if money was no object
What would you do when princess my-father-died-in-a-horrible-accident-and-I-need-you-to-help-me-get-shit-loads-of-cash-outta-the-country actually came through with the goods?
If suddenly the Government realised what an asset to the country you are and deposited the petty cash tin in your bank account instead of spending it on cupcakes?
If you let the old biddy at the supermarket in before you in a fleeting moment of mad ‘what the heck, I need to do one good deed in my life’ moment and then she handed you a wad of cash cause she is secretly a bajillionaire?
What would you do if you could just buy whatever you wanted?
Me. I got it all planned out baby.
Shit like university funds, money to charity, therapy for Boo?
Nah. Fuck that.
I want a trampoline room.
A huge room, floor a trampoline and walls covered in velcro. And velcro suits for everyone!
Dude.
Trampoline room
I would be all, would you care to retire to the trampoline room?
And you would be all ‘Woot!’
Cause, dammit, a freaking TRAMPOLINE ROOM!
The kiddies wont be left out of course, while the parents are having uber fun throwing themselves at walls dressed in a suit that looks suspiciously like a straight jacket….
Gives ‘little shits’ a whole new meaning eh?
Popularity: 43% [?]
Where my lasers at?
Today when I walked into work I saw my co-workers standing around sniggering. Looking very suspicious. Especially when they all stopped talking when I walked over to see what the fuck was going on.
‘What’s up?’ I demanded innocently asked.
‘Oh, nothing’ sniggered coffee bitch my boss.
‘You see what I am wearing?’ I threatened while pointing to my kick arse heels ‘You want to tempt me?’
‘It was her idea!’ pussy coffee bitch cowered.
Apparently they are trying to organise a Croc wearing day to see if they can actually make my head explode.
Ooooh the sniggers and gaffaws.
My eyes narrowed. My eyebrow cocked.
‘You do realise that after I annihilate you, I will put in a complaint for harassment and bullying, right?’
Fuckers trying to mess with me.
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My bedroom smells like Easter.
Yes, I still have Easter chocolate. I hid it in my room and forgot about it till I woke the other morning smelling Easter and finding a tiny terrorist covered in brown. Thankfully it was chocolate.
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Boo found this:
and is now drawing this:
at every opportunity.
Bad arse Tubbies.
And I am taking the laptop with me to the bathroom lest he stumble across something worse. And no, Mr Boo’s school Vice Principal, I don’t allow him to watch that fucking movie. Sheesh.
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We are beside ourselves with excitement of the release of StrongBads Cool Game for Attractive People on the Wii.
DUUUUUUUDE! This family has been Homestar Runner IN-FUCKING-SANE for years. We have the tshirts, the figurines, the DVD’s and Kick the Cheat.
We break out singing this:
at the dinner table, in the car, in the middle of the supermarket. If people stare we are all ‘Whaaaaaat?’ and then crack our own shit up.
~~~~~~~~
Liaising with the technical specialists today about devising a new database for their documents and files. A: ‘Great idea Kel! Let me know what you need’
Get an email 5 minutes later from someone in our Sydney office ‘A started one about 6 months ago, ask him about it’
Send email to A ‘ Duuuuuuude! Read email below and tell me why I shouldn’t rip you a new arse, dickhead’
A ‘Oops. Sorry. See it is a good idea!’
*shakes head and wonders why nothing gets finished*
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Boo had to pick an Olympian to do an assignment about.
He picked from the list of names.
He picked this guy:
He is an Australian boxer. His name is Brad Pitt.
So Boo googled his name and is doing a poster about this guy:
The teacher doesn’t have the heart to tell him he is wrong.
Might hang it on my bedroom wall. Just supporting my boys art of course… rawr.
Popularity: 38% [?]
Don’t breathe on me.
I think I am a pretty good mum.
My kids beg to differ. Especially when they are sick.
I have a very low tolerance for sickness. You will get a bit of sympathy, maybe a hug, but if it drags on longer than a couple hours I am over it. Totally.
I am all ‘What? Go to bed or something. Get out of my face. And for God’s sake don’t breathe on me! I don’t want your germs.’
Meh. I will give them medication and stuff. Throw a couple of cloves of garlic in their general direction. Maybe a bucket.
I just don’t do sickness well. The nurse maid thing bores me.
And then there are the secretions. And the projectileness. From every orifice.
*shudder*
Too has been sick for the last couple of weeks. Has had the last 3 days off school, waking around 4pm all confused and cracking my shit up with her ‘What day is it!’ and ‘Is it morning or night?’ and ‘Where are my *insert some freaking weird random fever induced item*!’
And wanting her Mummy. Awwww. Just don’t breathe on me. Good thing she is like a head taller than me so I can avoid making contact with the germ factory that is her general head like location.
A few years ago, Moo was pulling the ol’ ‘I am too sick to go to school’ thing and I was all ‘You will catch that freaking train or I will drive you to school. In a leotard. And heels.’
This went on for months weeks. She was a right bitch (hormones and genetics) and I was rather relieved that she was coming home and going straight to bed.
Yeah, shuttup.
Finally, after screaming match after screaming match I took her to the doctor. Well first I threatened her with going to the doctor. The ‘I will take you to the doctor and if there is nothing wrong with you I will rip you a new arse and then fart on your pillow’ threat. I told her she would have to have blood tests and shit.
She was all ‘OK’.
And I was all WTF?
Turns out she had Glandular Fever antibodies. Meaning she had Glandular Fever. And was getting better.
So I was sending her to school with one of the most debilitating viruses you can get. Something that can send the strongest of people to their sick bed for weeks, if not months.
Yeah. Shuttup.
So she thought she had something up her sleeve. A ‘bad mummy’ card to pull whenever she liked.
She underestimated me.
Now when she complains of being sick I just tell her to suck it up. Cause she functioned with undiagnosed Glandular Fever, she can cope with anything.
And for fucks sake don’t breathe on me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thankyou everyone for your kind words about my Grandfather. He is being discharged from hospital today - no beds - fuckers - but hopefully they will be able to find a local place soon. Yes, I know what the place is, I just don’t want to think about he ‘h’ word right now. Smootches to all of you… unless you have a cold.
Popularity: 46% [?]
I was going to write a post…
about my day. A long tiring day involving hospitals and sickness and sadness.
I spent the day visiting my dying grandfather. The most awesome, cheeky, beautiful man that ever walked this earth. Damn to hell the fate that has befallen him. Lung and bowel cancer. With a side of falling over, landing him in a hospital bed 3 hours away.
But then the internetz smiled on me again. A linkapalooza and email extravaganza.
These people had no idea how I was feeling this week, but all managed to brighten my night.
My awesome Tanis. An amazing post about friends. <3 my lovely. Forever. (and I am totally stealing your idea of lovin’ on the peeps babe, you still love me right?)
Coffee with my stalker, Kitty Polestar the other day. I got a parking ticket. She offered to pay half or in vodka. AND then sent me this:
Which totally cracked my shit up and ensured that Boo will NEVER look over my shoulder while I am blogging again. Yay! I can surf for porn in daylight hours!<<<<<——this is a joke. OK. MPS don’t be gettin’ all excited now…
Then O’Neal linked to me TWICE. The first one she said:
“Well to me it is, and I feel pretty damn special! Look down in the pink blog catalog box on the right. Do you see it??? Do you know who that is???? It is Kelley, in all her pink puffy heart fucking awesomeness and she looked at MY blog!!!! I know, I know, I’m a total attention whore flashing everyone my perky fake tits but this is something special to me. Like a Beatle casually saying hi walking back to their tour bus after the show. I’m not going to wash that widget for the rest of my life!!! Ok, well maybe it’ll change when someone else pops in - but I’m basking in my noticedness while I can!“
Dude. She called me a Beatle. I certainly hope I am John. Cause he was awesome like. And Tanis can be my Yoko.
And then today she did it again, but gave me this:
Does this chick know me or WHAT?
Then emails from her and her and her and him and her and her. Made me laugh and forget my dra-mah for a while.
And then my Plurk and Twitter peeps. Day-um. I love them.
And these people? They could totally be my Yoko too. We could have a love in. All my peeps!
Magpie and Slouching Mom - together in one shot. Someone pass the smelling salts.
How cute does Sarah look in this one?
WhyMommy, day-um. I wanna hug that woman.
Stimey. Pink puffy hearts all over her sweet self. She toted me around with her all the time like this. She looks damn hot when she has just got out of bed.
Backpacking Dad. Apparently he is like the latest heart throb of blogging housewives the world over. Yeah, alright, he is cute. If you like the rugged, doting father type 
This chick? Again, I love this woman.
And this one? Day-um. Is she the cutest thing ever? AND the only one that actually drank out of a glass with my face on it.
And then all the comments and amazing stories of fabulous bloggers as I wander around cradling my glass (or seven) of vodka.
So, my lovelies, what is something that made you smile this week?
Popularity: 50% [?]
Sights and smells in the local supermarket.
So I ventured to the supermarket cause I was out of chocolate and vodka fresh produce, wearing my purdy shoes. A girl needs to feel purdy when venturing out with the great unwashed.
Armed with my shopping list, I parked next to the most expensive cars I could find - just to add a little excitement to my day - pleaded with Boo to ‘open the door carefully’ and waited patiently for him to let me out of the car.
Cause apparently I am incapable of opening a car door myself. I need to wait till Boo comes and opens the door for me. Then I am required by law or something, to say ‘Thankyou kind sir’. Which is greeted with ‘Thankyou kind sir is not good enough MUM’ by Boo.
He he he. Well the first million times anyway.
Luckily I didn’t have to write a note for a windscreen, the other cars were intact, and we strolled hand in hand into the supermarket. If ‘by hand in hand’ actually means ‘holding his wrist in a death grip lest he run into one of the 40 4wheel drives careening around the carpark’.
We enter by the door furthest away from the car. Cause that is the way Boo rolls. He is all about the inconvenience.
I fight some punk for a basket. Just because he is like 5 or something doesn’t give him the right to that damn basket. Where is the respect? He cries and runs to his mummy admits defeat and the basket is MINE. Sucka!
I break out the list. And find it is one of Boo’s drawings. Dammit. So I go by my stellar memory skillz.
Oooh, something shiny!
We wander up and down the aisles and I chuck random shit in the basket. Boo runs ahead of me to converse with the cleaning fluids and laundry products.
Dude loves him some Napisan OxyAction.
I slowly saunter down after him with visions of floors so clean you can eat off, courtesy of all these amazing products. Who am I kidding? As long as I don’t step on something squishy or crunchy that is good enough for me. Who eats off the floor anyway? Oh, right, yeah. That would be Boo… Meh. Builds up immunity or some such.
As I approach him I pass an old man. Who has just farted. And I had my mouth open. He had broccoli or cabbage for lunch. With a side of mystery meat. I can taste it.
My mouth is open because just past Boo there is a large woman, nay a fucking HUGE woman in a mini skirt and tank top. In the middle of winter. Her butterfly tattoo stretched so grostequely it looks like a bat. On steroids. With that gigantism shit.
Good thing I am in the cleaning aisle cause I need something strong to wash out my eyeballs. Man, I am gunna have nightmares about that shit and OH MY FREAKING GOD she is bending over to peruse the cleaning cloths and NO FUCKING WAY she is wearing a thong. Or maybe not…
ABORT ABORT ABORT!!!!!
But I am transfixed. I cannot tear my eyes away from the horror. Then I see Boo behind the mound that is her behind and he is so enamoured by the Napisan display he is about to take off. He is flapping his arms at warp speed and is starting to squeal in delight. Dude has some serious crushing going on with that pink container…
Then underwear nomming arse looks at Boo with disdain. And I am all ‘WTF mate?’ and I openly look at the woman. I look her up and down. And what is she wearing? You know it. You freaking KNOW IT.
Crocs.
My body starts to shake. The giggles erupt before I even know it. There I am, fabulous shoes and all, bent over laughing and Boo standing beside me, arms whirling with the rapture.
And the woman storms off. And the old man gives us a wide berth as he passes in the aisle.
And he farts again.
Dessert.
Popularity: 60% [?]
I know who you are.
bwaaaaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaaa!
Now I have a little project. A plaything. ‘Concerned’ it is you.
I know who you are. And you messed with the wrong bitch. You can say what you want about me, but bring my kids into it and you better run and hide. Snoskred spent all afternoon going through IP thingys (shuddup!) and found your dirty little trail.
I want to thank you ‘Concerned’, no only have you entertained me immensely, but you have brought out the love of the internetz.
Thankyou everyone for your support, comments and emails. I love each and every one of you. You have humbled the biatch. Offers of hit men, deadly paper cuts and smiting abounded. Along with pointing out other potential haters. Meh. If you don’t like me, don’t read. What possible benefit would you get from pretending to be nice to me?
So, my lovelies, I have a question. What would YOU do to a troll?
Lets give ‘concerned’ something to worry about.
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I have heaps more pics of my lovelies from BlogHer that I will post soon.
I just didn’t want them mixed up with this nastiness, lest ‘Concerned’ in her deluded little world thought that she was any where near as awesome as my internetz. My internetz = awesome, Concerned = wanna be.
Popularity: 66% [?]
