INSIDER INFORMATION.......Teenagers

No, you didn't ask for it, but here it is anyway.... helpful hints from me to you with love and the occasional Valium:

Ok, first:  

Don't sweat the small stuff.  You know, the toothpaste on the floor and the weirdly evaporating vodka from the bottle in freezer, and the 17 lighters found behind the lounge.  Don't make it a big deal, because it isn't.  The fact you have toothpaste and vodka is the main thing – supposedly vodka is good for stains and cleaning mirrors, now I know that I can't even focus when I 'use' vodka so how the hell am I supposed to clean mirrors as well, I don’t know…. and the lighters are handy when setting fire to the rain…(Thanks for that Adele).

Second:

Don't compare your parenting to ANY other family, unless it is the Simpson's and Homer is my parenting hero.  Now, this is a biggie.  It took me a long while to kick this one into the goal, but it is very important. Not worth the drama.  So when your child’s hair begins to look like a Siamese fighting fish, let it go and just look upon your friends children with the knowing smile of impeding doom.

It is only hair and when they leave in the sink you will know EXACTLY which shit is to blame for it.  Better yet, save those kaleidoscope beauties to throw at the said feral when they get married instead of rice.  I am sure it will be appreciated especially since it will probably be a civil same sex service where rainbows colours are embraced and their ferrets wear matching tuxedos.

Three:

Try and put all your coins into a jar at the end of the day.  Yep, all your jingles and jangles.  Empty those pockets and put them into a container and start again the next day.  You will need to do this regularly as the ferals get into the jar and clean you out faster than you can sort the coins from the stray pubes and tissues.

Now, you need to be strategic here, at the first jingle of your coinage jangle THEY will come running, hands outstretched like they have picked up an invisible dog…. So, you need to set up a little diversion.  

I have found that yelling out ‘Your father and I are going to have noisy sex now’ works like a charm.  Get those coins out and to aid in the deception, when you leave your room, don't change anything about how you look, cause we always look like we getting royally fucked by our lives anyway.

Oh, any coins or bank notes found in laundry are to be used on alcohol or liquor chocolates and ONLY BY YOU.  This directive is not be questioned.

Four:

Bedrooms.  Don't.  Even.  Go.  There.  Anything with legs will remove itself eventually, and this includes fungus and pets.  Photo is not an exaggeration and is not to scale.

Five:

Don't buy a clothes hamper and whatever you do don't Pinterest wardrobe organisational skills.  

Just Don't.  Think of the extra drinking time you can get in everyday when you don't sort out their clothes.  

Carpet, vinyl and the occasional ceiling does the job just fine.  The before mentioned clothes hamper becomes a vague guiding sight line for the clothes missiles to be thrown at.  And if, by a freak moment of co-ordination from your teenager, their undies end up in the hamper, leave them there until you suit up as indicated.  Burn.

Ok, now we have covered the basics, Next time I will deal with bathrooms, hidden pets and hairy bits.

In the meantime, remember my basic rules.  

DON'T make eye contact.

DON'T get too close cause they smell fear or like fear, I often get confused.

NEVER let your wine get cold.

NEVER talk to them, this usually makes them stay longer.

KEEP Dan Murphy's number on speed dial.

The Grunter.

I am always trying to save a buck - so I bought a hair 'pamper' voucher on Living Social, close to home, $24 bucks for a wash, massage, blow dry and i bought the haircut as well for a bit more - seemed to be a great cheap way to get a little bit of 'girlie' into my life.

OH BOY...WAS I WRONG!

Firstly, the place was called "Style With Sam'...and a chick answered the phone and i made the appointment - all good so far.  Visions of chrome mirrors and rows and rows of brightly coloured products danced in my head.  

I pushed on.

I turn up, look up and down the street, seeing nothing but a barber....ok, don't rush to conclusions Leah, perhaps it is 'out the back'...

I pushed on.

I go in...the strong smell of male cologne hits me right between the nasal passages and I almost collapse like a nervous bride on her wedding night.  

I pushed on. 

I see a man.  Oh! what grooming he has.  His beard was sculptured around his strong jawline like a ugg boot on a bogan...contoured to every curve and looked bloody ridiculous but you kinda see them everywhere.  I see another man.  Young, hesitant and dressed head to toe in black combat gear.  

I pushed on. 

A young woman comes up to me.  Oh..see I was right - it is ok, there is a passageway into the secret world of female beauty...all I have to do is follow her and paradise will be found and glory is mine.  

I pushed on.

I follow her towards a black reclining chair near the sink, which while looking perfectly innocent will transform me into the goddess I am, I just needed to sit and allow the 'pampering' to begin.  This chair is NOT in a comforting female womblike room, but tucked up against a wall surrounded by Canterbury Bulldog posters and signed Bulldog jerseys and the 'piece de resistance'.. a Bulldogs clock.  In this same room are old men.  Some are sitting and waiting for their number 2 haircuts, some are discussing with passion the clever antics of the Bulldogs football game from the weekend and some are sleeping, I think, or he was dead, too close to call.

I pushed on.

What?...where is she going?  Why is the young man walking over here in his combat boots and mean sneer.  A firm hand pushes me down into the chair.  Sounds sexy huh! Now, I have no issue with men...especially in traditionally female roles etc, I had the most amazing nurse in hospital once who was male and he was fantastic and I was open to this experience... gotta go with it sometimes, right????

I pushed on.  (Oh, at NO point has he spoken to me..at all)

A towel is draped around my shoulders, my hair is gently gathered up and I slide into position against the basin and my eyes close in anticipation of that certain bliss that happens when someone washes your hair.  

Oh. My. God.  

Ice cold water is all I can feel.  I wait, thinking that he will adjust it.  nope.  Water is in my ears, my face and I assume on my hair.  Shampoo is applied, the fingers are firm and my hopes are raised that the 'bliss' with happen.  Rinse.  Repeat.  Ok, the conditioner is on, the fingers are on my scalp, the moment has arrived....come on Commando, let's ride this sucker!  I can only describe what happened next as a bummer - he poked and prodded and kinda moved them around quickly and with no rhythm... made me really pity his girl/boyfriend. 

I pushed on.

A grunt instructs me to sit up and move over to the, wait for it......LEOPARD SKIN chair in the other corner of the man cave.  A token People magazine is placed haphazardly on the small table in front of me, how convenient if I wanted to look at nipples and bikini'd women while getting 'pampered'.

I pushed on.

He speaks.  In a guttural strong Arab accent..'You want layers, yes?'.  Umm, no, just a trim.  I had decided the hair cut was too risky, I know, this was my first smart decision today, but I still had to convince the Grunter.  'Just a trim please'.  'layers, yes?'. 'No...a trim, small cut'.  I grab my hair and show him how much to take off...

He grunts.

I pushed on.

I now have hair which is cut like when you cut too many pieces of paper with scissors, you know how it pushes some out longer etc...well, that is me today.

I pushed on.

Now for the blow dry.  I have longish straight hair and it is pretty easy to blow dry my hair - but this guy showed my some moves that I have never even envisaged before in all my years of getting my hair done.

Firstly, he slung the hairdryer around his neck like a snake and proceeded to section off my hair etc.  he grabbed a brush and went to town.  He was so enthusiastic with his curling and pulling that I think I lost hair and he grimaced everytime he started a new section.  Seriously, this guy had to rest TWICE, he was shaking his wrist like I had just beaten him in a arm wrestle or something.  Maybe I have super dooper strong hair?  

I pushed on.

It was done.  I was finished.  He was panting like he had just gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and I walked out looking like $24.  Now to find a real hairdresser and curl up in her womb like room and get it all fixed.

Oh and I found out the Bulldogs won.

OH....a very funny Post Script...a message from a friend...

Oh Dear, someone should have told you, Sam (real nam HasSAM) is the Bulldog's ball boy who's uncle's brother in law got him into hair dressing to fill time between his kick boxing tournaments up Belmore way.You should have gone for the layers, he is better with a razor than he is with scissors.


BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ramblings of a Mad Woman.....: MY FAMILY DOESNT RESEMBLE THOSE CAR STICKERS..THAN...

Ramblings of a Mad Woman.....: MY FAMILY DOESNT RESEMBLE THOSE CAR STICKERS..THAN...: Yep, I have decided that since my ‘get up and go, got up and went’ I will create a new Leah, one that doesn’t need ironing o...

MY FAMILY DOESNT RESEMBLE THOSE CAR STICKERS..THANK GOD FOR THAT!

Yep, I have decided that since my ‘get up and go, got up and went’ I will create a new Leah, one that doesn’t need ironing or crease when you fold it.

First off the blocks, everyone has seen those damn cartoon stickers of families placed ever so lovingly on the back windows of suburban SUV’s who have never seen a puddle or dust.  When I actually  saw them for the first time I didn’t mind them, cute whimsical little things I thought - now I just want to keep ramming the car in front me which actually should be fine since the mother has one hand on the wheel and evidently a laptop stuck to other one and dad is too busy BBQing to be of any use in a road rage incident and the kids, well they look like their legs don’t bend so I am sure I could get away quickly.

But fellow travellers, this is not the first time we have been sucked into the vortex of ‘trendy shit on cars to make us feel good’…(not even touching the frangipani craze..)

Cast your mind back peeps, yep all the way back the early 90’s when the ubiquitous ‘safety yellow’ BABY ON BOARD diamond plastic sign was placed with loving care and strange pride by all the new parents into the rear window of their gas guzzling shit box Mazda.

So what if there is a baby on board?  Was it supposed to make anyone driving behind them scared enough to remain a safe distance behind in case of flying dummy or poo bomb from the backseat?  I don’t think so!  Maybe we were supposed to grant them an easy ride, lanes of traffic will part and their ride to the play gym will be sweet and gentle with the help of their sign.  Surely people will go out of their way to respect the newborn nestled cosily inside and grant her or him a gentle passage in life.  AS IF!  Save yourself, Sunshine!

Funny thing is that nowadays you still see them (on shit box Mazda’s) and if you take a quick look the faded yellow plastic sign is left dangling precariously from its sucked to death plastic fastener, whose remains of past placement are spread along the window like a urban crop circle pattern calling aliens to muster.  Take a glance at the mother, she is now wrinkled, exhausted and well on her way to liver damage, check out the kid, in the backseat, feet up, earphones in, smelly and untidy – get ready to duck cause there still may even be the occasional poo bomb from the backseat. 

Got me thinking…is there ANY sign that would work to make you a better and more courteous driver around a car you have no care factor with?

'CAREFUL, I CARRY MY WINE ON MY LAP!'

'GERIATRIC GRANNY WITH FART ISSUES ONBOARD?' – atleast I would slow down for that little gem…wouldn’t open my window but I’d slow down.

Anyway, I digress....back to the stick figure family collections...seems the first problem, apart from the fact that they exists, is there seems to be a small group of characters to choose from;

Dad - fishing, BBQ's, body building and lo and behold just holding what looks like two crumpets in his hands..oh wait..they ARE his hands...bahahaha, that'll get him a long way in life!

Mum - business mum with laptop, pretty with handbags, pregnant and reading books and she has what looks like two crumpets in her hands too!  

The kids are the just sweet, ballerinas, football players, Oh the list goes on...

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!  Ok, you wanna picture of MY family on the car..here goes:

DAD - tired looking, slight paunch, an iphone attached to one ear sitting in front the computer playing Poker - he has real hands otherwise the mouse wouldn't work!

MUM - sitting on the lounge with a bottle of Sav Blanc at the ready, iphone handy to check Facebook and a look of 'how the hell did this all happen' on her face - she also has real hands - how else do you open the bottle?

GIRL 1: Phone attached to ear, sitting at laptop not moving, nothing, nil.  She doesn't need hands as she doesn't do anything.  Hair changes colour every few minutes.

GIRL 2: Picture the Tassie Devil in the cartoons, speed it up and give it boobs. 

DOG: Deaf and sleeps all day - doesn't smile unless you are holding Devon in your hands and walking towards him.  Too big to fit on window.

CAT: Sleeps and vomits. 

Now all that remains is that someone can point me towards the shop that sells these beauties and I am so there, alas I fear my world is not ready for the truth, but the truth is out there and it comes with wine!

The Pursuit of Happiness with Sparkles

This blog may disappoint a few but get used to it..life is full of sand in your cracks....

Depression SUCKS

I am one of the many who battle this damn disease daily and lately that battle has been really tough. 

Yes I admit it, I am the weirdo in a foetal position in the corner crying my eyes out more days than I care to think about.  So there. Some people would be suprised to know this, though some people who know me would just be nodding their heads wisely.

I have to start by saying that I have a personal hatred of the word Depression. 

It sounds so awful and lame - come on guys what a crap word, they even use it on the weather channel..."Sunny and warm in Melbourne and there is a small depression over Tasmania"...hell, if I lived in Tasmania I'd have more than a small depression....

Let's rename the bugger....let's call it "Sparkles"....don't ask why - just do it ok...

When I wake up in the morning after having a shit night's sleep where my life has been shredded into tiny fragments and thrown to the wolves - I can say "Good morning Sparkles, would you like some coffee and toast....maybe being a better hostess may be the way to go....she might not come around so often if she knows she is welcome...See, that old reverse psychology trick...

Anyway, Sparkles is here for a visit...and she has bought her friends,

Mr I. M Somnia and Mrs I. R. Rational......

they often travel together and make a great touring party.  Lots of laughs (insert sarcastic tone here)

I do however often wonder why me?  Why not someone else....like my neighbours - they need a little "quietening down"...

Medically, I do understand the machinations of "Sparkles"...seratonin levels in the brain and all that...well, that is all good and well but why can't I have something else happening in my brain - like a rejuvenation of vital brain cells to replace the ones Savingnon Blanc has wiped out over the years - but hey what a way to go guys!.

So, maybe what I am trying to say is if you wake up and don't want to look the day in the eye and you feel shithouse - TALK TO SOMEONE.  I get up everyday - safe in the knowledge that there are other people out there who are dealing with the same feelings and isolation. 

Alright, Sparkles wants me to get her some toast and tea - might just give her the mouldy stuff at the back of the pantry and spit in her tea - that'll piss her off....

www.beyondblue.com.au
beyondblue Information Line: 1300 22 46 36

Life line: 13 11 14

Mens Line Australia: 1300 78 99 78

SANE Australia Helpline: 1800 18 

SANE(7263)

Salvo Counselling Line: 1300 36 36 22

And so this is Xmas..........

Did the big fat arsed red suited man jump down your chimney and deliver your heart's desire....nope...Me neither....

What is all the crapola about Christmas...now I don't wanna be a party pooper but it just kinda sucks as an adult. 

I remember when I was little it was so frigging exciting - Putting the tree up and decorating it all our crap we made at school like paper cut out lanterns and paper plates with cotton wool balls for Santa beard etc...oh it was so hard to get to sleep the night before and the thrill of getting ready to going to visit Santa at Roselands shopping centre in my best dress....oh the wonder, the joy, the anticipation....It was a marvellous time.

Where did it go....????

Oh yeah - that's right...I grew up.  Where does the magic go when you grow up..Why do you forget about the joys of faeries and elves and trolls....and Santa.  Maybe because we have to make room for Harry Potter...

I might sound odd saying this, but I really really really want Santa to be real.  I believed in Santa more than I believe in God.  Think about it, what has God given me for Christmas....never anything wrapped in pretty paper and bows.....he never once gave me a massage voucher - just gives me guilt and a overachieving son...oh yeah - like I need another man....especially one who wears sandals and disappears after 3 days behind a rock...Nah, sorry - not my kinda guy.. Santa however, he has toys and reindeer and the most magnificent Grotto!  Who doesn't want one of them....

Now...December comes with stresses of grocery shopping for special dinners, visiting in-laws and relatives you don't normally see, dealing with crowded shops and cranky people in the shopping centre, lack of parking spaces and the agony of wondering if you have enough of anything and everything....It is simply exhausting and painful...

So instead of taking the eternity it used to when we were kids it now arrives to quickly and it arrives at a most inconvenient time - right between the Electricity and Water bills. 

Ho Ho Ho and See ya next year....

Is this a relationship or just a status update...

I have been married for 18 years.  In basic terms this means I am in a relationship.  


My mum has been married for 46 years.  She is in a relationship.  

Now my daughter has been going out with her boyfriend for 1 week and according to her Facebook SHE is in a relationship.  

WHAAAT!  

Ok, now this is hilarious...

There are six relationship categories Facebook users can choose from: single, in a relationship, engaged, married, it's complicated, and in an open relationship.

Well, I certainly don't wanna see any mention of an open relationship on her page - however there does seem to be no relevant category for 'just hanging together and getting the occasional hickie'.

Whatever happened to terms like ....'got with', 'going round with', 'hooked up'.....  Nope, we know go straight to the relationship.  

Remember back in high school when we wrote little notes to our crush and threw it at them in the science lab while we made water boil....now that was romantic...nothing says love like a smeared, piece of paper ripped out of your maths book with 'Wanna go out with me?' written on it.  It worked occasionally however I think it was just because there was a chance of touching my boobs more than wanting a RELATIONSHIP!

Times have certainly changed - now instead of the soggy paper bomb - now the guy just finds out through a girls facebook status change.  Now, that is complicated!

Oh bring back those days.......


Ok, gotta go and change my status to 'Married but still have to put out the garbage bin myself'.....

'Blog requested by M.....hope you like it....