funstuff


……..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.

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.

I have been waiting for this day all year. December 5 is Day of the Ninja.

Ninja’s of the world unite!

I totally stole this from Raincoasters site. You don’t mind, do you Raincoaster? Anything to get the word out about the Ninjas. Cause the world needs more people running around with t-shirts on their heads and making weird noises.

So here is how to make yourself a ninja and scare the shit out of the chick at the checkout at Safeway.

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Click on the picture to make it easier to read.

And then wouldn’t you know it, a ninja broke into my house.

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The biatch was trying to steal my formally-known-as-the-Bathroom-Tree™ now Hallway Christmas tree! Oh the humanity!

But it is OK, she looked eerily familiar, I think I saw her in the bathroom when I was brushing my teeth this morning, so I deflected her with my ooh-look-some-pretty-shiny-shoes moves and she disappeared.

Phew.

But later on she sent her minions….

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Stealth Ninja moves boy and Ninja Biatch.

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

 

Today I have been tagged for a shi-ite load of memes, got an award and Meg made me a pretty for my blog. Will be working hard on them tonight.

 

Oh and apparently I get to put this little lovely on my blog. Noice.

 

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Thanks All for Women!

For the bathroom Christmas tree.

*sob*

The inmates have revolted.  And pissed me off royally.

They are all like ‘Ew I don’t want it scratching me’ and ‘I am sitting on it’ and shit.  Well I suppose the shit is a fair point, but the smell would be masked by the pine freshness.

And people pay good money to have a pine fresh arse.  And then there are those bidet things.  Same thing really, give you a good cleaning but with the added bonus of a Christmas scent.

I don’t see what the freaking problem is.

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Sure it is close, but for fucks sake, wouldn’t it be nice to be hugging a tree while you defecate? I’m sure Al I-invented-the-internet Gore does, and he got a prize or some such out of it.

They all loved it when I made this: 

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Mr Hanky the Christmas Poo.  I wore it on my head for a staff Christmas Hat party at Mario-porn-star’s old station.

Well now they can make their own and hang it on the tree!  Ungrateful bastards.

Sure, some could say ‘Well Kelley, you could have gone out and bought the tree and then it wouldn’t have been too big for the space’ and I would say ‘Fuck off.  The bastard spends 18 hours a freaking DAY sitting on that crapper, he should KNOW how big the space is!’

So now, as I lament the demise of my bathroom tree and the promise of a pine scented v-jay-jay, I am plotting to hit the stores tomorrow to buy a not-as-fabulous-unscented fake tree.

Cause I am going to have a freaking bathroom tree God-damn-it!

As God as my witness, I will never go bathroom treeless again!

cut to theme from Gone With The Wind….. *snigger* wind, get it?  Get it?  Oh, bugger off…..

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!

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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.

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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!!!!

 

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Amy.

Yeah, I know.  But Boo looked at me, melted my heart and then decreed the bunny was to be called Amy.

Bastard.  He knows how to melt my heart.

So Amy it is.  And it suits her.  Although it is so mainstream, so middle of the road, so normal. It works.

Freaky family with a  mainstream bunneh.  I can handle that.  And she is sooooo cute!  Look she is camera shy.

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True, she could actually be a boy, but then she can just be a Tranny bunny.  Amy is such a Tranny name anyway.

So thankyou my lovely internets for entertaining us all with your name suggestions. They were all brilliant. I honestly couldn’t pick a favourite, although I did try and convince Boo to change it to Jemima Roadkill.  Go back to the Competition post and read all the suggestions, they are hilarious!

But if by any chance a bunny can get up the duff at 5 weeks old, I may just have a chance to use all the names………

So for those that are so inclined, here is a pretty button that I made all by myself (!!) cause Moo isn’t here and I am not speaking to her anyway, but THAT is another rant. So chuck it on your blog, tell everyone how wonderful I am and we will be square.  K?

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Whoo Hoo!! A competition at Magneto bold too!

Yeah baby!

Wadda we win?

Well, um, it’s like this…… nothing.

But you get to have the honour of naming the latest edition to the family.

(not one of the hordes of Emo teenagers that seem to have no home, I just call them Thing 1, Thing 2 etcetera etcetera….. except for the ones with eating disorders, they are known as Fat Arse 1 and Fat Arse 2)

We are getting a fluffy bunny on the weekend. We need to name it. We need something better than what my family has come up with and something to put on its Christmas stocking (yeah, we buy shit for our pets for Christmas) other than what will become it’s default name:

Has-anyone-fed-that-freaking-rabbit-today-noooooooooooooo-of-course-not-everything-is-up-to-

me-in-this-house-isn’t-it-NO-you can’t-eat-that-dinner-is-ready-when-I-freaking-feel-like-it!

Ahem.

Boo wants to call it ‘hutch’, as in ‘rabbit hutch’. I think I have been talking about hutches too much around him.

Too wants to call it ‘Padfoot’, three guesses where THAT is from

Moo and I want to call it ‘Jungle Muff’ in honour of the wordsmith extraordinare Girl at Fertile Mertile

and DH, well he wants to call it nothing cause he thinks it is a baaaaaaaad idea.

Yeah, shutup Mario, it’s a bad idea when I SAY it is a bad idea and then you take the blame. Like all men should.

So, we need a name. Leave your suggestion in the comments* and I will see if I can get the HTML queen, Moo, to make you a pretty button for your blog or sumfin’….

I will post a photo of the darling little bundle of joy when we get it some time over the weekend.

*the management of Magnetoboldtoo! reserve the right to choose a name and then change her mind, and then change it back again and then call the thing something completely different.  The management of Magnetoboldtoo! is a woman and it is that time of the month and she is trying to cut down on chocolate.

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