Flying thru the mayhem


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.

green-summer-shoes.jpg

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.

And so did Boo.

I think…..

I slept so hard that:

I didn’t hear MPS snoring.

The doona was still tucked in when I woke.

I had an imprint of the crease in the pillowcase on my face for a freaking HOUR after I got up.

My ear was asleep.

That when the alarm went off I thought the light was on and it was sunshine coming through the window!  Through the still open blinds….. Good morning freaky neighbours!

And in my semi conscious state I flew out of bed to check on Boo and ran into the wardrobe door.

And it didn’t hurt.

And I was smiling.  And happy.  And thanking the internets for their sleep-you-little-bastard vibes.

So with a skip in my step and fabulous black knee high boots I kicked some serious arse at work.

And my biatch (AKA my boss) bought me coffee.  Cause I scared him yesterday.

Bwaaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaa

***********

Don’t forget to vote for me as a hottie and best parenting blog *snort*.  The buttons are over there>>>>>

I am on page 4!  Whoot! 

Today I unearthed 17 boxes of Christmas decorations from the pits of hell the garage, lost a child, tried to saw the end off a Christmas tree with a butter knife stupid freaking blunt hand saw, found said child and kicked her arse gave her a stern talking to and then kicked her arse, revealed my bloggyness to a friend I can physically fondle touch, supervised the shaving off of the porn Mo, cursed Blogger a million times for changing the commenting procedures, got my first weird search engine referral,

and generally lost my freaking mind.

And all the while Boo kept repeating:

“I feel cranky and pubescent today and I dont know why! GRRRRR I am gunna take it out on people I like.”

Yeah fab.  Just the sorta thing to get me in the Christmas mood.

I woke Mario-porn-star (fucker still had the Mo goin’ on, must of slipped some Mogadon in my water last night cause I passed out before midnight and missed my opportunity to cause him a world-o-pain with the Epilady.) and promised him lovin’ if he went out RIGHT now to get a Christmas tree.  Never seen the Asshat move so fast!

Now we all remember the promise of a new coffee machine don’t we?  Yeah, so do I *snigger*

I can just bring that up when he tries to get payment now.  Bwaaaa haaa haaa!

The house smells like Christmas with the beautiful tree!

leaning-tree.jpg

Yes, I know it is on a freaking lean.  Bastard fought me all the way into the house and was lucky I didn’t kick the fucking thing down after some loose leaves (? leaves? spines?  freaking SPIKES?) fell down the back of my shirt and I thought it was a *shudder* spider and started jumping around screaming and the boy and bunny rolled their eyes.  They are still judging me.

Don’t have a photo of the bathroom tree yet.  Yes, I have a bathroom tree.  Don’t you start judging….

Decorating will happen tomorrow when the branches get a chance to settle.  And it is MY tree.  No sticky little shit-and-toothpaste-covered nor Emo oh-my-world-sucks-cause-Mum-cracked-at-me-for-being-a-thoughtless-little-biatch fingers are touching my tree.  They can do one of the other six.

Yeah six.  There you go with the judging again…..

And here is the photo you have all been waiting for…. the end of the road for Mario-porn-star.

movember-ovah.jpg

Isn’t that much better?  You can even see his cute widdle dimple in his cheek now.

Oh, I almost forgot.  The weird search engine referral?

“him in the balls”

*snort*

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

Shit that was a hard post!  Knowing that one of my besties is reading it made it really weird.

And don’t forget to get in on the action of naming Mario-porn-star, and read the comments so far they are HILARIOUS!!!!

Screaming children, frazzled parents, slow walking pensioners with bags full of change, punch ups in the carpark…..

Yes, the Christmas spirit is alive and well at my local shopping centre (mall).

Today I started my Christmas shopping. Usually I am almost finished by now. But nooo this year I am totally disorganised.

So I dragged my sorry arse filled with the joy of Christmas shopping I made my way to the home of off key Christmas musak. Seems everyone else in a 100 kilometre radius had the same idea.

Hence the car park punch ups. No I wasn’t involved. I was just standing around enjoying the show shouting ‘Kick him in the balls!’, ‘It was totally your park girl, pull her hair till her scalp bleeds’ with all the others.

City girl in me never died, so I walk fast. I shop fast. Old lady with the walking frame get the fuck outta my way cause I am on a mission.

Today’s mission was getting the rest of the paraphernalia for the outside decorating and the wrapping paper, cellophane, ribbon, cards and shit.  Remember this, it is important.

First port of call was the local coffee place. Make my order, stand in the required possie and wait. For 15 freaking minutes! Every bastard had the same idea as me. But when I got my extra large (I get them to make it in a milkshake cup) double latte with an extra shot, I kissed it and took off in my usual 500 miles an hour fashion.

Weaving through the prams, toddlers, aforementioned old people, disembodied heads on top of laden trolleys and strategically placed beggars people selling raffle tickets, I spied some really cute 3/4 pants. Hmmm, I have time. Lets try them on.

Yeah, it didn’t go well. Good thing I didn’t buy that holiday decorated icepick I saw earlier or I would have stabbed myself repeatedly in the eye to reduce the pain of seeing myself in the 3 way mirror.

Into the discount shop to find some cute but cheap frugal cards for the kids to give to their friends. Run into one of the feral mums from school. Am civil but talk quick and get the hell out of there. Cardless.

After an hour my feet are killing me.  These shoes are gorgeous, but not made for speed shopping.

I carry my bags full of Santas (got a thing for Santa *snigger*), lights and 2 bucks a packet candy canes out to the carpark.  Flipping the bird at the guy who nearly runs me down in the race to get another park.

I get home, unpack my purchases.

Shit.

Now I need to go and get the wrapping paper, cellophane, ribbon, cards and shit.

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

I am going to come clean.  I wrote this last week.  Tonight I wrote a long and very personal post in response to some of the lovely supportive emails I received after yesterdays post.  But I guess I am not ready to share it right now.  I will, in time.  But in the meantime…….  

Thankyou, my internets.  You are all my biatches. 

yeah, so I get home. I nick outside to get the washing off the line and I am greeted by this MONSTER at my laundry door (gotta learn to not got out that freaking door, perhaps HE left the handprints on the fence?)

I screamed like the big girly city chick that I am and high tailed inside. My heart beating a million miles a minute.

Any one would have thought I broke a nail or *gasp* scuffed a shoe!

yard-monster.jpg

I downed my double skinny mocha to build up enough courage to go outside and take a photo for my lovely internets. See how much I love you all? I risk my personal safety to have photographic evidence of my trauma so you will see how desperately frightening it is to live in a country town.

I leaned out the door as far as I could to take this photo. The weed in the concrete is in fact 7 foot tall. (shaddup, it is I tell ya!)

I have peeked out the window and it is still sitting there. It’s huge claws ready to rip out my heart or at least give me a scratch worthy of a Simpsons bandaid (cause it has to actually break the skin to be allowed one of the hallowed Simpsons bandaids in this household).

Perhaps word has got out to the monsters of the world that Casa Magnetobold has a new family member.

Perhaps they are laying in wait to over power me and get to the bunny.

OH.MY.GOD! What if Too sees it and wants to *gulp* keep it as a pet!

Today we went out to lunch.

At a restaurant that didn’t ask if you wanted fries with that. Well, they asked if we wanted garlic bread and if they didn’t the sign said that they would give it to us for free.

But it had cutlery and shit. So as restauranty as we Magneto Bolds get right now.

We took up a large table with all the relatives left over from my Dads party the day before.

Boo, still showing the effects of the ear infections, ulcerated throat, antibiotic overload and ripping out one of his teeth

tooth.jpg

because it was bothering him, was still in anti-Autism mode. So we took the plunge to do something normal……

He he he. Some would call me delusional….. you would be right.

Food was ordered. Gasps were heard over the prices of the steak ($30!!!!). Bodily functions were discussed.

Yes, we are White Trash.

As we were a large table, the food came out in waves. Of course Boo was last. How hard is it to serve the kid first? All he ordered was a freaking bowl of chips.

The kid was on his 2nd glass of kiddie crack lemonade when his bowl finally came out. He inhaled them he was so hungry.

‘Excuse me waiter! Hey garcon!’ my little angel bellowed complete with clicking his fingers in the general direction of the kitchen ‘More chips please!’

‘No Dude, you have had enough’ I finally spluttered after almost choking on my chicken and having to pick my Auntie off the floor where she was writhing with mirth.

‘Oh’ my dejected little connoisseur muttered.

The waitress walked past after serving another table.

‘Excuse me server!’ he bellowed again ‘I need more lemonade. Oh, and pleeeeeeaase!’

He beamed at me. Proud for using his manners.

The woman glared at him and then me and walked away.

Now this classy establishment is a place where you go to the counter, order your meal and then they bring it to the table. There is no table service.

Unless you put your feet on the table. Then you get lots of table attention. But that was our previous visit.

I took Boo up to the counter to order a lemonade. That is when I discovered that he had taken off his shoes….

and his pants.

Hmmmm.

OK, back to the table. Redressed and back to the counter. He ordered his drink and we wandered back to the table where Mario-porn-star had started the political discussion that I warned him not to before we arrived.

Warned is probably not strong enough a word. More like talk-about-the-election-and-I-will-tape-electrodes-to-your-testicles-while-you-sleep threat. My family gets rather heated when it comes to all things political. And it doesn’t help that we are on very different sides of the fence.

I glared at Mario-porn-star, he clutched his testicles and Moo turned to Too and laughed. My girls have learnt early the way to strike terror in a mans heart.

We paid the bill, lamented that it was half my grocery bill for the week and made our way home.

No tears. No tantrums. No balls in a vice.

A total success! Well for our family anyway.

We are all still full from lunch so we are having a light dinner.

And Boo is eating a stick he found in the garden. Tasty.

….. so I took him to the doctors.

As you do.

He has been having real conversations with us and trying new foods.

So I asked for an emergency appointment.

He has been obeying instructions without it been written down in a social story and laughing uncontrollably in that fabulous kid cacking themselves gaffaw.

I rang work and told them I wouldn’t be in today and maybe even next week.

New doctor.

Shit.

‘What’s the problem?’

I could have said ‘Well, he is sleeping through the night, is really happy and generally a joy to be around. Should we book the hospital bed now?’

But what I said was ‘He has a high a high pain tolerance, could you check his ears please?’

‘What makes you think he has an ear infection? Are you in pain Boo?’

Boo replied ‘Do you have erectile dysfunction? You need to call 1800 60 60 20’

The ad was on the radio in the waiting room. Oh and Boo loves his phone numbers….

‘Oh’ said the new doc ‘Okay, lets look in your ears’

The doctors eyes widened. ‘Hmmmmm’

He checked the other ear and Boo’s throat.

I walked out with a Dr’s certificate for me for work today, a script for antibiotics and a diagnosis of two severely infected ears and an ulcerated throat.

He is now happily eating a ham, mustard and salt sandwich.

I was a good little 50’s housewife today.

Replete with apron and self satisfied smirk.

Oh, I went the whole nine yards today, even helped out at school putting away fucking books sorting the readers in the reader room. For 2 and a half HOURS. Boo better get the teacher I want next year or I swear in front of God and all the internets that I will mess up that room GOOD.

Muttering death chants Dancing around the house with my feather duster, vacuum and mop, picking up after my little arseholes angels while seething and trying to ignore tending to my pathetic sick husband and daughter.

And there is more! Oh yes my lovelies, I cooked something for dinner that I have never ever cooked. Something that my kids have given up begging for cause I could never stomach making it.

Tripe? Black Pudding? Monkey brains?

Nope. Steak. Bletch. Mashed potatoes (OK but I prefer mashed sweet potato) and peas.

My aversion to great hunking slabs of animal flesh stems from my childhood.

My mother was a shite cook limited in her abilities in the kitchen. Her repertoire consisted of roast lamb on Sundays, apricot chicken (even the smell of apricot nectar sends me heaving) ‘mexican sausages’ (sausages boiled in tomato soup served with rice. Where is the freaking ‘mexican’ in there?) and either sausages or chops. So tough that we built up some pretty impressive arms cutting the bastards.

The sausages and chops were served with any combination of the following:

Home made chips. Sliced potatoes cooked in lukewarm oil till they were slightly warm and soggy and still raw in the middle. A pretty impressive feat really.

Mashed potato. I think she would lose interest halfway through mashing. So in reality potatoes with the shit boiled out of them and then slightly drained.

For a treat on a hot night we would have potato chips (or crisps).

Served with peas swimming in a sea of butter.

Sometimes Dad would go into the kitchen and make us omelette’s or pancakes.

Herbs were for hippies and spices were table salt and white pepper.

When I first left home I literally lived on spicy stirfries for a year!

So I have been living out of home since I was 18 and have never ever cooked a steak.

But today I was being the good little 50’s housewife, without the help of ‘Mothers little helper’ of my grandmothers day. Valium.

I did shopping, put it away, cleaned up after the little arseholes angels again and threw the hunking great lumps of bloody flesh on the George Forman.  Left the room a couple of times in disgust and then served it up to the salivating animals my darling family.

Too’s eyes lit up.  Moo swooned.  DH was jumping up and down with glee.

‘You are the best Mummy in the whole wide world’ exclaimed my carnivores as they gnashed their jaws on the pieces of cow.

I kept replaying that in my mind as I scrubbed George clean.

Then I made myself some toast.

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

I will post the pictures of my new shoes tomorrow.

So this is what greeted DH when he got home tonight.

congrats-dad.jpg

Cause now DH is a fully fledged geek.

His midlife meltdown is over and he is now an IT professional.

On Thursday he went to do some work experience at a large IT company.  He was there for 3 hours when he was offered a job.

On Friday he went to work where he is a casual and told them of the offer.

Today they came back with an offer of more money than the other job to stay.

So even though he hasn’t even finished his course, he had two large corporations fighting over him.  His head was so inflated when he got through the door his fledgling Mo was nearly sucked right back into his face.

But he was soon brought crashing down to earth by the little sign tacked onto the bottom of Moo’s show of daughterly love.

If you look closely it says ‘I hate you’

Apparently it is a joke.  Boo was trying to make a joke.  So the Teletubbies stalking me in the middle of the night at the end of his arm whispering ‘Kill, Kill, Kill’ must be hilarious in his twisted mind….

Anyway.  DH is rather impressed with himself.  The first two things he thought of when he accepted the job?

Security for his family?

Being able to pay for the ‘free education’ we enjoy in Australia that will be thousands come January when Moo’s VCE course books need to be acquired and teachers bribed course fees paid?

His wonderful wife being able to buy all the shoes that she can eat?  (Sorry, Spamalot is in Australia and Monty Python skits are looping in my head)

Food on the freaking table?

No.

DH thinks now he has a well paying job he can buy another laptop.  And his wife is gunna put out.  In the middle of Movember.

I don’t think so buddy.  I have a song by Pink I want you to listen to.

Mel from Freak Parade‘s post about her son shaving his butt with her razor prompted me to share that Boo has found every freaking hiding spot for my toothbrush.

Those are not hip with the happening thang. Boo likes to scrub his arse with my toothbrush. Everyone elses brushes are out on the counter in a lovely little ceramic pot that my grandfather made me. Mine? It is now…. wait… I’m not telling you. You might let it slip to Boo, cause you want my breath to smell like arse.

So these are the directions for a squeaky clean arse, according to Boo.

1. Make sure Mummy is really REALLY busy or is on the computer…

2. Enter bathroom and lock the door. QUIETLY. If Mum hears the door being locked she will come running.

3. Take a doona with you. Ensure it is one that has just been disinfected.
4. Take a freaking HUGE dump in the toilet. Ensuring to spray all sides of the toilet.

5. Unroll a couple of rolls of toilet paper. Chew up a few and throw on the roof (distraction tactics)

6. Finish doing the business and wipe arse on doona and towels and wall.

7. Bring out mums toothbrush that you found from its hiding spot.

8. With one leg resting on the side of the bath proceed to scrub arse.

9. When mum opens the door, look at her incredulously saying ‘whaaaaat??’

10. Then say ‘Oh Sorry’ like you don’t really mean it and continue with the arse scrubbing while Mummy races to the sink to scrub her mouth out and put toothbrushes on the emergency shopping list.

Kid is a bastard. An adorable, cuddly little spawn of the devil.

Next Page »