I know you have been waiting for the update on last night.

I see it in my stats. Peeps popping in to see if there is an update.

Well guess what!?

Nothing happened.

The freaks didn’t show up.

Sure, they were around, hiding in their bushes and peeking out their windows, but apparently unless you are in your garden working up a sweat lady like glow, they are not interested in coming out.

Or maybe they were scared. Scared I might confront them.

I contemplated wearing gardening gloves and my garden clogs. Even bringing out the awesomely noisy hedge trimmer to try and flush out rev head man. But thought better of it.

Do I really want to speak to these people? I think not. I am not fluent in bogan nor do I know what to say to someone who’s sole purpose in life is to watch others.

Oh, there were some interesting things that happened. 3 doors down lives a chick from my work. Her son befriended Boo. I coulda diagnosed that kid in 3 seconds of meeting him, so I guess he met a kindred spirit.

Apparently there has been much discussion about how often I leave the house. I considered telling them that I was a crack delivery ho and was just waiting for the giant syringe and pipe to attach to the top of my car. Just like Dominios. But mine is Crack-n-ho’s.

But I didn’t.

I contemplated telling them that my girls are escorts and I was just the taxi.

But I didn’t.

I did ask why on earth anyone would be noticing how often I left the house.

Apparently the freakshows across the road have been keeping tabs. I was unaware that I left the house, on average, 7 times a day.

Well fuck me dead, looks like my carbon footprint aint gunna be reduced by just buying the family smaller shoes…….

There was discussion on why we have a bigger bin than everyone else.

I contemplated telling them I was sleeping with the mayor. Or was supplying him with Bindeez Beads. Or because that is where we hide the bodies.

But I told the truth. It is because Boo is still in nappies.

‘Oh,’ they said ‘OK’, read that-kid-is-worse-than-we-thought.

They all feigned ignorance when I apologised for the screaming in the middle of the night. Apparently no one hears Boo’s blood curding screams. Or his salsa music, Bohemian Rhapsody or Hi-5 all played at 3am while he is painting his walls in shit and toothpaste.

But they notice when I leave the house, they know I like to turn the music up (no where near the levels of Boo in full flight) when I am ALONE , how the fuck do they know when I am alone? Oh that is right they are fucking monitoring my every move…. and that we keep ‘late hours’.

But no-one notices when Boo screams.

Honestly, they all seemed pretty nice. But I don’t know why they are keeping tabs on me.

They should be keeping tabs on the young couple that moved in recently. She is no more than 19, Moo knows her from school, and how the hell did they afford to buy that house?

Methinks SHE is the one supplying the mayor with Bindeez Beads.

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!


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!

It has been raining here.

It has been freaking raining here. Getting concussion from all the cats and dogs. Flood warnings and everything. My house is surrounded by a moat, so that must make me a princess. Bow to me.

The rain that been unrelenting for the last couple of days so I have a backlog of washing to do. I am trying to do it as space, time and Boo shitting on bedding permits.

Yesterday morning I stumbled out of bed bleary eyed hearing the rain outside. Bugger, I thought. Yeah, I know we are in a freaking murderous drought and the price of everything is going up because of it, but for crying out loud I DON’T NEED IT IN MY BACKYARD thankyouverymuch.

So I stumbled into the laundry, wiping the remnants of sleep from my eyes, my hair that came loose during the night falling in a curtain in front of me as I reached into the washing machine to drag out the load I put in last night. And put the newly urine soaked doona in.

As I stood up I glanced out the window.


I battled with my hair to get it out of the way, waist length hair has a freakin’ mind of its own, I tried to focus on what confronted me with no caffeine in my system.



I stood there blinking, my heart racing. How on earth are there HANDPRINTS on the wet fence. I walked outside with the dustbuster as protection from the bogeyman (hey it’s heavy and the first thing I saw besides suffocating Jason or Freddy, I’m thinking Damien would be too short, with Boo’s dripping wet doona!) to get a closer look.

I glanced over the fence. No one there. I touched the handprints.

They were DRY! They were freakin’ DRY!!!! I am standing in a moat for Christsakes and these handprints are completely dry.

I was seriously freaking out by now. I ran inside to get the girls.

Moo looked at me like ‘This is some freaky shit’,  Too was like ‘Can I go back to bed now?’

When DH finally surfaced a couple of hours later (asshole) I showed him.

Turns out the DickHead had oil on his hands after the Harry Potter potions class and wiped them on the fence.

As you do.

And that was the cause of the freaky handprints. That are still there.


Party Time at the Magneto Bold House has been updated.

Boo is obsessed with the Potter Puppet Pals. He has taken to banging his head against any surface muttering

‘Angst, Angst, Angst’

I know how he feels.

Or he exclaims

‘What is that mysterious ticking noise? I know, its a PIPE BOMB!!’

….. and we have to go to the Post Office this afternoon.

Oh the hilarity! I better get a lot done this afternoon because I will be spending the evening in the lock up I expect….

‘No officer, that is not a bomb in my pocket’

Now he is doing the death march. Freaking Hell! Is there no end to this childs weirdness?

No, but I am thinking of handing him a hammer. THAT would make me smile.

‘Boo, Po is in the pantry, mocking me again!’

For your viewing pleasure this is the inspiration for what will either send me to jail on terrorism charges or social services to my door for duct taping my son to the wall the day before his birthday…

I have noticed I have had a bit of a potty mouth lately.  More like a sewer mouth really.

So I thought I would attempt a post where I am not angry or picking on someone and I don’t swear.



How’s the weather there?

Ok, I’ve got something.

A couple of freaky things have happened today.

Today was the first day back at school after the school holidays!!!  Whooo Hoo!  I was waiting out front of Boo’s classroom when Boo’s teacher arrived.  He had a hair cut!  F…….far out. (see I can do it!)

Boo’s teacher has had the weirdest hair.  Sorta mullet crossed with a birds nest of matted hair plopped on the top of his head and held in place with a couple of litres of yellow coloured goo.  Oh man, it was horrific.  Rumours flying around the school was that either he was bald and plonked all that on his head to hide it or he had a huge growth on his head.  Either way it would have been better than what he had.  Especially when it started melting during the sports carnival.

But today he looked great!  Bit greyer than I was expecting (well the other hair was yellow-goo coloured) but short and neat.

He was the talk of the playground.  Groups of mums – and a few dads – huddling together marvelling at how good he looked.  A couple of ‘he looks fantastic’ and even a few ‘He is hot’ (well there were a few expletives but I am being good today remember?).

P has a great body and is a nice looking man.  It was just the monstrosity on his noggin’ that was letting him down.  I think he will have a few mums requesting him as a teacher next year!  So now not only is he a gift from God as a teacher, he aint too bad on the eye either.


Rang my mum today.  She had the builders over doing the finishing touches on McMansion. Let’s not go there about the McMansion, cause then I won’t be able to keep my promise.

  The builder baked her a cake.

You heard (read, yeah whatever) that right. The. builder. baked. her. a. cake.

Totally blew my mind.  Apparently he likes to dabble in cake baking and decorating in his spare time.  A dark chocolate, strawberry and mascapone cake.  No f…., ahem,  cake mix.  From SCRATCH!

Took me a while to process that.  Then she said,

It was the third one he had made her and dad.

*stammer* um, gulp, wow?  Nah. For goodness sake? Nah, used that already. Um.

Isn’t that unexpected?

Now I need to go and have a rest cause this post was really bloody hard.

Shit, I swore.


I saw this last night.

I have no words.

I feel sick

Read this from Freak Parade. I emailed Mel and asked her if I could link to her cause she says it much better than me.

My post would be full of expletives.

And death threats.

Stupid bint at work sent one of these freaking things to the WHOLE OFFICE.

The worst part about this particular one is that it was a picture of the Virgin Mary. Apparently some president of some country didn’t send it on and his son died 2 days later. Redneck Dickwad sent it on to 20 of his closest Klan mates and won the lottery the next day.

Apparently the Virgin Mary will protect me if I send her on. She was bloody lucky that none of us took religious objection to it. Everyone just deleted it, but not me, no siree.

These things piss me off because someone is wishing me harm. They don’t want bad luck so they pass it on to me. Nice. If you send me one of these then you are not my friend. I have had enough drama in my life without you passing more on thankyouverymuch.

So when I saw this email I took action. So biatch, you want me to send this on to 20 people to prevent my hemorrhoids growing whiskers? Well you, my dear, are technically ‘people’.

So I sent it back to her 20 times.

Good luck finding 20 people to wish harm to you twat (thanks Robin for reminding me of this particularly fabulous insult)……..

20 times!

Bwaaaa haaaa haaaaa!

Oh and by the way, I didn’t like her to begin with. Don’t like the colour of her nose, since it is stuck up the General Managers arse most of the day.

Okay people, you need to calm down.

Steve is not dead. And if your kid is reading my blog and was disturbed by my mention of an urban legend (which is NOT TRUE) you have got a heck of a lot worse things to worry about, cause this blog aint no place for a child. And I will tell my mate Santa what you have been exposing your child to……

And while I am on the subject, the person that felt the need to email me privately and complain that I am being discriminatory against DWARFS (or is it DWARVES), grow some balls and do it in the comments for everyone to see, K? I was talking about a real technical like term used by big clever scientists and stuff, not ‘little people’ and then I sorta got carried away…….

I had lots of coffee yesterday.

You should have seen the size of the coffee this chick at work bought me! It was like a LITRE of coffee. And drank it before it got cold……..and yes, people buy me coffee. I am not that pleasant without it, so it is a self serving gesture.

And then I got on my blog and posted 3 times (make sure you read ’em all OK?) and then started another blog – details soon.

That musta been some bad assed coffee.

I had another today *snicker* after I finished the thermos full that DH the wonder barista made me to take to work.

My eye is twitching……..

Have a look at the button on my sidebar over there.

Tomorrow is the Great mofo Delurk. Do me a favour and post a comment? I know that there are hundreds of you lurking there in the dark shadows. Pop out for just one day to say Hi! OK?

Unless it is just Erin! checking my blog every couple of minutes…….

Picture this:

Teenage girl.

Away for the weekend and then day of shopping in the City.


Expectation? Said girl ringing Mummy saying I ran out of money or borrowing money off friends.

Reality. Too handed me $90 change.


After I picked myself off the floor I handed her $20 and she THANKED ME and gave me a kiss and said I love you.

Pocketed the rest. I haven’t been to my favourite little shoe boutique in days……

I just got in the door (well technically I got in the door about 1/2 an hour ago…..) and this is what greeted me.

Peals of laughter coming from the family room.

You know that contagious, deep belly kid gaffaws that make you smile the second you hear them?

Boo is in there. The PS2, as usual, is on full volume, Taz Wanted blaring, Taz bouncing on a trampoline making a weird banging noise. The out of nowhere the sound of an elephant trumpeting (? Is that even a word?)

And Boo. Bent over laughing so hard that I am sure there are tears in his eyes.

Hitting a Teletubbie repeatedly over the head with a hammer.