December 2007


……..I reflect on the year passed.

A Whoa Nelly Fuck-me-dead kinda year.

The year started badly. Really really badly.

And got steadily worse.

But I don’t want to dwell on it. I will just say that MPS is a lucky fucker that I didn’t stab him in the eye with a fork while he slept. Cause that woulda taken some es-plaining. ‘Sorry officer, I was eating steak in bed and I kinda slipped….oh, what’s that? You read my blog and know that I have only ever cooked steak once in my life and did it in a fit of channeling June Cleaver? Well, I was cutting the steak up for my husband, who is bleeding from the eye socket over there….. who am I kidding? Slap those handcuffs on me baby, here use mine, they match my shoes…..’

But I did a lot of running the cold tap while he was in the shower….. bwaaaa haaaa haaaa

So I will think about the coming year. The kick-arse-fan-freaking-tastic Year Of Kelley.

No resolutions. My family resolve every year to break my resolutions, bastards, so here is some for them. Entitled:

Chez Magneto Bolds 10 Commandments.

1. Thou shalt not sit on the toilet with the door open, fan off, and use all the fucking paper without replacing the roll.

And no freaking using-up-to-the-last-square-and-then-ripping-some-off-the-new-roll- so-you-don’t-have-to-replace-it shit. Or I will whip you with the toilet brush. Just after I have cleaned the toilet.

Oh, and while I’m on the subject. For all that is good on God’s green earth FLUSH! There is nothing worse than someone else’s piss splash back.

2. Thou shalt not complain that you have nothing to wear and then empty your floordrobe in the laundry, expecting The Almighty Mummy to wash it all. Including the shit that is still freaking folded. Be warned, you pull that crap and I will return it to your room. After I have farted on it.

3. Thou shalt do what I say. When I say. End of conversation. I can rain war and pestilence and no freaking phone credit or internet access on your arse.

4. Thou shalt not touch Almighty Mummy’s computer. Unless given permission. And asking me while I am half asleep or before my first bucket-o-latte does not constitute permission. I am not held responsible for anything I say during these times. Or when I am holding new shoes. I am speaking in tongues, not saying yes to you.

5. Thou shalt open freaking EYES or move shit when looking for things. Standing in the middle of the room waiting for said item to jump out at you will not work. Unless it is the back of my hand. That’ll work.

6. Thou shalt put away clothes properly. This does not mean the end of the bed or on the floor. Unless it is in your own room. Then I don’t give a shit what you do as long as said clothes do not end up back in the laundry. See Commandment #2.

7. Thou shalt not ask for money within 6 hours of saying no to the Almighty Mummy. The Almighty Mummy has a looooooong freaking memory. Any reference to elephants will end in tears. Yours. When I take away your ipods and replace your Emo music with my favourite techno. (this will be hard to enforce as we actually like the same music)

8. Thou shalt do homework before playing on the computer. Oldest infidel, you are in VCE now. You have homework every night. Yes you do. I will ring your teachers. And invite them over. And they will come cause I can be very persuasive. Infidel-that-was-born-second (cause apparently ‘middle child’ fucks up psyches or somesuch. I prefer using my own methods) you don’t get off easy. Your friends got more honours than you did last year. What the fuck? I don’t care that you got six A’s and the rest were B’s. More study for you. *snort*

9. Thou shalt not walk in the room and start talking at me when I am blogging. This really really pisses the Almighty Mummy off. You will walk in, kneel on the floor with eyes averted until your presence is acknowledged. Wear knee pads. It could be a long wait.

10. Thou shalt love everything that I cook. And then praise the Almighty Mummy for her culinary prowess, even if it is soup. From a can. That you reheated yourself. I bought the bastard and you will bow to me.

11. Thou shalt not stand in front of a full fridge and/or pantry and bitch that there is nothing to eat. I am not a fucking mind reader and the store doesn’t stock ‘I don’t know’. I asked. They don’t. Have an apple.

Yeah, yeah, that was 11. But do you really think any of them will be followed?

I would be happy with just number one. OMG would I be happy with just number 1. Of the number 1’s and 2’s. Yeah that would be good.

Happy New Year my internet lovelies. Now go forth and resolve to resolve tonight. And then pop back here and let me know what you decided to give up do to make 2008 better so I can hold you to it and tease you mercilessly when you break the resolution by 1pm on the first of January cheer you on.

Mwwwaaaa! Looking forward to spending 2008 with you.

Two very exciting things have happened today. And I am jumping out of my skin with excitement!

Firstly. I was wiping Boo’s arse earlier and noticed that he had his first solid bowel movement EVA! Boo has been gluten free since ‘toddler diarrhoea’ didn’t clear up by the time he was four. We started a half arsed *snort* gluten challenge but over the last couple of days he has been eating hot dog rolls till they have been coming out the wazoo. And solid!

Oh. My. Freaking GOD!!! I am so excited I could just, well, share my sons toilet habits with the internets. I am just bouncing people. Looked just like the Mr Hanky I packed away with the Christmas decos.

I swear it freaking winked at me and said BoooYaah!!!

I resisted the urge to take a photo for you all. I concede that some may not be as enamored by my sons fecal floaties.

And the second thing. Well I am sure I will be forgiven for announcing this after a good bowel movement, but today sees the launch of the newest most exciting Aussie Blogging forum in the world! It was supposed to be a secret till tomorrow. I was planning on having a play and wielding my magic moderating powers without an audience. I was going to do a vague post and keep you guessing and begging and sending me shoes to get me to tell, but then Meg, Snoskred and Andrew let the cat out of the proverbial Gucci puppy carrier.

The Aussie Bloggers Community project is born! Here is the link to the forum. We are all having fun in there right now and literally hundreds of people have visited since the unofficial launch at 6pm.

Meg has done all the hard work with the linking and stuff so pop over there to read all about it:

Dipping in the blogpond

Or just click on all three of their names and read what they have to say, oh and subscribe to their feeds. You will thank me! (Don’t forget to subscribe to mine too! Bwaaa haaa haaa!)

And then get your arses over to the forums! Oh and my lovely overseas friends, it’s not just for Aussie sheilas and blokes 🙂

Just don’t forget to come back ya hear?

Well, well, well….. Looks like I definitely still have my moderators hat on cause there was not a fuck, shit, biatch in sight. Must be mellowing in my old age. Probably something to do with that red shit on my leg. That apparently no one but me can see…..

It is freaking hot.  More than sweaty breasticles, my lovelies, I am glowing all over the shop.  Wipin’ up my glow with a towel kinda hot.

It just hit 41c (105.8F) while I was driving the kids around to various sleepovers.  Got the honour of meeting my bosses wife, lounging in the pool with a glass of wine lucky biatch, when I dropped Moo and her best bud off for a sleepover there tonight.  She seems lovely.  Apparently she has heard all about me, *snigger* but was still nice to me.

Went shopping to buy large clear plastic storage containers for the Christmas Decos (going to cull a lot.  17 boxes might be a tad excessive I do concede) and take the girls to spend their Christmas money on a game for the Wii.  The girls went one way, and I went straight to the coffee place.

As you do.  On a freaking stinking hot  day.  You buy the largest Latte you can find.  With an extra shot.

While I was waiting for them to make it, my FREE coffee cause they have these little card thingy’s and your 8th one is free, I wandered over to put Lotto on.

Our little indulgence.

‘Oh!’ says the little girl that served me, all of 10 years old I reckon, ‘You have a win!’

‘Cool!’ says I, thinking this is my lucky day, might chuck a little something special in the cart at Safeway.

She calls over her mum.  I know it was her mum cause she said ‘Mum, what do I do here?’

People behind me are mumbling.  I am thinking, wait your turn fuckers, Mummy is getting an avocado, or maybe even TWO! Oooh, cherries would be nice…..

‘Congratulations!’ says Mum.  I am thinking a lot of freaking hoo-ha for 20 bucks lady.  Now hand over the cash my coffee is getting cold.

‘You have won $1125.25!’

‘I WHAT?????’  My poor little heat stroked mind is not computing.

She points to the screen that is showing the whole fucking shopping centre how much I won.

I start stammering and sweating glowing that little bit more.

‘Really?  Oh. My. God!’  Any one would have thought I won 1st division the way the lady and I were carrying on.

Little girl counts out my cash and puts it in an envelope.

Yeah baby!

I spend the next 15 minutes trying to find the girls.  Finally find them perusing the games in Target.

I tell them.  Moo launches herself at me in excitement.  My coffee goes flying.

My beautiful FREE coffee.

Then the little biatches give me a list of all the things they want.

But Mummy has other plans for this money.  Oh yes, my lovelies, you KNOW what I want…..

Pity a grand will only buy one shoe.  I will have to learn to hop elegantly.

So I was in the shower this morning defurring.

And cleaning the shower.  And deep conditioning my hair. All at the same time. Cause I am a woman and I can multi task  like that.

And I saw this:

leg-crap.jpg

What the fuck?  Yeah, it is a shocking photo but 1. I really didn’t want to look. 2. Boo has a thing for legs and if he saw me taking photos of my leg then he would want to do a freaking power point presentation about it and take it to school for show and tell and C. isn’t it humilating enough to post a photo of your leg with freaking red shit all over it without breaking out the bloody floodlights?

My grandma has that sorta shit.  How did something like that end up on my freaking inner knee cap place?  Yeah, like it has a name.

It is right on my leg where I rest my laptop.  Leg bent, laptop resting, opposite foot tapping ‘hurry up, hurry up, the tiny terrorist is occupied for 5 fucking minutes let me get a quick post/comment out before he starts his reign of terror again’ tattoo.

So what is it? Radiation poisoning from my MacBook?  Bloggers inner thigh?  Laptop-itis?   Is there a support group I can join?  A magical creme?

Amputation?

So I am starting to look like my freaking eleventy hundred year old grandmother in the nursing home.  Better check my chin and upper lip for Nanna hairs.

On second thought.  Lets not.

I am over guest posting at Snoskred’s today.

A post inspired by bone tiredness, too much wine and spending the day with my awesome Daddy.

No swearing in sight.  Really freaking hard, especially after the last couple of days.

If you want me to come and mess up your blog, offend your readers or do a shoe parade, just click on the ‘Talk to me’ button up the top there and let me know where and when.

Just remember the coffee.  Skinny latte with a extra shot.

It’s done.

Despite the best efforts of the universe to prevent it’s erection (*snigger* I said erection…. shuddup, I am delirious) the cubby is finally up.

Apparently you don’t need instructions, or the right amount of materials, or pre warning that you will need specialist drill bits, a kick arse professional strength drill and a circular saw to complete it.

Apparently no one has sued them before for false advertising.

Apparently it takes 2 people 2 hours to erect it *snigger*.

In reality it took 4 adults, 15 hours to put up.  Well, actually 3 adults 6 hours to put the base up wrong, 1 hour to dismantle and then the remainder putting it up right.

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See that?  Only about 3 foot too tall.  Would they listen to me?  Noooooo.  They actually erected *snigger* the whole fucking base and then realised that they could actually stand under it and then went oops.

There were injuries:

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MPS got a splinter.  Awww, poor baby.

There was night time drilling and hammering.  With lots of beer.  And singing.  And gnashing of jaws and thumping of chests.  I went inside.  I don’t drink beer. Or like hearing my husband, brother and father singing to Pink.

night-time-building.jpg

And pizza at 10pm.

And more beer.

And then start all over again in the morning.  Well, after breakfast.  At 12pm.  Hmmm.

And more beer.

Apparently drills only work if my brother has beer.

And then at 7.30pm tonight they downed tools.

It was finished.

front-cubby-finished.jpg

There was a round of applause.  And gasps of ‘FUCK it’s HUGE!’

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Boo decreed it to be the best present ever.  Well I told him to say that.  Gotta use that freaking echolalia to your advantage.  I am ‘the best Mummy ever’ and ‘Gawd Daymn Gorgeous’ too.  It’s true!  Boo says so.

Tonight there has been a flurry of activity in our driveway.  Kids I have never seen before and the neighbours children all congregating and peering down our driveway.  Hoping for an invite I expect.

Should I charge admission?

Day 2 of the Great House Extension Cubby Building of 2007.

There has been much bitching and kvetching and gnashing of jaws.

Every now and then there is a call of ‘I need to urinate’

And that person is found playing on the Wii.

The Wii that has been named ‘Jesus’ in honour of the season. Born on Christmas Day.

My father has fallen in love. Absolute rapture. My legally blind father is finding every opportunity to play.

Will post tonight if when the cubby is finished, with all the drama, blood and empty beer sustenance bottles. While cradling the biggest wine glass I can find.

If you don’t hear from me, you will find me rocking in the corner repeating:

‘No fucking instructions. Two thousand dollars and No. Fucking. Instructions.’

edited to add:

Sorry. Just realised that some people don’t know what a cubby is. Seems to be an Australian term. See this post for a picture.

And he is a generous bastard.

under-tree.jpg

But her his mother can’t cook turkey for shit. Dry, fucking indigestible strings of wood chip goodness. She Santa needed the reminder of why she he cooked Christmas dinner every year since she he was 19.

And has no memory of Christmas dinner as a child. Was probably Apricot chicken…..

Santa has amazing powers. He managed to walk shit snow all over my carpet. From the North Pole. On the other side of the world. Fucking amazing.

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Pity he can’t make the plastic wrapping around the toys disappear….

But he is not so amazing that he can stop the plague of men everywhere. Male pattern baldness. Fucker left whiskers everywhere.

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And apparently his teeth aren’t too good either, cause there is a half bitten homemade truffle left on the plate. Must be his teeth, cause he would have loved it. Cause I am they were awesome.

The kids were beside themselves with their Christmas gifts. The last thing Boo said last night was:

‘Will Santa bring Hyperdash?’

Me: ‘Well he will if you have been a good boy!’

Boo: ‘I am…. now.’

The first thing out of his mouth this morning:

‘Has Santa brought my Hyperdash?’, then ‘Is this my Hyperdash?’, ‘WHERE IS MY HYPERDASH!’

When he finally opened it, Santa breathed a huge sigh of relief. But now Santa wants to hide the fucking thing in the cupboard cause if she he hears ‘Are you ready to dash?’ one more freaking time tonight she he will staple the kid to the wall and shove it up his arse.

Santa didn’t forget Mummy this year. I got a dressing gown that I picked up the other day while replacing my panties that keep ‘disappearing’ that is just my size. And a bluetooth mouse for my computer. That would go missing in five minutes if it wasn’t for the fact that some arsehole keeps playing with something on HIS computer and causing my computer to no longer recognise the mouse… Oh and the fact that a bluetooth mouse was no-fucking-where on the laundry list of things that I gave him to choose from for me. A domain name? Nup. Shoes? Nup. A weekend away? Nup. Jewellery? Nup. A new phone? No sireee. Should I go on? Nup.

Santa spoiled the girls with a keyboard and punching bag for Too and a gawd daymn exxy graphics tablet for Moo. Other junky stuff and this each:

hackintosh.jpg

Santa’s helper is a clever little vegemite. He was able to build 2 computers and turn them into Mac’s.

Got to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas jaw workout lunch and there were more gifts from the jolly fat guy!

The hall table that I specifically told Santa I didn’t want. I wanted the one next to it. The one that matched my furniture…. but I guess I can’t blame him, it was supposed to be my present last year.

My brother Santa left the most awesome present till last. A Wii. And Guitar Hero 3. And 2 more games. The girls nearly fainted. And have been attached to it ever since. Except when we dragged them away for 15mins to eat something other than chocolate. Too scored 250 in bowling. Apparently that is good. So good in fact she found it necessary to ring my father tonight to shatter his top score and crush his victory to inform him. Moo fancies herself as the next Eric Clapton or Jimmy Hendrix. If she actually knew who the fuck they were…

There is wrapping paper everywhere. Toys and shit strewn all over the furniture, floors, walls, light fittings. We ate leftovers, chocolate and the Christmas essential

images1.jpeg for dinner. I am about to drag Boo to bed while Moo and Too play the Wii with my brother. Need a good nights sleep cause we are putting up the fort/cubby/extension on the house tomorrow.

All in all it was a lovely Christmas day. Despite what I say. I got gifts, kisses and hugs from my kids, to see my brother revel in being able to give my kids the Most. Awesome. Present. Eva. eat copious amounts of chocolate, not cook at all all day and drink myself into a stupor with far too much wine.

Which spawned this post.

I will leave you now to hopefully sleep it off with a link to Kim’s blog. She took the most fantastic Santa photo ever. Pop over and check it out!

And pop over to WhyMommy’s blog, she has had the best Christmas news. Made me weep with joy.

❤ Whymommy.

Ho Ho Ho!

Take that as you will.

Well it is Christmas Eve.

The kids are playing on the playstation.  Little do they know that the poor ol’ PS2 will be relagated to the scrap heap tomorrow with the arrival of the Wii and shiny new computers.

The cubby is here.  After a concerted effort by MPS  and on the threat of bringing Boo to their homes on Christmas morning, the rest of the cubby arrived at 4pm.

With no instructions.  No diagrams.  No fucking clue what to do.  Oh, and we have to pre-drill our own holes and cut the wood to size.  A ‘kit’ my fucking arse.  Once we get our legal advice I will let you know the name of the company to never ever deal with.

When it arrived in a huge truck, Boo ran outside excitedly exclaiming ‘My Hyperdash is here!’.

The Hyperdash is indeed here, thanks to all my wonderful lovelies that went looking and Boneblower who got her inlaws to drop it off on their way through our town.  Smootches.

But the fat bloke will get the glory.  Bastard.

Boo is watching Shrek the halls.

MPS is playing on his computer.

Amy is screaming around her pen like a bunny possessed.  Probably excited knowing that Santa will fill her stocking with yummy treats.

Everything I ordered turned up today.  Including the awesome photo book I won from Click on print.

I got the most gorgeous gift in the mail from one of my fabulous internet buddies, covered in paper with <3’s all over it.  Shoe shaped chocolates and a shoe for everyday desk calendar that will take pride of place on my desk at work.  Thankyou C.  Smootches babe.

We are about to sit down and watch the Carols while drinking eggnog.  And then Santa will get down to business.

I want to take this opportunity to wish each and every one of you Merry Christmas, Happy Hannuka,  a wonderful Ramadan, fabulous Winter Solstice, a fantastic Kwanza and whatever else I have forgotten.

I am truly blessed to find the world of blogging and the amazing people that inhabit the blogosphere.  Every day I am entertained, informed, horrified, humbled and brought to tears, both happy and in commiseration.

Every morning I wake to comments on what I have posted, when I get home from work and other times of the day.  Comments that make me feel part of a wonderful global community.

❤ my lovelies.  I consider you all family.

Now where is my fucking present.

A Mummy Christmas:

Sometime in August….

Shit, Christmas is coming better start buying stuff and budgeting.

October:

OK, getting this and this and this for the kids. Start shopping.

November:

Take the items back to the store cause the kids have changed their minds.

December:

Write Christmas cards, organise who, what and when for Christmas Day.

Buy, wrap and sort presents for a bazillion people. Including teachers, distant relatives.

Get kids to write letters to Santa.

Unwrap and take toys back to the store.

Organise and drive kids to various Christmas functions.

Bake, bake, bake.

Decorate.

Confirm who is coming for Christmas dinner.

Organise and buy food for Christmas day, write THE PLAN.

Rewrite THE PLAN a million times and then give up and hope you can wing it.

Buy, organise, dig out clothes for various functions and Christmas.

Bake, bake, bake. Shop, shop, shop.

Start various heartfelt homemade gifts.

Week before Christmas:

Wake at 5am every morning to get everything ready for the big day.

Find handwritten Christmas Cards in a pile of junk that is accumulating on the kitchen bench. Vow to post them right away.

Write a large note to self and put on the fridge ‘Take turkey out of the freezer!’  cause microwaved half thawed turkey aint the same I’m telling ya!

Chuck heartfelt homemade half finished projects in a box and buy something less heartfelt and homemade and promise yourself you will write a kick arse card.

Reconfirm dinner guests and replan food choices for picky eaters.

Drive family members here, there and everywhere and inform children that no, we will NOT be spending $50 on each and every one of their friends. Here is a candy cane. Wrap that.

Peace and quiet while said children fume in their rooms muttering something about how heartless and cruel you are. Contemplate taking gifts back to the store and giving them potatoes/coal for Christmas.

Christmas Eve:

Mad dash to the store before they shut because you have forgotten something vitally important. And the batteries. And wine.  Lots and lots of wine.

Find Christmas Cards. Throw in a box and vow to send even better ones next year.

Find out that so and so is not coming tomorrow, but Mother of the Year has invited some strays. Work out how to stretch the meal without missing out completely (like I did one year!! By the time I got everyone organised there was no fucking turkey left!)

Wrap last minute gifts.

Bake, bake, bake.

Visit friends and go see Christmas lights.

Drink far too much spiked eggnog.

Kids in bed.

Fall into bed around 3am.

Christmas Day:

Up at 5am to put turkey in oven.

Sit with the kids and husband while they open their gifts.

A Daddy Christmas:

Christmas Day:

Cool! Look what I got! What did you get honey?

Mummy: Get me a fucking coffee and we will call it square.

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