Pseudo Parenting - the kind without kids...

I've recently been thinking about the whole kids saga.  I'm kind of slowly leaning towards thinking about wanting them (new to me... previously, even thinking about other people having children gave me a rash).

The other weekend, my favourite Mum (Krabes) came down to visit.  She is a great mother... very calm, relaxed and positive towards her children.  And they do what they are told (well most of the time).  They are in bed by 7pm, don't get up before sunrise and generally are delightful little bundles of joy.

After about 15 beers, Krabes and began to discuss parenting.  I'd like to think I would be an encouraging Mother.  Praising good behavior... like I do with Billy.  Not raising my voice unless really necessary.   Reality could differ vastly... I'm under no false pretenses.

At Bellingen Markets, we stumbled across the following scenario.  A young boy, probably around 4-5, a Mum with a youngster in a stoller and a useless as tits on a bull husband.  As they near the street to cross the following one way conversation unfolds... calmy, very calmly:

'Sterling. Slow down. 
Sterling. There's a road coming up... please slow down.  
Sterling. Slow down now.  
Sterling... what do we do when we near a road? We slow down... remember.  
Okay Sterling slow down.  
Sterling. Slow down.  
Okay Sterling... Stop please.  
Sterling. Stop now please.  
Sterling. Did you hear me? I said stop now Sterling.  
Come on Sterling, stop now please.  
Sterling, please stop.
Please Sterling, stop here.
Yes, Sterling, we're stopping here now.
Stop Sterling.
Sterling stop!'

Finally the kid stops... 

the Mum says, 'Good listening skills Sterling!'. Me and Micko look at each other in bewilderment. 

Firstly: What the fuck was the lazy arse husband doing all this time? 

Secondly: Good listening skills? If they were 'good listening skills' I'd hate to see bad ones!

Disclaimer: I know! I know! It's easy to pass judgement when you're not in their situation. I'm not a parent, therefore I have no idea how I would react in this situation.  

Although, I do know how Micko would react. He would stop standing there like a lazy good for nothing dumb fuck and grab the little shits hand. Then he'd probably say something along the lines of : 

'Sterling you little fucker! Did you hear your mother?'  

Okay, okay... so he probably wouldn't say 'Sterling you little fucker'....

Mainly cause we would never call our child Sterling.

Talking Tursdee - Radio Gaga & titty titty bang bang

Last couple of days I've been swamped with work (a good thing). I've gotten up early, come down to my studio and started working merrily away. After around 10 minutes, my boobs start to annoy me. I can feel them hanging around my stomach and my sides... and it's truly not a pleasant feeling!  

After 2 hours of this bullshit, gross, disgusting feeling - and physically holding up udders up by placing my arm underneath them to take the weight, I finally go have a shower and bra up. What is with that? Why do I put up with the feeling (and let me tell you it's not pleasant) for 2 whole fucking hours before deciding to do anything about it. Laziness, I guess. Or just plain fucking stupidity!

Anyfatgrosstitties... As it's Talking Tursdee... today I bring you the story 'Radio Gaga' - it's a saga of fear, trepidation and self dis-belief... of a bad man in a great industry. You might wanna grab a cuppa and settle in for the long haul (or like the next 10 minutes). Having said that if you can't be fucked listening... I totally understand! It is Tursdee after all. I can't be fucked doing much after Tuesday morning.

Stupid Shit - Part II

In my younger days, I was pretty hardcore - or stupid, but I like hardcore better.  If you miss the first confession of my youthful stupidity, check this out.  

Anyways... this brings me to Stupid Shit - Part II

Once upon a time... there was a drunken train wreck of a girl.  She often found herself in ridiculous, and often dangerous, situations.

The scene of one such story is set in the Sports Bar at the Croydon Hotel (a quality establishment in the outer 'burbs of Melbourne).  She is around 18 years old... you bet your sweet arse she is decked out in the ugliest clothes you've ever seen... without a lick of make up on.  Her and a friend had been drinking heavily and decided to walk home (which was fucking AGES away so no idea why she would think that was cool - probably drank her way through her taxi money).  

Mangina (her girlfriend - not her real name, although those who know Karls in real life will know this hairy spadgered girl - she likely has less hair downstairs than Karls 70s porn bush these days) and Karls met this guy at the pub and were walking down the dark streets on the long trek home.  They were cheerful and happy... until...

A car pulled up... a couple of dudes got out, ran towards the 3 of them and starting kicking the shit out of their male walking companion.  He scampered away like a scared little boy.  Leaving Karls and Mangina to their fate.  They stood there like a couple of 'roo's in the headlights.  These psychopathic lunatics turned their frustration onto the girls - punching and kicking Mangina before running off into the darkness (still not sure how Karls remained relatively unscathed).

A few seconds later, a girl runs towards these two helpless drunken souls.  She asks, 'Are you girls orright?' and extends her hand to pick them up off the footpath.  Karls and Mangina decide to walk back to the pub and make a complaint to the Police (who generally set up residency each and every Friday night at this quality establishment).  The good samaritan helps the forlorn girlies walk back a couple of hundred metres.  

And that is when the unthinkable happens.  Good samaritan goes straight for Mangina's hand, rips out her wallet, runs down the street and jumps in the car with the psychotic lunatics!  

Shedding a few tears, shaky and instantly sober as an ox, the pair make it across the highway to the Cops... who take down their complaint but inform them that there is very little chance anything will be done about it.  Karls and Mangina borrow $20 for the cab ride home.

Now, this should have been the last stupid stunt this pair pulled... of course, it wasn't.  Many more near misses were to happen throughout their friendship (which continues to today - minus a couple of rough patches)... Some made for hilarious stories which they will often share after a couple of beers, others were so horrific they were never spoken of again. 

Rest assured.. Karls and Mangina have learnt many lessons throughout their friendship... thankfully, they are both still here to tell the tale!

Da weekend recap

So, in all my 'bullshit day from hell mind space' yesterday I totally forgot to say that I'd had a fabulouso weekendos!

My Dad was in town for his new job and stayed over on the Friday night... had a few (too) many beers, then cracked the wine open - as you do when my Dad is in town.  Was super kickarse to see him - hope next time Mum will make the trek up with him.

Sat morn, headed of to the Bellingen markets (hungover as a dog - I'm not sure where that saying came from because I've not really ever seen a dog with a hangover, but hey).  Turned into the human food vacuum.  Did some shopping in Coffs, took the dog down the beach, had a swim and picked up a couple of DVD's.  One decent, one shithouse (always a dead cert if I do the picking - well, actually they are usually both utter shite).

Sunday, we went for another long walk and swim, then Micko and I took the kayaks out for a couple of hours.  Haven't done it in a while... but I really need to remind myself that it's not that hard to chuck them in the back of the ute - it's totally worth it!  It's so relaxing, floating around, stopping for a dip whenever you feel like it.  Reminds me how fucking lucky I am to live in this stunning part of the world!  

Told you it was stunning!  

Next time, I'm soooooo taking my camera with me so I can show you bitches just how lucky I am - perhaps a few might get jealous enough to book a flight and come drink frozen margaritas while sucking down some of the worlds best oysters (if that's indeed your thing - if so, I'm sure I've got one of the magic bullets I can disinfect and you can use on your nether region when the oysters kick in).

In the arvo (afternoon, that is Surferwife) Aunty Flo arrived (as you know from yesterday's post).  I parked my lard arse on the couch and watched 'Whip It' while eating chocolate non.stop!  I had a cookies and cream Kit Kat, almost a bag of milky bars, some Cadbury rip off mint Aero and then almost a bag of Cheese and Bacon Balls.  Ewwwwww!  Why???  WHYYYYY?

By the way... Whip It kind of sucked dogs balls.  I love Drew - she is totally my 'free pass celebrity' (you know, the cheating that is not cheating cause they are famous rule).  I just think this movie was slow and fucked - might have been my state of mind.

Tuesday morning... time to go box out my frustration!  Later bitches!

Day from Hell...

 I'm having a bad day... 

Why is it that it always coincides with my monthly visit from Aunty Flo?  

Yesterday she arrived on the doorstep completely unanticipated.  I hate it when she does that!  She is usually like clockwork - 28 days to the minute... plus there is ample pre-warning.  Not this time... 

So, I ate my body weight in chocolate... which made me feel a little better - momentarily.  Then I was in sooo much pain all last night I thought I was going to vomit.  Needless to say, I slept like a bitch!  

This morning, everything started going wrong... My laptop wouldn't turn on.  My laptop... like my lifeline to work.  The old, gold little number that has been my saving grace for the past 6 years.  Probably time to upgrade, I hear you thinking.. well I do have a lovely, shiny big fuck off iMac but she's just not the same.

Anyway... the on/off button had been playing up.  Then this morning it completely shat itself.   I manage to hook my Mac up to do the job - much longer and way more painful, but working nonetheless.

Then, my internet slows to almost a stand still.  So, I ring Telstra (my ISP) to find out what's going on.  Last week, I had the same issue and so I upgraded my plan.  I'm put on hold (surprise, surprise) and am informed there are lengthy delays.  I give up after 10 minutes and take my laptop down to the computer repair shop.

I'm so shitty and sore and crappy... I stop and get McDonalds - of course there is only 5 Mcfuckingnuggets in the pack... then look in the pack and it looks like it has been used before - sweet and sour sauce is inside it.  Ewwwwww!  Problem is I've already eaten the five nastily dry little nuggets.

I come home, ring again... on hold for 10 minutes when I start to need to shit... it hits me like a freight train... I definitely need to shit.  I take the phone with me (cause I'm fucked if I'm going to go back down the queue).. I manage to shit, wipe my arse, close the lid and press the button, when my ear hits the side of the phone and disconnects!  ARGGGGGH!!!!

I call back and am shuffled from here to there while people try to palm me off as someone else's responsibilities... there has been some kind of fuck up and my upgraded plan hasn't gone through.  I finally get onto a really great chick who sorts it all out for me and will have me back up and running within 20 minutes - god send!

So, the laptop should be back this arvo and my internet should be back up and running.  I'll also have a copy of XP so I can run my faithful old program on my iMac so I never have to go through all this stress again - back up plan... you should always have a back up plan!

Tomorrow is a new day, right?  

Talking Tursdee

I've had a few comments of late from people who are like totally obsessed with my voice (haha - I kidd! A few people did say they thought my voice - more likely the accent - was pleasant).

So  I've decided to bring you another tale... this time it's regarding 'growing up'.

Last night, I dreamt about getting pregnant and other scary mature shit like that.  Likely because Micko and I had to pack up the portacot last night... and once again, struggled BIGTIME!  Here is the story of my first encounter with that fucking horrible thing!  The Portacot Incident.  

I realised, once again, that I am getting on... getting older and more boring.

 Let me talk you through it...

Oh and hey, thanks kellyansapansa for helping with the audio thing - doing the youtube video's was too time consuming!

Having said that... I really need to go and fold the washing!

Comfort food

The last couple of days, I've been obsessed with food... 

If you're new to these parts, you're probably thinking I've got one of those foodie blogs... only I soooooo don't!  If there are a few things this blog ain't - it's a foodie, fashion or Mum blog (mainly cause a. I can't cook...  b. I'm a fashion disaster - I totally exaggerate... c. I'm no Mum - well I'm Mum to one hell of a cool four legged black beauty - Billy.)

  I'm not sure what it is... probably cause I'm feeling a little on the blah side and food is my savior (oh except that I weighed myself this morning for the first time in 6 months - let me tell you, food is soooo not my savior - it's the devil incarnate).

The only way to get through this funk.. then the fat funk... is some good old fashion comfort food - or a blog about it so I don't have to feed my ever expanding beer and food baby (being the pregnant without being pregnant look)!

Timely, considering it's also a challenge on Blog This (a community for us totally rad Aussie bloggers).  I've not taken up any challenges to date, but some of favourite Aussie bloggers have become part of the blog this team... so I thought, what the hell.  Those favs?  Kate, Nicki and Mrs P.

I love food!  Part of the reason I exercise so damn much.  That way I can burn a few calories, in order to eat that cheese, or have that beer (or 10).

What do I reach for on those damn days that Aunty Flo comes to visit?  Chocolate... particularly of the white variety... and LOTS OF IT!  But chocolate of any description (other than carob - my Mum feed us gross hippy food when I was a kid) will suffice!

My new favourite indulgence are these...

I just discovered them at Woolies and I can't. stop. eating. them!  They look healthy... with the whole 'Go Natural' and use of the word 'Fruit' - when really they are the devil in disguise.

I mentioned Nan the other day... the things I miss about her.  And you know, one of those things is her sweets (sweets for my sweet). 

She'd make the most kick arse Yo Yo's (also known as Melting Moments), Jelly Slice, Mississippi Mud and Madiera Cake. Yummmm... Oh how I miss a cuppa, a sneaky ciggarette and a good old laugh with that woman.

go here for the rad recipe...

Christmas, just passed, my lovely cousin Julezy, got Nanna's prized Yo Yo recipe and created a little piece of Nanna (one that we could eat).  I ate about 10... seriously! 

I decided, while chowing down on one too many of those delicious shortbread delights, that I was going to put together a small cookbook for all the family with all Nanna's recipes in it.  I'll make all the delacies, take photo's of them and get a book printed for each and every one of us. 

Comfort food.... all bound in a comforting book!

Now that's a RAD idea if ever I had one!

Food fuck ups

I have really bad luck when I order food (particularly a lunch) from ANYWHERE!  There is around an 80% chance that what I get will..

a. be nothing like it's description on the menu

b. taste like shit... or be completely tasteless

It's just the way it is... I've come to accept that 8 times out of 10 I will be disappointed.  I've come to accept it, but I'm not happy about it.

Now, it's not because I'm fussy... I'm really not!   Hell, I'm a shitarse cook (if ever there was one) so my general standard is if it's worse than I could make myself (meaning not fit for human consumption) it's crapola.

Recently I've had two bad experiences (2 out of 2 lunches - 100%).  

Firstly, a couple of weeks ago, the rad Micko surprise weekend to be specific, we headed to the Surf Club for lunch.  It wasn't cheap... I ordered the Seared Tuna (around $26).   Let it be known that I am a Tuna (well seafood) freak!  I can't get enough of the stuff... no idea how I will deal with limited seafood (and no shellfish - argggggh) if we ever decide to have sex get up the duff! 

 It came out grey... cooked so much that it was dryer than a Nuns nasty.  It tasted like chalk.  No pink middle... disgusto!  I looked at Micko, disappointment was clearly showing.  For the first time EVER I complained.  I told them that I wanted it rare, beautiful and a pinky red in the middle, definitely not grey.  They took it away, cooked a fresh piece and bought it back.  It was still not even close to rare... but I ate it sulkily. 

This Saturday - another perfect example... We did a spot of shopping and went to one of the pubs in Coffs for a meal.  Micko ordered the steak.  And I?  Well, I looked at the board and ordered the Beef Massaman Curry - surely they can't fuck up something as simple as a curry... right?

WRONG!  It was so NOT a Massaman Beef Curry... more like an Irish Stew!  (Not sure if everyone knows what an Irish Stew is... so I'll elaborate - it's beef, carrots, potato and other veg in a thick gravy type sauce...  real wintery dish...  not even remotely close to the flavour of a curry!!!)

I almost cried... as I usually do when I'm dished up a shitty meal.  I've actually cried on a few occassions.  A couple that spring to mind:

1.  Salad and SPAM (not ham) roll (ewwwww)

2.  A SALAD roll... came out with more egg on it than anything else - I fought with the bitch at the corner shop who insisted egg was salad.  Ummmm.  Egg. is. not. a./ fucking. vegetable!  If I wanted an egg and salad roll, I'd have asked for a fucking egg and salad roll... deep breaths Karls, deep breaths (you can see that particular incident really struck a nerve!)

2.  Oysters Kilpatrick (gorgeous fresh oysters, topped with about a kilo of bacon, with tomato sauce squeezed heavily on top - heavily like drowning in tomato sauce).  Wrong!  Wrong!  Wrong!

There is nothing worse than a disappointing meal... especially when you've paid good money for it.  The good news is... it's only lunches!  Not dinners!

I'm thinking weekend lunch dates are now of the agenda... unless they are at Hungry Jacks!

The losing side...

This weekend, the pre-season competition of my favourite sport (Aussie Rules, or AFL) started.  Saturday night, the team I've lived and breathed my entire life started their season with a devasting loss.  I've talked about my Tiges before... here.

If you've been hanging round these here parts for sometime, you'd be aware I lost my Nanna to liver cancer back in November.  If not, you can get to know her a little better here.  And discover what a blow it was to me, here and here.

Anyways... like I was saying before my team was embarrassingly defeated.  I couldn't watch the game... not just because we played dismally, but because I kept imagining my Nan (a massive Tigers supporter) sitting on her dusty musk pink couch, next to her partly completed crossword puzzle, blackberry wine in one hand, sneaky cigarette in the other, yelling profanities at the telly.  It tore at my heart strings so much, I had to chuck on a DVD.

I was also very glad we lost - of course, I would have liked us to put up some kind of a fight, rather than sucumb to defeat so easily.  The thought of our first win of the season (if we even do win a game this season) is bittersweet.  At the end of each game, I'd (and a few of my cousins and her friends) half pissed, give her a quick phone call.  She'd answer singing our club theme song (Oh were from Tigerland) and laughing happily - thanks in part to the blackberry wine.  Sometimes, if I were with my brother, we'd give her a prank call - Dale once pretended he was a Policeman calling in regards to a noise complaint.

The simple act of watching my footy team makes the fact that she's gone very real.  The emotion that lies dormant slowly bubbles to the surface.  I miss the warmth of her hugs... her laughter (which I can still hear in my mind)... her little taunts... her sense of humour.... her yo-yo's, mudcake and jelly slice.  

Every now and then I get a waft of her perfume and I have to believe that it's her... floating around (checking that my arse is not rapidly expanding) and reminding me she'll be forever by my side - for all of life's wins and losses.  

See she was well aware that a win is made all the more sweet when you know what loss is.  And ain't that the truth!

What lies lurking...

My good real life friend Jands, got this rad care package sent to her from her best bloggy buddy Sara.  I decided to pop over there myself to see what kind of a person sends such a rad, thoughtful gift and found Sara had posted about the contents of her handbag.   What a rad idea!

They say you can discover a lot about a person from the content of their handbag... so without further ado, here's mine!

A recent purchase... wasn't sure about the purple, but they didn't have the black in stock. Now, I'm a fan.

It's dark, dingy and full of shit in there!

Mary Poppins-esque... how does all that shit fit in one tiny handbag?

A stubby holder... cause you'll never know when you get the thirst. Plus, if I'm going to a barbie or anywhere that tinnies or stubbies will be served, I alway forget to grab one to chuck in the esky. Practical and stylish?

A stack of paperwork and receipts - clearly a fan of the old stash and forget.

Because every responsible puppylicious owner needs a poo bag or two.

My keys... oh yeah, there are way more keyrings than keys on this fucker! The boxing glove was a present from my old gym/boxing buddy when I left Victoria.

I wear my sunglasses at night... So not for real. I'm not that much of a tosser! Notice the asthma puffer in the background... Can you believe I also used to be a pack a day smoker? Wrong! (although I do still steal one when I've had a beer or two)

iPod... bring the tunes to my gym work out baby. And a couple of pendants that arrived in the post yesterday (naughty naughty - told you I'm addicted)

And that about sums up the contents of my handbag.  What does it say about me?

I'm a beer swilling man girl who wears no make up, moisturiser or lip gloss, nor brushes her hair... right?  Hell, if there were no tampons or pads (and jewellery) in there you'd probably think I had a penis and this was in fact, a man bag.

Let it be known that I braved the mozzie ridden pergola to bring you this blog... I'm itchy from head to toe, so you bitches better appreciate it!

Oh yeah... and before I go start my weekend - remember to have a listen to yesterday's blog.  If you can't listen to it (cause you only check blogger at work, or whatev) let me know.

Now, put on the Aeroguard and 'aveagoodweekend!