DIGITAL ME

I have never posted a photo of me on my blog due to my humble technology etc. But, dear readers, I think we need to connect, so here is a little bit of me that I traced onto the screen. No, I am not Gollum. But I am Precious. (And cryptic.)

Unfortunately it is only my hand - which is not my best feature. That honour goes to my glorious Brazilian feet. (They are my best feet-ure, you could say!) No, I'm not Brazilian, but apparently long kangaroo-type feet are called that by some. Go figure.

Next, if you could see me, I would recommend you admire my hyper-mobile eyebrows. There is a lot you can say with an eyebrow. Lately I like to say "floccinaucinihilipilification" with mine. That shuts them up.

Please note that I don't actually have green skin as the illustration would suggest. I was, however, a vegetarian for a fair while (until I got really really hungry) and I do like to recycle which makes me metaphorically green. In reality I'm quite pale. Very pale. Well, very pale. In fact, I make gothic look swarthy. I should be an elf.

Well, there you are, a little tour of me! Vanity thy name is anonymous.

P.S. Have you got it? Then flaunt it in the comments!

pre-birthday cake

pre-birthday cake
Originally uploaded by massdistraction.

JOKE OF THE DAY

Kid: "Mummy, Mummy, can I lick the bowl?"

Mum: "No, you have to flush like everyone else!"

Floccinaucinihilipilification has changed my world. Up until two nights ago I was one of those simpletons who thought antidisestablishmentarianism was the longest word (not including medical humdingers) in the English language. (No one counts supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, not even the Queen and it is her language.) But I think Her Majesty would use floccinaucinihilipilification quite happily since it was invented by a swotty Eton College student. While reading his Latin textbook, and wanting to avenge himself on this dead language, he noticed four words meaning 'nothing' that he could connect (and show himself up as a smarty pants all at the same time). (Incidentally, my cousin is a Latin master and has taught at swotty English colleges and I don't know why I wanted to mention that other than the swottiness is catching..) Anyway, since the Queen is in charge of the language, she must have to test-drive all new words; floccinaucinihilipilification dates from around 1741, so it is before Her Mag's time, but this is the reason why any words Americans invent will never be real English. For example, she is unlikely to ever say, "Yo, butler-dude, fetch One some poached quail and a Pepsi or One shall diss you to your home-boys." However, it is very reasonable that all Australianisms would be embraced in the Royal household, e.g., "Oh bugger off, Charles".

If you google floccinaucinihilipilification for an image, you come up with quite a lot of photos. Here is one. Now, the definition of floccinaucinihilipilification basically is: the act of assessing something as worthless. YOU MAY BE DOING THIS RIGHT NOW! But don't ever tell anyone that you are floccinaucinihilipilificating because they may take a few steps back from you, or tell you that you'll go blind.

So why has it taken so long for this word to reach my ears? This has disturbed me and kept me awake for two nights! Of course, this would immensely please that snickering, smarmy little Eton College student who invented it: that his snooty word took over two hundred years to reach The Colonies (guffaw guffaw!) Why, even Instant Jim (He of the Massive Planet-Sized Brain) did not know it and heard it from one of his year three pupils! - Could it be because we live near the most isolated capital city in the world? Well, that is a good excuse. But you know, we are not a cultural desert here. Anna Pavlova, the famous Russian ballerina, visited in the 1920s!

Here is the pavlova, our cultural dessert, that we invented in honour of her. See the resemblance? Yes, it was invented right here in Perth at the Esplanade Hotel. (Beware New Zealanders who try and lay claim to it. They are just jealous because all they have contributed to the world is sheep and hobbits).

Ah floccinaucinihilipilification I love you! I dedicate my blog to you. In a world of lots and lots of really really important stuff you are a shining beacon of something to us all! You define yourself. And the Queen leads us by example. Long live floccinaucinihilipilification!

Australia's own "Jihad Jack" - the first guy to be imprisoned under our shiny new anti-terrorism laws - was released on appeal last week. He's actually an Islamic convert, but not a very good one, because stepping out of court he proclaimed "Hallelujah!" Which is ironic since this is a Jewish word, that Christians use a lot. I just thought that was funny. So did the naked fat cat.

A mess ...

A mess ...
Originally uploaded by asmundur.

My life's a mess. My psychological state is deranged. My house is a mess. Well, that's what they reckon, isn't it? Your mental health is reflected by the appearance of the interior of your home. Oh boy, am I in trouble.

The nice men in the white coats will be here soon to take me away, so I better type quickly.

So much for the luckily-auspicious placement of hills outside my north-east corner! And my St John's Wort pills! And my ocean sounds CD! And the soft greens and calming golds of my decor! And my second-hand, ancient Kirby vacuum cleaner! IT'S ALL A CHASING AFTER THE WIND SINCE THIS STY IS INHABITED BY THE THREE LITTLE PIGS AND THE CHIEF HOG!!!!!

So here I am, defeated amidst the disarray and general destruction. But it's always like this, so I'm not writing about anything new or outrageous. People with tidy families simply cannot understand and they like to tut tut and feel superior and blame the mother/wife. But you, who have tried and failed with everything that's legal to train your miserable slob families, stand on a higher plane of "knowingness", don't you? Yes. We know.

I used to joke and say "at least there's no structural damage", but I'm not so sure about that anymore... . Just pick a room, any room! Well, maybe to illustrate the point I might do that- and I'll pick the hallway which one would normally expect to remain pretty clear. OK, in the hallway there is:

1. A million bits of styrofoam that sulky Little Pig No.3 grated up on the side of his sister's metal mesh bin on Saturday morning, and which consequently floated around and was kicked all over the house.
2. (Right outside my bedroom door) a pile of 2 dead computer monitors, 2 keyboards, the modem thing or whatever it's called, a broken video, an unidentified cardboard box of something, and a crate of toys. Wedged between the video and computer is a ROLL OF TOILET PAPER. ( For those bum-wiping hallway emergencies.)
3. Next we find my other rubbish vacuum cleaner that I have to use before the Kirby because the Kirby is so rubbish. It is partially disassembled and has been left there from an aborted attempt to clean up the styrofoam.
4. Then outside the bathroom (you DON'T want to know what's in there .. but let's just say I'm hoping that is Vegemite smeared on the bin next to the loo...) is the requisite towel on the floor, by a sock, and a Lego gun.
5. Right in the middle, standing sentinel like the guardian of the passageway, is the dirty clothes hamper from the bathroom. Why is it there? Underneath is a bit of paper, a tissue, and some ripped-off packing tape (probably from the E-Bay Warrior's latest purchase). Variety is always nice, isn't it?
6. A calico shopping bag, a giant rubbish bag full of old clothes and to finish off (like a little garnish, really) we have: some plastic, a bit of a streamer from recent Birthday decorations, and 4 dirty socks.

All this and my hallway is 9 paces long.

Why couldn't I have bred neat children? I've tried to be a good person all my life and place things obsessively at the correct angle and wash my hands compulsively! Remember the Neat Freak Family? Why them and not me? The only answer that makes sense is that it is genetic. They must have clean genes. Exempli gratia: their kids have no rotting material at the bottom of their school bags. Proof. Genetic.

Well, it's not because of me and my sweet double helix so it must be a mutation carried on the Y chromosome. Clearly, then, it is Instant Jim's fault. BUT HE TOLD ME BEFORE WE GOT MARRIED THAT HE USED TO DO ALL THE HOUSEWORK FOR HIS MUM ON A SATURDAY MORNING! This is the sneakiness of men, dear readers: they lull you into a false sense of their abilities. Either that, or it is the result of a latent mutant gene: the man in question reaches a certain age and SPLAT! It shows up. SPLAT! SPLAT SPLAT! Suddenly, like bird poo on your windscreen.

Oh! Imagine having a white decor theme! I had a friend like that. Her loungeroom had WHITE CARPET and WHITE LEATHER FURNITURE. She turned into a Bride-zilla. There's got to be a connection there somewhere ...

Anyway I will try and just not worry about it. I won't think about it today, fiddledee dee, I'll think about it tomorrow. I won't open the blinds.

Where are my sunnies?

.

Cat Ballou

Cat Ballou
Originally uploaded by anonymous jones.

He broke my stepper machine! He broke my beloved stepper! Instant Jim was on it for 55 seconds and he killed my lovely, lovely stepper! Oh, and do you know what he says as its lifeless body is laying in bits on the floor? Do you? He says, "IT SERVES YOU RIGHT".

HUH!

I should have kicked him out the window with my legs of steel for that! "It serves you right", indeed! Well, excuse me for trying to encourage a little fitness and form into someone's life! It serves you right. It serves you right.

............ Now I am busy plotting my revenge. Snicker snicker snicker snicker snicker! >>>>copious amounts of evil laughter<<<<

OH HOW WONDROUS it is to be the one that oils the wheels and keeps everything going! MINE IS THE POWER! Yeah power! I like that word, power: power, power, power, power. Snicker, snicker, snicker, snicker! Well, I just might forget to wash his undies for, mmmm, FOREVER, and (oh dear) suddenly I feel like having my favourite 'tofu lasagne' for tea each night and we can turn totally VEGAN (the horror! the horror!).

Yes [thoughtful, yet sinister expression] : I could take the batteries out of the TV control (simple, yet cruel); or maybe swap his cherished library of books for some leg-warmers and an old Jane Fonda aerobics tape on Ebay (feel the burn) ! How about giving his students his mobile phone number? Or I could sow the carpet in his car with alfalfa seeds and give it a water ... (blooming marvellous). Perhaps super glue-ing the dog's lips onto his in the middle of the night would do the trick? I'M OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS! (Please make them worthy of a folk song "The Ballad of Instant Jim and How I Did Him In.")

Hmph. Well, he's gone and done it now 'cause I'm NOT HAPPY.

And if I'm not happy - AIN'T NOBODY HAPPY!!

Phew!
What a big day it was yesterday! Mid-winter toenail clipping day it was, yessiree! Usually it comes sometime after the solstice; there's no exact date; you have to go by the signs.

So, my toenails had started tearing holes in my thick woolly socks and they were long and splayed with striations and wavy edges. That's when you know it's time: just when they begin to look like exotic underwater coral formations.

WOO HOO! I HAD ME SOME FUN!! Though I think I've over-stressed the clippers. A couple of times the clippers actually got stuck in the middle of my big toe nails because I made the typical mistake of starting in the middle - - don't do that, people, it can take quite a while to prise them out, though it helps if you use some kind of lever. But does anyone else clip off the skin from the very end of their toes that's all dead and yellow and kind of transluscent? That's the funnest bit, cause after it's gone it leaves lovely soft, rosy pink skin and you kind of feel like a baby again!

I put all the clippings in the middle of a tissue and them wrap them up carefully since I heard that story from I guy I know about how Voodoo priests in Africa use 'em against you. Now, I know I live in Australia, but our horrible neighbour (who we affectionately call Voldemort) comes from South Africa, or Holland, or somewhere, SO I'M NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES!

I haven't always had this Mid-Winter Toenail Clipping tradition, however: I used to have my last clip around April sometime, and then (as it got colder) left my next one till, say, November or December and I used to call that tradition "The Clipping off of Last Summer's Toenail Polish Tradition" which, granted, saves on nail polish remover, but eventually costs more in new sock outlay.

Dangnabbit, I feel all beautiful and stylish now! My toes are simply curling in hedonistic delight inside my uggies! But my feet feel distinctly shorter.

Aircraft Carrier

Picture of the aircraft carrier awarded to Little Johnny for being such a good boy by not plunging a stake into the heart of the new kid before recess.

Ingrates! Bloody little ingrates! All children are revolting , snivelling, disgusting little ingrates!

I blame the baby boomers.

Yes. it was them who started it. ME ME ME! "I don't want to conform", "I don't want to eat meat", "I don't want to wear your capitalist patriarchal bra of suppression" .. BLOODY BABY BOOMERS IT'S ALL THEIR FAULT THAT THE REST OF US HAVE TURNED OUT LIKE WE HAVE AND SO I AM GOING TO BLAME THEM FOR MY UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN!

Do you know who else is to blame? (NO, NOT ME.)

The teachers.

Yes, dear readers, how much evil in the world have they been responsible for? Just look at fractions.

Because teachers can't use any of the good ol' tried and tested methods of crowd control anymore, and because bloodshed is generally nowadays frowned upon, they have resorted to the soft measure: bribery.

It's true, isn't it? Here's a quote from Little Pig No. 2: "We are only good for relief teachers who give us good stuff".

Now, you'd think the odious little worms would be HAPPY with a nice big tick in red pen on their work, wouldn't you? Nope! And these days it has gone beyond the munificence of a gold star sticker and a 'well done' stamp, too! First, the teachers began with free pencils and erasers. Then, it was a 'lucky dip' with cheap nick nacks as the prize. Now we are getting into the realm of treasure boxes with stationery sets and glitter gel pens; there are trophies for Star of the Day; Chupa Chups; Mars Bars; a trip to McDonalds or the cinema for the best kids; and - whoa Nelly, this beats them all - at one of our old schools they even gave away four bikes to the two most well-behaved girls and two for the boys!!!

Hence the parents' dilemma. HOW CAN WE TOP THAT? And the pressure is well and truly on, dear readers, for us to do so - yes? Where will this reward mentality insanity stop?!

Here is the attitude of the current midget generation of miscreants when presented with any task, big or small: "WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME ?".

Won't they get a lovely shock when they enter the workforce?...........................The only 'Snickers' they will be getting will be from me, and not the chocolate variety, either!