What was that? Did you see something?
Today is the best day of the year.
Like Christmas, my birthday and that time that I got those freaking awesome kick arse shoes for $100 off while the feral beside me was stupefied and horrified and a-whole-lotta-fied at my cartwheels in the store aisle, all rolled into one.
Today, my lovelies, is Day of the Ninja.
All over the world Ninja are celebrating their Ninjarifficness. It is like Halloween for Ninja.
I remember reading once about some guy who kept noticing that his milk was missing, and probably his cat, I can’t remember, but anyway turns out he had a small Japanese woman living in his wardrobe and he didn’t even know. He would go to work and she would use her stealth Ninja moves to eat all his icecream and he would come home and be all ‘what the hell?’ and probably went to the doctor worried he was sleep-eating or something but he just had his own little pocket Ninja.
Awesome.
But beware. Day of the Ninja is when the Ninja come out and cause mischief on your arse.
I got home from work, started stripping at the door, as you do, to get into something more comfortable. More fabulously fabulous rather than damn awesome corporate. As you do. And I felt a breeze brush past me.
A familiar feeling washed over me.
The bitch is back.
Ninja Bitch. The same bitch that tried to steal my formally-known-as-the-Bathroom-Tree™-now-hallway-tree last year.
But I was ready.
I cartwheeled and commando crawled into my bedroom (no mean feat in 1 six inch heel and my shirt half off) threw on some Ninja hunting clothes and grabbed the camera.
I saw a black shadow leave the hallway.
She was after Exhibit B!!! (You don’t know the story of Exhibit B yet, my lovelies, but you soon will when I unleash my Christmas Madness) Quick as a flash I was in the family room, camera poised at Exhibit B,
and there she was. Bitch. Ninja Bitch.
In serious need of a an eyebrow wax.
Then OMG!!! The Pokemon tree!
It was then I realised The Bitches caper. She wanted to be a Christmas Ninja. So I wandered around taking pics of some of my Christmas decorations and wouldn’t you know it? Every single shot had my Ninja.
Damn poser.
But I do feel sorry for the Ninja. She obviously wants to be part of the Christmas magic that is Chez Magnetobold.
There you go Ninja. A stocking just for you.
Now stop eating all my damn icecream bitch.
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My day. Cause I really really couldn’t be bothered thinking up a witty or bizarre title for a post about what I ate for lunch.
Vanilla yogurt and a banana.
The End.
OK OK! Come back!
I had a coffee too.
Boom Tish…
*crickets*
OK. A post of sorts *snort*
At work I set myself targets. There are the normal workload targets, the try and humiliate arsehats and squash them like a bug with the least amount of effort (last week I totally outdid myself annhiliating one with a rise of an eyebrow, I rock.) boring old blah blah blah this is your work description shit and then my personal entertainment targets.
For the last month I have been trying to attain a lofty goal. And today I achieved it.
To find a way to wangle the word superfluous into a document.
Without telling you exactly what I do and where I work cause then you would be able to find me and be all ‘I want to wear your skin as a coat’ lets just say this particular kind of document is rather important and could potentially be followed by tens hundreds of people and be used in a court of law.
And I did it.
Superfluous. One of the most freaking AWESOMEST words on the planet.
Stolen from here.
Say it out loud. It just rolls of the tongue and makes you just want to say it again and again and then turn to your kids and tell them they are superfluous and then kick yourself cause the fuckers know what it means and spend the next hour explaining that you were joking and they were desperately wanted even if they were an accident… I mean ‘pleasant surprise’ and then give up and throw your purse at them and say ‘take it all’…
Ahem.
When I realised that I was about to attain my goal, a grin spread across my face as my fingers flew across the keyboard. I think I even giggled a little. When the sentence was complete, I sat back, high fived myself and grinned.
Coffee Bitch was all ‘Did you just high five yourself?’
And I was all ‘Totally. What of it? And where is my damn coffee?’
I wandered over to tell my girl K of my awesomeness. And she was impressed. Damn impressed. She was all ‘You are gunna have them all coming up and asking what it means! And they will be diving for the thesauruses’
‘Is thesauruses even a word? I think you find it is a kind of dinosaur or something. You know one of those bastards that can open doors and shit.’
‘Doors were totally superfluous in the Prehistoric age’
‘Totally.’
‘And when they come and ask you what it means you can tell them adscititious’
And then I laughed so hard I had to hold myself up with the wall.
‘You are such a bitch’
‘You started it.’
‘Yeah. I did. Now I need a new word’
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She stands naked before me in the lounge room.
Her friend beckons me from the hall.
I want to dress her, but her heady perfume has mesmerized me. I don’t know if I want to cover her up.
She is so beautiful, standing tall before me in her naked glory.
Her scent brings back happy memories. Times of absolute joy. Sometimes of tears, but mostly, joy.
I feel the happiness well inside me. A stupid grin on my face.
Moo squeals in delight and rubs her body all over her in a desperate attempt to take some of her presence with her.
Too, bravely sports a gash to her leg, where our naked beauty fought us on the way in. But now she stands silent, in all her glory.
O Tanenbaum, your branches green delight us.
And tickle me inside my bra.
Those damn needles get everywhere!
Her sister leans drunkenly in the hall, waiting to be ravished severely with the pruning shears and probably damn thankful that she doesn’t get to have a stint as The Bathroom Tree™ like her predecessor last year did.
We are waiting till Monday to decorate them, but the rest of the house is nearly finished.
I will post more pics, or not. Depends on my mood.
Right now I am thanking fucking GOD that I am not German or Ukrainian or somesuch. Cause apparently they have this story about a spider that is all pissed that it doesn’t get to hang ’round the house at Christmas time. The owner of the house was all freaking Martha Stewart and shit, but with like no millions of dollars and a prison sentence, and cleaned the house in readiness for Santa, or Father Christmas, or St Nick or that fat dude with all the cash or whatever, and banished the spiders.
So while she slept the spider was all ‘I will get you bitch’ and him and his buddies got drunk on bug juice and sprayed the tree in webs. They were all ‘Look at me Murray! I can shoot this shit 5 feet!’ and ‘Duuuuuude, I can totally write my name’ and ‘A little more on the left it looks lopsided’ until the tree was covered in it and they stood back and patted each other on the cephalothorax (cause spiders don’t have backs) and staggered off to find some chicks, a beetle kebab or sleep it off in the corner.
When Santa/Father Christmas/St Nick/Fat Dude-with-all-the-cash turned up he was all ‘WTF? The bitch couldn’t clean up before I schlepped* my fat white arse down her fucking chimney? I am totally hocking a loogie in her eggnog..’ but then he realised that it was those damn spiders.
So, cause Santa/Father Christmas/St Nick/Fat-Dude-with-all-the-cash is like magic and shit, he touched the webs and they turned to tinsel and glowed in the firelight. He spotted the maggoted spiders and flipped those fuckers the bird and then took off in his sleigh after leaving the Martha a can of bug spray and some other shit that she didn’t want cause Santa/Father Christmas/St Nick/Fat-Dude-with-all-the-cash is a fuckwit and cannot take a hint when he is TOLD five bajillion times that all she wants for Christmas is a dirrrrty long weekend in a hotel that has 24 hour room service and no fucking kids keeping her up all fucking night. *stamps foot*
Back to the story. So to celebrate the drunk arsehat spiders the Dutch, hang on *scrolls back up and takes a long swig of her wine*…. Germans and Ukrainians (same difference) tell this story and put a spider ornament in their trees.
Like fuck I am doing that.
So my lovelies, do you have another Christmas story you would like me to destroy rape and pillage tell? Cause I am all about Christmas and good will to man and shit.
* the schlepping was for my girl Robin who gets all hawt and bothered when I speak Yiddish.
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Giving thanks? Meh.
So it seems there is a little holiday that our US of AAAAAAA friends are celebrating.
Something about being happy and shit and people in weird hats or some such and green bean casserole and sweet potatoes and yams with sugar and butter and just the thought of that stuff makes me feel a little ill.
Googling the recipe for sweet potato pie has me heaving in the corner. Cause it is a vegetable people! You don’t go putting marshmallows and shit on a fucking vegetable! It is like fruit on a pizza. And those french fried onions in a can.
Duuuuude. That is so wrong. Like Crocs wrong.
So anyway, they are having a day to give thanks for stuff and then apparently the next day they get to pay homage to the credit card companies and blow their house payment on shit they don’t need cause it is cheap. (like we do on Boxing Day, but that is entirely different)
Well, that is the gist of it I got from ‘Life’ that was on last night. Oh and FMD what a brilliant idea wrapping boxes of fruitcake to look like XBox’s. I am totally doing that for The GC for Christmas.
While the yanks are off eating their body weight in sugared vegetables I want you to tell me what you truly, absolutely, 100% hate in this world and would be like really really thankful if you never had to see/do/witness/eat/breathe/insert abomination-here again.
And Merry UnThanksgiving to you.
For me, right this second, I would be really fucking thankful if I never ever had another pubic hair on my keyboard. And the bastard ain’t mine.
Ewwwwwwww.
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Conversations with my boy.
My boy and I had a day together.
Everyone else out of the house, just me and my boy.
We went to do some groceries. Boo and I arm in arm.
He singing a tune of his own composition, me dying from the cuteness.
Every now and then he would stop and just randomly hug me.
*swoon*
Every person we passed he would flash them a smile and an ‘excuse me!’
My face was cracking with the smiling. I chose to ignore the fuckers and flashed them a dazzling smile.
Cause dammit, that kid is so freaking CUTE!
Home, unpack, sit down with a latte.
He wanders over…
‘Hey Mummy! What is that shirt you have on?’
I am wearing a light green shirt. I only wear black or brown. It is very very different.
‘It is a green shirt’
‘Where did you get it Mummy?’
‘I dunno. I can’t remember’
‘What does it smell like?’ *sniff sniff*
Me laughing ‘What does it smell like Boo?’
‘It smells like shirt’
‘Oh. Do you like it?’
‘On you I like it’
And I dissolved into a puddle on the floor. Death by adorableness.
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GoldenChild-mas
The Golden Child is coming!
The Golden Child is coming!
Oh my FUCKING GOD the Golden Child is coming.
And apparently we are doing a separate Christmas for him.
And all the good shit is getting broken out for the Golden ‘ coming.
Angels will sing and stars will shine brighter and life will be Happy! and Shiny! for the two days he will be here.
The GC will be here late evening on December 18. We must allow the GC to recuperate from his long haul flight of 2 hours from Sydney and sleep all day the next day. But on the 20th, we will have Christmas! With ALL THE TRIMMINGS!
Because, I don’t know if you fucking know, but the GOLDEN CHILD IS COMING!!!
You know, the one that never calls. Or sends cards. Or makes contact during any important events like brain surgery, chemotherapy or death.
MOTY came over on Friday, plonked herself on my lounge and after watching Bold and the Beautiful, proceeded to make a list of what we needed to buy for Christmas.
Cause apparently, regardless of whether I cook it or she does, I have to pay for three quarters of the food ’seeing it is just your father and I’.
Oh yes she did.
So she is all ‘we will have this and this and this and you will buy this and this and this’ and I was all ‘hold up woman, that is a lot of food for just the seven of us, considering Boo will just have a packet of French Fries and a bunch of grapes’ and she is all ‘no, this is for when your brother *insert angels singing here* comes.’
And I was all boggley. And she was all ‘waaaaaaaaat?’
‘Um, I will pay for Christmas Day, you know December 25th, but if you want to throw another one the week before you are on your own lady’
‘What? I can’t pay for all this myself.’
‘Well get GC to throw in a few shekels then’
‘I can’t do that! He is a guest!‘
And I waited and waited and fucking WAITED for the ‘boom tish’ of the cymbals to denote that this was a freaking joke…
But she was totally serious.
Because he is the Golden Child.
Fuck me dead.
And she has invited the whole extended family to come too. As guests.
On a happier note, today I started decorating for Christmas. A whole week earlier than usual.
Normally on December 1 I run around like a freaking mad-woman trying to decorate every single room, trim eleventy hundred trees, and do the decorating inside and out, glistening* like a mofo in the sweltering heat, bitchin’ and moanin’ and feeling all together un-Christmassy.
Yesterday I made sweet love to a few storage containers in Target and bought some new baubles for the new tree for the family room. Moo wouldn’t let me buy the 12ft tall inflatable Santa coming out of the chimney, deeming it ‘tacky and tasteless’. What does a Damn Emo know about tacky and tasteless I ask you?
Yeah.
So I am going back to buy it next week. And putting it outside her bedroom window…
Dining room is finished.
See the little hats and mittens on my babies! So damn cute, I could vomit.
Simple. Clean. Uncluttered.
And I am feeling the Christmas lurve. Cause it tis the season for awesome cocktails and partying on down with my biatches.
Did I mention the awesome cocktails? Cause that is what Christmas is all about isn’t it?
* ladies don’t sweat. They glisten.
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