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....

Down we go........

It has happened.  I am old.

When did the life of the party go to another party and "forget" to invite me?

What ever happened to the bright shiny person with the bubbly rocking personality?  Lordy, she is now tarnished and dull and the bubbles are now just drool on my chin....

Damn - when did life become so adult and real.

So, I turned 40 earlier this year, it was celebrated and acknowledged - almost like a pagan blessing of time passing, however something disastrous has happened between June and December.  

Yep..the first grey "down under" hair.  

I can hear the loud cacophonous cries of "TOO MUCH INFORMATION LEAH" however alas, no, it is not, I fear this blog must be written as a warning which I feel morally obliged and propelled to share and you, my minions must learn from it.

Oh glorious was the day when the hair 'down there' made its way to the surface, bursting through with youthful exuberance and with the golden shine of newness.  Soft, downy and it was obviously lonely so it bought some friends home and what started as one quickly became two and then unfortunately there was strong resemblance to my Nana's parsley bush!

With it came the sense of pride, shame and excitement.  I was one of the first of my friends to gain "bush" status.  It was a big deal.  Boobs were SOOOO yesterday, and like it was in 1989 Bush was IN!

Are you still with me???  Hang in there....

Now over the years there have been many styles of form and function and after having two children I lost all sense of dignity "down there" anyway and quite often would offer to show it to people if they were wearing a white coat and a medical background.  This has proved disadvantageous now my local chemist man refuses to serve me.  Oh well..plenty more where he came from.

So the thought that "down there" is now looking more like a forest of ghost gums than lush parsley bush makes me feel like I am nearly grave bound.

Now, this is not all.  Oh No!!  The body beautiful has up and revolted.  There is drooping, sliding and and embarrassing noise making which can occasionally be blamed on the dog and even then he looks at me suspiciously and he is deaf.

Oh where did youth go?  So, I have taken it upon myself to warn you.  Yes, you..you young things out there.  It doesn't stay.  So make the damn most of it while ya got it.  

So I am heading into my middle age with grey hair, sagging tits and a shitty attitude..

Wanna make something of it....

Aldelightful...:)

ALDI...

Just four letters.

I am special, I know what it stands for...

Always Letting Dickheads In.

People around me would know of my constant whinge and moan about the place.  Cheap food brings out cheap people and cheap people mean cheap hygiene and manners (on the whole)

You park your car...easy...you get your trolley...easy...OR not so easy if your "special" kids have pinched your last $2 to buy a half cold pizza rounder at the school canteen which has probably been there since 1985. 

So, to avoid Aldi disappointment, David and I are lucky owners of trolley tokens....they hang like proud colourful trolley testicles from our keyrings which jingle and jangle and whisper "Come back to Aldi...we have cheap stuff...come back..come back..."

In our house David's little trolley testicle is used far more frequently than mine (SHOCK).  I refuse to go by myself as I don't know if I am strong enough to resist the lure of whatever themed food they have for the week.  Chinese, Swedish, American etc.  It is like someone in the Aldi world of themes is paid just to specifically think of what we all should be eating in May....Mmmm..wonder when they'll do Japanese Whale Week??

This week they have luxury butter fudge and smoked trout - yep, all whole lotta of bogans gonna be fudging the trout this week....god knows that means but it has to be nasty.

And then there are the linens....250 thread, 500 thread all the way up to the 1000 thread sets...cause when I shop for tampons and milk I often say, jeez, I hope and pray that the next aisle has sheets because that would mean my life is complete. 

Ok, back to the people.

Today, for example, it was 10am on a Sunday.  It was packed - the car park was heavy with old corollas and Holden stationwagons with "Shit Happens" stickers on the back.  It was shaping up to be like a Bogan family reunion with the compulsory dress code of visual bra straps, muffin tops and thongs.

Aisle 1: We make it through the door.  We stop 3 feet in because the family of 8 (who takes their whole friggin family (it was like The Brady Bunch from Berkeley) in front of us needs to fight about the muesli bars. We wait - they are like a wall of sound.."Nah, i wanna have them..nah you picked 'em last time - you dont even bloody eat'm..."  Move ya fat arses outta they way people...we are serious shoppers..LOL

Aisle 2 and 3:  now this is when it gets interested...they are scattering food items with toys, clothes and fishing gear.  How on earth do you expect them to LEAVE Aldi?  The men start fidgeting and getting glassy eyed and the women start thumbing through the $3 bras.  Yep babe, you need a new one - the holes in the side of the one you have on are just a little too much now...:(

You getting the drift - I could go on but bogan is bogan is bogan.

Shopping done...we line up in a line longer than when Cold Chisel tickets go on sale at Shelly's...and we wait, wait and wait - finally the conveyor belt of hell gives us our own space and we carefully put up our groceries - hard items first cold stuff etc and so on.

Our turn at the register!  The lady sitting (who sits at a checkout?) gives a lukewarm smile and starts scanning.  She looks uninterested in her job but shit can that chick scan!  She scans like a F1 race driver....The woman needs a chicane to slow her down...the Mark Webber of Aldi without the chiselled jawline....

Swipe..swipe..swipe...David tries to keep up with packing his trolley, he was doing well, but now sweat is forming on his furrowed brow, his neat lines of produce are now reduced to a tumbled mess in our trolley.  Eggs are upturned, milk is on top of the asparagus, bread is nowhere to be seen.  Still this scanning demon continues..beep beep beep beep, there is no letup - afraid to ask for her to slow down in case her eyes turn into lasers and she burns the Aldi symbol into a scared faces, we just gather and throw..gather and throw...sweaty and stressed and panting heavily..we are done, the woman sits back happy in her scanning attack and safe in the knowledge that she has bought another weak and defenseless shopper to their knees in defeat.

Breathe, we look at each other in relief - we made it out again....but then we realise we still have the pack the friggin shit in our OWN bags....grrrrr

Now for the amazing part.  I know a lot of good, respectable people who shop this way to save a buck.  Is it worth it?  And why the hell do we keep coming back......must be cheap sheets.

Are you there Blog? It's me, Leah......

Yes, I have neglected the blog...so here we go playing a fun game of catch up...

Recently, the last year or so, I have been heavily involved in a local community group - dib dib dib dob dob dob and a quick flash of khaki and a woggle - this is something that I really didn't want to do - because volunteering is NOT really my thing, I prefer the love of cold hard money but it has been rather a blessing in disguise in a few ways. 


I have always fought tooth and nail about being involved in Scouts for many, many years by trying to lay low, not ask questions or attend any meetings or look interested etc – those pesky scouters can smell enthusiasm a mile off.  After all the years I watched my mum selflessly and tirelessly support Dad and my brothers through their Scouting endeavours without real recognition and often with no thanks I made a decision to never be that woman – I need and demand acknowledgement and I am not gonna wear khaki culottes to achieve that or stay anonymous within my life.

Positive No: 1:

I get to spend more time with my Dad - can't be a bad thing.  My Dad is no longer a spring chicken flushed with the energy of youth, he is now more of a wrinkled tired old canvas tent going mouldy from lack of airing and has lost of few of its pegs along the way.  This Dad tent is still very useful but it is prone to watching the History Channel and needs an afternoon nap most days......

Within the olive tinged realm of scouting he is a living legend.  He is not a man who commands or asks for respect but he gets it regardless of where people stand within the organisation due to his gentle manner and quiet perserverance and he has made a sound and definate impact within the movement.  He has been awarded, applauded and recognised as a Man of Action....you want something done, ask Greg!

So, when that man needs a helping hand - I had to say yes, right?  Right?

Positive No: 2:

Having known a considerable number of scout leaders in my time, some of which will be out of jail in a few years :( - I have nothing but admiration and affection for the leaders at Kiama with whom I am involved now.  They are supportive, friendly, funny and committed to doing their best for our kids and the scouting movement.  They are very family oriented and just quite simply just good people. 

My own childhood memories of scouting are mostly good though it mainly consisted of Mum and Dad dragging my sorry little Brownie arse everywhere to watch the boys do whatever adventurous activity was planned for them - all the while I was fervently wishing I could be the one who could go abseiling, camping and canoeing with the boys instead of having to sit with a bunch of bitchy girls learning the most 'useful' skill of blanket stitch and having to walk to the old people's home down the road from the hall which smelt like death's perfume of stale urine and rose water and sing festive Christmas carols.  It was soooooo unfair.

Negatives:

There is only one true negative and that would be - drumroll......the lack of parental support in the group.  Is anyone surprised?

Jesus on a hotdog!  You'd think that the people of Kiama would step up and support such an amazing group of leaders who are their purely for THEIR kids.  They don't do it for money, get very little recognition and make scouting enjoyable and educational for their kids.

Kiama hall was nearly falling apart and being dragged off by water rats - and a bunch of people including Dad worked tirelessly to see that the hall was renovated within an inch of it's life - now it is the Joan Rivers of scout halls as there is so much botox and filler in every crack and nook it won't age or wrinkle and is damn near immortal.

Do you think some of the parents could step up and say thanks for making the hall the best in the land?  Nope.

Do you think they could supply a plate of food for the re-opening? Nope.

There are many other things I could write but it is now getting mean and I am getting weary of thinking about it.  My full admiration goes to the parents who support, encourage and provide for us when we need it.  They know who they are - and I thank you.

They say it takes a village....or perhaps it just takes a few good people and a village idiot who does the books... 

“A scout troop consists of little kids dressed like schmucks following a big schmuck dressed like a kid.” Jack Benny

An insult to Sloths......

It is easy..isn't it...raising kids?  All the books say so....

Ok, so they don't go to sleep for 2 or so years and they occasionally eat their own poo, but all in all it is a breeze...am I right people!!!

I got through all that hooplah, though I came out of it with a shot liver and a short attention span, but what happens when the children who gave me episiotomy scars and grey hair turn doggone bone LAZY?

Now I don't mean just not picking up the shoes from the front door or walking in from school and throwing down the schoolbag down and leaving it there to fester until the next morning when a chorus of "Where is my schoolbag" rings out...

"Where do you think it is...wrapped and bowed under the Xmas tree"?  DUH!

No, I am talking idle lazy.  Never mind missing in action, my two precious growths are "delayed in action!".

I am talking three toed sloth lazy.....now, that is not fair to sloths..because they are not lazy they are just slow, well, honey if the shoe (thrown on the floor) fits!

To increase my blog audience to include my catholic and other minority friends :)...I have come across a quote from the bible...get this kids, Google does EVERYTHING!!!

"The desire of the lazy kill him; for his hands refuse to labor. [Proverbs 21:25].

Whoa - steady on there God or Mr Proverb (whoever he was) you mean people can DIE from being lazy? 

Maybe I should go and hold a mirror over their mouths and see if there is life signs....

To Pea or not to Pea!!!!

Growing up in Sydney in the 1970s meant that whenever our little stereotypical white middle class family wanted to celebrate ANYTHING we had got into our Ford and drove one suburb away and had Chinese food.  

Wow, what an exotic place it was....reddish purple flocked wallpaper on the wall - I remember rubbing my hands along the soft surface and feeling the surface change from luxurious to flat and was amazed by the opulence.  A far cry from the orange curtains in our kitchen!

So we gorged ourselves on Beef and Black Bean, Satay Chicken, Honey Chicken and the compulsory Combination Omelette and large Fried Rice.  Now don't forget the Mini Spring Rolls and Sweet and Sour Sauce......

Such memories hold such a dear place in my mind (and my arse) but I have a problem......

Recently we have eaten at two different chinese restaurants in our local area of Shellharbour and BOTH times, yes BOTH times there have been NOOOOO peas in the fried rice...

Now I am not asking for a Governmental inquiry into the missing peas, however it would be advisable as this is simply NOT ON!  When did the peas get phased out?  Is there a pea shortage?  Have we run out of peas?  Was there a pea revolution that simply passed me by?

Now there are a number of fried rice variations out there...the most common being rice (duh!) egg, ham, shallots, prawns and PEAS...dammit..PEAS!!!!

And as the late great John Lennon said "give peas a chance"....

Now Pea off.....and put peas in the damn Flied Lice.....

Three Strikes and You're Out!

I have done it now...I have ruined my daughter's reputation at the Dr's surgery and she didn't even have to wait in the waiting room for the privilege.

Our 3.20pm appointment came and went.....I didn't call because I was having a bad day...that means no communication and absolutely no care factor.  Emme pissed me off so badly last night doing what she does so well that I cannot even fathom doing anything nice for her, yep, sounds awful and it is but she is a pain in the proverbial and it is not getting better.

So.....the phone rings at 3.40....Jenny from the Dr's room's "is Emme coming in?"...I feign shock and state that David was supposed to call and cancel, and off she goes into the congested and phlegmy world of the medical fraternity...

What! the phone rings again...."Hi, Dr >>>> said to tell you that Emme now has an ASTERISK next to her name as she has missed an appointment and you didn't call.  Three ASTERISKS means that Emme would not be able to see Dr >>>> anymore.  How old are these people???

WHAT!  Oh My God...So..there we have it - I have started the reputation tarnishing process for her just by being a crap mum.  Way to go L!

What happens if we REVERSE the situation Dr >>>>?  How many damn asterisks would YOU have beside your name for the manner in which you have dealt with your patients over the years.  How many waiting times were totally disregarded and delayed to suit you?  How many patients were simply told "It's a virus"?  Because the hard truth is there is NOT enough asterisks in the world to put next to shitty Dr's names.

Don't piss me off by using such childish tactics to make YOUR life easier..Empathy is easy if you have a soul