Impure Thoughts

Its a good thing that most of us, at least when sober, have a filter that stops us from blurting out whatever happens to be on our minds. Today my filter is more like a sieve.

Kids craft

Its a marvelous thing to encourage and develop creativity in your child by doing craft activities with them. Its just a darn shame that what the kids produce is often such complete shite.

Pure craftsmanship.

Pure craftsmanship.

Chez Abulous is bursting at the seams with this kind of junk. The girls of course think this stuff is wonderful and I haven’t the heart to file their handiwork in the wheelie bin – yet.

Party down

I’m not sure what possessed us to make a paper mache pinata from scratch for P1’s impending 7th birthday party. I suppose we thought it was a wholesome craft activity that would encourage and develop creativity in our girls. One well worth the shite result at the end.

A masterpiece

A masterpiece?*

P1 is well chuffed by the way the pig (yes it is meant to be a pig) turned out and P2 wants one for her 5th birthday party in November. Only P2 wants us to buy her a pinata because “it’s quicker and it looks better”. Not only does P2 look like me, she thinks like me. Its a dangerous combination. Lock up your sons!

Rough Play

Dobbing has reared its ugly head in Chez Abulous. P1 took great delight in informing me that her sister was making Spiderman bash the Barbies with a miniature spatula. Of course we will not tolerate violent play in this household and P2 was promptly told off for “not being very nice”.  Nevertheless I thought to myself that those plastic biatches had it coming.

50 Shades of Spidey.

50 Shades of Spidey.

The joy of reading.

Dr Seuss is lauded for his contribution to children’s literacy but not for his contribution to parent’s sanity. My heart drops a little every time I am presented with this as bed time reading.

No but I can say &^% *&%$!!!!!

I am all for twisting my tongue but not around passages such as

Which beast is best?…Well, I thought at first
that the East was best and the West was worst.
Then I looked again from the west to the east
and I liked the beast on the east beach least.

No Theodor Seuss Geisel I can’t say that but I can say “Sod the Sod Orf!”.

Size Matters

I’ve come to the conclusion that size is far important to men than it is to women. Case it point, my husband thinks our TV is too small. Infact he is embarrassed to reveal it in front of his friends (some of which are extraordinarily well endowed televisually. Some of them have whoppers).

When it comes to screens size matters.

When it comes to screens size matters.

I argued that our television was perfectly formed and that anything more than a wall unit full is a waste. Dadabulous is unconvinced. He is so bothered by the issue he is seriously contemplating a surgical solution. He wants to adjust the wall unit (at considerable expense) and implant a larger screen. Men!


It’s politically incorrect to admit it but I spent Dadabulous’ hard earned money on these shoes.

Because I am in luuuurve.

Because I am in luuuurve.

I did not need them. I have no idea when I will get to wear them or even if I can still walk on a serious heel. Still they are the fabulous! I luff them.

I quit sugar! ( Hahahahahahaha – I almost had you there)

I was cruising down the aisle at a local Colesworths humming to myself “Hello I love you. Wont you tell me your name” – which Gen Y whippersnappers may or may not know is a classic tune by The Doors.

They were pretentious gits really - hawt though!

They were pretentious gits really – hawt though!

Anyhow imagine my surprise when I got a response in the confectionery section.

Oh my! You had me at Hello.

Oh my! You had me at Hello.

Its a fine thing for everyone when Lindt chocolate gets conversational. We’ve developed quite a rapport Caramel Brownie and I.

The ultimate First World Issue

The ultimate first world problem is the fact that when it comes to ice cream there is simply too much choice. How many hours have you whittled away in the freezer section of the the super market searching for a 1 litre tube of plain vanilla. Not vanilla with bourbon and hazelnut or elder flower or eye of newt – just simple vanilla for a cheeky spoonful here and there. Alas pretty much every flavor variant in existence except for vanilla. Homer Hudson used to produce a heavenly concoction appropriately named “Vanilla Nirvana” and no it had nothing to do with the band. That seems to have gone the way of the Violet Crumble bar which ironically can still be found in ice cream form.  A dude named Harry has gotten in on the act. He has developed a range of classic desserts in a tub.

Oh my! Harry!

Oh my! Harry!

If he ever put out a plain vanilla, I’d marry Harry.

What’s been on your mind?



* The pinata has since been painted.




Why I Write

Clear the decks blog fans because a big name is about to drop.

You’ve probably heard about the “Why I write” blog hop. Its origins are difficult to pin point but much like Errol Flynn’s (ahem) love it has been spread far and wide. Now it’s my turn.

Legend has it he was well practiced with his cross bow.

Oh My! There’s a legendary cross bow! (Not to mention the green tights)

I was tagged by Mrs Woog. CLANK!!!!!!!! (That was the sound of the name dropping). When Mrs Woog offers you a baton, you grab it and you run like hell to the finish line.

Therefore I give you a fascinating discourse on my illustrious writing career thus far.

What I’m Working On

Many bloggers tell you that they are working on a book. I am working on an entire set of books. They are called the accounts to my husband’s business. Its a riveting saga of international credit card sales, monthly salaries, business expenses, BAS, bank reconciliations and my husband’s spending at Bunnings. The series is utterly engrossing to myself, Dadabulous, our accountant and the tax man. To the world at large – perhaps not so much.

I don’t speak of it but there’s a little Barbra Cartland inside of me. It would be best for everyone if she stayed there. HONK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Waiting to burst forth from Mumabulous.

Waiting to burst forth from Mumabulous.

I have in mind – a bodice ripping romance novel. (Well I have the casting of the inevitable movie version in mind a little too often)*. Inspired by Horatio Horn(y)blower, it is a salacious tale of lust, betrayal and hawt men in britches on the high seas.

Oh my! Talk about rockin' the boat!

Oh my! Talk about rockin’ the boat!

I’d love to call it “A Young Woman’s Passage” but that would be leaning to heavily on Julian Clary. I doubt he’d stand for it.

JC med


 How Does My Writing Differ From Others In My Genre?

If you are one of the happy few who have been following Mumabs the answer is simple – the crumpet! This blog has a keener appreciation of the male form than any other in the “Mummy blogging” scene. This blog is differentiated by what it doesn’t have. There are no recipes or helpful hints. Nor is there anything emotionally resonant or  inspirational – unless you are inspired by this sort of thing.

ZOMG! Shirtless sword play !I be inspired!

ZOMG! Shirtless sword play!  I be inspired!

However it makes up for what it lacks in truly awful word play and double entendres.  Occasionally I lift my mind above the gutter and discuss things like science, politics and pop culture.

Why Do I Write

As a youngster I fantasized about  becoming a writer of fiction. Then I trained as an equity analyst and dreams came true. I had the great honor of perpetuating the mythology of the epoch (mid 2000s) – like the mining boom would be “stronger for longer” and “coal seam gas is good investment”.

Nowadays I view my writing as a community service. There are so many middle class mothers out there consumed with the tedium of raising kids, doing housework, balancing family life with paid employment, paying mortgages etc. These unsung heroes deserve an eyeful of steamin’ hawt crumpet and that is what I provide.  If there were a Nobel Prize for blogging I would a certain front runner. I’m sure Tony Abbott will draw from his suppository of wisdom and declare me a Dame.

Where the magic happens. Oh Ah - I have been sprung looking at obscene material again.

Where the magic happens. Oh Ah – I’ve been sprung looking at obscene material again.

How Does My Writing Process Work

Or not work as the case may be. Usually a smart arse comment will pop into my head – something like “Kim Kardashian has an arse-iscistic personality disorder”**. I will try to construct a post around that. On other occasions my husband will say something quirky or funny and I’ll feel compelled to lampoon him online. Sometimes I find myself feeling strongly about a political issue (like the recent Federal budget) and I’ll attempt to put something half sensible down about it.

I usually swish ideas around in my head for a few days before hitting the keyboard. Then I find that I can bash out 700 words quite quickly. The image sourcing takes more time but its a labor of love.

And now I’d like to pass the baton over to two lovely ladies whose wit and wisdom never fails to entertain. I present to you

Pinky Poinker

She’s precariously clinging to sanity one day at a time


Pinky-Banner-blocks-940x200 med


My Mid-Life Mayhem

The awful truth about middle age



Over to you ladies. Why do YOU write?

And a great BIG thanks to Mrs Woog. You’ve been very supportive of my humble efforts and it is truly appreciated. You are a good egg.




* Tom Hiddleston as Max Naughtious, a very cheeky young naval captain and Viggo Mortensen as Sir Richard (Dick) Dudley a cuckolded husband. (Face it Tom Hiddleston one of only about five people I might consider cuckolding Viggo for. Viggo is hawt)

** Actually not my line. It belongs to our friend  Mr Happy Camper.




Singleabulous Meets Red Brother

The year was 2003. Under Peter Costello’s masterful stewardship the Australian economy was buoyant. My mood however was considerably less so. In fact my 33rd year was an epic pity party for one. On the face of it I was Carrie Bradshaw. I was Singleabulous. I had a job in stockbroking which could be made to sound more glamorous than it was and the bank owned my chic inner city apartment. I rocked a mini skirt and knee boots.

I  whined to anyone who would listen about not being able to find a man but truth was Singleabulous found her fair share of men. You don’t need to look too hard – the big end of town is littered with Mr Bigs. The trouble is the their full name too often happens to be Mr Big Ego, Mr Big Player or Mr Big Overgrown 12 year old rather than Mr Big Commitment. Sadly (or perhaps luckily) most of them were in the immortal words of Jack Berger “not that into” me.



Of course I blamed myself and my general lack of beauty, sass and style. You could call it depression. I look back at the sorry episode and kick myself for being such a god damn wuss but bear with me – I snapped out of it.

After having my heart broken by a very hawt but very, very naughty boy (this dude could rival Russel Brand for womanizing) common sense finally smacked me in the face – HARD.

My old "boyfriend". Can't say it wasn't fun.

My old “boyfriend”. Can’t say it wasn’t fun.

The time had come to say “No to crap”. A change of attitude was well over due. I resolved to keep looking until I found someone who’d treat me with respect and consideration and not to settle for anything less than that.

Spurred on by another single girlfriend I visited a local tarot reader. Seeing psychics is not something you generally do when things are going well. It’s a sign that you’re desperate enough to pay to hear some good news. I got what I paid for. The tarot reader told me that there was a bad influence in my life and once I got rid of that person things would improve. No shit. Secondly she pulled this card -

A new emotional beginning.

A new emotional beginning.

” I see a new relationship for you”. “Yeh right” I thought “isn’t that what they all say”. She informed me also that I would be having a career change which would involve writing and I would be moving homes. Basically I was about to win the trifecta.

I promptly asked Russel to stop calling. Fast forward a couple of months and I found myself alone in the office on Christmas eve. One of the dealers had been checking out the dating site RSVP earlier in the day and I  let curiosity get the better of me.  Not long after logging in I spotted an interesting profile – a smokin’ hawt scientist on secondment from the University of Colorado. The guy had the looks of Eric Stolz and a PhD. It was worth a shot. I’d made an ass of myself for far less. I signed on. Part of me felt like I had truly hit rock bottom.

I never met the scientist. I did however connect with a conga line of interesting characters – a pilot, a guy who owned an ad agency, a couple of IT guys, a Federal police officer, a property analyst, some marketing types and one pathological liar. Amid this smorgasbord I noticed a cute red headed chap with the code name “Red Brother”. He was seeking “an intelligent woman for a long term relationship”. I ignored it because I interpreted an “intelligent woman” as a career high flyer.  As it turned out Red Brother contacted me.

He wasn’t the type to faff about with flirtatious texts and emails. Instead he rang me and suggested that we meet up. A date was arranged on a Tuesday evening at The Nags Head pub in Glebe. I headed off that night dressed in my trademark tartan and fierce heels with a strange sense that my RSVP odyssey was about to end. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. My internet dating experience had been a roller coaster ride worthy of its own blog. I was ready to get off – or should I say disembark?


The scene of the crime.

The scene of the crime.

Red Brother wasn’t hard to spot in the milling crowd at the bar. Luxurious red curls tied into a pony tail, alabaster skin and eyes of china blue, dressed in a hip bomber jacket and lace up boots.  I immediately introduced myself and blurted out something uncool like “Wow – you’re better than your profile pic”. He saw my dagginess and raised it. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever dated”. Blushing “You need to get out more”.

Fast forward one year and we shacked up – that was the moving home. Shortly afterwards I was promoted to the role of trainee research analyst, a new job involving writing. I guess I won the trifecta.

Ten years on we’re Mum and Dadabulous and our life is a ten of cups – but of course Dadabs (aka Red Brother) doesn’t believe in that shite.

Team Abulous

Team Abulous

Have you ever had your cards read?



PS: Finding love online was never part of the ideal narrative for me. I also hoped that some enchanted evening I would see a stranger across a crowded room yada yada yada. Yet the whole thing fell perfectly into place – where else would you expect to met a software guru but on the internet. Give it a go single ladies.





I am not a connoisseur of reality TV but  will admit to liking Wife Swap. There was something compelling watching women go into another family’s home for the purpose of bossing them around for a week. Unlike most reality juggernauts the Wife Swap franchise didn’t  take off in Australia. There was one series on the Lifestyle channel which sank with barely a ripple. I think its high time this brand was revitalized. I propose that in order to give it a fresh twist we swap out public figures instead of wives. I have some choice candidates in mind.

Wouldn’t it be fun to swap

Christopher Pyne for

There's a mincing poodle face.

There’s a mincing poodle face.

Christopher Pine.

Now that’s my kind of dawg.

Joe Hockey for

C'mon Joe the economy needs a bigger stimulus package than that!

C’mon Joe the economy needs a bigger stimulus package than that!

Joe Manganiello

Oh my. There's a lifter not a leaner.

Oh my. There’s a lifter not a leaner.

Clive Palmer for


clive palmer med


Jabba the Hutt

Jabba is slightly less self interested and will take up less space in the Parliament.

Jabba is slightly less self interested and will take up less space in the Parliament.

In the interests of balance and non-partisanship let’s swap

Bill Shorten for

That stimulus package is more like it.

Don’t exeggerate about your stimulus package Bill.

Bill Granger

He could cook up some better alternative policies.

He could cook up some better alternative policies.

Greg Combet for

GC med

A Kombi van

This ol' jalopy could take the ALP further.

This ol’ jalopy could take the ALP further.

In the media I suggest we swap

Miranda Devine for

Queen of the poison pen

Queen of the poison pen


The fat man in drag is slightly less scary.

The fat man in drag is slightly less scary.

Shane Warne for



a bottle of fake tan.

Its basically the same thing but without the annoying tweets.

Its basically the same thing but without the annoying tweets.

And for the climactic finale I propose we swap

Tony Abbott for

He calls it a stimulus package.

He calls it a stimulus package.

for a drovers dog.


because a drover's dog could have won the last election.

because a drover’s dog could have won the last election.

On the to keep list I would include: Richard Fidler, Annabel Crab, Karl Kruszelnicki, Guy Pearce, Hamish and Andy, Shaun Micallef and Dadabulous.

What swaps would you like to arrange?

Who is on your keep list?









Opinions. They’re like cellulite. Most of us have some. Some have more than others. Its no fun talking to those who have none at all. I’m often hesitant to reveal mine – my opinions that is. Today I am going to step outside of my proverbial comfort zone and tackle a subject that  provokes passion in even the most polictically unengaged. That is the big F – Feminism.

Before I dive into these murky waters let me clarify a few things. Of course I am a feminist. Last time I looked I had lady bits. I’ve also got two gorgeous, bright, feisty daughters. Naturally I believe that women should be equally represented in the workplace, in public life and in the community. Of course I am opposed to violence against women. I am opposed to violence against men and horses too for that matter.

Caitlin Moran a writer who has smashed the cliches about humourless, man hating, hairy feminists sums up my position perfectly thus;

CM med


I’m neither ‘pro-women’ nor “anti-men.” I’m just “Thumbs up for the six billion.”

So we’ve established that I count myself as a feminist BUT (you knew a but was coming) I am disappointed by much of the feminist commentary in our main stream media. Frankly there’s alot of fluffy click bait masquerading as feminism out there. I have no problem with fluffy click bait but we’ve got serious issues to discuss right now.

The body image chestnut gets rolled on a basis. This piece by Clementine Ford had me banging my head against my desk.


The article is about a US comedian who based a routine around encouraging women to love and accept their bodies. Clementine slammed him for being condescending. She reasoned that women’s hatred of the bodies runs far deeper than seeking approval from men. That may be true – women are judged and valued for their looks to a far greater extent than men are. However this poor sod was trying to do the right thing. He was taking a stand against society’s increasingly impossible standards of beauty and telling us we are loved and accepted as we are. Surely this is a step in the right direction? One wonders if it is possible for a man to say anything right?

The body image band wagon rolled on with this


Indiana’s entrant in the recent Miss USA pageant caused a social media meltdown because her perfectly proportioned and well toned figure is not skeletal.

Miss Indiana.

Miss Indiana.

I doubt most men would “kick her out” as it were. “Attractive woman in a beauty pageant” makes for an unsurprising headline. I’m wondering why in 2014 we are still having these pageants.  Ironically thanks to feminism women have the right to parade around in heels and bikinis if they wish. Nevertheless in the interests of true equality I ask where are the male pageants? ( I’m not talking body building here – that is considered a sport)  I would love to see a gaggle of be-speedoed hunks strutting their stuff on stage. I would happily express shock on social media if – for example, Mr Indiana’s biceps were smaller than his head.

Speaking of scantily clad men, today’s Sydney Morning Herald carried this.


In case you were unaware (yeh right) there is an Instagram site called Porn for Women. It features shirtless hunks gazing broodily into the camera – and Alecia Simmonds is complaining about this. Seriously? Apparently the site is neither porny nor ethnically diverse enough. This could be easily remedied by setting up a rival site called “Pornier and ethnically diverse porn for women”.

I pride myself on thorough research and headed to Instragram immediately. I too was disgruntled by what I found. Tom Hiddleston is woefully under represented as are Damien Lewis, Eddie Redmayne, Rupert Grint and Alexander Ludwig**. There is a shameful bias against Rangas on this site. Whilst it featured Tom Hardy a plenty (not a problem) there was NO Colin Firth! How could any self respecting Porn for Women exclude Mr Darcy in that shirt?

No Darcy on Porn for Women? That's a feminist issue!

No Darcy? That’s a feminist issue!

To the mainstream media I say – whilst things have improved dramatically for women over the past few decades there’s still a long way to go. I want to see articles dealing with issues like the under representation of women in leadership both in business and government. We need more discussion about work/life balance. More seriously some of the measures in recent Federal Budget will be catastrophic for the most vulnerable women in society – eg cuts to funding of women’s refuges. We need the feminist press to make a big loud noise about this NOW.

Am I looking for wisdom in all the wrong places?

What do you think of the current feminist dialogue?

Who are your favorite commentators?

I welcome your dissent but not if you disagree about Colin Firth.


*  Clementine Ford is a fierce campaigner against violence against woman and has copped much flack on social media for daring to have an opinion. Some of it has been threatening and quite vile. On the whole I admire her courage but I dont agree with everything she’s written.

** Google him – YOU wont regret it.



























A blogging friend of mine has just issued a challenge. I regard myself as challenged in many respects – vertically challenged, aesthetically challenged and socially challenged among other things. Why not throw another challenge into the mix? I have been dared to come up with 50 random facts about myself. The thing is I don’t see myself as particularly fascinating – just another area of life in which I am challenged. I am going to have to dig deep to come up with 50 things that may hold your interest,. Here I go shovel in hand.

1)  I am somewhat self depreciating. ( You’d never have guessed that)

2) I live in house with 5 bathrooms.

3) I do not have a cleaner.

4) My house is not clean. sherlock med   5) I have been known to take “devils on horseback” to family events as a joke.

Mmmm retro goodness.

Mmmm retro goodness.

6) I have also been known to cook apricot chicken ironically.

7) I believe anyone who does anything ironically is overthinking.

8) I have a Bachelor of Economics from Sydney University and a Graduate Diploma of Applied Finance. (See what I mean about not being a very interesting person)

9) I recently added TAFE Cert IV in Bookkeeping to that shopping list of academic achievement.

10) The TAFE certificate was the most practical course I’ve ever done. I’m actually using what I learned.

11) I’ve just been to the gym. The Wallabies were there flexing away in the free weights area. I ask you why would any one want to go to the pilates class while that’s going on?

12) I attended Kirrawee High School. At the time I referred it as “Kirrawee Prison Camp”.

13) One of my earliest crushes was (embarrassingly) Tom Bailey of the Thompson Twins. I can pin point my fetish for red heads to the “Into the Gap” album of 1984.

Hawt in the 80s.

Hawt in the 80s.

14) I also loved Scritti Politti – remember them?

15) I discovered Robert Smith and The Cure in 1985. The rest of my teen years were spent wearing black and back combing my hair.

My teen idol.

My teen idol.

16) I also did some crazy gothic pencil case art.

17) I did not have a boyfriend in High School. sherlock-holmes-med 18) At university I fraternized with chemical engineers. Being female was enough to interest them.

19) I grew up 10 minutes away from my husband but did not meet him until I was 33 years old.

21) My husband has red hair.

22) My father is a school teacher. It is a job I could never do.

23) My mother is an architect. She is my intellectual superior.

24) I worked for 4 years in Securities Lending for a big assed American investment bank. Securities Lending is just one of the dodgy practices that led to the global financial crisis.

25) A few years later I was trained as an equity analyst. Equity analysts were among the dodgy individuals who contributed to the global financial crisis.

26) I spruiked for a coal seam gas company that is now in deep shite.

27) A “high net worth” individual made $3 million on a particular stock that I was covering. All I got was one lousy bottle of Moet.

28) When I was working The Establishment bar was the place to be seen. I couldn’t stand that joint.

29) I much preferred The Australian Hotel in The Rocks.

Scene of many shenanigans.

Scene of many shenanigans.

30) Once while on a date at the Australian Hotel in The Rocks I fell off a bar stool. I whacked my head on the bar stool on the way back up.

31) The date thought that was hilarious.

32) One of the nicest things a man has ever said to me was ” You  think you have a big arse but you really dont”.

33) I purchased and completely paid off a one bedroom warehouse apartment in Chippendale. It was a shoe box but I’m proud of myself for doing that.

34) In his wedding speech my husband said when describing our first date “What Brenda lacked in medieval weaponry she made up for in good looks and a short skirt that will remain etched upon my mind forever”

35) I am finding this challenge – well challenging.

36) I am an office bearer for my local P&C.

37) After experiencing the decision making process of the P&C, I believe that there is something to be said for benign dictatorship.

38) I believe that if Malcom Turnbull ever became PM this country would experience a benign dictatorship.

39) My husband is quite exceptional.

40) I am punching above my weight with my husband.

41) I have tried to rectify this by putting on weight.

42) I was in my late 20s before I discovered how fascinating science is.

43) My life path may have been quite different had I realised that earlier.

44) When I was younger I dreamed of being either an artist or an author.

45) My work on the stock market was equally if not more creative than the above two professions.

46) 2013 was all about Tom Hiddleston. This year is all about Clive Standen.

Clive Standen med

Oh my! That’s my kind of pick up truck.

47) Every day begins with a walk to the beach and a large skinny cappuccino.

48) I love living in the Eastern Beaches and will never return to the Shire.

49) My favorite TV show of all time is Northern Exposure.

50) My favorite song of all time is “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder because its how I feel about my two girls.

Pant pant – that’s the sound of me collapsing over the finish line for this challenge. Over to you. Tell me something random about yourself.

Love Mumabulous


That’s Entertainment

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

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

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

This should have been all the motivation I needed…

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

Completely obsessed by the shenanigans at Sterling Cooper and Partners.

Completely obsessed by the shenanigans at Sterling Cooper and Partners.

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

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

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

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

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

and hawt chix

and hawt chix.

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

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

Seriously you need to flow chart to decipher  GoT

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


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

Two pert-inent  plot points.

  • Oh my! Kit Harrington is some tasty crumpet.


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

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

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

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

Winter is coming.


Love a good mash up.

Love a good mash up.