On this blog I have discussed the fact that I don’t watch TV. I believe its the boldest admission I’ve made on the interwebs. I’ve exposed my vulnerable side by writing about my body image hang-ups and dating disasters but this has only strengthened my connection with my readership (all 12 of you – you’re wonderful). Who hasn’t experienced a body image hang up or a dating disaster? Well Mumabs is “every woman” and “its all in me”.
Not watching TV however is a separate Pandora’s kettle of worms. I mean how can readers relate to my ramblings when I have no idea what’s happening on The Biggest Loser, Master Chef or the Bachelor Australia? The entire Offspring phenomena passed me by. I am not even sure what a Patrick is or was despite the nation wide outpouring of grief his passing provoked on social media. Are we over it yet people?
I fear I may be giving the impression that I am some kind of intellectual snob when nothing could be further from the truth. Team Abulous is NOT the high brow literati of the eastern beaches. The literati is infact firmly rooted in Sydney’s inner west. By contrast, Dadabs has declared a blanket ban on botox and our brows are hanging almost neanderthalicly* low.
I am now going to sacrifice my dignity to prove this.
Despite appearances to the contrary Dadabs is a sensitive type. He cries during movies. The last time this happened was in the film Borat. There was one particular scene where Borat and his manager chase each other naked through a ritzy hotel during which Dadabs was making sounds like a wounded animal. I turned to find him convulsing, slumped on the carpet with tears streaming down his face. This display of raw emotion set me off. I can only hope the upholstery on the cinema seats didn’t sustain water damage.
We make smutty jokes about poultry
Dadabs recently expressed an interest in a service where you can “rent” chickens. This surprised me as our eastern beaches patch of grass is a practical setting for animal husbandry. Furthermore I have a reputation for killing plants through neglect so I dont fancy my chances with a real life chicken run. Dadabs explained that he wanted to invite people around to “show them his cock”. HONK!
The laughs didnt stop there. Recently Dadabs was perusing a flier for a local “Eco Fair” which featured “rent-a-chickens”. I couldn’t resist quipping “You’re so hawt for that chick”. HONK! After some eye rolling he shot back with “Oooooooh Yeh – check out the breasts on it and the plumage”. HONK! HONK!
We make smutty jokes about vegetables
In 2006 we were shopping at the local green grocer when I picked up a particularly phallic sweet potato and started waving it around with a moronic grin on my face (because I can be that juvenile). Dadabs ( Boyfriendabs at the time) was all mock horror. “That’s disgusting! Why don’t you write a letter to John Howard about the obscene state of vegetables in this country”. Since then both Kevin Rudd and Julia Gillard have had to endure our faux outrage about suggestively shaped sweet potatoes. Now its your turn Tony Abbott. Are you going to take action? (No Speedo or Lycra jokes PLEASE).
We make smutty jokes about gardening
The downside in having a courtyard and a patch of grass is that it needs maintaining. Dadabulous is too cheap to hire a gardener. Hence I am forced to do it alone and manually HONK! (In truth I don’t do any gardening but this is post about smuttiness not laziness).
In order to keep the weeds at bay, I have to go out and pull roots. HONK! On fine Sunday afternoon I strode out on the back patio and announced very loudly that I was about to go out “on the pull”. My baby boomer neighbor overhead. I surely hope she took me figuratively.
Please tell me your household is similarly uncouth. How low can your brow go?
* Neanderthalicly – if it wasn’t a word it is now. Could someone please be a love and update Urban Dictionary.