Word Vomit - 1.0

Yesterday, I filled in one of those stupid quizzes on fb... The last question was, 'Do you think too much, or too little?'

I would say, for the most part I'm not an over analyser. Most sly comments people make, go way over my head. How do I know that? Well, I've many friends who are 'thinkers' and often they pick up on things said to them, that I didn't even notice. Besides, who goes through life without people having a dig? I suspect no-one... Certainly not me! But, I'm quite stoked that I don't have a 'sly comment radar'.

I do, however, have an inability to switch my brain off at times... Especially at bed o'clock! Things that consume my mind at this time are generally work stuff, or plans for the future - like home reno's (that we aren't even close to thinking about starting), that, and random business ideas. Often, I get up, take a Polaramine (antihistamine) and finally drop off.

When it comes to opening my mouth, or in stressful situations - like the boat incident , the portacot , or Billy being attacked , I definitely think too little - if at all! If I'd taken even a couple of deep breathes I probably wouldn't have lost my cool. The power of hindsight... My hindsight can be a little too powerful!

I also put little thought into what comes out of my mouth... I suffer from what has been medically diagnosed as 'word vomit'. And seriously, who likes to spew? Not me! Not even words!

Examples of my so called 'word vomit'...

At the beach, with Billy, I come across an old lady with her dog on the leash. Billy and the dog start to sniff each other’s crotches and I say 'Ahhhhh Niiiice! Dog 69er!'... Ummmmm? Just for starters, the woman was probably in her late 70s - inappropriate much? She looked at me with a mix of blank with a touch of disgust.

I'd really like to be able to retract some statements... but then again, whenever I get an email, followed by a request for retraction, I always have to read it. It's like the fart thing! Say you've farted and people will automatically have a sniff. And then there's the 'Whatever you do, don't press the red button'... Ummmm.. Hey dickhead! You might want to think about not bringing attention to the destruct button next time - if you'd not brought it up, I wouldn't have noticed nor had the inclination to want to push it.

So, on second thoughts, a retract statement statement might actually have the opposite effect and cement what has uncontrollably splurted out.

Perhaps I should work on taking a deep breath before opening my big mouth... Then conversation with me would be like a Rove interview with an actor on satellite - full of bad jokes... awkward pauses... and delayed laughs. Not that much different really!

Anyhoo... I'll be back with more inappropriate tales of major embarrassment shortly... I'm only just warming up.

Oh and my fb status currently reads... "just got headbutted in the vag by her dog... probably my own fault! Was making him dance with me... dogs hate that!"  Hmmmm... perhaps I should retract that and make sure it's all in the third person next time?  Ahhhh... You didn't really notice until I pointed it out?  Game, set and match!

Vaginamite 2.0

You’ve gotta have thought to yourself, ‘What the fuck?’, when you saw the new name of Vegemite ‘Name Me’... the wonderful blend of Australia’s greatest invention and cream cheese.



Had it been a vote scenario, I can only imagine such a shit name could get over the line when one cockhead was particularly ferocious in requesting that their ridiculous amount of facebook ‘friends’... then friends of friends... vote for their option. Even then, no matter how good that friend was, I just can’t see myself actually voting for such a shitty name!


Otherwise, I can’t fathom what kind of an f-wit (or round table of f-wits) would seriously go, ‘Yeah! iSnack 2.0 – great name! One that isn’t (or won’t become) dated at all!’ But it just goes to show what can happen when the decision to name a great Australian product is sent offshore. Apparently, there were (in my opinion) much better suggestions like 2ritemite, Cheddamite and Snackimite... much more suitable and palatable!


Yesterday morning, after Micko and I first saw the ad announcement the night before, I went to make myself a couple of pieces of toast, and was surprised to discover Micko had renamed ‘iSnack 2.0’ himself...

Keep your whites shite...

Just wanted to paint a picture of something absolutely adorable I saw the day the dust flew into town .

I was driving to the beach to walk young Billy... The windows were all up, except for Billy's - he likes to look out the window as we drive... the dirt flying around outside was so thick you could taste it and feel the grit building up between your teeth, the escaped remnants slowly entering your lungs and filling your nostrils (felt like I was at Melbourne BDO at Flemington with the dust and tumbleweed blowing around - you just know you'll be blowing black snot for days).

We wind down the hill passing a bunch of cream and light pastel coloured houses (yes, I live in a town which could be classed as a large retirement village)... The front of which have turned red from the dust, whilst the sides remain clean as a whistle... the contrast was unbelievable.

Driving past the Bowls Club, there are a bunch of primarily elderly men , enjoying their Wednesday arvo game... to be followed by a couple of ice cold Schooners of XXXX Gold.  From head to toe they are covered in the crisp whites, that their cute elderly wives washed with tender loving care, a cup of surf, a little sunlight and a sprinkle Napisan to keep the whites at their optimum whiteness.

The men's backs faced the road as they crouched down to focus then bowl... as the wind blew in from the norwest, the back of their whites had all turned a lovely shade of reddy brown.  However, as they turned to face their fellow bowlers to gloat or mope, they'd expose their fronts to reveal the white crispness Maude, Doris, Joyce, June and Patty had worked so hard each Thursday morning to maintain.

I smiled to myself and drove on.

Shopaholic

Confessions of a Shopaholic - possibly one of the worst movies I've seen.  Pretty sure, Last Action Hero comes a close second (the only movie I've ever walked out of).  Anyway, I digress... Not to mention I'm totally of the point!

I'm naughty, naughty!  My ebay obsession has transcended across to Etsy.  I've kept my eye on a few things over the past year or so, but never dove in to make a purchase.  Yesterday, I crossed that line.

I'm obsessed with jewellery... Art Deco pieces are my main weakness, but it extends to anything silver and stunning.  Here are the naughty, naughty purchases I made yesterday! 

I've always, always wanted a Tree of Life pendant, but never really found one that I've fallen in love with... Oh except one I saw a couple of months back at the Bello markets, but Micko was there so I couldn't make a sly purchase.

This one was irrestible!  So cute!  I don't usually wear gold, but I like the contrast in this piece.  This seller had heaps of gorgeous and delicate jewellery - I could totally have gone overboard here, but I limited myself to 2 items.  It was super hard to cut them back - thought I was going to burst a blood vessel in my forehead from all the serious consideration!

When I was a wee one, I used to have a silver brooch with my name engraved and a bluebird of happiness - you know those blue enamel birds set in silver or gold that were big in the late 70s/early 80s.  I also had a matching necklace and earrings.  Of late, I've wanted to find them or buy myself a new one.  This comes close, but it's a little more modern and it features my favourite colour - red!  This was done by the same seller as the previous piece... See!  B-e-a-utiful!

I think I have a new obsession!  Uh-oh!

Up shit creek

Another adventure during Dale & Kat's visit was a boat outing we took on the Sunday.  It was something Micko and I had wanted to do since we moved here, but hadn't gotten around to yet.

Judging by our previous experiences with the canoe, while living in Bruns, I really should have thought harder about taking out a boat.  When I say that I really should give you a brief run down...

Some good friends of ours gave us a canoe to use while we lived in our rad pad on the Brunswick River.  They had just had a baby and had no use for it.  Most weekends, I'd take the canoe out for a couple of hours... I loved it so much!  I'm not a big 'relaxer', I like to be on the go, at least doing something.  Canoeing became an outlet for me.  There is some kind of comfort I get from being on the water... floating along, taking in the passing landscapes.  One such day, I decided to take Micko out in the canoe with me.  Not the most pleasant experience... Lets just say Micko is a strong character and has his way of doing things... As do I!  Sometimes our ways differ and we butt heads.  This was one of those times!

So, I had some prior warning to what was to follow in the boating outing. But, hey... you gotta try these things.

Micko heads into the boat hire place and sorts out payment and the details of where you can and can't go with the lady.  We all pile into the boat and the old bastard says, 'Right, so who'll be driving?', Micko and my bro, in unison, say 'Karly'.  The old guy looks me up and down, mumbles to himself, then says 'Don't you think perhaps it would be best to have a bloke in the back?  I reakon it's a bit tough to start if you're a sheila'.  What the?  Is this guy fucking serious?  Did he magically transport himself from the early 20th century to stand before me?  I find myself just looking at him with bewilderment spread all over my face.  I really wanted to say, 'I'm pretty sure I can pull a fucken cord!  You might be surprised but, I've started a lawn mower before and even mown the lawns!'    But, I didn't... I just stared at the guy with contempt while my brother fought my battle.... 'She's a gym junkie and has driven heaps of boats'.  Thank you Dale!

Of course, now I'm mad and unfocused... I've also not driven a tinny in quite sometime, so I was a little all over the shop to start.  Took me a couple of minutes to get used to moving the motor the opposite way to where I wanted to go.  Didn't help that I was frazzled... Plus had Micko in the front yelling which way I should go.

At gym, I did my rotator cuff sometime ago.  Besides boxing, I've been quite kind to it since and I really haven't done my weights work in the past 8 months or so - my guns look more like plumbers piping at the moment.  Driving the boat was niggling away at the prior injury... the vibration on the motor on my arm, which was basically placed behind me, was doing me no good at all.  Micko yelling at me like I was partly deaf and a six pack short of slab, was also doing me not good... at all!  A combination of my short fuse, inability to be told what to do, the sexist prick and rotator cuff niggling pain bought it all to an abrupt head.  I snapped, "Fuck this!  Someone else drive the fucking boat', and handed the reigns over to my bro.

We stopped at a beach along the riverbank and drove the boat in.  It was a beautiful spot and seeing dolphins swimmingly past eased my frayed nerves.  Billy was loving it!  Swimming out to grab a stick, almost as big as he, and dragging it back in for us to throw back out.  Watching the houseboats bob along the river... The other boats passing by... Soaking in the sun, then taking cover in the shade... Wading in the water... And all round having a relaxing time.  Then it came time to brave the boat again.

This time Dale was skipper... Only problem was that he'd keep starting the boat in gear.  This was making me nervous.  I was yelling at Dale that he needed to have the engine in neutral before starting it... At the same time Micko was trying to tell Dale which direction to go... Then Dale snapped.  The rest of the trip back was pretty quiet. Everybody looking out of the boat, not willing to look at each other.  We were all on edge and really just wanted to back on dry land, have a beer and forget about our boating ordeal.

As we pulled up back at the boat house, Dale tried to stop the engine (by hitting the red button) it wouldn't work - but I didn't realise this yet.  So we all start screaming and yelling (actually it was mainly me)... Then I tell Dale to move out of the way.  I jump in and put the engine into neutral, to try to turn the boat around.  Then I hit the red button, it does nothing... I push on it again... nothing.  Then I start looking at the button, more than where we are headed.  I'm pushing the button again and again, but the engine won't stop.  Everyone in the boat is yelling at me now, 'Look where you're going', and I'm yelling back 'I can't stop the fucking boat'.  The sexist old prick comes out just as 'cruuuunch', I drive into the rocks.  Just then, with another hard punch at the fucking red button, the boat stops.  The old prick says 'use the oars... if it wasn't for you boys, you'd be out in the ocean right now'... Ooooooooh!  You've gotta be fucking joking me!  I grab my shit and stumble out of the boat with a big scowl on my face.

Micko goes to deal with the woman inside and I march over with Billy to the car.  I was ropable!  We all jump in the car, sat in relative silence... all just wanting to get home as quick as possible.

Then someone splurts out, 'Well that was fun!'.  With that, we piss ourselves laughing and head straight home for some emergency beers and plenty of banter about the boat, the bastard... and the bitch (being me).

Billy and his wounded willy...

As mentioned previously, my bro and his wife came to visit this past weekend.  All round we had a fabulous time... We drank copius beers, champas, frozen cosmo's and Pimms Royale - niiice.  We ate like Kings... Laughed like hyena's... and drank like fish.

Saturday was fantastic in some respects, shitty in others.  I'll get to the good part in another blog.  I'd gotten up around 7 and headed down the beach for a walk with Billy - thats quite rare, usually I'd be sleeping in after a night on the turps.  It was a glorious morning... sun was shining, birds singing, beach full of happy people walking their dogs, surfing, swimming or holding hands strolling along the sand.  Bill was in his element!  Running up saying hello to everyone and everything that passed by.  On the way down to the headland, we came across a guy in the shallows with a Rotti on a leash.  Although I was a little wary, Billy approached the dog, they sniffed each other and Bill kept on going... no problem!  Continuing up the beach for another 40 minutes or so, Bill taking in the sights and scents.  Me, thinking to myself, perhaps I should try to be more of a 'morning person'.  There is something really nice about starting the day off on the beach.  The colours are more vibrant, the light is softer and everything has a morning glow about it. 

As we come back, Billy spots the Rotti again... This time he's on the sand, with a guy.  Billy runs up to say hello and I don't think too much of it.  The dog went into a submission pose and I thought it probably wasn't a big threat.  Just then... bang!  The Rotti jumps onto of Billy, growling and ripping into my poor little baby!  Billy was yelping and crying and desperately trying to escape the clutches of this much bigger, and very vicious dog.  I ran screaming up the beach towards Billy - who was wriggling while making the most horrific cries for help.  He manages to free himself and runs over to me.  Then he sits there frozen and whimpering.  I check him for major cuts and he seems okay, but he just won't move.  The guy with the Rotti, has grabbed him by the leash and is holding him back while he snarls, growls and keeps jumping towards Bill.

Eventually, Billy calms down a little and he limps down the beach.  When we are a safe distance, I notice he has a few cuts and bruises on his underbelly - all around his little doodle.  But, otherwise he seems okay... Scared, but okay.  Me on the other hand... well my nerves were completely shot to pieces!  When I got home, Micko asked how the walk was, and I started sobbing uncontrollably. 


Billy recovered quite quickly... although over the past couple of days we'd noticed that his penis area was a little bit swollen.  This arvo, I dragged him down to the Vet for a check up. Also, his baby teeth don't look like falling out anytime soon, so they need to be pulled - usually done when they get the snip, but Bill was too young and didn't have his adult teeth then.  The Vet thought he might have broken his doodle bone, but thankfully it seems to be intact!  Instead, he had 2 needles - inflammatories - and has to take antibiotics for the next 2 weeks.  He's booked in on Monday for the teeth extraction.  400 bucks later and I'll have a happy and healthy pup again!

Dogs best friend can be an expensive exercise... what with the Vet bills, the stuff the destroy (luckily so far it's really only been a phone charger and a DVD from the Video shop), the food, the toys, etc, etc, etc.  But, when you look at their happy little face staring at you full of unconditional love, would you really have it any other way?

Apocolypse now?

A good friend of mine, Jands wrote a touching blog on the Black Saturday Bushfires - she's an absolute sweetheart and should you want a good read, definitely check out her work.  Her blog, was kind of timely really... I'd not thought of doing a blog on my experience with Black Saturday (I wasn't in the area and it makes me one of those wankers by association).  However, this morning bought back my own childhood memories of bushfire and dust storm.


So I awoke this morning to discover outside a lovely shade of foggy yellowy-orange... Reminiscent of Black Saturday.  Of course, and luckily, it's not due to bushfires but dust blowing in from the drought stricken west of the state.


Australia is a land of stark contrasts... Earlier in the year, when Micko and I had just made the move north again, we were subject to 3 major floods in as many months... We have no water restrictions and it's lovely lush and green all over.  Down south, it's dry as a nuns nasty.  Everything is brown, yellow and dead.  That was actually a big part in our decision to make the move .


I grew up in the foothills of the Mount Dandenong Ranges... The view from my bedroom window (the whole wall was windows) was the Dandies - completely filling the frame - it was always so nice and green.  As a child, I suffered a couple of (kind of) phobias... they were fire and lightning.  I'd stomp out any cigarette dropped on the ground at parties making 110% sure they were out.  When I felt an electrical storm approaching, I'd freak out, running to my room to dive under the doona and sweat it out till it was long. long gone.  My phobia was so bad that Mum would have to come and collect me from school if there was even the hint of a storm setting in.


These 'phobias' were justified... but occurred long before any justification became apparent.  The lightning fear had always been with me, but was magnified when my Grandparents house was struck by lightning and burnt to the ground.  The fire phobia?  Well, that was well and truly cemented by Ash Wednesday.


For those not familiar with Ash Wednesday, check out the wiki explanation.


And now... here's my recollection:


It was a stinking hot summer... We'd been in serious drought for sometime and the water restrictions were severe!  I remember not being able to have a bath every day... we'd have one every 2nd or 3rd day and face washer it up in a bucket in between.


About a week before Ash Wednesday Victoria was plunged into darkness - it was sudden, brief and very, very scary.  Another absolute scorcher in Melbourne town and my Mum had gone out and left us with Nan for the day.  In the afternoon the wind picked up to gale force, blowing the heat around like a fan forced oven.  Then the dust arrived... it was a thick blanket of dirt that covered the state and everything within it's path.  The temperature took a dive and within a couple of hours it had started to clear.  I was scared shitless!   But the worst was yet to come!


It was another stinky hot February day in the Melbourne 'burbs.  Not just hot, but super dry!  My Nan was again looking after us... From my bedroom window all I could see was smoke, that and the frightening red glow of the Dandies on fire.  Nan soaked towels in water and lay them beneath every door and window... there were sprinklers going on the roof and in the garden surrounding the house... and Nan poured us a bath in which we sat until the danger passed.  Luckily, it didn't reach us but the memory of Ash Wednesday, the smell, the glow and the fear it brought with it, are forever etched into my mind.


Last year, Black Saturday washed these memories back into my conscious - I thought they'd been forever repressed under a huge pile of other dirty laundry.  The day was much the same... Hot - in fact the hottest day I've ever experienced (so hot that trees in my backyard were physically scorched and looked like they'd been burnt)!  Dry - everything was dead... trees, grass, scrub all so dry walking on the grass sounded like footsteps on gravel.  Oh and was it windy... gale force winds blowing the heat around in squalls.


That weekend, my folks were away in Alice Springs and had invited Micko and I to stay - they had air con and we didn't - they also had a pool.  I've seriously never felt anything like that day (even Ash Weds).  You couldn't stand to be outside... It was like walking into a furnace... the skin felt like it was burning off your body.  We had the air con cranked and were sitting around watching Playboy Mansion with a girlfriend.  Every now and then we'd brave the outdoors (with shoes on cause the ground was scorching hot) to run out, rip the cover off the pool and take a quick dip... Then shoes went back on, we'd struggle against the wind to pull the cover back over the pool (which would flip up into the air every few seconds due to the force of the wind), then run back inside (no towel necessary, by the time we'd reach the back door we'd be almost dry).


The fires hit, and hit hard... However, I was oblivious!  Some mates had arrived and we'd all walked down the pub for a counter meal and few coldies.  It wasn't until the next day, when my Mum rang to see if everyone was okay, that I'd realised the extent of the fires.  The wind was blowing smoke in the opposite direction so we were none the wiser.  The skies were relatively clear and the scent of smoke was minimal.  The following day. when the winds died down and changed direction, the smoke settled in.


Due to the drought Vic has been experiencing for the past decade, this fire was inevitable.  The whole state was a ticking time bomb.  If there is one thing Victorians know how to do, it's prepare for a bushfire... It's just a damn shame the Vic Govt doesn't feel the same.  The extent of these devastating fires could have easily been minimised with a little back burning.  Due to the Green movement, back burning has been off the cards in Vic for many years.  During this time, drought and the build up of ground level fuel have been sitting back waiting for their opportunity to go up in flames - helped along by those sicko bastard pyro's.


Indigenous Australian's have been back burning our land for thousands of years... Exactly for the reasons that presented themselves back on the 7th of Feb (and continued to burn until the 14th March).  All I can hope is that we take something from this... These dust storms blowing rapidly in all along the east coast of Australia are a warning signal to us.  Another hot summer is on it's way... The alarm bells should be ringing, but will they ring loud enough for us to hear this time?   I bloody well hope so!

Grantis...

Y'all!  So I mentioned Dalos in yesterdays entry, so I thought it only fitting that todays be on Grant - my other favourite brother.


But first things first... Let me introduce you to my spunky brothers... This is me, on my wedding day (I know what you're thinking.... get yourself a bra girlfriend!)  Dale is the one in the blue shirt and Grant is in the vest.  We make a good looking sibling group, eh? 

Grant isn't much younger than I.  There is one point each year, for about 3 months, where we are only 1 year apart.  In terms of personality, we are at opposite ends of the spectrum.  He is quiet, shy and reserved... I, on the other hand, am definitely not.  When we do get together, we always have a great time and some good laughs (so we do share the same sense of humour - I think it must be 'bred' into us).

As a youngster, I was always super jealous of young Grant.  You see, my little bro (actually both of them) was born with a 'gift'.  Well, having said that, I'm not so sure he was born with it...  Grant was relatively accident prone as a kid.  At kindy, he was whacked over the head by another kid with a shovel.  He didn't even realise he was hurt... just waltzed in, with blood pissing down his face, and said to the rather shocked and distressed teacher 'There's a fly on my head that won't leave me alone'.  A trip to the Doc and some xrays later, Grant's head was stitched up good as new.  And we had a permanent reminder - an Xray of Grant's skull with him noticeably grinning from ear to ear!  Then, there was his first day of school.  He was pushed over in the tan bark and a nice big was lodged into his knee... Off to hospital he went again!  

The last 'accident' was the one that proved quite worthwhile.  Grant was playing in a mates backyard on the monkey bars.  He fell, broke his right arm (he was right handed at this time)... Then a couple of week later, bang, there goes the left one.  As luck would have it, his left healed first and he became left handed.  This... is when the serious talent started to appear.

Grant is an artist... no doubt about it!  As a kid he'd do these rad cartoon character of his favourite Richmond players... the old 80s style with the super big head and little body.  He was amazing... you'd not believe he was under 10 when doing this stuff - I'll try to find some examples next time I'm in Melbourne. 

So... Here are some examples of his recent work.. I'm sure you'll agree, the Grantis is one talented little freak!

What can I say... I'm just one member of a truly remarkable and talented family!  Go bro's!

The e-ban is over!

Okay... So my ebay self ban has been broken - check this out if you're unsure what the fuck I'm on about -http://karlosophies.blogspot.com/2009/07/proposal.html

I almost made it to 3 months!  But, I came across a King Bedding set I couldn't pass up on.  Oh well!  Will I bother doing it again?  Probably not!  Let's face it, me + ebay = true love.

The Awesome Foursome

Yay!  I'm big kev excited!

Two of my favourite peeps are coming to visit!  My awesome youngest broski and his wonderful wife!

Dale is about 5 years younger than I... Due mainly to this age difference, we'd had a relatively strained relationship when I was in my teens and early 20s.  I was crazy - no doubt about it - and living with your older, crazy sister can be detrimental to your development!


During my late teens and early 20s I was a little wilder than I am these days.  I'd come home drunk as a skunk (these days I stay home drunk as a skunk)... perhaps with a fella or, even worse, with a bunch of mates.  We'd party at my place before we'd head out, on our return or both.  These parties involved loud music, dancing on the kitchen bench and plenty of super loud talking.  Poor old Dale would be trying to sleep and I couldn't have cared less.  The young fella was anywhere between around 12 and 20 whilst all this was going on.  My folks were always away... so my place was open slather.


One such night, when I was 17, I had a bunch of mates round (as usual).  There was probably around 10-15 of us... Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Soundgarden and the like were blaring out the stezza and we'd all consumed a little more than out quota.  Dale was attempting to sleep - he was 12.  Every now and then he'd pop out and say 'Karls... can you guys be quiet, I'm trying to sleep!'... I'd just blow him off and send him back to bed. 


Each sink in the house had someone spewing in it... In the main bathroom, one of my ex's was lying upside down in the shower with his clothes on, rinsing the spew off... While I tried to push his previous mess down the sink hole in the bath, resulting in me spewing.. and then madly trying to shove that down too.  Both toilets were occupied, the ensuite and the laundry trough - occupied... in fact, the only sink not being utilised was the kitchen - and that's probably only because it was full of dishes.


Once we'd all emptied our stomachs... the fun times continued.  All except for my best mate - she was sitting on the lounge, bucket in hand, hair lovingly pulled on top of her head by one of us to keep it out of the way.  She wasn't in a good way... not a spewer and stayer.


Blissfully unaware and enjoying myself tremendously I missed hearing a knock at the door.  It was the best mates Mum.  Let's just say she wasn't at all happy!  She ripped my mate out of the couch, started shaking her and screaming... 'What's wrong with you?  What have you taken?'  Then the phone rang... It was my Mum, checking in on Dale.  He came out of his room to answer the phone and what a sight he saw!  One of my girls was on the Mum's back, trying to pull her off my mate... Everyone was screaming and shouting and pissed beyond belief! 


Needless to say, when I moved away at 26,  Dale - I can only imagine - would have been more than happy to see the back of me! 


On a trip to Melbourne, I asked Dale if it would be alright for Micko and I to crash at his place after we'd been out with mates in town.  He seemed very reluctant.  He told me he didn't really want me to stay because I would make too much noise and want to party the whole time.  I assured him that I had done some growing up while living in Byron and I promised not to disturb the peace - which I didn't.  But it did come as a surprise to me that he thought like that... Until, on the next trip, I asked my other bro, Grant and got exactly the same reaction!


The best thing I've ever done was move back to Vic for that stint... Although I hated the weather and sometimes felt very isolated, it certainly solidified my relationship with Dale.  He and Micko get on like a house on fire... we all love Kat to death and Dale and I, surprisingly, are the best of mates.  The truth is that Dale and I are very similar in many ways... although fortunately he missed out on the teenage drunken angst stage.  Over the years we've discovered we share our sense of humour, we are both loyal to the death, enjoy a beer and most importantly, we are not only siblings but friends.


So bring on the next few days.. I say!  We'll be having a fun packed time... enjoying each others company!  I'm super keen for beers and banter on the back deck overlooking our rainforest... Plus beach time, barbies, beer and banter...Good food, perhaps a few cocktails, shitloads of laughs, music blaring (possibly throw in some PJ and Soundgarden for old times sake), singing, dancing, some reminicising (much to Dale's disappointment), dinner's out on the town and a good feed for breakfast at the Jaaning Tree.  Could life be any better?


Bring it on bitch!  Bring it on!

Feeling Flu?

Once again, all has been relatively quiet on the blog front... This is for a couple of reasons:


1. I had a wedding up in Coolum last weekend, took off Thursday arvo and got back, very tired and a little worse for wear, late Sunday.  (I will blog on this once my brain catches up with my arse)


2. Work has been crazy, crazy busy!  I've been flat out like a lizard drinking.


3.  Tuesday night, I worked until around 9ish, then had to call it quits.  My brain started to go a little fuzzy.  I came inside to relax and started to get a chill... it was all down hill from there!


And, the latter, is todays topic...  The dreaded flu!


As I've mentioned in a previous blog, I can't stand being sick.  A cold is like kryptonite to me (mainly because with a cold I can't work).  Usually, you can feel a cold coming on, so therefore, can take precautionary measures to ward it off as much as possible.  With this flu, however, it's smack-bang there!  No word of warning, no precursor, just slam - like you've run straight into a brick wall (and you feel very similar to that).


Tuesday night, after a very looong day of work, I head upstairs, sit down and say to Micko:  "I feel like I'm getting crook... I'm really cold and shivery."   Then BANG, within half an hour, and in the depths of a full fever.  That night, I lay awake almost all of the night - although I was going in and out of conciousness, having very bizarre dreams.  Every half an hour I'd go from freezing, physically shivering, to absolutely drenched in sweat... then back again.  Oh and the pain... the aching, the head ache, the sore throat... ARGH!  


Around 11am, Micko rang asking how I was.  I was still in bed and could not move a muscle - literally.  Billy hadn't been downstairs for a toilet break, he'd not been fed breakfast, I had a mountain of work piling up and was busting for a toilet break myself, but I just could not get out of bed.  Now this is very unlike me!  I've had the flu before and although a mission, have pulled myself together enough to get out of bed to at least go lie on the couch to watch some quality daytime TV.  Micko was very concerned.  He left work immediately to come home and take me to the Doc.


Before I went anywhere, I was in desperate need of a shower... I'm not really sure now why I bothered.  I was so weak, for most of the time I was sitting on the floor (I have done this one or twice before, but usually involved about 30 beers the night before) and I'm not sure I even got around to washing out my conditioner cause when I finally did crawl out, I was still covered in soap suds.  At least I smelt better than a dirty hills hippy in the middle of summer.


Somehow, I managed to sit (although I thought I would pass out at any moment) for an hour while I waited for the Doc - why is it when you feel like utter shit that you are waiting the longest for your 'appointment'?  The Doc asks 'How are you?'... Ummmm.. durh!  I'm here, aren't I?   (and from my previous post on Dr Evil, you'd know I don't go to the Dr unless it's serious)


She takes my temperature... 38.8 (for you seppo's out there, that's 102) - no wonder I felt like shit!  Then she checks my throat, 'Mmm hmm. Infection here'... My ears, 'Mmm Hmm.  Infection here'.. My eyes, my chest... 'Mmmm Hmmmm'.


She makes a few notes, then turns to me and says:


'Okay, so you have flu.  Because you fit, healthy and young and how quickly it come on, I would say it swine flu.  But, we not test anymore because test take 7 day and by then you be better.  When flu first found, most people panic, but now we much relaxed about it.  But you not have contact with any person for minimum 3 day.  Here the script, you fill today.  Drink water!'  


Almost $80 later (not including the $60 to see the Doc - for all of five minutes) and I have a course of Tamiflu and another of antibiotics - for my throat and ear infection.


Good news is... Day 3 is almost up and I'm feeling soooo much better!  The Doc did say that if it were Swine flu it would be a swift kick in the face and gone almost as quickly - which thankfully it has.  The other good news is... I still have my voice!  And I have not a single sign of a head cold!  Woooooot!  You can't imagine what great news that is for someone in my line of work!  Fucking tops!  Besides the fact my brain has been swimming in a fog over the past few days and I've not been able to think straight,  my body has been sweating like a dirty black alsatian one minute and freezing the next, my body has been aching like I've had a 300 kilo man dry rooting me and my throat feels like I swallowed a bottle of bleach after a pack of razors... my voice is unscathed and I can still work!


So at this point... I'm feeling pretty good!  Not sure that I'm quite ready for a beer tonight, but I'm certainly on the mend.  So it would seem... the only thing this dreaded swine flu experience will leave me with, is a crinkled tongue - it kind of waves in and out along the round front part - very odd!  Oh and the realisation, I never want to be crook again!

Premature greying

At age 16, I discovered my first grey (actually it was my hairdresser that made the aforementioned discovery and then choose to impart that info onto me - a self concious, innocent, blissfully unaware 16 year old)... it's been a slow and steady decline into premature old age since.


My father was grey in his early 20s... He 'Just for Men'd' it up until he was well into his 30s when his mustache became a dead give away - but that was the 80s way.  I figure it's heredity and as I've had the same amount of years being a natural brunette as I have a natural grey, I've come to deal with the harsh hand I was dealt.  (Please note - don't worry, I realised I've not been dealt a harsh hand, just a lack of melanin production)


These days I look at it this way... If blondes go more than a few weeks without a trip to the hairdresser (or a blonde in a bottle fix in the bathroom) their lovely blonde locks, turn bogany and trashy as the true colour comes through... Well, I'm in a similar situation, yet it's not my 'true colour' that comes through - just my premature old age.


So, tomorrow I'll book in for a hair cut - I've got a wedding this weekend and need a cut badly...  And, as the grey hairs are on the attack and making some serious headway (literally), today I'll defend my youthful glow with my weapon of choice - Loreal 1.0 black - because I'm (totally) worth it!  

This ain't Fraser f'n Island!

As you're probably aware, I take my beautiful pup Billy down the beach every day for an hour walk.  It's the only off leash, dog friendly beach in the area and it's like doggy heaven. 

Any other day of the week there are dogs spread out from Valla to Swimming Creek (around 3 - 4 k's)...   They play, swim, dig, sniff, run, chase and are generally very happy, well socialised little animals.  Along with the happy dogs, you'll also find children playing (although dog haters take their kids to the main beach - no dogs), plus people getting in their daily exercise, swimmers, surfers and.... 4wd's?

Yes... 4wd's!  4wd's on beaches...  Is it really necessary?

Sure, it's supposed to be only used by 4wd's that have purchased a permit and who follow the rules.  The problem being.. who is there to enforce these rules?  I've been down there every single day for at least an hour, for over a month now, and I've not seen a single ranger.  

What I have seen is a 4wd with L-Plates tearing down the beach, on more than one occasion, with no regard for anything or anyone (not too mention they had a young toddler standing on the back seat - then they got out, smoked a few ciggies and dropped their dirty butts on the beach - disgusting pigs)...

I've seen dirt bikes screaming up and down the stretch of beach doing around 40 k's an hour...

I've seen a guy on a motorised bicycle, with a child in a hub on the back, doing burn outs and heading directly for people/kids/dogs (he's there every day screaming profanities at anyone who request he slow down)...

And on the very rare occasion I see someone doing the right thing  - if in fact there is a 'right' when it comes to driving any vehicle on the beach.  These guys are few and far between, but they  do drive at a safe speed, are on the look out for kids and dogs, and will stop if they see you looking nervously for your child or dog.

Why am I so anti?  Besides the fact I need to be constantly on the look out for the next fuckwit who comes speeding up the beach, thinking their invincible and in control, when they clearly have no idea what they are doing (roads and sand are two quite different surfaces cocknose)!  These vehicles damage an already fragile ecosystem (and yes, there is proof that certain crabs have disappeared from beaches that do allow vehicle access).  They also pose a very real danger, to not only the people on the beach, but those in the car.  Just have a look at the stat's involving death and accidents on Fraser Island.

Cautious and considerate or dangerous and reckless... Regardless, recreational vehicles have no place on the beach!