January 2008


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Why are you still here?

I moved like, last month.

Come on. The new blog is here:

Magnetoboldtoo.com

I will take you over with me. I just popped back to check the mail.

Oh, and we will update your feedreader on the way K?

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HI!!!

Oh my GAWD!  Did I forget to tell you?  I am such a bint! 

Magneto Bold Too moved!

Pop over to MagnetoBoldToo.com to join in the party.

Lock the door and turn out the lights before you leave.

Ta.

I have to go all Lady MacBeth on my ever expanding arse.

The chocolate in the fridge is calling me. Serenading me. Tantalizing me with its sweet chocolately goodness. It’s silky rich texture. Delicately caressing the inside of my mouth with it’s sweet velvety smoothness.

Melting slowly on my tongue as I gently suck on the squares.

Shit. Chocolate makes me horny.

What is it about chocolate that makes me swoon?

Why does it go so well with my other addiction, coffee?

Why, oh why, have the healthy eating Gods forsaken me?  Why do I have to succumb to the seductiveness of the evil cocoa bean?

And MPS knows the effect the evil bean has on me, so he ensures the fridge is full of it.

Like crack to a crack ho.  I am a cocoa ho.  I have to have my fix and it is staring at me every time I reach into the fridge for a carrot.

Oh how can I resist you….. especially the jumbo sized dark chocolate Toblerone.

*shudder of pleasure just typing that*

The After Dinner Mints

The Lindt balls in various orgasm inducing flavours

The blocks of dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate…

THE CLINKERS, OMG the CLINKERS!!!

Shit, even the freaking dark baking chocolate is whispering sweet nothings from the pantry.

Why don’t the carrots whisper to me?  The baby spinach, capsicum and sprouts?  The fruit is sitting there mute.  Not a word of lust from those fuckers.

But the chocolate?  It is calling my name.  In a dark sweet bald headed six-pack-on-top-of-his-six-pack ebony skinned guy kinda way…… and his voice is silky smooth.

*swoon*

But I have to resist you.  Oh lover, I do.

My arse is expanding.  And that is not a good thing.  My desire for you is causing me to see numbers I don’t like on the bathroom scales.  I considered throwing the scales in the street and sucumbing to your every present seduction but I must be strong.  I need to get rid of you from my life.  Even though all you have ever done is exist for my pleasure.

No back chat.  You sit there waiting, always waiting, just for me.

No mess.  You just wait for me to lick the wrapper clean.

No demands.  You just whisper your presence and I am drawn to you.  Weak at the knees, wanting you.  Needing you.

You never disappoint.  You are perfect.  Always.

Sigh.  But I need to sever all ties.

I need to escape from the grasp you have over me.

I need to cleanse myself.  Scrub myself clean.

Shit.  First I have to get rid of the chocolate scented body wash……

Out, damn’d chocolate! out, I say!

Now excuse me I have a hot date with a packet of Clinkers I am going to eat a carrot….

Yeah, apparently YESTERDAY was delurker day. No bastard told ME though….

So all my fav US blogs are proudly displaying this badge:

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Oh how I loves me some flashing cartoon guy.

And saying nice things to their peeps to get them to come out of lurkdom and say howdy.

Well you know I don’t work like that.

You know I have a mean streak. Especially when we are on day 450 of 40C temps and my breasticles are melting. Even with ice cubes in my bra.

And the fucking nits are back.

And it is killing me to drink my stinking hot latte, but I do it anyway cause it is my crack.

And Boo is screaming at the dishwasher cause MPS forgot to put it on last night and I HAVE to put those freaking Christmas plates away. Even though I love them so…. and I don’t do handwashing.

And from my position on top of the airconditioner with the laptop and said steaming hot cup-o-joe I can see Boo emptying the drawers in the kitchen, the hole he has ripped in the carpet (!!!) and ants trying to find a way in through the window. Oh and now he is coming at me with a staysharp knife saying ‘Mummy open this!’ I can’t see anything but the cool steel blade.

Hmm, it looks cool. Maybe if I rest my face against it….

Oh yes my lovelies, I have lost it. Big time.

So come out of lurkdom. Say hello. Or get the fuck away from that knife. Or make sure someone takes photos. Or something.

See if we can make this blog explode.

And if you don’t? I won’t tell you where I am moving to.

Cause I am that much of a biatch.

************

Edited to add: Thanks to Veronica for the updated badge. Smootches.

BooYah!

Last night I had 8 hours and 20 minutes sleep. I am physically swooning at the thought of it.

That’s FIVE HUNDRED minutes sleep.

*swoon*

MPS ended up sitting with Boo for me. Got him in his bed at 9pm.

The kid was asleep by 9.15pm.

Bastard.

I asked MPS if he farted in there, therefore knocking the kid out in a stench induced coma.

MPS hypothesizes that perhaps he is just boring.

I concur.

I went to work with a bounce in my fabulous shoe’d step.

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With time enough this morning to paint my toenails a pretty shade of pink!

Now for the apologies. I have memes and awards backed up here. Gunna need some hospital grade enemas to clear them methinks. But I know there are more.

Remember the other day when I was whinging about Firefox and deleting my post? Well half of those zillions of windows I had open were memes to ‘remind’ me to do them.

So of course they are gone. *sob* GONE!

So please, if you tagged me for a meme or gave me an award in the last couple of months let me know in the comments here and I will do them, with flair and venom as is my style, and give you your linky lovin’.

Cause we all lurve our linky lovin’.

And speaking of linky lovin’ thanks to the awesome Stimey, I pink puffy heart her even before she nominated me for a Bloggie for Best Australian Blogger. Thanks Stimey, I ❤ you too!

Now off to visit all your blogs, well, those of you that comment, wink, wink, say no more. Cause over the last few days I haven’t had two brain cells to rub together and you all deserve better than that.

My dearest son.

My adorable little man.

Do you have a death wish? Or are you secretly plotting to have me keel over before my time due to sleep deprivation and sheer frustration?

I understand that you don’t need to sleep. I understand that your brain is wired in some fantabulous way that means that you can function with a bees dick worth of sleep and wake bouncing off the walls.

Yeah I get that.

But Mummy can’t. Sorry about that.

So when you sleep for a couple of hours a night for 3 weeks straight Mummy gets a little cranky. Mummy doesn’t want to play Hyperdash, or endless Boo-draws-a-random-shape-in-the-air-and-Mummy-has-to-guess-what-it-is-or-Boo-has-a -freaking-meltdown games. Or listen to Spongebob Squarepants, The Sweet Escape, Bohemian Rhapsody, Shrek 12 Days of Christmas and a hundred freaking episodes of Homestar Runner on loop. All. At. The. Same. Time.

All day and night.

Sometimes Mummy likes to rest. Sometimes Mummy sits on the couch with her eyes shut. But Mummy never likes to be greeted with a poke in the eye or a yell in the ear of ‘Wake up I hungry’.

A gentle shake on the shoulder or a kiss would be preferable.

When Mummy is sleeping it is not a good idea to:

  • Smear your poo or toothpaste on the walls, floors, toys, lounge suite or bunny.
  • Empty the contents of the pantry on the kitchen benches to make a shop.
  • Write on the walls. With mustard.
  • Call random numbers you hear on the radio or the TV. Especially the ones that talk about getting a better erection or those chicks that want to talk to you noooow.
  • Wake Mummy by the aforementioned means or with a Teletubbie inches from her face while chanting ‘Kill Kill Kill’

Or any of the crazy arsed unusual things that you find amusing and entertaining.

If it usually results in Mummy exclaiming ‘Oh Boo!’ it is probably not a good idea.

Especially when Mummy is dragging her arse around tired. And I tell you when I am tired.

OK, here is the deal. You sleep. Mummy gets sleep. The End.

Or I will be forced to do something you hate. Despise. That makes you run out of the vicinity screaming with the horror of it all.

I will sing.

Oh yeah buddy, I will sing loud. With smiling. And over emphasised actions. That I make up myself. That are vastly different to the Boo ordained actions that are acceptable in this household.

Or I will inform the military of your secret super nada sleeping powers. I am sure that they will be very interested……

Your choice buddy.

Love you,

Mummy

xx

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I have offered Moo cold hard CASH to watch Boo for me tonight.  I am going to bed.  At 9pm.

SQUEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

I am all weepy and sooky girly today.

No reason.

Just wanna cry.

Got to work this morning and S asked me what I have done with my hair today. It looks different, says he.

I take that as: ‘What the fuck is going on with that rats nest on your head woman! You are in some dire need of some hair dye/a hairbrush/a total head transplant!’

Diesel lets me know that my Humur Blogs application was rejected because I didn’t follow the procedures and put the button on my blog. With profuse apologies.

I take that as: ‘Excuse me? You think you are funny? Here is the link for the dictionary definition of funny, best you read that. And while you are at it I am entering you in the Darwin Awards…..’

I casually mention that I am in a bad mood and ‘steer clear or this biatch is gunna blow’ to my friends, family and workmates. They all ask me if I have my period. Well yes. Yes I do. SO WHAT!!?!?!?!

I take that as: ‘You psycho chick. Looks like you are going through Menopause real early. Nice knowing you, we are all going on extended vacation. And if you call and it sounds like we pick up, that is just the housesitter…..’

A couple of people suggest watching a sad movie when I admit that I just feel like crying. I feel sad. With. No. Reason.

I take that as: ‘ Put a movie on loud. That way the neighbours won’t hear your screams when you start stabbing yourself in the temple with an icepick to dull the pain. And hopefully induce some tears.’

MPS comes home takes one look at me and suggests he pick up takeaway for dinner.

I take that as: ‘You useless fat cow. Sitting there on your fat arse. Lets fatten you up and see if those udders can produce milk.’

Boo plays this:

Or click here.

Over and over and over. He has played it so much that my foot is tapping even when he pauses it for a minute and I know all the words off by heart. He has taken to placing his laptop right near my head.

I take that as: ‘I will play this over and over until Mummy loses her mind and starts to cry.’

Yeah. That’ll do it.

Feel better now.

Now where is the fucking chocolate.

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