore - a man in tan.

Roger Moore – a man in tan.



Yes Timothy Dalton tan too!

Yes Timothy Dalton tan too!

This is technically grey but when it comes to Sean Connery any excuse will do.

This is technically grey but when it comes to Sean Connery any excuse will do.


Daniel Craig - Oooh my!

Daniel Craig – Oooh my!

Are your kids giving you attitude?

Where do you stand on the tan suit?





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.


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 


You Learn Something New Everyday (affectionately known as YLSNED)


Hugzilla (affectionately known as the anti-thermomix)


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


 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.



Hope For Humanity

We interrupt your regular programming with a post that is more than half serious.

2014 has been a weird year. For me personally its been OK  but for the world at large (to exercise a classic Aussie idiom) its been a Barry Crocker shocker.

2014 has been a Barry.

2014 has been a Barry.


There seems to be a pervasive sense of doom. On reflection a sense of trepidation has been part of the back drop of our lives. In the 70s and 80s we all fretted about the Cold War, nuclear annihilation, petrol prices and the generally screwed state of the economy. As the decades progressed we came to dread the terrorist threat, climate change, petrol prices and the generally screwed state of the economy.

This year’s unfortunate tsunami of bad shite seems to have heightened the public’s foreboding. Its not only my perception. Its a sentiment that has been echoed through the blogo/FB/Twitter-sphere and even the mainstream media. Case in point – this recent discussion on ABC 702


Over the past few months we’ve seen the humanitarian disasters in Gaza, Iraq and Syria, famine in South Sudan, the ebola outbreak (yikes) in West Africa and the MH17 incident. The tragic passing of Robin Williams was like the cherry on top of this shitey layer cake. Then when we all thought things really couldn’t get any worse, Michelle Bridge’s 12WBT started up again. Batten the hatches – It’s Fit-ageddon on Facebook people! (Woooooo, Woooooo, Woooooo – facetious remark alert)

All of this has led me (and the folk at 702) to wonder whether the world is getting worse. I think the truth of the matter is that the world has always been pretty crappy. I mean – put up your hand if you would like to journey back 100 years to 1914 when that orgy of death, destruction and general mayhem known as World War 1 was just kicking off. No takers?

Yet despite all the horror in our past and our present you don’t have to look to far to see what is good, uplifting and downright amazing in our species. I am an optimist when it comes to humanity. People’s ingenuity blows my mind on a daily basis.

Human beings have

  • Mapped what the universe looked like just after the big bang (I’m talking about the beginning of space/time not the TV comedy)
Its not a funky Easter Egg its the young universe.

Its not a funky Easter Egg its the young universe.

  • Broken the atom down into its smallest components ( the same people hired Prof Brian Cox – double thumbs up)
  • Sent a space craft beyond the solar system
  • Come close to ridding the world of scourges such as small pox and polio and are progressively kicking malaria in the butt.
  • Invented the Tim Tam and all the variations thereof.
Can a species who invented Tim Tams be completely without hope?

Can the species that invented Tim Tams be completely without hope?

Over the past month alone a few good news items have crossed my radar and they make my spirits soar.

Mind Walker

A team at the University of Brussels is currently testing an exoskeleton that allows completely paralyzed people to walk using the power of thought. It sounds like science fiction but the team have developed a way to read an individual’s brain activity using and EEG cap and translate these electronic signals into commands for the robotic suit. The device needs to be streamlined but is closer to being market ready than alternative therapies. It has the potential to give millions of people their lives back.

A graphic of what the mind walker will look like.

A graphic of what the mind walker will look like.

Smart Contact Lenses

Google and pharmaceutical giant Novartis have teamed up to create a futuristic contact lense which can help diabetics. The smart lense constantly monitors glucose levels in their tear fluid and transmits the information wirelessly back to a mobile device. When this goes mainstream diabetics wont have to endure several invasive and inconvenient blood prick tests each day.  Its a fantastic start but the smart lense has the potential to do much more. It is hoped that down the track the lense will be able to detect other illnesses – such as glaucoma and even cancer. Alternatively it is mooted as a method of drug delivery.

Ta dah! This contact lense is smarter than a 5th grader.

Ta dah! This contact lense is smarter than a 5th grader.

Moving into Sci-fi territory other research groups are looking into using the smart contact lense as a way of enhancing our natural vision. For instance to allow people to scan in on very small objects like a built in micro scope and to give us night vision. The Avengers may be out of a job if this keeps up.


The excitement which has been steadily building within the nerd herd will reach a crescendo this November when human kind is scheduled to land a craft on a comet for the first time. Whilst Bruce Willis made landing on a rogue asteroid look easy this has been a mammoth operation. The Rosetta probe was launched in 2004. It has traveled 6.4 billion kilometres (including 5 laps of the sun) to catch up with the comet.  Currently Rosetta is about 100 km from its prey and will sneak up gradually before hitting pay dirt in November. The achievement of the engineering involved can not be under estimated. It is not so much as looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack rather than “finding a speck of dust in a big city.”*

Rosetta swoops past Mars in 2006

Rosetta swoops past Mars in 2006

There’s a very valid argument that we shouldn’t be spending so much on space exploration when there’s so many serious issues to tackle here on earth. Nevertheless the mind boogles and the heart leaps at just what humans can achieve. Surely a species that can do all of this can’t be completely without hope?

Do you feel the world is getting worse? Where do you look for inspiration?



Gerhard Schwehm, scientist in a European project that launched a space probe that swung alongside a comet last week after a decade-long, 4 billion-mile chase (The Associated Press, Wednesday)


How NOT to Blog

As I have said before this blog is differentiated by what it is NOT rather than what it is. Here is a list of things I will NOT write about in any great depth (Not that I write about anything in any great depth).

1)  F%*king Thermomix

Yawn. I fail to see how any kitchen appliance no matter how marvelous can generate so much excitement. I might be vaguely interested in a piece of kitchenware if it allowed me to toss in a handful of sunshine and lollipops, press a button and extract a fresh Michael Fassbender. Sadly to my (admittedly limited) knowledge, Thermomix as awesome as it is can’t do that yet. (Yes Melbourne Mum, (http://melbournemum.com/) I can read your mind – you’d whip up a tasty Eggs Benedict Crumpetbatch if such a device existed. Methinks a future post on Thermomix crumpets awaits. I will call it Hawtomix).

2) My Exercise Regime

This is a moot point because it currently does not exist. Nevertheless I may get back to the gym and if/when it happens do you really want to hear about how many ab crunches I did on the fit ball? On the other hand I’m happy to tell you about the entertaining sights I encounter there. I could also give you step by step instructions on how to cop a perve whilst working out but common decency forbids it.

You'd never suspect it but this lady is coping a sneaky perve.

You’d never suspect it but this lady is copping a sneaky perve.

3) Personal Growth

I have experienced considerable personal growth over the last few months. Its just a shame that’s its concentrated on the upper thighs – see point number 2.

4) How To Dress Like Nina Proudman

I have nothing against the way Nina Proudman dresses. On the contrary I think she looks fabulous but I’m not onboard with the interweb’s current preoccupation with getting the Nina look the morning after Offspring airs.  If however you need advice on how to look like a balmy old bat this blog is for YOU.

Take that Nina Proudman! $10 Panda Slippers from K-mart.

Take that Nina Proudman!
$10 Panda Slippers from K-mart.

5) Gardening

If I had a Lady Chatterly’s Lover type tale to tell I might blog about the gardening. How I would wax lyrical about dirty hoes and the like (HONK). Alas there are no (ahem) rakes in my life to speak of.

I have raved ad nausea about Dadabs stellar career as a software developer and all round whiz kid. Did you know he is also an accomplished hacker? He successfully hacked into our hedge over the weekend. That’s the extent of the gardening action at Chez Abs.

This is NOT a gardening blog!

This is NOT a gardening blog!

6) Creative Table Settings

If a picture tells 1,000 words – here’s a 2,000 word dissertation on the subject of creative table settings.

Where's The Awesome Fun?

Where’s The Awesome Fun?

sweet brown


7) Knitting

When I talk about big needles playing with wool is not what I have in mind. HONK!

Oh my! They're huge!

Oh my! They’re huge!

8) Crafting In General

When you have primary school aged children crafting is a necessary evil. As you are probably all too well aware Book Week and the obligatory  Book Character Parade is upon us. This means that mothers ( I would say parents but lets face it – its usually the Mums who get saddled with this) everywhere have to flex a bit of creative muscle and come up with a costume. This year my P1 is not content to go with a traditional fairy tale heroine. No Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Alice in Wonderland or even Tinkerbell for her – all options that would have allowed me to purchase a bog standard outfit from K-mart. No my P1 wants to go as one of the very hip and modern Rainbow Fairies.

This one to be precise.

Glitter fairy

Oh my – this character would be in high demand on Sydney’s Mardi Gras night. I think you’ll all agree that I “nailed it.”


This is NOT a crafting blog!

This is NOT a crafting blog!


After excluding the items on the above list I have little recourse but to blog about the pop culture, my husband  very, very occasionally the political situation and more occasionally still – science.

What topics are forbidden in your little corner of the interwebs?



NB: I have leaned heavily on the Hugzilla blog regarding points #1 and #4. This makes me a leaner, not a lifter and hence a scourge upon our nation according to Joe Hockey.