Hula Hank

BABIES!

2011-11-18T11:04:00.001+08:00

Well actually only one baby, my newest nephew, born 17th November 2011 @ 10:25amET


Jameson Donald Luellett

My brother and sister-in-law finally gave birth to their son, Jameson Donald Luellett Hula who weighed 8lbs 6oz and 22 inches.

Just so you know, Jameson is not my first nephew. I do have a nephew who is in his mid-20s and a great-niece who is 1(ish). Also my sister-in-law has a 9(ish) year old son, so I guess that would make me a step-uncle? Does that exist?

Everyone is really excited and it is times like these that make living on the exact opposite side of the world so tough.

HELLO, DOLLY!

2011-11-09T11:39:00.000+08:00

It is Stuart's birthday so as a present I got him tickets to the Dolly Parton concert. This was her first time in Australia in 25 years, and this was her first stop on her Australia tour. They were pretty good seats in the front row and somewhere towards the middle of the stage, which made for great photo opportunities.

Stuart took all of these photos. I only got 3 photos and all were small and blurry. I figured that if Dolly Parton was to look at me, I didn't want my face hidden behind a smart phone.

Best joke of the night, was after she kept untangling her hair from her microphone, she said, "Don't worry it doesn't hurt me one bit... but there's a lady in Korea who is whoopin' right now."

It was somewhere around this stage that Dolly Parton pointed at Stuart and I and said, "I see a couple of good lookin' gentlemen in the front row." What can I say? She's got good taste.

You should have seen this guitar. It was covered in Rhinestones!

When Dolly first appeared on stage, she was playing a white and rhinestone incrusted fiddle. PS - Her boobs don't look so big in person, but they sure do have a way of catching the light!

I would classify Dolly Parton as a camera whore. It appeared to me that whenever she would notice someone pointing a camera in her direction, without missing a beat she would pause for a split second and pose.

GSMS - Balmain Cafe #1

2011-09-06T12:02:00.002+08:00

Although this is the second post of the Great Sydney Martini Search, and the first post was about the fourth bar, this post is about the first and second bars, which weren’t bars but cafes.

If you need me to repeat that, I will but I cannot promise it will make any more sense the second time it did the first time around.

The first two bars (cafes) that we visited were pretty much as soon as I got of a red eye flight, which should explain the puffy eye and airplane hair. My friend lives in this cute little neighbourhood called Balmain. It is surrounded by the Sydney harbour on three sides and overlooks the skyline, Harbour Bridge and the tops of the Opera House.

We were eager to get started on the Martini Search, so we headed out across the street to a little cafe, the name of which I do not recall.

We asked the host if we could get a couple martinis. He looked at his watch, looked at us and said, “Now?”

He face looked a bit confused. You could see his mind ticking over and then surrendered, “Sure, have a seat. I will make you some martinis!” Then he got really excited.

“What kind of martinis were you after?”

“The kind with vodka, dirty & three olives,” I said.

He looked confused again. “Not gin?”

I am going to make a sidenote here that I am not interested in starting that whole boring debate as to which is a more traditional martini, gin or vodka. The fact of the matter is that vodka is more commonly used in the US and gin is more commonly used in the UK & British Commonwealth countries.

I prefer vodka.

About 20 minutes later, the host came back with the martinis, looking as proud as a father showing off his newborn twins.

That is correct. You see in the picture before you, two glasses filled with ice, topped with a metal bowl (normally used for dips) with three skewered olives (un-pitted).

Bless him because he tried so hard and the results did make me laugh, his mind was ticking over on how to keep the martini as cold as possible and that was the result.

He gets an ‘A’ for effort.

The martini, however, gets an ‘F’.

The host was so proud of his creation that I didn’t have the heart to tell him it stunk. Out of politeness, I had to drink my entire martini and all of my friend’s martini.

SYDNEY MARTINI CRITIQUE - THE IVY

2011-09-05T11:55:00.003+08:00

First stop on the Sydney Martini Tour – the pool bar at The Ivy.

DISCLAIMER: This wasn’t actually the first stop on the martini tour, it was the fourth, but these are the only pictures I have at the moment.

The Ivy is an exclusive bar and restaurant establishment in Sydney’s CBD. On the roof of The Ivy is a pool and several bars that cater to a crowd of non-exclusives who stand around trying their best to look and act like they are exclusive. We all know the type.

The member’s changing rooms are numbered with silhouettes of different sexual positions. It’s not the cleverest idea nor is it tastefully done and looking around, neither is the clientele.

They also have a basement. This is not one of the bars, but an actual basement. Most recently used (after my visit) by The Ivy’s bouncers to bound and gag an unruly patron and beat him senseless, followed by a quick clean-up of the scene by the staff maids before the police arrived.
Nothing says “Class” like a basement beating cover-up.

The pool bar is excellently decorated with large multi person sun loungers and private cabana booths in aqua blue and lemon yellow. The colour scheme is so carefully adhered to that even the cocktails match the decor.

It reminded me of The Lucy Show when Lucy worked at the bank and the drapes and carpet were the exact shade of red as her hair and the furniture always matched her outfit.

I take any opportunity to pretend I am a dead actress, so I ordered a yellow drink, which I think was called a “Martini Francaise” or something similar made using fresh pineapple, lemons and other stuff which I do not recall.

You must remember even though I said this was the first martini stop, it was actually the fourth.
The ‘martini’ was difficult to judge as previously I was comparing traditional martinis. This was a cocktail martini so it had to be judged on its own merit.

The verdict: Way to much citrus for my liking. The fresh pineapple was overpowered by the lemon juice. It gave me heartburn but it did match the decor!

This cocktail just wasn’t to my taste, however the bartender was very pleasant to talk to (and by that I mean he had big muscles and a tight shirt) and they used only fresh ingredients that were squeezed, smashed, muddled and juiced as ordered.

As for the atmosphere, once I got my cocktail and was able to lounge on a nice comfy big sun lounger and focus on having a good chat with my friends, I was in heaven.

At the end of the day, isn't that what it's all about?

THE GREAT SYDNEY MARTINI SEARCH 2011

2011-08-09T17:02:00.003+08:00

This past weekend I enjoyed an awesome trip to Sydney to visit some friends.

I flew the Red Eye flight and landed in Sydney at 6:00am. What does someone who is exhausted from a sleepness night on a plane and someone else who has woken up before the birds to get to the airport decide would be fun?

Sleep, you say?

Nope.

We decided that 6:00am was just the right time to pay a visit to different bars and restaurants around town, order martinis and then critique them.

Now, Australia is known for some great things - Sun, Beach, Actors, Poisonous Creatures - but, unfortunately, classic martinis are not one of them.

Sure, they do plenty of martini cocktails (you know, chocolate martini, espresso martini, apple martini, etc) but not your classic vodka/gin martini.

Needless to say, there were some interesting comments from the waiters on if they could make one and there were some even more interesting results from the bartenders that tried!

Unfortunately, I have no photos. At least not for a few more days, anyway. However I was so excited that I finally had something to blog about, I thought I would tease you about it first.

YOU LIKE ME, YOU REALLY LIKE ME

2011-06-24T20:17:00.002+08:00

OK Well I got a few slaps on the wrist for the complete tease of a post last time.

I thought that I could do better with keeping the updates coming, especially since for my birthday months and months ago, I got a brand new Mac something or rather. It has a massive screen. We are not talking just a big screen, this thing is HUUUUUUUUGE.

Way to big to sit and look directly into the screen without going blind within five minutes. To solve this problem I have the Mac up on the dining table, longways. The screen is 3 seats down the table and I will be blind by time I finish writing this post. Hope it was worth it.

So what else has been going on?

Well, we are selling the farm and moving to Sydney.

A few weeks ago I saw Caroline O'Connor in concert and the past Monday I got to see the legendary Chita Rivera.

You may or may not be aware, but Caroline O'Connor is an English-born Australian musical theatre legend. Chita Rivera, of course, is an American musical theatre legend.

What do these two have in common (you know, besides a theatre full of homos)?

Caroline O'Connor was the original Velma is the Australian revival of Chicago.

Chita was the original Velma in Chicago full stop.

I have also seen Bebe Neuwirth when she was the original Velma in the Broadway revival of Chicago.

This got me to thinking that after seeing so many original Velmas are any Velmas original anymore?

It also got me to thinking that so after seeing so many musical theatre legends, the American legends rave on about Sondheim and the British legends rave on about Andrew Lloyd Webber, which is probably the real reason for the Revolutionary War.

I also got a couple new DVDs. Grey Gardens with Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange. I am totally in love with this movie and watch it at least once a week. I sometimes even find myself speaking in the accent of Little Edie.

The other DVD I bought was The Big C with Laura Linney. Number one, I adore Laura Linney. Number two, I was in fits of laughter and tears throughout the entire series.

The only downside is that every time my dog sniffs my leg, I think I have cancer. I also keep making decisions as if I only have two years to live.

Let's see... what else?????

Tonight for dinner I had two hot dogs and an ice cream sundae.

What is going on with you???!!!

TESTING. TESTING.

2011-05-24T15:09:00.001+08:00

Is this thing on??

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS...

2010-10-03T19:59:00.004+08:00

...And the heart of the home is in the kitchen.

Stuart and I were lucky enough to have a 4 day weekend this past week and got another brilliant idea to do a quick makeover on the house.

We got as far as the kitchen.

Here is the before... However BEFORE I begin, this whole makeover thing reminds of that talk show Jenny Jones... Remember that one. I think every show she did was a makeover or then and now show... things like "I Went From Geek to Chic"

It was always something like a scrawny geek from high school who is all hot now brought on one of their old high school mates that turned them down for a date or made fun of them.

Anyway, before the introduced the former geek, they showed pictures of them in high school and the whole audience would yell things like "Ewwwwwwwwwww!!!!" and wave their hands in disgust.

So when I show you these BEFORE photos, I want you to shout out "EWWWWWWWW!!!" when you look at them.

Did you do it???

OK now in the grand tradition of Jenny Jones, when you see the after photos, you need to whoop and holler and give a grand applause.

Ready?

MOONLIGHT MADNESS

2010-09-26T20:10:00.003+08:00

Soon after the previous boo-hoo-poor-me post I wrote, I was offered several jobs in a week.

I interviewed for this one job that was VERY interesting, however the guy didn't really seem very keen however he did ask for references, so I thought, well, I actually didn't think anything. I was already numb to the whole tedious process at that stage.

Then I got a call from a company that, at this stage, have kept me waiting for 6 weeks for a second interview. They did their weekly ring to see if I was still interested and available, to which they ended by saying that it will probably be another week before they can arrange the Director to be in town. Did I mention they said the same thing every other week they rang?

Later that morning I got a call from a company who I interviewed for on the previous day and they offered me a position. It was not a fantastic position, it was a step back in my line of work, but it was an immediate start.

I weighed up the options. I didn't think that Job #1 was really interested, Job #2 was the perfect job and the highest salary of the three but come on!!!! Six weeks!!! So I took what was behind Job Door #3... you know, as an interim position.

It was Friday afternoon, so I rang them back to accept the offer, when they told me that I needed to be in Sydney on Monday morning for a 10 day orientation.

I scrambled to pack 10 days worth of clothes for business, 10 days worth of evening clothes and 10 days worth of casual clothes and caught the Red-eye flight leaving Perth at 11:55pm Sunday and arriving in Sydney at 5:30 in the morning Monday. (It is only a 4 hour flight, so getting full sleep on the plane is not an option, however not complaining)

The first day of orientation was great, as it always is. Then went slightly downhill on Tuesday, and continued to decline from there. The job was not turning out to be what I signed on for. Sure it had some resemblance to the one I interviewed for and discussed in length with the employers about before accepting the position, however it was turning out to be like a drag queen taking off her make-up. Slowly the porcelain painted face washed aways to reveal a 5 o'clock shadow.

You know what I mean?

On the Thursday, I got a call and was offered Job #1. You know, the one that I liked but didn't think the guy was very interested.

I was over a friend's house that night and I relaying the story of this nightmare job and this new offer and it MIGHT have been the pitcher of Pimm's, 4 martinis, 2 glasses of wine and the espresso martini, however we came up with a plan of escape.

We snuck into my hotel, threw everything into my suitcase and crept through the halls, hiding if we heard the elevator or a voice. This hotel was old fashioned and I still had to check out at the desk, so we scanned the room for people and when it was safe I went to check out as they snuck my very large suitcase out of the side doors which were out of view and hailed a cab.

Once checked out I ran out the doors and we all dove into the cab as quickly as we could and sped off over the Harbour Bridge to freedom!

I didn't have internet access so Stuart who booked my flight back home that Saturday, who as the week went on, could sense something of this nature was going to happen.

I sent the company a quick resignation email and couriered back the phone, laptop, etc the next morning.

I almost forgot the best part! In the middle of all of this, I got a call from that slow motion company who kept me waiting at this point almost 7 weeks, to tell me that they have decided to offer me the position without a second interview. It may have been the drinks or it may have been the full moon but I really enjoyed telling them that they snoozed and they losed.

YOU WANT ME TO MOVE WHERE??

2010-08-17T10:31:00.003+08:00

So know that we all know that I am an unemployed loser who can't find a job, let's move on to the next topic.

I don't really know what sparked this dream, however one day Stuart came home from work and was insistent that we sell our houses here and take that money and go live in the US.

So after doing preliminary calculations of how much we will make on the sales, and researching what we can get for that money in different cities in the US and then comparing it to what we can get here for the same amount, I was convinced that it was a great idea! Move to the US, live in a nice house and be mortgage free!!!!

The list of cities I looked into was: LA, San Francisco, San Diego, New Orleans, Miami, St Petersburg (FL), Hamptons, Stamford, Columbus, Aspen, Denver, Philadelphia, Asheville and Chicago... there may have been more.

The city that offered the nicest house for the money was the city that I grew up in... Cleveland.

Then the reality of returning to a place that I left the minute I finished school many years ago began to set in.

The blizzards, shovelling snow, the politics, the red necks, the high unemployment, the whole "been there, done that" thing.

On the other hand, there are hosting Thanksgiving dinners for my family, an afternoon at the fantastic art museum with friends, popping down to the local bar for an evening martini, Chicago & NYC are one hour flights away making easy weekend getaways.

But first things first, Stuart needs to get a visa... which is a confusing process without much help from the Embassies, Consulates or Homeland Security.

FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT.

2010-08-16T21:32:00.003+08:00

There has been a lot going on these past few months. I don't mean the cocktail parties, opening nights at the opera and travels to Africa sort of way. I mean things that require my attention to be in other places or else the entire universe of my existence would be sucked into a cosmic black hole and implode... or re-appear in caveman times.

I have been a bit apprehensive about publishing this for privacy sake, however besides the fact that my photos are every where on this blog, I have mentioned where I worked, where I live and all my personal details I am pretty sure that my blog is anonymous.

You may be aware that there is this whole Global Financial Crisis thing going on. Apparently, Australia is the only country in the world that did not go into recession and has in fact maintained, if you believe the politicians, a boom economy.

The problem is that my clients and target market were the old pensioners who were living on dividends from overseas stock. To make a long story short, the stocks crashed, they stopped buying what I was selling and I am now unemployed.

The bottom line is that there were some fatal flaws in the COGs & RRP which were contractually set before I took the helm, wearing 15 different hats spread my focus too thin, a rapidly growing mutual hatred between my boss and I dampened the work environment, plus I am not really to blame for the GFC and the toll it would take on millions, if not billions of people's investments & retirement plans(It was all Fabulous Fab's fault!) .

As a closing line in his farewell speech to me, my now former boss said, "I hope you're successful in your next job." Which doesn't look so bad in print, but believe me when I tell you it was said in a way which made me want to throw a drink in his face.

I had great achievements. I made record revenue in my first year, developed a commercial website which enjoyed tremendous success in Australia, created an award winning ad campaign, introduced large corporate relationships and I better stop before this post starts to look like my resume.

Despite these SUCCESSES I feel like a failure.

I read a quote that put things in perspective, "Life is not about worrying about the storm, but learning how to dance in the rain." (Unfortunately, this philosophy tends to lead people to think that one doesn't care about the problem at hand.)

I tried to live this philosophy and smiled as I had my 42nd interview, competed a la reality TV game show for a position, gone through 7 rounds of interviewing for a lesser position and waiting 5 weeks for a second interview with a company that is "really keen to have me on board."

On the outside I am dancing and on the inside I am raining. Fake it till you make it, right?

UPDATE

2010-06-11T09:48:00.000+08:00

VANISHED

2010-04-08T10:28:00.002+08:00

Hmmmmm... absolutely no posts written by me in the month of March.

Shameful.

I do have a good reason... three good reasons actually.

1. My Mom came out to visit for the entire month of March. I initially thought that I would have time to laze around and write a new post everyday, but alas, we were having such a good time that I rarely even got on the computer.

2. I have been working on something which cannot be announced publically until I announce it publically, which is not now.

AND....

3. I died. I turned another year older in March and as I am reminded by the kids in the mall who, as they check out other kids in the mall, vacantly bump into and walk through me without noticing that they bumped into or walked through someone... I am too old to exist.

Pictures soon, but of course I will only appear as a glowing white blur.

TOP THAT, JANET (MISS JACKSON IF YOU'RE NASTY)

2010-02-26T20:53:00.002+08:00

Today let's talk wardrobe malfunctions.

We all have them, at least I need to believe that we all have them... Malfunctions that would make one run away in shame and not appear in public again for the next three years.

This afternoon I was setting up a marketing display as a favour and in the middle of this crowded room, I squatted down and my heard this gigantic "RRRRRRRIPPPP!"

The seams in the entire seat of my pants had torn wide open!

I will let you in on a little secret, it is casual Friday. Even though I was wearing a suit, I thought I would be a little "free & easy" underneath, if you catch my drift... or should I say "draft"?

I jumped with my back to the nearest wall and slinked out of the room, and straight to my car, sped all the way home.

I was so depressed I ate an entire cake.

Tell me about your wardrobe malfunction?

SO THAT'S WHY THE COFFEE TASTED SO GOOD

2010-02-24T21:06:00.002+08:00

A couple months ago, I broke the coffee machine at work... again.

I was showing off to a group of people on how to make a proper cappuccino when suddenly the machine blew up and went dead!

So I did the only thing I could think of, I ran away and pretended as if I didn't do it.

The machine was sent over to Sydney for repair and the diagnosis came back on Tuesday... it exploded because (cover your eyes if you are squeamish) cockroaches shorted out the circuit board.

This news should have came as a surprise however last year there was a mysterious odour smothering the kitchen. Something was dead.

A search committee was formed and they scoured every inch of the kitchen looking for the source, with no results.

A second, more scent sensitive search committee was formed and they located the vile odour was coming from the microwave. There was no food inside of the microwave and it only been cleaned that morning.

The search committee unscrewed the back of the microwave and found (cover your eyes if you are squeamish) a dead rat.

I am just waiting for a snake to come up through the toilet.

PS - You may have noticed that earlier I stated this was the second time I broke the coffee machine. The first was actually a hilarious episode that ensued in a witch hunt. I still save the copy of the email that went around telling off the person who did it. I will share that with you later, as in after I leave the company.

A QUICK TUTORIAL

2010-02-17T23:09:00.002+08:00

I received an email from the service with whom my comments were previously provided informing me that that they were shutting down and I had about a week to transfer over to a new service.

Of course I forgot and left it for about 3,000 weeks.

The other day I finally got around to doing so, only I was in a rush and it was hot, so I just used the now defunct service's new service.

The new service is very different and seems a bit complicated, however some of the features seem to be a little bit better.

Tonight I actually tried it out for myself to see if and how it works, so here how it goes:

Click on "Comments"

A new window will open.

There is a entry titled "FROM" Here you can either simply type your name, or click on the arrow and sign in to your blog (or twitter, or yahoo, or whatever) account.

After that just type in your comment.

You may also add a YouTube video or images.

Another cool feature is that you can also reply to someone else's comment. If you want to be notified if anyone comments on your comment, at the bottom of the window you will see a drop down box titled "FOLLOW"

Click on this and choose the method you desire to be notified of your comment's comments and even your comment's comment's comments.

LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED

2010-02-14T18:13:00.004+08:00

I need to break out of my self-induced blogging reclusivity (is that a real word?) so I thought that this little meme going around would be a great way to start.

Do you get regular massages?
- No, I only like to be touched in a specific way.

Do you have an answering machine?
- Yes

What cuss word do you use the most?
- Fudge.

Are you underweight or overweight?
- I don't know, I get confused with the whole pound/stone/kilogram thing and just give up.

Can you see your veins?
- Yes you can, but not in the gross transparent skin sort of way.

Favorite…

Soap?
- I like soap. I think soap is good, but I don't have a favourite soap. I like to wash my hands with liquid soap. I like to use gardenia & black geranium scented laundry soap. As long as the soap has nice slip factor, you now, not dried out but not too slippery.

Fruit?
Peaches.

Kind of red meat?
- A steak of some kind, I cannot recall my favourite cut although I can say it is definitely NOT flap.

Fish?
- A nice thick salmon steak...

Candy bar?
- Butterfingers.

Have You Ever…

Eaten a whole bag of potato chips?
- Yes. Who hasn't? Those who say that they haven't are lying.

Eaten lobster?
- Yes. I much prefer a good crab.

Climbed a mountain?
- No. Who has? Those who say that they have are lying.

Been skydiving?
- Absolutely not. I have an insane fear of falling from high places. I don't fear the high places, in fact I love them, I just have a fear of falling off them. I think I might have been pushed off a cliff in a previous life.

Been water skiing?
- I'm not into watersports.

Do You…

Wish you could change something about your life?
- I wish I was one of those people who can handle the juggling of a full life. I also wish that when I get a "mood swing" it wasn't the boring "I don't feel like waking up" type of depression. I wish it was the other kind that makes people go dancing naked in their front yard.

Like your nose?
- Yes.

Like salt and vinegar chips?
- Yes, but sometimes that salt and vinegar combo can make my tongue hurt.

Eat salsa?
- Yes.

Own a boat?
- No. I cannot think of anything worse, than being trapped on a boat in the middle of the ocean where everything smells like fish and sharks linger.

What Is…

A small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences?
- Not saying what we want when we want it. Often it leads to resentment.

Your most macho trait?
- I lop trees, grout tiles & build paddock fencing... for fun!

The longest relationship you’ve ever had?
- I don't remember. Plus start dates of gay relationships can be a bone of contention. Is it the day you met? The first time you had "relations"? When you moved in together? (Often all of those are the same day)

Your most embarrassing thoughts?
- I don't have embarrassing thoughts. Thoughts aren't embarrassing. Expressing the thoughts can be embarrassing, but not the thoughts.

Your most shameful moment?
See the one about the longest relationship

This/That…

Bath/Shower?
- Shower

Markers/Crayons?
-Markers

Pens/Pencils?
-Pens

Jelly/Cream Cheese?
-Cream Cheese.

Bagel/Toast?
- BAGEL!

Finish…

My greatest weakness is…
- having no self control when it comes to indulgences.

Three things I wouldn’t do for a million dollars are…
- commit murder, stab my eyes with hot poker, tattoo my testicles, jump into a pool filled with broken glass and rusty nails... oh wait, that is four... I guess I remove "tattoo my testicles"

The oddest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth is…
- Those small round jelly candies which are coated in sugar and feel like a tongue.

Firsts…

Credit card you had?
- American Express

Loan you got was for?
- Car

Paycheck was for how much?
- Well, I made $3.75 an hour and I worked about 20 hours a week... multiplied by 2... so $150.00... minus federal taxes, state taxes & social security.. so nett probably like $110 dollars.

Time you had stitches?
- When I had lung surgery, 12 years ago.

Time you went to the hospital for something?
- My birth

Lasts…

List everything you ate in the last 24 hours?
- Cheese sandwich
- Plums
- Jalapeno poppers
- Spanish tasting plate
- Cheesecake
- Plums

Last thing you used a credit card for?
- Manhattan and a Midori & Lemonade

WHO'S STUPID IDEA WAS THIS ANYWAY?

2010-01-31T19:21:00.005+08:00

As a Christmas gift I am flying my Mom out to Australia to stay for a few weeks. When I told her over the phone on Christmas day, I said that she could come out next or next year or she can came out when the plums are ready for picking.

She is officially coming out in March, which is a few weeks after the plums will be picked. Did she time that perfectly or what?

Well, as excited as we are to have her out, it has forced us to 'pull our fingers out' (as they say down here) and finally finish off the projects that we started almost a year ago, but were waiting to finish when the rains stopped. When the rains stopped, we decided to wait until it wasn't so hot.

It is still hot, but now we are under deadline and have been racing around getting everything done.

Last weekend I planted the summer annuals in the few garden beds that were bare, again pruned over 70 maple trees that hang over the driveway, potted up hanging baskets, summer pruned the roses, pulled more weeds.

Stuart fixed all of the retic, bought the extra bits of furniture that we needed and power hosed all of the dirt and redback spider webs off of the veranda.

Then one night before I went to bed, I decided to watch Under the Tuscan Sun. Stuart dreads it when I watch this movie because the next day I always drag him to the home depot type store so that we can renovate something.

This time I wanted to renovate the Cottage. The kitchen in the Cottage, which was all 70s tans, creams and browns, needed updating.

We were planning on renting it out as a holiday stay, so we needed to do it anyhow, just not this week.

So we decided on the colour scheme: black and white.

Rushed off to the homewares store and came back with a bootfull of tiles, grout, paint and E.S.P.

As we started to finish the cottage kitchen, the cottage bathroom (which is off the cottage kitchen) started to look weary so we renovated the cottage bathroom as well.

Then as the cottage bathroom was nearing completion, we realised we had to do something with the main cottage bedroom... which is at the opposite end to the cottage kitchen and the cottage bathroom, but had no furniture except a single bed.

So we rushed out to the furniture store and bought a new bedroom suite for our bedroom and put our old one in the cottage main bedroom.

Now that the cottage main bedroom is done, cottage smaller bedroom is looking a bit like a junk room.

Actually cottage smaller bedroom is a junk room, filled with photos and suitcases and half inflated inflatable punching bag and whatever else we don't want anymore, but don't want to throw away.

I can't bring myself to clean up that junk right now, so we will just keep the door closed and tell people it is where we keep Grandma.

Photos will be posted later on this week, fingers crossed, however plum season is about to begin and we have a newly renovated cottage.... any takers????

Still on the to do list... finish the paddock fencing, paint the main house and pick plums.

STOP! THIEF!

2010-01-10T22:52:00.002+08:00

So this interesting statistic came out this past week.

One out of every ten people in Sydney admitted to stealing their co-workers lunch.

I don't live in Sydney, so my lunch is safe. My city just so happens to have the highest rate of people who eat lunch at their desk. As I read this "lunchtime" article (at my desk eating my lunch) I looked aross to those in my line of vision and my assistant was eating lunch at her desk and my boss was eating lunch at his desk.

Maybe this is why we have a low rate of theft? We keep them in the filing cabinet and gaurd them with our lives.

I have never been into stealing other's food, however I did once have a friend who ate any yoghurt in the office fridge that was not eaten by the time it had reached its expiry date.

So what I would like to know is, are you a lunchbox thief?

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER DECADE

2010-01-01T23:35:00.002+08:00

Today marks the first day of a new decade... although I am not entirely sure if that is true or not. I thought a decade was 10 years and unless I am counting wrong the years 2000 - 2009 only adds up to nine.

Whatever, if Entertainment Tonight has nostalgic specials on 'The Messiest Celebrity Divorces of the Decade' then obviously the decade is over. Who am I to argue with Mary Hart?

I was just reading over on Mom #1's blog and she reminded me of the how, on New Year's Eve when we were just about to enter the decade past, we all thought that he world was going to blow up at the stroke of midnight.

Yes, that was a fun night. The danger that we could be dead when the ball dropped just made us all drink more and dance harder. Then when we realised that we didn't die, we drank even more and danced even harder.

It was the year 2000, and we survived and what a beautiful world it would be. There was going to be spandex jackets, one for everyone.

Did you get yours?

YEAR END HIGH SCHOOL DANCE RECITAL - THE REVIEW

2009-12-11T22:32:00.002+08:00

Tonight we all went to watch Courtney's high school dance class perform little dance ditties (with a 'D', Mr Show) on stage.

We watched as young Australian high school girls krumped, popped, puppeted, Bollywooded and jazz handed around the dancefloor. A new style was even created that was a combination of hip-hop, puppetry, jazz and.... calisthenics.

One girl did a modern dance solo. She pushed herself out on a wheelchair, fell to the floor and rolled around a bit until her "inner desires" willed her to use her legs and do a few jumps.

It started at 7pm and ended around the year 2054.

Courtney was excellent in the peice that closed the show. It was a group dance to Beyonce's 'Single Ladies'. Her long blonde hair was flowing freely as she gave attitude and demanded that we put a ring on it.

Overall rating: 83% less slutty than the Mid-year High School Dance Recital.

SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE

2009-12-08T00:23:00.003+08:00

It is 12.30 in the morning and I am baking a pie.

Strawberry rhubarb pie. Not just any strawberry rhubarb pie, but Cindy Crawford's very own recipe.

I must admit that I was exceptionally inspired earlier in the evening to bake this fabulous pie, but then I had a few Hard Lemonades and well, I am am just lucky to still be coherent enough to type this post.

For about an hour I just stared at the kitchen counter as I lounged out on the couch.

What kept me from baking the pie was not so much the cutting of the strawberries or the slicing of the rhubarb, but rolling out that bloody dough!

I hate pie dough. I hate when it falls apart, and when there isn't enough flour on the counter and it adheres there for days or when it appears as an almost perfect circle except when you put it in the pie pan there is one spot that just doesn't quite make it to the edge...

Who needs the stress?

As I started to think about it, the angrier I became.

Was I really defeated by a pie recipe from Cindy Crawford? I mean... Cindy Crawford?

What has my life become if I can out do The Mole in pie baking?

So I did it. I am listening to jazz and baking a pie.

I was even feeling so competitive with Cindy bloomin Crawford that I decided to do my pie top as latticing!

That's right! Top that, Cindy.

Well, actually, it shouldn't be too hard since I could not see straight enough to cut the strips into even remotely reasonably even peices. My pie latticing looked like arts and crafts hour at the methodone clinic.

Latticing scrapped.

So I know what you are thinking, How can I top the bitch now?

Ha! I use the normal pie crust top, but with cut-out hearts scattered on it. Only I don't have a heart shape cutter, so I improvised with my knife by cutting the best little heart shapes I could muster.

So here I am happy in homoland decorating a pie thinking "A heart here, and one over here and another one here and wait a minute, these do not look like hearts.. they look like... OH MY GOD!"

Hearts scrapped.

So what I am left with is a pie that appears just as called for in Cindy's recipe.

But can Cindy say she used strawberries and rhubarb freshly picked from her garden?

No I am sure she cannot... and neither can I.

Outfoxed again by Cindy Crawford.

MURDER REDEMPTION

2009-11-08T17:45:00.002+08:00

You may remember that I wrote a post a while back about my tedious ability to murder animals with my car.

Whilst I am busy running birds and animals down, Stuart is busy collecting them from the side of the road. Not the dead ones, but the injured ones.

The first bird he brought home was a galah (also called a 'pink and grey' cockatoo), whom we rushed to a avian vet. That bird started bleeding out of his nostrils and did not make it the night.

The second bird was a rainbow lorikeet. This bird was hit by a car. We put him in a cage and kept the conditions safe and warm. Within a few days he was lively and did not have any broken bones or injuries.

Stuart wanted to keep him, but at my insistance, he was released into the wild again.

The third bird was love bird, which was either released or escaped from being a household pet. Stuart was sitting at the outside table on his laptop when this love bird suddenly landed on the keyboard.

Of course love birds cannot survive the wild, so it was placed in a cage to live a happy life with our resident cockatiel (which prompted some concern as every bird that has a shared a cage with this particulat cockatiel has ended up dead within a week).

Now for the fourth bird rescue which just happened last night. Stuart came home from the local farmer's market and walked through the door with this thing clutched to his chest.

I, of course, remained calm. Not recognising it as a bird when I noticed this thing I screamed and jumped back a few feet.

It was a baby pink and grey which was hit by a car.

I got the spare bird cage out of the barn and grabbed a towel to wrap it up in and keep it warm.

The couple minutes it took to get back from the barn, the bird had gotten worse. His head was just hanging there, as if the spine had been severed. In fact, as I walking back up to the house with the cage and caught a glimpse of him, I thought he had passed on.

I made a nest with the towel and gently covered him to keep warm. I figured that when he dies, at least he would be comfortable.

Last night I wrapped the cage with a thick blanket to create a dark warm and quiet space for him.

This morning he was doing a lot better, sitting properly and head movement came back.

Then a few hours later he let out a soft "caw".

Just before, I was out there giving him fresh water in a very small dish and he then climbed on the side of the bowl and went to sleep.

He looks healthy, as in no broken wings, legs or spine. Just seems a little bit subdued and sleepy. Which is expected after such a trauma.

We will see how he is tomorrow and then next couple of days and if all is well then he will be released back into the wild.

ANNOUCEMENT, ANNOUCEMENT!

2009-10-26T09:56:00.003+08:00

At this time, Hula Hank will not be taking on any new commitments.

Instead, Mr Hank will be focusing on improving and streamlining his existing commitments.

That is all.

DEAR ________________ ,

2009-10-09T12:56:00.003+08:00

Dear All,

You have been jipped big time.

The last gathering I left you early to get more booze and I never came back. The reason is I swerved to avoid hitting another wittle wabbit when suddenly a kangaroo with a bazooka jumped in front of my car.

The little bugger was out for revenge!

I was driving as fast as I could, but there he was hopping behind me the whole time. Luckily he was a bad shot. He blew up a picking shed, a hen house and the mayonnaise factory before he got tired and gave up.

The good news is that I have a new bottle of chocolate liqueur, so today we will be having Chocolate Martinis.

Dear Mr Show,

A ‘windscreen’ is the same as a ‘windshield’ only a windscreen has bird beaks stuck in it.

The death lily, as I know you and Pumpkin were dying to know, is from South Africa. It is also called a calla lily and arum lily. I looked it up and the real name is Zantedeschia.

In regards to the name “Death Lily,” Wikipedia says it can be poisonous to livestock and children, but I have never heard that. Plus when I gave it to my kids to eat, nothing happened. So in probability the name “Death Lily” came from it being the flower of choice at funerals.

Here in Western Australia, it was brought over to be used in home gardens, but it got a bit out of control and now it is Plant Gone Wild. It grows everywhere there is a winter creek, dam or marshy paddock. It was declared a weed, which means that… well, I don’t know.

Someone told me that it was no longer allowed to be sold in nurseries or picked to be sold commercially; however the past few weeks I have seen small bunches of them for sale at $8.00 each.

There are hundreds of thousands growing in my winter creek… $8/bunch multiplied by hundreds of thousands… I should really set up a table on the tree lawn.

Dear Mom #1,

Can I have some of the pills you are on? My blog has been the same-o, same-o for the past year. Obviously I should change it again.

Actually that is a good idea. I mean how long can one live with the new drapes before changing the carpet?

Don’t worry! You are safe walking in my neighbourhood. I don’t aim for people only kangaroos, wittle wabbits and native birds. You will, however, need to watch out for the snakes, scorpions and poisonous spiders.

Dear Grandma J,

You want me to write about my childhood adventures under the bridge? Make me sound like I was troll trying to trap people who crossed the bridge.

So I should clarify that technically it was a viaduct and we never went inside because the water would wash us away and kill us plus satanists had rituals in there plus ghosts called it home plus Bloody Mary would appear if you said her name three times.

I have troubles remembering events from childhood (well, the good events anyway) unless I am prompted. Like when I went back to that viaduct and looked out over the river, I was flooded (no pun intended) with memories and feelings.

Possibly if I started to write about them, I would remember more, and even get the answers to many unanswered questions.

Dear Pumpkin Delight,

That picture was entitled “Self Portrait – Creek Crotch Shot” by Hula Hank. You should have seen the photos before I ate the banana that was in my pocket.

Thank you for the wonderful lemon recipe ideas. Here is the problem; most recipes only call for the zest of one lemon or 1 tablespoon of lemon juice. As I sit here and write this, I have 327 lemons sitting on my kitchen counter.

Maybe I just need to get over it and move on.

I did find an article in the LA Times of 101 things to do with lemons. It was quite informative. Did you know that using a lemon instead of a ball to play fetch with your dog, will freshen their breath?

I got it! Switch mayo with lemon butter, the sound might be more similar than thickened cream.

Dear JLO,

Where the hell are you?

GOODBYE WINTER, HELLO SPRING

2009-10-06T20:16:00.003+08:00

I asked and you voted.

The post you most wanted to see was "Goodbye Winter, Hello Spring - A Photo Essay on the Seasonal Changes at The Farm"... or something.

Technically it was a tie between this and My Day as a Hot Dog, but I thought I would torture Pumpkin Delight by doing that one after this.

When we moved to the Hills I was unaware that it is actually a few degrees colder up here than down on the flats. I was thrilled about this as I do so enjoy cold weather (oh how I wish there was a dry sarcasm font).

After many blizzards with knee deep snow and Medusa-like arctic gusts which immediately froze one in their spot, I vowed that I never wanted to experience any weather colder than 70 degrees.

So you are telling me that it is colder up here by at least 5 degrees Celsius (which is like 100 degrees in Fahrenheit), frosts, has heavy fog and rains more?

... and hails???

With the winter comes the rains. Perth get absolutely no rain between November and April. However when it rains in the winter, it is heavy.

These heavy rains fill up the dry creek beds and life springs up in otherwise barren land.

Do you see those green plants on the side of the winter creek?

They are called Death Lilies. Another common name is Arum Lily and Canna Lily. Technically, they are a declared weed in Western Australia, however I consider them cut flowers free from the wild.

Every weekend I grab my secateurs, put on my wellies and head into the depths of the creek to cut a few vase full of these flowers.

In case you don't believe I really do go wading in creek here is the proof:

Actually, one of my favourite activities this winter was playing in the creek. Hey don't Tiger snakes love the water and marshy areas like the winter creek?

Why yes, they do. However they hibernate in the winter so it is safe. However now that it is warming up, the snakes will start to come out of hibernation, full of venom, grumpy and desperate for a feed.

Stuart says that my wellies would be enough protection from snake bites. I am not so sure. I asked a country friend of mine if this is true and she took a long pause, pulled in her face and said, "Well, it would definitely help."

So I may just let enjoying the lilies from afar for the rest of the season.

Good thing the lemon tree is bursting with about ten million lemons.

So far I have made many jars of preserved lemons, many many jars of limoncello and have four thousand cubes of frozen lemon juice. The kicker is, there are still nine million lemons left on the tree.

Any one have any good recipes for lemons??

The roses are all pruned sticks in the ground, the maples are barren skeletons lining the driveway and the flame tree has been extinguished. However in all of this barren forest the azaleas took the opportunity to put on a spectacular show.

It's an old lady pink, but still stunning.

However the show stopper of the spring was when the plum trees decided to turn from dark silhouettes into rows of graceful white blossoms.

WHY PETA HATES ME... AND OTHER TALES OF ATTEMPTED MURDER

2009-09-25T11:17:00.002+08:00

I live in an area of Perth known simply as “The Hills”

It is a range of hills that surrounds the city not dissimilar to the Hollywood Hills in LA. However my hills are peppered with national forests, water catchment areas, orchards and wineries. All of this nature brings with it an abundance of wildlife at levels not seen down on the suburban “flats”.

One night I was driving home from work and suddenly this big brown speckled mass of feathers flew into my windscreen, creating a gigantic THUD! and then disappeared.

I started to freak out. I turned around to look for any beings lying on the side of the road but there was nothing. My mind started to wonder what it could have been that I hit.

This may come to no surprise to many of you, but I have a bit of supernatural paranoia when it comes to driving through rural forest areas in the dark. I think that ghosts are going to pop out, aliens are going to land and crazed murders with hooks for hands are going bounce my severed head against the car roof.

Naturally my first instinct was one of fear.

“Oh my god, I just hit the Mothman! I just set off a prophecy. I don’t even have a signal on my phone to tell everyone I love them before I die!!!”

When I pulled my self together I deduced that it was not the Mothman, but was in fact a Kookaburra.

Yes, I just killed a Kookaburra. The guilt set in and I wished it was actually the Mothman.

A few days later, Stuart and I were driving home around midnight, going at full speed (90 km/h) I turned a bend and there were three kangaroos lined up across the road. Papa, Mama and Baby, in that order.

There was a slight space in between Papa Roo and Mama Roo, so I slammed on my breaks and aimed for that space, however Mama Roo kept bouncing forward and the space grew smaller and before I could say “Get out of the way”… THUD!!!!

Yes, that is right folks, I am the Australian equivalent to that hunter who killed Bambi’s mother.

For the next week, I felt awful. Those big sweet eyes and that poor orphaned Baby Roo, the widowed Papa Roo. I cried into my martini six times that week.

I cried into my martini so many times that I had to head down to the bottle shop to get a new bottle of vodka.

On the way home from the bottle shop, again at full speed, a wittle bunny wabbit comes wacing out of the woods and wight into my front tyre. I will spare you the details of how the wittle wabbit went flying through the air, but just know that I am still, two weeks on, having nightmares.

When I arrived home (and for the record I was not drunk driving that night. I was picking up the bottle of vodka because I ran out the night before) I asked Stuart,

“How many animals have you killed since we moved here?”

“None.”

So it is just me. I am an animal murderer.

WHICH TALE DO YOU WANT TO READ ABOUT NEXT? VOTE OVER THERE =======>

WHO WAS THE IDIOT THAT SET UP THIS POLL?

2009-09-25T10:18:00.002+08:00

OK, as it turns out most of you (and I dare say ALL of you) are actually voting for every single topic. Who was the idiot that allowed for multiple selections?

Despite the relatively even number of votes for each tale, the current leader (by one vote)is "Why PETA Hates Me - and other tales of attempted murder".

Even though the poll is technically open for another 6 days, I am going to shut it down at an unspecified time and equally random which could be in 5 minutes or 5 hours depending on when the martinis kick in.

I NEED MENTAL METAMUCIL...

2009-09-24T11:49:00.004+08:00

...and you are just the Nurse Nancy to give it to me!

Crazy and wonderful things are happening that I would love to share, but for a week or two every time I sat down to write about them the best I could come up with was

"Today I saw a cat. The cat was cute. The cat was black. I like the cat."

Now, so many things have happened that I don't even know where to begin.

So I am leaving it up to you to decide.

Over there on the right is a poll with many topics that I would like to share. Just vote for which one you want to know about the most. The topic with the most votes gets written about first.

Without further ado, vote..... NOW!

PS - Happy Birthday to Pumpkin Delight.

UPDATE

PSS - BY POPULAR DEMAND / OUTRAGE AT NOT OFFERING THE HOT DOG WALK AS A VOTING OPTION, I WANTED TO STATE ON THE RECORD, THAT I WILL BE SHARING THAT DAY WITH YOU, BUT IN A VERY SPECIAL WAY, WHICH IS ALSO HULA HANK FIRST.

HEY, MICKEY!

2009-09-11T22:25:00.003+08:00

I teach "mature" adult education courses.

I cannot really explain how I got involved with this part of my career as it really has nothing to do with any role I have had in the past, I think it had something to do being bribed by homemade shortbread cookies.

This teaching experience has introduced me to, how can I say, some of the most awful people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. We won't focus on them now,in the scheme of life, they don't matter.

Instead let's talk about the ray of sunshine that appeared in my classroom. The current semester has brought me one of the most fabulous people I have ever met. Everyone in class hates her, but that is why I like her.

Her name is Mickey. She is around 85 years old, wears only pink hats with roses, pink gloves, bright pink blush, blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick. Last week, she was carrying around a coffee mug full of lavender she picked from some one's garden.

I was 10 minutes into the lesson when she walked in the room and said, "Sorry I'm late. I've been so goddamn sick."

Did I mention that this particular semester is being held in a church?

After class, she pulled me aside to give me this advice, "Why are you doing these classes? You have volunteered yourself to help the community... You're an asshole! Why would you do such a thing?"

"You have become a slave to these commitments. I am a butterfly that floats on the winds of life. There are people who like to pull the wings off of butterflies, but fuck 'em."

How true.

GOLFING ENTENDRES (DEDICATED TO JLO)

2009-09-04T13:27:00.003+08:00

I need to interrupt the exceptionally long trip to the bottle shop for a very important post on things I overheard while golfing yesterday.

It was my first time golfing without a windmill and clown's mouth, but we will go in to that during a later post.

First I want to share with you why I was unable to keep a straight face the entire day.

The following was said in true golfing sincerity:

"Did you bring your balls?"
"I've lost my balls."
"My balls are covered in sand."
"Hey guys do any of you have yellow balls?"
"I just kept dropping my balls in the lake."
"You put your balls in that and it washes them for you."

And finally, the winner is:

"My balls kept disappearing in the bush."

DEAR ____________

2009-08-31T21:27:00.002+08:00

Dear All,

I know it may seem unusual to have a few manhattans on a Monday, but that is the way we roll.

The real truth is that I purchased electronic tickets for Stuart and I to go to a Saturday night female impersonator show at the casino, however on Friday I left my print-out tickets at work. Which meant we were screwed on a night out. (J-Lo bite your tongue!)

You are probably asking, "Why couldn't you just print out the tickets out at home? After all you have have three laptop and two computers between the four you."

You are correct, however we do not have a printer.

So now you are probably asking, "Where are you going with this story? Can I have a refill now?"

Well, I went out on Saturday afternoon to buy a new printer. A wireless one so we can print from where ever we happen to be in the house.. like on the toilet, for instance.

What? Did you just say, "Aaaaannnd???"

Well, when I set up the wireless printer to connect wirelessly to the wireless router which provides wireless networking and wireless internet for our wireless computers, the wireless internet went down, however we could wirelessly print family photos while going to the loo (which cannot be done wirelessly).

At the last minute, the internet came up for a few minutes and I was able to print the tickets (from the toilet) and the night out was spared.

Wake up!

The moral of the story is: My internet went bye-bye and said hello again Sunday night so now we toast on Monday... from the toilet.

Dear Queen of Phrump,

I really like the idea of "Murder Mystery of the Week".. Well I don't actually like the idea of having to deal with a weekly mystery murder, I can see the appeal.

Speaking about dead animals, I was asking Stuart what was normally done when horses die. Apparently there are two options. The first one is to illegally bury it on your property. Of course, this means that as the dead horse bloats, the ground above it rises out, until the gas comes out of the horse some way (I beleive he said the horse exploded, but I am not sure convinced of that), then it collapses back down.

The other option is to have someone take it away where it is processed into blood & bone for the garden.

Both options sound a bit gruesome to me.

Which reminds me that your Addams Family theme is totally awesome! You would make a fantastic Morticia.

Dear Mom #1,

Congratulations on your twin additions!

I do remember Ripley's Believe It or Not tv show. I hated that show. They still try to bring it back every now and then, but that show is just nasty! I can only think of that woman who can pop her eyeballs out.

Now I got the shivers.

The only thing scarier are those plastic ponchos at Niagara Falls.

Possibly a little sinching with a belt an a sequin or two would make them a bit more attractive... Also thinking about it, why were the Walk Behind the Falls ponchos yellow and the Maid of the Mist ponchos blue? If someone fell off the boat, wouldn't they be spotted easier in the blue water if they were in yellow?

What iF that Ripley's woman was on the Maid of the Mist and fell overboard and popped her eyeballs out as she fell?

See that is why I cannot watch or even think about these TV shows!

Dear All,

You are drinking like a fish tonight! I will just "pop out" to the bottle shop to up more bottles. Any suggestions?

SHAKEN OR STIRRED?

2009-08-28T17:06:00.003+08:00

You sickos were on commenting fire this month!

You covered all the perverse bases from butt plug kisses to 32 foot motor homes to peeing of one's pants to dead horse dump trucks and Tinker belles laughing at dead wood.

I sense a pitcher of Manhattans and a "Dear _________" post coming on!

...And JLo I know you are going to say and it is too easy!

BUT WAIT... THERE'S MORE!

2009-08-25T16:24:00.001+08:00

There are lots of other attractions around Niagara Falls to keep you occupied and dry.

For instance there is Hershey World!

And Mounties:

Large thermometers:

Giant plates:

And giantic wooden moose testicles:

DROWNING IN NIAGARA FALLS

2009-08-17T19:43:00.003+08:00

How can you go to Niagara Falls and not go on the Maid of the Mist?

Part of the whole Maid of the Mist experience is wearing a beautiful blue plastic rain poncho, obviously designed by Dolce & Gabbana.

Although it is popular for people to ask, "Did you go on the boat that goes under the falls?" the boat does not actually go under the falls.

It does come pretty damn close.

Also lots of water is sprayed on your face, it was like being back at Universal Studios!

Note: THAT shirt was with me every step of the way!

AND IT CONTINUES.. IN NIAGARA FALLS

2009-08-15T14:51:00.001+08:00

It had recently come to my attention that I never actually finished The World's Longest Slide Show on my not so recent trip back to the U.S.

I know what you are thinking. "Who told?" Am I right?

Just sit back enjoy a nice cocktail and nod your head.

We have been in Cleveland over a week, and it was getting well due for a little divertisment. So we all piled into a tiny little Chrysler 300 and headed off to Canada for a few days.

After a 3 or 4 hour drive along Lake Erie through Pennsylvania & New York, we were finally welcomed to Canada.

Isn't it lovely??

So much has changed about the Falls. First of all, there is now a casino, and high rise hotels and high class shopping malls and 4 star restaurants. This is a shame because it took away from the natural wonder of the reason people even come here, The Falls!

After we checked into our decidedly not 4-star hotel all of layered on our warm clothes and walked down the Falls to catch the evening light display.

Although the lighting is a bit low tech, it is a spectacular sight. Still, would it hurt to upgrade the light show into the 21st century and start doing image projections?

Just hanging around the edge of the falls, we had a good time and managed to take some fantastic shots of ourselves.

This is my mom and uncle.

The boys.

HULA HANK CONFESSES

2009-08-11T16:04:00.001+08:00

I hold a long-time fear of aliens.

Blame it on ‘Unsolved Mysteries.’

That show was so creepy! Everything from the theme music to dulcet tones of Robert Stack’s voice… even the episodes that were about wonderful miracles were somehow creepy.

Often I wonder how many people developed serious phobias all because of that creepy show.

I am one and I know of one other. Are we alone?

Ever since my sister forced me to watch that first episode back in the late 80s, I cannot sleep next to an uncovered window because aliens are watching me through giant telescopes whilst I am sleeping.

My feet must also be covered and tucked by the covers at all times. It is common knowledge that when one “covers and tucks” with the sheets one becomes invisible and aliens cannot grab exposed limbs and pull you to the alien starship for probing.

This technique also works on the ghosts that live under the bed.

You are thinking that I have lost it, but I tell you with my fingers uncrossed, that I have had an alien encounter.

One night last year, I was in fast asleep (covered and tucked) when I woke up to the sound of the bedroom door slowly creaking open.

As the door opened it revealed a dark shadowy silhouette of a being, standing tall and thin, arms hanging down at the sides.

I once read in a book that stated if one is visited by alien (or “greys” as the author called them), to force them to flee one should send the alien thoughts and feeling of love.

With this knowledge I spent many hours preparing myself for this exact moment. I knew I should send love to the extraterrestrial shadow, but all I could do was act like a stunned mullet.

The shadowy being made an odd noise and I could hear bursts of strange alien liquid hitting the tiled floor.

ALIEN ATTACK!!!!

I started to scream at the top of my lungs “ALIENS!!! ALIENS!!!”

Stuart wasn’t waking up so I started to whack him… hard! “ALIENS!!! ALIENS!!! ”

Stuart leapt out of bed, ready to pounce! He raced over to the shadowy being but was foiled when he slipped on the alien liquid.

The shadowy being turned toward Stuart, opened its mouth and said, “Daddy, I don’t feel good.”

It was the son. He came into our room in the middle of the night to tell us he needed had a sore tummy. He got scared when I started to scream and just stood there, frozen with fear. That is, until he actually threw up all over the floor.

Ever since that night, my fear of aliens has not been as strong as it was in the past but the other day I received an informal, unspecified and definitely classified invitation to sit in a certain Area-51 adjacent Royal backyard to watch the night sky for alien starships.

It royally gives me the creeps just thinking about such an evening, but I am oddly intrigued to accept… I am even thinking of creating a special Alien Starship Martini for the event.

I think I could handle it. Just so long as nobody hums the theme tune to “Unsolved Mysteries.”

Creepy.

THE HORSE DID WHAT?

2009-08-05T11:51:00.004+08:00

I came home from work to be greeted by two council cars, two more councils cars from the neighbouring council, five FESA (Fire and Emergency Services) three SES (State Emergency Service) trucks, three ranger cars, an RSPCA truck, two unknown SUVs, a big digger tractor, a local news crew and about 50 people standing around the front paddock.

What the hell is going on?

Numerous things passed through my head. They found a dead body! An electical explosion started a fire! The council is here to take away the horse because we haven't yet applied for a permit! The horse caused an electrical explosion and blew open a hole in the ground that exposed dead bodies... on fire, and the council was here to arrest the horse for suspected murder!

I parked my car and raced down to the paddock to find out what was actually going on.

I found Stuart and he explained that the horse got stuck upside down, all four legs in the air, in the currently dried up winter creek ditch.

Noone knows how long he was stuck there, the daughter only found him when she came home from school.

In a panic, she rang Stuart and then some friends who have an orchard right behind us on the other side of the national forest.

Their whole family came rushing over and rang everyone they knew to come and help.

While all of the rescue crew and RSPCA were standing around arguing over who was in charge and what they were going to do, Stuart arrived home and told everyone that the horse needed to be dug out of the ditch.

The friend's father rushed down the street to a farmer, who had the flu and was sick in bed, and asked him to come down with his tractor digger thing.

They dug the horse out, the horse is fine and they lived happily ever after.

The End.

GIANT DEAD RABBIT UPDATE

2009-07-31T09:58:00.001+08:00

From the afternoon reports received via a 16 year old girl, when I got home I was expecting a gigantic jackalope carcas that was ripped to shreds... blood on the walls and intestines hanging from the ceiling fan.

What really happened was this: wanting to avoid having any part of cleaning up a mutant 300 pound giant bunny, I stayed behind at work hoping that Stuart would get home first and clean it up. Evil plan successful. When I walked through the door, he had already steam cleaned the rug and was washing down the floors with bleach.

What Stuart discovered was a tiny wittle baby wabbit, no blood to be found anywhere although the wittle wabbit was without a head, or so I heard.

At some point between receiving the distress call and arriving home, my cute wittle puppy wuppy took the headless wittle wabbit from the family room and brought it into the daughter's room to share with her.

She grabbed some "house tongs" and picked up the dead wittle wabbit and threw him out her window into the garden bed. What are "house tongs"? I had the same query, so I asked her "What are 'house tongs'?"

To which she responded, "You know, those things we use to pick up food."

To which I said, "You mean the salad tongs?" My eyes glanced around the house and I was frozen with terror, "Where are the tongs now?"

"Don't worry, I put them back in the drawer," she says.

"Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew! EWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Bluch!!!!!!!!!!!" I scream as I bounce around the kitchen shaking my hands and making vomiting faces.

"There are dead wabbit tongs contaminating my kitchen drawer! Get them out! Get em out!!! Grab me the bleach and throw everything that was in that drawer away now! Just throw away the drawer, we'll get a new kitchen! EWWWWW!!!!!!!"

They just laughed at me and Stuart put the tongs in the dishwasher. Now there are dead wabbit tongs in a dead wabbit dishwasher. The same dishwasher we just bought last Saturday.

Oh my goodness. I just had a realisation. There were dishes in there at the time. Oh my goodness. I have dead wabbit dishes. Ew! Ew! Ew!

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SOMETHING FROM TIFFANY WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE...

2009-07-30T15:34:00.001+08:00

You know how dogs just love to find little treasures to give you?

Since we moved to The Farm, my cute little indoor puppy has turned country. Today I was called on the phone to be told that he brought into the house a huge dead rabbit.

There is blood all over the family room floor and no one is going near it or clean it up because "it is not their dog."

Not that I wasn't to think rationally, but rationally I suppose it is only that fair I clean it up.

When he brought home that dead rat, S cleaned it up.

When he brought home that kangaroo leg, S cleaned it up.

Although in my honour, when my dog brought home whole lemons he found underneath the lemon tree, I cleaned that up.

So maybe it is someone else's turn.

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BACK TO THE STONE AGE

2009-07-28T19:16:00.002+08:00

I thought you might like to know that two weeks ago my modem went kaput.

When we ordered a replacement modem, the phone company sent us a USB modem instead of the wireless home network modem. When we rang to get the correct wireless home network modem, we were told that we never order a replacement modem in the first place.

After being transferred from various phone company call centres in Australia to India back to Australia then to the Philippines then back to India then India again then Australia then India, we finally got someone who ordered the correct wireless home network modem.

So two weeks with no home internet... and of course I never ever ever go on the internet at work.

What? You don't believe me? It's true! I never go on the internet at work... when I am at home.

Now that I am online again, I can put away the chisel and stone slab.

A BUNCH OF PRICKS

2009-07-22T12:05:00.001+08:00

A BUNCH OF PRICKS

Last week, I asked someone to save me from the roses.

No one did.

I did get an offer to swap my roses for one noisy cricket. I would have taken the cricket if you would have included your gardener in the package. Better luck next time.

The second offer received was an invitation to send a certain Tinkerbelle look-a-like a dozen roses. I would normally oblige, but I am sure she made the offer from Disneyland whilst riding on the tea cups and laughing, and that makes me jealous.

The third offer was one of confusion but genuine hope for my rose salvation.

Let me better explain the situation.

Down here on the bottom side of the planet it is the middle of winter and that means it is time to prune roses.

Over here on the western side of the bottom side of the planet, it does not get cold enough to snow or even to wear more than a warm sweater. This fact depresses me because a cold winter is a fantastic excuse to go overboard on the accessories and layer on the scarves, gloves, hats, boots and fabulous wool jackets.

I digress.

For this warm weather reason, one is technically not required to hard prune or even prune roses at all outside of keeping shape and removing dead wood. Of course I say this, and anybody who has roses knows that every mother and their dog have an opinion on rose pruning and that opinion is the always right one.

I may have mentioned somewhere that there are 175 roses on The Farm. Most of these roses had not been pruned or dead headed in several years, which means they were full of dead wood, criss-crossing branches and large bunches of clover.

It is not an easy task to prune 175 roses. Strike that, I found hidden rose bushes this past weekend and the total reached 180.

It is not an easy task to prune 180 roses.

One particular almost ancient weeping standard rose, took me three days. Three days. Three days on one rose. It was that bad.

The final task was to start on the roses which line the little garden circle in the middle of the driveway.

These particular roses have an over abundance of thorns on every square centimeter of the branches. These thorns I can only compare to tiny little ginsu knives. I could use these thorns to filet fish.

Even with my special rose pruning gloves, my arms appear as if I stuck them down a garbage disposal.

Most traumatizing of this whole event was that every time I closed my eyes I saw rose branches. In fact, last night was the only night in the past two weeks that I did not dream of pruning roses.

Can anyone tell me what it means when one dreams of having lunch with Liza Minnelli?

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UNATTAINABLE BEAUTY

2009-07-17T11:17:00.001+08:00

Someone save me from the roses!

That is all.

HOORAY FOR CASUAL FRIDAY

2009-07-10T12:48:00.001+08:00

Today is Friday.

In most offices around the world, Fridays mean people can dress casually to work. I, personally, have never been a fan of the casual Friday policy and for my staff, I revoke this privilege.

My dislike is not for the phony employee work-spirit reasons behind the policy, it is for the people who take advantage of the "casual" part.

Over the years I have seen flip flops with cut off jean shorts, striped socks worn over acid washed jeans (and this was not in the 80s, folks), tank tops and hot pants. What threw me over the edge was when I noticed people wearing sweat pants with old t-shirts and uncombed hair… obviously still in their pajamas.

You might be thinking, "So what?"

If that is what you are thinking, you are obviously one of those people who wear your pajamas to work. To which I ask "Are you a professional pajama. model for K-Mart?"

If you answered 'yes', then you may have a martini.

If you answered 'no' then I have these words of wisdom:

When you walk through the office door and think you can pass your sweats off as legitimate day wear… you would be wrong!

Honey, when your sweatshirt has images of Winnie the Pooh holing a blanket… THOSE ARE YOUR PAJAMAS!!!

When your pants have pink cupcakes on them and are made from flannel… THOSE ARE YOUR PAJAMAS!!!!!!

If your skirt has a border of marabou feathers… THOSE ARE YOUR PAJAMAS!!

If your overcoat has an uncanny resemblance to a blanket with arm holes… THOSE ARE YOUR PAJAMAS!!!

And babycakes, I have never heard of power suit pajamas.

Now you might be thinking "It is obviously that time of the month for Hula Hank."

To which I respond, "You are right, it is that time of the month… The time of the month to get some new clothes."

To which you reply "Now it all makes sense, you are obviously upset because you are tired of all the clothes in your closet and are left with only pajamas to wear."

To which I respond, "You are cut off of the martinis."

To which you reply "So what is the matter Hula Hank? What is with your rant on the power suit pajama wearers in the world?... and get to the point, this post is long and boring and I need to be drunk just to have read this far."

To which I respond, I have always worked in jobs which require public and media interaction, sometimes unexpected.

One day, several years ago, comfortably dressed in a black turtle neck and natural hair do, I arrived at the office straight from a cross country red-eye flight. I was in my airplane pajamas.

That very same day not one, not two, but three local TV stations all had to have on-camera interviews with me regarding an incident that happened overnight.

You are thinking, "Stop being so prissy and go home and change into a beautiful suit."

What I failed to mention is when I arrived at the office they were already waiting at the door and my airplane pajamas were broadcast on the 5 o'clock news.

Additionally, what if I was to die that day? Do I want to die wearing my airplane pajamas at work? The last image of me being one of uncombed hair and an old black turtle neck sweater?

I think not.

From that day on, I only wear suits and ties with all the proper accoutrement (ie man bling) and perfectly polished shoes. My casual Friday means not wearing a jacket.

However, today, in the middle of a meeting I noticed that one half of the front of my perfectly pressed shirt is still wrinkled. There is also small hole on the shoulder.

So today I thought, "What is the point?"

I would have looked better in my pajamas… and I don't wear pajamas.

Who wants a martini?

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IT'S 7:00AM. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR PERKINESS IS?

2009-07-04T00:16:00.002+08:00

Have you ever been to a 7:00am meeting that begins by toasting the Queen (of Australia, not Phrump, although technically they did not specify which Queen)followed by a group sing-a-long of Yellow Submarine?

No? Well that is what I did this morning.

How about you?

DEAR ________, DAY 2

2009-07-02T10:43:00.002+08:00

Dear Everyone,

Well I burnt/burned the scones. Never fear whilst I was in the kitchen I whipped up some chilli/chili mussels instead. Chilli/chili mussels are not quite as good with apple butter as scones are, but have another bellini... it won't matter.

Dear Mom #1,

What exactly is an 'apple smoke'? Is it what I am thinking it is which I may or may not have done in my wild teenage days?

Vegemite is the vilest spread I have ever tasted. It is actually made from discarded yeast extract used in making beer. I have never met anyone that wasn’t Australian born and raised who will even give it a sample taste.

Australians claim that Americans don’t like it because we use too much when spreading it on toast. They claim only a minuscule amount should be used. What they fail to realise/realize is that Americans (and every other country in the world) don’t like it because, in large or small quantities, that shit is rank.

Although I once had one too many bottles of wine and I developed a strange craving for a toasted Vegemite and cheese sandwich… and it was not bad. Though subsequent tastings have justified my original dislike.

To its credit, Vegemite is exceptionally high in the B vitamins and certain amino acids which, as we know, are essential in maintaining healthy brain function.

So maybe that 1 out of 3 was not eating their Vegemite?

Dear Grandma J,

You are seriously returning to nature in The Spa… Blogging naked, spotting Bambi and hosting ant parties in your bra! Before you know it you will grow a beard and start talking to armadillos.

As you stated, you may be the oldest blogger, but you are the most beautiful.

I tried my best to try and figure out how ice cream could possibly qualify as brain food, but I just can’t come up with anything… unless is it made with dark chocolate and topped with fresh berries (and no, strawberry syrup does not count).

Dear Mr Show,

What exactly is your issue with persimmons? They are delightful. Of course I am referring to the non-astringent variety that has edible skins and are chock full of sweetness. If I ever perfect this whole persimmon butter thing, I will send some to you in the post/mail and you will be totally won over.

This whole Martha Stewart phase that has been happening to me lately is just to balance out all of the butch things I have to do around the farm... or at least the supervision I do of the butch things.

When Stuart brought me home a surprise gift of a plaid flannel shirt, I new it had gone too far and I had to take drastic gay action with cocktails, cookbooks and kitchen tools.

I know you and Giancarlo must have some tools that would make any gay jealous... um, wait... I don't think that came out right.

Dear jambuku,

Did you remember to bring the lamingtons this time? When you start your WA road trip, are you still going to blog about finding socks? Or wait, have you left already?

Dear Everyone,

Next time I propose that we meet in Italy.

Love, Hula Hank XX

DEAR ________, DAY 1

2009-07-01T12:58:00.003+08:00

Dear Everyone,

I am glad that everyone has gathered together once again to enjoy a drink (or three), have a chat and feel the love.

This time I received some inspiration from Pumpkin Delight and thought it would be nice to serve peach bellinis.

You can buy Bellini in a bottle, and I remember a Miami inspired club that opened up on the beautiful Cuyahoga River in Cleveland's industrial district (yes, the same river that once caught on fire). Bottled Bellini was the signature cocktail and on some wild nights, the bartender would pour it directly into your mouth.

But no, this bellini is not that Bellini. This bellini is made from Italian sparkling and white peach puree.

Put it down the hatch!

Dear Queen of Phrump,

Jackalopes! That is right. How could I be so silly? My dad grew up in the Montana and whenever he would return home from a trip out west, he would bring back postcards featuring a cowboy riding a gigantic jackalope…and Big Hunks, because you couldn’t buy Big Hunks where we lived.

The whole family would spend the next week gnawing at these giant candy bars. Eventually we would get sick of them and would find half gnawed bars stuck under the couch cushions, inside underwear drawers and even under a pillow or two.

Which brings me to your 14 carat cake….. I am intrigued and must have some immediately!

Did your mother pick up a jar of apple butter yet? It seems that apple butter is an item that we all forget about until something comes along to conjure up strong childhood memories.

Big Hunks, apple butter… why are all of my childhood memories of foodstuff?

Dear JLO,

Is Arizona that state that has all of the aliens and new age healing spots or is that New Mexico?

Whilst I was reading your previous comments on my possible overuse of the word “whilst”, I was thinking that whilst I do tend to use the word “whilst” in writing, I never actually say “whilst” in speech. I am not even sure I know 100% what ‘whilst’ means and even how to use ‘whilst’ in a sentence.

I reckon it is one of those weirdo British terms and spellings like using ‘spelt’ instead of ‘spelled’ or ‘spilt’ instead of ‘spilled’ or ‘learnt’ instead of ‘learned’ or ‘burnt’ instead of ‘burned’… ‘tyre’ instead of ‘tire’ or even more wacko, ‘aeroplane’ instead of ‘airplane’.

PS – Your skin looks so radiant. Did you get a facial?

Dear Pumpkin Delight,

Venice looks so magical. I hate using the word “magical” but I can’t think of any other way to describe it.. Fantastical? Opulent? Enchanting?

One can almost imagine Casanova riding the canals to the doors of all society women around town.

I am putting together a list of US to Aussie word translations. As I flip over the third notebook page of words, it is more complicated than I thought.

Does the list only include the different words for the same object? Does it continue on with words that are pronounced the same but spelled/spelt differently? Does go even further to contain words that are spelled/spelt the same but pronounced differently?

To get a rest from the mental spin that is the English language, I decided to experiment with another type of fruit butter, this time with persimmons.

I wish I could tell you that the results were an execution of culinary brilliance. Well, it did look and smell like someone was executed.

The problem was not in the fruit or the idea, it was with the, uh, execution.

I believed Stuart when he told me that if I put the slow cooker on ‘Auto’ I could leave it on overnight without the persimmons burning, because when the slow cooker is on ‘auto’ it can sense when something is going to burn and shuts off.

Uh-huh.

The next morning I was left with dried, burned and shriveled pieces of persimmon which were permanently glued to the pot with a sugary glaze the same consistency of that used to coat pottery... after it went through the kiln.

I am not going to give up though, I just need to get some more persimmons before they go out of season.

There is this great orchard around the corner where the guy sells fruit out of his barn… Do you think that is the country equivalent to getting acupuncture in the back of van?

Dear Everyone,

I am still working my way around the room... I keep getting sidetracked by an empty glass. I am going to take the scones out of the oven and will be right back with hot scones and fresh apple butter.

Love Hula Hank

GO TEAM HOT DOG!!!

2009-06-18T15:49:00.005+08:00

To take a short break from 'Apple butter mania', I turn today's focus to a more important cause... not martinis or food or naked picnics in the grass.

I spend my career educating people on neuroplasticity and ways to keep our brain exercised and healthy in the hopes of delaying, or possibly preventing, Alzheimer's Disease, other forms of dementia and cognitive decline. Everyday I hear forever life changing stories of the effects of dementia.

These stories come from people who are carers for family members, watched their parents eventual dementia related death or even have been diagnosed with early on-set dementia. Think that dementia doesn't effect you?

With current statistics showing that 1 out of every 3 people over the age of 65 develop dementia, you better believe that it will effect you in one way or another.

Meet Team Hot Dog

'Perth'onality socialite, Sarah Swan
Blogger hunk extraordinaire, Hula Hank and;
Independent brand identity specialist, Julie Hill.

Team Hot Dog... three members.. chances are high that one of us will develop dementia in the future.

This frank and startling reality check is what inspired us to choose to raise money for Alzheimer's (Also, the fact that I work for AAWA may have had a little something to do with it).

You may be asking yourself, "What the hell is a Team Hot Dog?"

On 20 September 2009, my organistaion is hosting the state's first ever Memory Walk. The 2009 Memory Walk will raise much need funds for dementia public awareness, education and support for for families, carers and those how have dementia.

The three of us (Team Hot Dog) have created a "My Hero" page to raise money for this event. You can find it online here:

http://www.everydayhero.com.au/team_hot_dog

Ok, so what is with the "Hot Dog" part?

Well, if we exceed our target fundraising goal, Team Hot Dog pledges to complete the walk dressed as GIANT HOT DOGS!!!!!

That is right we will dress as GIANT HOT DOGS, if we exceed our fundraising goal. So tell everyone you know to stop by our Everyday Hero page to 'relish' us with your support and provide much needed help for Dementia Awareness.

YOU ASKED FOR IT - APPLE BUTTER RECIPE

2009-06-16T12:55:00.002+08:00

Due to the popular demand, I hereby share with you an apple butter recipe you can make at home or during a block party. It is almost summer in the US, so you have plenty of time to plan and gather all the ingredients before October!

If you are in Australia, well, you are too late. The apple harvest has just finished for the season. The good news is that you have an entire year to plant apple trees, find a copper kettle and sew your very own bonnet.

If anyone happens to have a bunch of Pennsylvania Dutch people lying around, here is a traditional recipe from 1839.

“Cider for apple butter must be perfectly new from the press, and the sweeter and mellower the apples are of which it is made, the better will the apple butter be.

Boil the cider till reduced to one half its original quantity, and skim it well.

Do not use for this purpose an iron kettle, or the butter will be very dark, and if you use a brass or copper kettle, it must be scoured as clean and bright as possible, before you put the cider into it, and you must not suffer the butter to remain in it a minute longer than is actually necessary to prepare it, or it will imbibe a copperish taste that will render it not only unpleasant, but really unhealthy.

It is best to prepare it late in the fall, when the apples are quite mellow. Select those that have a fine flavor, and will cook tender; pare and quarter them from the cores, and boil them in the cider till perfectly soft, having plenty of cider to cover them well.

If you wish to make it on a small scale, do not remove the apples from the cider when they get soft, but continue to boil them gently in it till the apples and cider form a thick smooth marmalade, which you must stir almost constantly towards the last.

A few minutes before you take it from the fire, flavor it highly with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves, and when the seasonings are well intermixed, put it up in jars, tie folded paper over them and keep them in a cool place.

If made in a proper manner, it will keep good more than a year, and will be found very convenient, being always in readiness.

Many people who are in the habit of making apple butter, take it from the fire before it is boiled near enough. Both to keep it well and taste well, it should be boiled long after the apples have become soft, and towards the last, simmered over coals till it gets almost thick enough to slice.

If you wish to make it on a large scale, after you have boiled the first kettle full of apples soft, remove them from the cider, draining them with a perforated ladle that the cider may fall again to the kettle, and put them into a clean tub.

Fill up the kettle with fresh apples, having them pared and sliced from the cores, and having ready a kettle of boiling cider, that is reduced to at least half its original quantity; fill up the kettle of apples with it as often as is necessary.
When you have boiled in this manner as many apples as you wish, put the whole of them in a large kettle, or kettles, with the cider, and simmer it over a bed of coals till it is so thick, that it is with some difficulty you can stir it: it should be stirred almost constantly, with a wooden spaddle, or paddle, or it will be certain to scorch at the bottom or sides of the kettle.

Shortly before you take it from the fire, season it as before directed, and then put it up in jars."

If you are without a spaddle or bed of coals, I have altered the above into a 12 Step recipe:

Step 1. Grab your Golden Girls DVD and put into DVD player. If you are looking for more of a pioneer atmosphere when making apple butter try watching Little House on the Prairie.

Step 2. Take two kilos (about 4.5 pounds) of apples, peel two of them and then sigh “Oh my god, there is no way I am peeling all these apples!” Fortunately, peeling the apples is optional.

Step 3. Quarter the apples and dump them in the slow cooker with ½ cup of apple cider, 3 cups sugar and a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg. Then stir to mix. I cannot get apple cider down here, so I used an organic and freshly pressed apple juice, with no added sugar.

Step 4. Put your slow cooker on high and cook apples for three hours.

Step 5. After three hours, turn the slow cooker on low and let cook for another 9 hours or so, stirring occasionally.

Step 6. Now take a small amount of the cooked apples and puree in blender or food processor until smooth. Put the processed apple mixture in a bowl and continue until all of the apples and juice are pureed.

Word of caution: When I made a pineapple panna cotta, I pureed the piping hot pineapple mixture and was rewarded by a blender exploding boiling hot pineapple all over my face (Note to Mr Show, JLo and Pumpkin Delight: No jokes please about hot liquids exploding in one’s face). Avoid this horrific experience by blending only a small amount of apples and lifting the lid every few seconds to let the steam escape.

Step 7. Once all of the cooked apples have been pureed, put back into the slow cooker and add more spices. I really enjoy the spicy bite of cinnamon so basically I dumped in an unspecified amount until I was happy with the taste.

Step 8. After the mixture is perfectly seasoned, cook on low for about 2 or 3 more hours, stirring occasionally.

Step 9. When finished, the apple butter should be extremely thick in texture and a deep brown in colour.

Step 10. At this point, you should realise that you failed to obtain any mason jars. Quickly dump out the commercial pasta sauce and strong pickled onions from their jars, thoroughly wash and dry said jars and fill with apple butter.

Step 11. I set the filled jars upside down for about an hour or two and when I turned them over, the lids miraculously sealed! This may work for you, although I cannot guarantee that this technique seals well enough to store outside of the refrigerator.

Step 12. The final step is to proudly announce your culinary achievement to your ungrateful family, who will then refuse to even take one small taste.

I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by orchards that produce fruit year round. Peaches, Nectarines, Persimmons, Pears, Apples and let us not forget my own orchard’s specialty: Plums.

My intention is to attempt a butter out of each and every one of these fruits as they are harvested.

Do you think I should start a local apple butter festival?

THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF APPLE BUTTER

2009-06-15T16:51:00.001+08:00

…or least a slightly-plagiarized-from-the-disappointing-Wikipedia-version-of the complete history of apple butter.

“Apple butter was a popular way of using apples in colonial America.” – Wikipedia

That’s it! That is the total history of apple butter according to Wikipedia.

Further research has led me to discover a few more details. Whilst apple butter is generally accredited to New England, many historians actually believe it was brought over by the Pennsylvania Dutch (you know, the Amish folks) and then further rose to popularity in the Appalachia (you know, the Hillbillies).

Wikipedia goes on to describe apple butter as a “highly concentrated form of apple sauce.” I suppose that yes, whilst apple sauce and apple butter have the same beginnings it is far too simplistic to use such a description. It is like saying a ‘red wine jus’ is just a highly concentrated form of your favourite merlot.

Apple sauce is lumpy and runny and falls off your spoon if you check your watch whilst eating it.

Apple butter is smooth and spreads thick over toast. When you take that first bite, one should taste crisp autumn mornings and hay rides through the changing trees.

Traditionally, the preparation of apple butter was a weekend long community event. It all started early in the morning when the men would harvest several bushels of apples and then, as far as I could find, their work was done.

The boys would gather firewood to heat the large copper kettles and then, as far as I could find, their work was done.

The mothers peeled and sliced the apples. These were still the days when knives were used instead of peelers. My mother used to peel apples this way and told me that whatever letter the discarded apple peel most resembled was the first initial of the person whom you will marry.

I reckon that when the women were busy cutting off their fingers from peeling the apples while the men were lounging in hammocks, the women were secretly checking out the letters made by the peels to see who they should have actually married.

The cut apples were then thrown into the heated copper kettles while the girls took turns stirring with large wooden paddles and gossiping about Helga’s new bonnet.

It was important that the apples be stirred constantly or else they would burn and the whole town would take the girl in charge and put her in a stock and throw cream pies at her face.

The women would then spice the mixture with cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Requiring to be stewed all day, I imagine the aroma filled the town air with sweet incense comforting the souls.

When the sky was overcome by the colours of the setting sun, the apple butter was done and all the men got off their hammocks to come down to the copper pot for the first taste.

In October, many “historic” towns around the US have apple butter festivals where they roll out the copper kettles and throw a party. There was a big festival in a country town close to where I grew up.

They had two big events a year, one when the maple syrup was harvested and the other when it was time to make apple butter. My memories of apple butter come from when my family attended this festival. Memories so strong that, despite not having apple butter for at least twenty years, I still fantasize about it.

A few weeks ago when the kids came home from a walk through the bush loaded with apples they had picked from the neighbouring orchard, apple butter nostalgia took the best of me.

I pulled out my copper kettle (a.k.a. the slow cooker) and set out to peeling the apples with a knife (a.k.a. the peeler) and gossiping about Helga’s new bonnet (a.k.a. watching Golden Girls).

Sixteen hours later, the apples morphed into a deep golden brown butter with a slight hint of red. It was so thick it could be cut with a knife and the smell of cinnamon filled the kitchen.

I was so excited and proud to share this memory with those I love, however the three jars still sit unopened in the refrigerator because those I love are too afraid to try it. Those I love that smother bread with the foul Aussie tradition that is Vegemite won’t spread their toast with the sweet memories of my childhood.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I used jars labeled “Strong Pickled Onions”?

DEAR __________________,

2009-06-12T14:24:00.002+08:00

Dear Everyone,

It has been a very long time since we last got together like this. I just bought a few bottles of peach vodka from the liquor wholesalers on the first floor of my office building. Can interest you in peach martini?

Dear JLO,

Yes, living the Aussie life down here. With the exception that I have never worn a hat with corks hanging off the brim and three drag queens driving a lavender bus have never knocked on my door.

Other than that, red soil? Check. Snakes? Check. Cockatoos? Check. Kangaroos? Check. Bottle of shiraz? Double check.

You know what would make it a true Aussie life? If you travelled down under and gave a performance of your 80s dance repertoire to the music of Men at Work!!!!!!!!

Dear Grandma J,

First let me say that I have heard you loud and clear regaring the comment font size being very very very small. I have never known how to fix the problem before but I have taken a quick internet course of CSS coding and went to the comment template and changed to a larger font... Just for you!

I am glad to see that you are enjoying your new unit! The landscaping is wonderful. Very minimalist.

More pressing are you questions about kangaroos. First I need to make a group announcement here. Pardon me. >>>>

Dear All,

I hate to interrupt your peach martinis, however I feel it is my duty to confess that my post on Mr and Mrs Rufus (Red Kangaroo) appearing nightly in my front paddocks was a complete lie.

I rang the very friendly folks at Perth Hills National Parks Visitors Centre who informed me that the nightly visitors are actually Western Grey Kangaroos.

Red Kangaroos are further north and inland where is it more arid.

You may now continue you martinis and dancing The Worm.

<<<<<<

So Grandma J, kangaroos are more shy in temperament and tend to bounce away if they sense a human presence. There are a few places around town that you can go to feed and pet tame kangaroos. I do have a picture of myself snuggling a kangaroo many years ago. I will find it and post it for you.

The different types of roos don't interbreed. I thought I could make that statement into a longer paragraph, but nope. I think that says it all.

I did not know that the school mascot is Killeen, TX is a kangaroo. Does he wear a pair of boxing gloves?

Dear Mr Show,

I think that is so cool you learned how to speak Navajo and even your own family didn't know... or did they?

Did you know that I can speak Cherokee?

Actually, I can only say the number '6'.

You did mention about the increased font size, I don't believe you have ever mentioned it before. It must be something new since you turned 40?

Dear Mom #1,

I sincerely hope that you are alright after that tree jumped out in front of your truck. How very inconsiderate of it.

There is a Roo Repellent, it is called a shotgun.

I would never use such repellent, of course. The kangaroo are not a nuisance to me and I encourage them to come around more often... and bring their friends (as long as their friend are not The Adders).

In Hillary Clinton's autobiography, she mentions that when her and Bill made a visit to a high ranking politician or the Governor General (the Queen's representative) in Australia, they were looking over his land and the HRP and/or GG made a comment to her that they heard Bill was allergic to kangaroos and they did their best to get rid of them all for the visit.

Dear Pumpkin Delight,

I cannot wait until you make your confession and tell us the truth. I was hoping that one of your truths or lies was that you were pregnant.

Roos over Adders any day!

Dear Queen of Phrump,

You are my inspiration to want to become a better writer.

I thought jackrabbits were only myth!

BTW, I was watching one of those Las Vegas cop shows and they featured your very own kingdom. Apparently you have quite a few murderous Trekkies as your neighbours.

Can I get anyone else another martini? Who was supposed to bring the food?

Sincerly,

XX Hula Hank

MEET MR AND MRS RUFUS...

2009-06-07T20:14:00.005+08:00

...As in Macropus Rufus, or as their friends call them Mr & Mrs Red Kangaroo.

Red Kangaroos are, as I am sure you are already aware, native to most of Australia with the exception of the rain forest and certain places in the south. Their cousins Grey Kangaroo (Eastern and Western) and Antilopine Kangaroo take up residency in those areas.

As wikipedia describes, their legs work like snapping rubber bands allowing them to travel over 30 ft in one bounce. I have never been able to find out how high they can jump, most people just say "really high."

Every night a mob of Red Kangaroos emerge from the national forest, breaking through our boundary fence and come to graze in our paddocks.

The darkness of the night does allow for easy viewing. Often you will suddenly hear a "thud... thud... thud" and you know it is a kangaroo bouncing along its way... or it's an alien looking to make a fresh abduction.

A couple times we grabbed a bright torch (flashlight) and quietly walked down the driveway listening for any thump or rustle when we switch on the torch and the kangaroo takes the spotlight.

I can hear what you are saying, won't Mr & Mrs Kangaroo get scared and punch us with boxing gloves?

Well technically they rest on their tails and then kick out, but I have not yet seen a pair of boxing gloves... maybe they keep them in their pouch next to their baby?

Now I must make a disclaimer, I don't really know if the evening visitors are actually Red Kangaroos or Western Grey Kangaroos. Maybe I should have worked that out before telling you all about them?

A NEW LOW...

2009-06-06T09:53:00.003+08:00

Only four posts in May.

It has been a very busy and sometimes trying month.

The electricity is still out in the office, going on five weeks in the dark. It mostly affects my office and the woman in the office next to mine. We were both having a chat the other day and discovered that we both feel tired, cranky, uninspired and fatigued.

Our counselling team diagnosed us as having S.A.D. which stands for Seasonal something-or-rather Disorder or Depression... I wasn't really paying attention, I was too busy crying in the corner.

I was lured out of the corner and thrown on a plane to give a speech at a fantastic conference in Adelaide.

When I say "fantastic" I really mean "drunken" but I am sure you have already made that assumption.

South Australia, the state which Adelaide is the capital city of, is known for its wines and produce. In fact, my idol Maggie Beer is based here as well as another cook I love called Dorinda who is probably more known for her red lipstick.

I spent the first night drinking many glasses of rose champagne and eating fresh oysters.

The next day, after giving my speech, I was given a bottle of Shiraz, which was immediately consumed while eating chocolate frogs.

I thought that I could share with you the photographs of everything I saw in Adelaide.

My hotel room:

What happened to my right eye?

The view from the window of the Convention Centre:

That's all.

DOES THIS TRACTOR MAKE MY BUTT LOOK BIG?

2009-05-18T17:08:00.002+08:00

Well, does it?

I have to say that this weekend epitomised the entire reason why we moved to this property in the first place.

On Saturday, Courtney's boyfriend came over, and I must admit that I had several manhattans by dinner time was in a very very good mood. As a family collective, we thought it would be fun to prank the kid's old school mates.

Yes, that is right. Two grown men and three kids sat around the family dinner table pranking their friends.

My favourite was:

Me: "Hello is Miss Wright?"

Unsuspecting Kid: "No."

Me: "This isn't Miss Wright?"

U.K.: "No. Who is this?"

Me: "This is Mr Wong. I am looking for Miss Wright."

And the night only went downhill from there.

I ran out of vermouth to make manhattans so I walked up the street to the bottle shop. That is right, in the middle of nowhere, there is a well stocked liquor store open until 8:30pm. It doubles as a gas station.

I bought three bottles of cheap red wine (for Stuart) and the biggest bottle of vermouth one has ever seen. On the way home, the box dropped and all the bottles went crashing down to the street.

I heard a very loud sound of a bottle smashing to bits. I hoped that it was one of the cheap bottles of red wine, but of course it was the vermouth. I was too embarrassed to go back to the bottle shop, but I sucked it up and bought another bottle, where the clerk proceeded to laugh at me and tell me "I hope your luck gets better."

Oh yes, I almost forgot that the Eurovision Song Contest was on all weekend and we were glued to the TV every night.

For those of you who may not be familiar, Eurovision is a song contest where every country in Europe enters their favourite band and they all compete to win. The budget for the show is approximately 300 million Euros. Every number is costumed and choreographed with LCD walls and floors, lasers, pyrotechnics, trampolines, conveyor belts... anything the mind can imagine.

There are some horribly funny entries (generally from Eastern European countries) but others are simply amazing. Like the UK entry. Andrew Lloyd Weber wrote and played the piano for this entry. Greece put on a hot show, which concluded with the well muscled singer, dressed in white, ripping his shirt wide open.

He gets my vote.

Anyway, Norway won. Check out YouTube for his song, I am too lazy to do a link.

A tid bit of Eurovision history for you. It launched ABBA's career.

How was your weekend??

MEET MR AND MRS ADDER

2009-05-13T18:29:00.005+08:00

Living surrounded by thousands of acres of national forest brings many wonderful visitors into our parcel of land.

Black cockatoos, Kookaburras, Finches and Butterflies all flutter over to say hello and of course it is always a blessing when the Kangaroos drop by for a cup of tea.

Some visitors, no matter how infrequent are never welcome.

This would be one of them:

The Death Adder.

Last week, this little guy's long lost cousin stopped by to check out the stables.

Let me tell you about Mr D. Adder's family. The Death Adder by most accounts is the ninth most venomous snake in the world. Personally I don't really know what difference it makes how deadly a lethal venom is, but there you go.

Death Adders are slow moving snakes that have a tendency to remain still and motionless. A person can walk with in centimeters of this snake and not even know it, or even be attacked.

Despite the fact that they move slowly, they posses a lightening fast strike, one of the fastest and most accurate in fact.

Another interesting tid bit is that Mrs D. Adder actually gives birth to live young and not eggs.

As interesting as the Adders sound, I will not be inviting them over for a martini anytime soon but what should one do when they are faced with these unexpected visitors.

According to the snake guy we met at the local agricultural show, get a shovel and... nope, not chop their heads off (that is an offence attached to a $10,000 fine).. get a shovel and put them in a bucket that is deeper then Mr Adder is long and call a snake removalist.

I don't think I will be attempting that method and fortunately, there is one other option.

Grab your garden hose and turn the water on Mr Adder. Spraying directly Mr Adder will only piss him off, however by pointing the hose in the air, the falling water will simulate natural rains. Mr Adder hates to cool down and will slither off back home.

This method also proves highly effective for other unwanted guests of the human variety.

COME ON TO MY HOUSE

2009-05-10T21:54:00.003+08:00

The telephone company actually came to the plate and when I got home from work on Friday the wireless modem was waiting to be plugged in and set-up. The best part about it is that apparently wireless broadband is faster than the telephone based broadband service. Bonus.

Without further ado, Welcome to my home.

Of course as you know, when entering you must come through the gates (that if you remember I built myself) and come up the Canadian Maple lined driveway.

Eventually, after stopping to refuel your car and admiring the sun shining through the autumnal leaves (it is after all winter down here at the moment...

...you arrive at the front entry to the house.

Do you notice all of the red roses in the photo above? I have counted all of the roses around the house and it totals 175. Yes, that means 175 roses to deadhead and prune.

Last weekend I made a very bloody and painful attempt at weeding the clover which was growing around the base of the bushes. My hands look like I tried to molest a cat.

Let's go for a walk around the property, which borders on three side to thousands of acres of state forest.

These trees are the home to many red-tailed black cockatoos, twentyeights (a type of parrot) and whatever else lurks under the rocks.

In the night, kangaroos hop secretly through the trees and come to the front paddock to graze. This busted fence is the front door for these bouncy creatures.

All that walking really builds up a thirst. I am feeling really inspired by the red leaves, shall we go inside and have a few Manhattans?

SO THIS IS WHAT DEATH IS LIKE?

2009-05-08T14:25:00.002+08:00

This post is especially for the thousands of you who have been concerned and/or demanding pictures and/or suggesting I look at their cute kids doing some cute concert and/or spitting out blogger gin in my absence:

We finally moved home on Tuesday 28th April. The day after ANZAC Day... well Anzac Day was actually on the Saturday, but if a public holiday falls on a weekend, we get the following Monday off work. So it was really the day after the Monday of the Anzac Day long weekend.

I took the Tuesday off work to supervise the move, and boy it was a mistake. When I got the office the next day, the building had collapsed and was in ruins. I can't leave for a second.

The first room I set to unpack was the kitchen. I am a control freak when it comes to the placement and organisation of the kitchen items.

My clothes are still in boxes, my DVDs are still in boxes and my books are still in boxes... but the kitchen is done.

When I got to work the next morning, it was not actually in ruins, however the power board for the building did explode leaving us without lights or computers or copy machines or any way to charge my mobile phone.

This unfortunate situation lasted for several days, when mysteriously the electricity came back on in the office down at the end of the building. The next day I brought in the longest extension cord I could find and plugged it into a socket in this powered office, all the way down the hall into my office, so I could power a small lamp and my computer.

I am pleased to report that almost two weeks later the power board still has not been fixed and I am slowly going blind.

In the midst of the move, we had to shut off the internet at home until our telephone number had been connected. However once the number was connected, we discovered that we are too far from the telephone exchange to get broadband through the phone line, we now have to go wireless and capture the interweb from rays in space.... at least in 6-10 working days, which is how long it is going to take for our new wireless space ray capturing network device to show up.

What I am trying to say is that, although I have taken pictures, I cannot post them just yet.

I was also thinking about doing a weekly vlog on a city homo turning farmer.

I got this idea from a friend who grew up in the country. When she found out I bought a farm, there was great laughter as she pictured me in my Dolce & Gabbana accessories and orange crocodile shoes trying to scoop horse shit.

To be fair, I came to see the humour in that situation when I came home from work and started to dig the earth for a pond. Stuart came outside and laughed because here I was with a shovel of dirt still wearing a 3-piece suit and fedora.

How is everyone??? Can I make you a martini?

HER FIRST BALL

2009-04-23T20:30:00.004+08:00

Wait... What?

The daughter just attended her first ball... something similar to a junior prom.

She spent hours choosing her hair style, and I kid you not, 4 hours trying to decide between two dresses. She tried one on, then tried on the other, then tried the first one on again, then the second one again, then the first, second, first, second.

Stuart and I went across the street for lunch and came back to the shop afterwords, where she was still busy trying on the same two dresses.

What is like this for your prom?

OK So I heavily photoshopped that first photo so here are some more real ones.

WOW... And I though Great Danes were big.

He she is with all her school friends....

And.. uh...

BUILDING FENCES

2009-04-13T20:35:00.002+08:00

Wow! What a fantastically philosophical title for such a boring post.

We are still packing and waiting to move and packing and waiting and packing and packing and packing and... what was I saying?

Even though we are still a couple of weeks away from moving to 'The Farm' (working title), the property has to be prepared for a horse, which means building fences so the horse does not escape and run off with the outback alien kangaroos.

So this weekend I spent building a front fence out of pine posts. Well, I held the spirit level while Stuart did everything else, but we don't need to get into semantics.

What else happened this week? Oh yes! I had the most terrible cold and/or flu and had to dress as a leprechaun for an all-day team building function at work.

Yeah, it was just as thrilling for me as it sounds.

Who got a visit from the easter bunny?

Bueller... Bueller.... Bueller... Bueller.... Bueller

2009-04-03T13:24:00.000+08:00

Is there anyone left? I have gone entirely silent these past few weeks, because, well, it was either write on the blog or have a nervous breakdown.

What’s that? I should have had the nervous breakdown because then I would at least have something interesting to write about? You bitch!

What I am actually supposed to writing is copy on that anatomy of our brain and why it does what it does. So take your pick, a blog post about nothing or a 6 page article on the parts of our brain?

Well last we chatted, the offer on the property was accepted and the finance approval has only just come through today. There was a slight dramatic pause when we thought, for a day that the whole deal was going to fall through, but all’s well.

In the meantime I have been planning my garden. At first I thought of having a very functional raised bed type of situation, but the more I think about it, the more I am leaning towards, vegetable and fruit trees mixed in with ornamental plantings with meandering pathways throughout.

Something about creating a diverse bio-system or is it bio-diversity system? It is probably neither.

I have already bought four blueberry bushes, and have my eye on an olive tree (you know, for the martinis).

Which reminds me that I am late in honouring the monthly “You Need a Drink Award” I am currently concocting a recipe which may or may not be given to a certain person who may or may not go to matinees on Fridays.

What have you been up to

7TH TIME A CHARM: HOUSE HUNT UPDATE #3

2009-03-15T12:20:00.003+09:00

Another week of looking at property after property after property... which brings the total up to about every semi-rural property in Australia.

Wednesday night brought two potentials, one fixer-upper and another very modern and shall we say... interesting home.

On Thursday afternoon, we decided to take a look at property which we have seen online for ages, but one reason or another never made the final cut.

It is an old plum orchard feature the homestead and a separate cottage, for those visitors who wish to come and help pick the billions of plums from the trees... anyone?

I hate plums.

However, the rest of the property is amazing and that is why we put an offer on the place.

To which the offer was actually accepted... and not taken back!

I would normally show you some photos right about now, but the real estate photos don't do the place justice so wait a while and I will post some really good ones.

Thank goodness! Now I can get back to my normal routine of martini drinking.

That reminds me! In the local town closest to this property, there was a small shop and I actually found a jar of maraschino cherries!! I search I have been on for several years now.

Which means I can now, once again, have a proper Manhattan.

It must have been a sign.

UPDATED: HOUSE HUNT PART TWO

2009-03-08T13:07:00.004+09:00

We found it! The perfect house and the perfect land with an abundance of water and nice feed. Offer accepted.

Then rejected.

I was already planning the chicken coop and dreaming of raising a cow for slaughter. Would I be able to eat my slaughtered pet? I don't know, but it would be a fantastic experience to try out.

As if you wanted to know, the butcher in this particular town will cut up the meat into whatever we desire, however it has to arrive at his shop already killed and skinned.

You see, to keep from getting tough meat, the home raised cow must be shot instantly while still grazing the paddocks and then hauled away for immediate processing.

That part I could do without seeing.

Back to the house hunt, we are looking at one today, which may be a total renovation job, but at the right price anything is possible.

Tally thus far: 5 offers rejected. 34 days before homelessness.

UPDATE: I may have left something out... I have no interest in personally killing or skinning a cow or any other animal. I do however eat beef and wear fur.

HOUSE HUNT UPDATE

2009-03-04T21:10:00.003+09:00

Since soooooo many of you are wondering how the house hunt is going I will tell you.

This is the 6th day in a row of touring numerous amounts of rural properties, which anyone who has ever ventured to view rural homes equals numerous amounts of driving. Today we looked at two properties and here is how they went:

The first home we were chased by an emu that I woke up from an afternoon nap by attempting to take a picture of it.

The second home was smoking! Literally:

I can now officially declare that the search is still ongoing.

BRB

2009-02-27T22:06:00.003+09:00

This weekend is a long 3-day holiday weekend... I am not sure what the holiday is and neither do I care.

I have been horribly absent in mid-story... talk about a dramatic pause... however I have good reason.

We put the house we are living in on the market and it sold in 3 days, with a 3 week settlement date. Which means we have three weeks to buy the dream rural property or end up living in a tent at the local campsite (which is 100% anal probing free).

The upside is that since it is a long weekend, I may actually get some post under my belt (not that way, Pumpkin). I still need to finish my Where the Hell Are We posting (AKA least popular story ever!) which is technically already finished but in my quest for imperfect perfectionism still needs about 15 re-writes.

Also I have a hilarious story about how I accidentally stumbled across a co-workers text messages on his work mobile phone. It consists of shameful sexual innuendos and tacky curse word phrases so I am sure you are not interested, right?

WHERE THE HELL ARE WE? PART TWO or HOW I AVOIDED ANAL PROBING BY OUTBACK ALIEN KANGAROOS

2009-02-19T10:10:00.003+09:00

A sheer moment of bliss created by part red wine, part starry sky and part “cigarette” smoke that was wafting in my direction.

This ecstasy was disturbed by rustling in the bushes. In the pitch dark of the outback, this can only be one of two things… a crazy murderous mad man or a crazy murderous kangaroo.

The rustling got closer and distinctly non-human. Aliens?

I gulped down the rest of the wine in my glass, I figured that if I was going to be kidnapped and anally probed by aliens it was best to be drunk first.

The movement got closer and suddenly from right behind us the most unusual sound one could ever hear.

This sound.

As one of us (no names please) screamed for our lives, the brave strong Irish females grabbed the torch and shined it in the bushes, but could find no trace of animal, human or other.

By the end of the second bottle, the whole conversation turned ridiculously dramatic as we tried to explain to each other what made that noise. Eventually we agreed it was a jokester kangaroo wearing a sheep costume.

On that note, it was also agreed that it was time for sleep.

Good night, kangaroo-sheep. Good night, red earth. Good night, galaxy.

On the next edition of Where the Hell are We?"

"Good morning, sunshine. Good morning, flies. Good morning, flat tyre!"

WHERE THE HELL ARE WE? PT 1

2009-02-17T01:29:00.000+09:00

I want to give everyone another Aussie geography lesson, this time on a place that is close to my heart, and old gold rush town of Cue in Western Australia. Cue used to be host to a very excellent arts festival, at which I had one of the most cherished times of my life, which is why I want you to know about it.

If there is one thing we learn in life is that it is not always about where you are going, but how you get there. So hop into the SUV with Susan and Clara, two of the grandest Irish imports one can travel with.

Cue is supposedly a 6 to 8 hour drive outside of Perth along the Great Northern Highway… unless of course, you take the wrong road when in a town called Wubin the highway suddenly forks into two unmarked options.

Option A, is on more of direct continuation with the road you are currently on and is beautifully paved, also like the road you are currently travelling on.

Option B jets off at a slightly awkward curve, and is more “rough” in appearance, as if to suggest a local thoroughfare and not a major northern highway.

One road takes you to your destination of Cue, the other road takes you to a town were hordes of 8 year olds mob your car while their parents are drinking in the pub.

Which one do you choose?

Option A, right?

So merrily we roll along Option A... for hours. It is starting to get dark, and we don’t seem anywhere near where we should be after driving for that amount of driving time.

What is that? You say, “Weren’t there any signs?” Well yes, but they all look like this:

Each regional town or shire is given an alpha code, the number below it is how many kilometers until you reach that town. Never having been out of the city, no one in the car knew which alpha codes belonged to which town.

Despite that fact that we are looking at the road map (thinking we are still travelling the Great Northern Highway) and comparing the town names on the map with those on the kilometer markers, and wondering to each other “Why didn’t they give the towns an abbreviation that matches the letters in the actual name?”

Running low on fuel, we finally reach a town that has a small grocery /craft /fish and chip /gift shop, a pub, and BP petrol station servo)… all open and bustling. Famished we decide to eat first and get fuel on the way out.

It was in this “restaurant” that we discovered the reason why the alpha codes did not match the towns on the map was because we were way off course… actually we were headed in the opposite direction.

Fortunately, the town we were in is the beginning of another road which will put us in the right direction without having to track-back. The downside was there are no towns or homes or any sign of civilization anywhere on this road, so we need to fuel up before heading off.

Only, on the way out of town, the previously bustling servo is now closed and locked up tight. No amount of desperate knocking brought it back to life.

Just as we were contemplating spending the night in the town, a large group of 8 year old kids appeared and started to harass anything that crossed their path. When the police pulled up, the kids swarmed the paddy wagon and started to rock it back to forth to tip it over.

Why is a bunch of 8 years old running around town after dark? Because all of the parents are getting plastered in the pub… on a Tuesday.

Deciding that we may actually have enough petrol to make it to the next town (which is an undetermined distance away and may or may not even have a petrol station) we head down the dark, and lonely road.

Of course as most of you may know, or should know, it is highly dangerous to drive on an outback road at night. Kangaroos, road trains and the sheer darkness can be deadly… plus, there is a bottle of wine in the back and it was calling our names.

We found the nearest clearway off the side of the road, pitched our tent and swag by the gleam of the headlights, made a small fire and popped the cork off the bottle of wine.

If you have never seen the night sky from the Australian outback, you are missing out on seeing the universe… literally. The middle of the Milky Way passes over this area of Western Australia.

Gazing into the galaxy while sitting on the red dirt makes one feel connected to universe and earth. In that euphoric moment there are no questions of why or how, only instinctive contentment and belonging.

ON THE NEXT EDITION OF “WHERE THE HELL ARE WE?”:
"This ecstasy was disturbed when there is some ruffling in the bushes. In the pitch dark of the outback, this can only be one of two things… a crazy murderous mad man or a crazy murderous mad woman..."

PUMPKIN DELIGHT, YOU NEED A DRINK!

2009-02-16T07:19:00.001+09:00

Pumpkin Delight, this martini recipe was stolen and renamed just for you! You can rim the glass with crushed graham crackers and garnish with a dollop of whipped cream.

Of course, I realise that when the holiday season is over no one wants to even think about consuming another pumpkin flavoured anything, so I suppose you can replace the pumpkin pie spice with powdered or liquid concentrate chai.

The 'You Need a Drink' Award is given by me to the most excellent of bloggers. I use secret spy techniques to gather intelligence and create (or steal) a martini designed especially for you. The rules of this award are simple:

Drink more martinis.

Who needs a drink in March?

99 BOTTLES OF... ER, 99 THINGS ABOUT ME

2009-02-14T09:11:00.000+09:00

1. Started your own blog. CHECK.

2. Slept under the stars. CHECK. I HATE IT, ALTHOUGH ONCE I ATTENDED AN OUTBACK ARTS FESTIVAL AND ON THE WAY THERE TOOK THE WRONG ROAD AND GOT A FLAT TYRE. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OUTBACK WITH THE NEAREST ANYTHING BEING OVER AN HOUR DRIVE AWAY. SO I SLEPT ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD IN A SWAG UNDER THE STARS, AND THAT WAS SPECIAL... AND CREEPY AT ONCE.

3. Played in a band. NO.

4. Visited Hawaii. NO.

5. Watched a meteor shower. YOU DIRTY MONKEY. KINKY. CHECK.

6. Given more than you can afford to charity. WELL, I WORK FOR A CHARITY, HAVE FUND RAISED FOR CHARITIES AND ATTENDED MANY CHARITY BALLS, BUT YOU CAN NEVER REALLY GIVE TOO MUCH TO CHARITY.

7. Been to Disney World / Land. CHECK. WHICH IS THE ONE IN FLORIDA?

8. Climbed a mountain. CHECK. I LOVE TO CLIMB MOUNTAINS.

9. Held a praying mantis. NO.

10. Sang a solo. OH YEAH, EVERY MORNING I AM MAMA ROSE AND SING A FABULOUS SOLO TO THE DOG.

11. Bungee jumped. NO. NEVER. EVER. EVER.

12. Visited Paris. CHECK. I LOVE PARIS. I WANT TO LIVE IN PARIS. WE ARE TALKING ABOUT TEXAS RIGHT?

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea. NO.

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch. THE ART OF THE BEST MARTINI THIS SIDE OF THE EQUATOR.

15. Adopted a child. NO.

16. Had food poisoning. NO. BUT I HAVE HAD A WEAK STOMACH AFTER EATING SWEET CHILLI AND PHILLY DIP.

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty. NO.

18. Grown your own vegetables. GROWING YOUR OWN VEGGIES ROCK. EVERYONE SHOULD DO IT AT LEAST ONCE.

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France. NO. ALTHOUGH I DID SIT IN THE COURTYARD OF THE LOUVRE ALL AFTERNOON PEOPLE WATCHING. I WAS IN FRANCE AND I AM SURE SOME OF THE PEOPLE WERE NAMED MONA AND LISA.

20. Slept on an overnight train. YES. TRAINS SUCK.

21. Had a pillow fight. YES. BUT FEATHERS NEVER STARTED FLYING... I THINK THAT ONLY HAPPENS IN MOVIES.

22. Hitch-hiked. ONCE IN SOUTH CAROLINA. TRAVELLING FROM SAVANNAH TO CLEVELAND AND THE CAR RAN OUT OF GAS.

23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill. TECHNICALLY,NO. I JUST SAY THAT I AM WORKING FROM HOME.

24. Built a snow fort. THERE IS A FINE ART TO MAKING A SNOW FORT... FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CANNOT REMEMBER WHAT THE ART IS, BUT I HAVE BUILT MANY SNOW FORTS.

25. Held a lamb. CHECK.

26. Gone skinny dipping. CHECK.

27. Run a marathon. NO. NEVER. EVER.

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice. NO.

29. Seen a total eclipse. POSSIBLY, I CAN'T REMEMBER IF IT WAS A TOTAL ECLIPSE OR NOT, BUT COME TO THINK OF IT, EVEN IF IT WAS A TOTAL ECLIPSE I KNOW THAT I DIDN'T ACTUALLY WATCH IT.

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset. YES.

31. Hit a home run. I COULD NOT EVEN HIT THE BALL AS FAR AS THE PITCHER.

32. Been on a cruise. NO. NEVER. EVER. EVER. EVER.

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person. MANY MANY TIMES. MOST RECENTLY WAS IN OCTOBER AND IT CHANGED. NOT THE FALLS BUT THE TOWN. THERE IS A CASINO AND LUXURY SHOPPING AND 5 STAR HOTELS AND IT IS ALL DESIGNED TO KEEP YOU DOING EVERYTHING ELSE EXCEPT SEE THE FALLS.

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. HOW FAR BACK ARE WE TALKING HERE?

35. Been to an Amish community. MY MOTHER LIVES IN AMISH COUNTRY, SO, YES.

36. Taught yourself a new language. I ATTEMPTED TO LEARN MANDARIN, UNTIL A FRIEND OF MINE WHO WAS FROM BEIJING TOLD ME I SOUNDED LIKE A DUCK.

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied. YES. BUT THEN WHEN YOU REACH THAT LEVEL, YOU WANT MORE AND WHEN YOU GET MORE, YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY AND THE CYCLE CONTINUES.

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person. NO.

39. Gone rock climbing. SORT OF. I HAVE CLIMBED SOME ROCKS AND SOME CLIFFS BUT NOT IN THAT WHOLE HARNESS AND ROPE WAY.

40. Seen Michelangelo’s David. NO. I WAS TOO BUSY PRETENDING TO BE FRENCH AND PEOPLE WATCHING OUTSIDE OF THE LOUVRE.

41. Sung karaoke. DO I HAVE TO REALLY ADMIT, THAT YES I HAVE SUNG KARAOKE. I RETIRED FROM KARAOKE WHEN I DID A TRULY FANTASTIC VERSION OF ME AND BOBBY MCGEE THAT BROUGHT THE HOUSE DOWN. I FIGURED I SHOULD QUIT ON TOP.

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt. YES. AND YES.

43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant. YES. AN OLD LADY THAT REMINDED ME OF MY GRANDMA.

44. Visited Africa. NO.

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight. YES. ALTHOUGH I SHOULD STATE THAT IT WAS WHEN I WAS YOUNG AND WAS ON ACID AND THE FOAM WAS BLOWING ACROSS THE SAND AND WE WERE FREAKING OUT BECAUSE WE THOUGHT IT WAS LEMMINGS. WHICH OF COURSE IS RIDICULOUS AS WE WERE NO WHERE NEAR THE TUNDRA.

46. Been transported in an ambulance. NO.

47. STILL AWAKE?

48. Gone deep sea fishing. NO.

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person. NO

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. AGAIN, I WAS TOO BUSY PEOPLE WATCHING UNDERNEATH THE EIFFEL TOWER TO ACTUALLY GO UP.

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling. I UNFORTUNATELY CAN NEVER GO SCUBA DIVING.

52. Kissed in the rain. YES.

53. Played in the mud. YES.

54. Gone to a drive-in theater. YES.

55. Been in a movie. YES.

56. Visited the Great Wall of China. NO.

57. Started a business. YES.

58. Taken a martial arts class. NO.

59. Visited Russia. NO.

60. Served at a soup kitchen. NO.

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies. NO.UNLESS YOU COUNT THAT ONE HALLOWEEN.

62. Gone whale watching. NO.

63. Gotten flowers for no reason. YES.

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma. DONATED? NO. WHEN I WAS 17 I SOLD MY PLASMA FOR $25 A SESSION.

65. Gone sky diving. NO. NEVER. EVER.

66. Visited a Nazi concentration camp. NO.

67. Bounced a check. YES. ONCE. IT WAS WHEN I FIRST MOVED TO CHICAGO AND SPENT ALL OF MY SAVINGS ON MOVING AND HAD NOT YET RECEIVED MY FIRST PAYCHECK (BECAUSE I STILL DIDN'T GET A JOB IN THE NEW TOWN YET) AND I SAW A FABULOUS PAIR OF GUCCI JEANS I HAD TO HAVE. I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING, BUT THE CHECK DID NOT BOUNCE AT GUCCI, BUT THE CHECK TO MY LANDLORD FOR MY VERY FIRST RENT PAYMENT BOUNCED BECAUSE I COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT THESE JEANS.

68. Flown in a helicopter. YES.

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy. YES.

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial. YES.

71. Eaten caviar. YES! I NEED TO PASS ALONG MY RECIPE FOR CAULIFLOWER PANNA COTTA TOPPED WITH CAVIAR.

72. Pieced a quilt.OH GOD NO.

73. Stood in Times Square. YES.

74. Toured the Everglades. NO.

75. Been fired from a job. YES. ONCE.

76. Seen the changing of the guard in London. NO. IN LONDON I WAS TOO BUSY GOING TO CLUBS INSTEAD OF SEEING THE SITES AND ONLY MANAGED TO ACCIDENTALLY SEE BIG BEN AND PARLIAMENT WHEN I STUMBLED ACROSS IT WHILE LOOKING FOR A RAVE.

77. Broken a bone. YES. I WAS RIDING MY BIKE DOWN A BIG HILL WITH NO HANDS.

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle. NO.

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person. NO.

80. Published a book. NO.

81. Visited the Vatican. NO.

82. Bought a brand new car. NO. I WAS A HUGE TAXI MAN / WALKER THAT I NEVER HAD A NEED TO OWN A CAR. THEREFORE I HAVE ONLY OWNED TWO CARS IN MY LIFE: A VOLVO AND AN AUDI.

83. Walked in Jerusalem. NO.

84. Had your picture in the newspaper. YES.

85. Read the entire Bible. NO.

86. Visited the White House. NO.

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating. YES. FISHING... ALTHOUGH TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST. I NEVER GUTTED THE FISH.

88. Had chickenpox. YES.

89. Saved someone’s life. I HAVE SAVED A FEW DROWNING BEES FROM THE POOL.

90. Sat on a jury. NO.

91. Met someone famous. YES. AND I ALMOST MET SOMEONE WHO IS ALMOST FAMOUS BUT SHE DIDN'T SHOW UP FOR BRUNCH.

92. Joined a book club. YES.

93. Lost a loved one. YES.

94. Had a baby. NO.

95. Seen the Alamo in person. NO..

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake. NO.

97. Been involved in a lawsuit. NO.

98. Owned a cell phone. CHECK.

99. Been stung by a bee. YES. MANY TIMES AS I TRIED TO RESCUE THOSE UNGRATEFUL INSECTS FROM DROWNING IN THE POOL.

Now I would like to apologise for the most boring post ever.

I NEVER THOUGHT I'D MAKE IT.

2009-02-13T20:39:00.003+09:00

I won. An award. I won an award. Me. I won.

Did I tell you that I won an award? Well, I did. I am Almost Famous's's's new favourite boyfriend and for that I won a Lemonade award...

Wait... What?

I am not entirely sure what that means, but I won the award.

Here's how this award works:

A. You must link back to the person you received the award from. CHECK
B. You have to nominate 10,000,000 bloggers who are deserving of this award! UMMM...

#1 out of the 10,000,000 is Grandma J. Mainly because she has fabulous eyelashes, but also because she tells funny stories, like how she took a mayo jar full of urine to the doctor's office.

#2 out 10,000,000 is Mom #1 because I reckon she adds vodka to her lemonade.

jfahiehfoewahfcuahysiudfea we82q05r9y4289thg42809t9(*Y@#*(@G!$REB@NUF "@#{P

And finally...

#10,000,000 out of the 10,000,000 goes to Finding Socks, an entire blog devoted to happy things.

There are so many of you who deserve this award, but, well...

PHOTOS FROM THE FRONTLINE

2009-02-12T09:37:00.002+09:00

WILD BUSHFIRES... AND NO, JASON, THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEAN BY "BUSH"

2009-02-11T10:48:00.008+09:00

At least ~~one~~ two of you is are concerned for my safety during the deadly and horrific bushfire that is raging down this way.

While I only wish that I had a bushfire as an excuse for not updating very much this past week, I am on the opposite side of the county as the Victorian Bushfire. So I will take this opportunity to give you a quick Down Under Geography Lesson.

This is Australia:

As you can see, Australia consists of 6 states (Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria, Tasmania, South Australia & Western Australia) and two territories (Northern Territory and Australian Capital Territory, bka A.C.T).

The deadly bushfire everyone is hearing about on the news is located in the state of Victoria. On the map, if you look on the bottom right hand corner of Australia and find the city of Melbourne, the fires are located in the region.

Here is a close-up:

If you once again refer to the complete map of Australia, I am located in Perth which is in the state of Western Australia, which is the entire left half of the country/continent.

Oh, and while we are still on maps, if you are travelling down here and someone asks to see your map of Tasmania, they do not mean this:

They mean this.

OK, WHY NOT?

2009-02-08T18:44:00.002+09:00

Everyone else is doing it.

Your Real Name: Hank Orisit
.
Witness Protection Name:(mother and fathers middle names) Jean Kenneth
.
Secret Spy Name: (your first name spelled backwards) Knah
.
Nascar Name: first name of your mother's dad, father's dad) Luellet James
.
Detective Name:(favorite color, favorite animal) Red Giraffe
.
Soap Opera Name:(middle name, county where you were born) Kent El Paso
.
Super Hero Name: (2nd fav color, fav drink, add "THE" to the beginning) The Black Martini
.
Fly Name:(first 2 letters of 1st name, last 2 letters of your last name) Hait
.
Street Name:(fav ice cream flavor, fav cookie) Cookies 'n Cream Tim Tam
.
Rock Star: (1st pet's name, street you grew up on) Mishka Williams
.
Your Next Child's Name: (name of your fav perfume/cologne, fav candy) Acqua di Gio Butterscotch

UPDATE: FOR TODAY'S LESSON...

2009-02-03T19:50:00.003+09:00

We are going to talk about foxes.

I know nothing of the fox besides what I learned from the bit on Golden Girls when they all sign on to do a live version of Chicken Little for an elementary school. So from that performance, I know that they are sly, eat chickens and wearing riding outfits with cute little boots.

Well, something happened the other day and a fox crossed my path. Myself being into animal symbolism took it as a sign and immediately launched into what it could possibly mean.

In animal symbolism, the fox represents cunning, sneakiness, awareness and intelligence.

One source mentioned that the fox's greatest gift is not its ability to outrun the hounds, but that it can predict when they are hunting.

Furthermore what we can learn from the fox is that by trusting our instincts we are able to anticipate and therefore create the future.

Also if a fox crosses your path it mean an opportunity arises.

So what does this all mean? Fantastic things, but I hold you in suspense for now.

UPDATE: For clarification, I actually saw a real live fox.

THE RURURJURUR

2009-02-01T20:52:00.002+09:00

Did ever tell you that one Friday night when I was left to my own accord, abandondend for the preparations of yet another horse show that I had approximately five martinis and when Stuart finally came home at 11:30pm I sat him down and told him that this family is falling apart and the only way to fix it was to buy a rural property so that we can all at least be on the same peice of land?

Well, it slipped my mind, too. However today we went out to look at approximately 10 million properties and narrowed it down to approximately 11 million.

Wait... What? How did that happen?

Whilst I have my fantasies of living out my Maggie Beer dreams and growing things and turning them into fabulous dinners for 20, I am also exceptionally afraid of being bitten by snakes.

You may breath a sigh of relief that despite Australia's relatively high number of poisonous snakes (and other deadly creatures) the area we live only has two poisonous snake species...

You may now gulp your martinis when I tell that those two species just so happen to also be in the top ten of most lethally poisionous snakes IN THE WORLD.

But who cares about possible death when you can make a fabulous chutney from your very own garden?

BECAUSE WE SHOULD ALWAYS LISTEN TO OUR GRANDMA J

2009-01-28T19:49:00.002+09:00

When Pumpkin Delight stopped over for martinis last week, she asked me about my favourite childhood memory. I didn't have a particularly fabulous childhood for several reasons, and not a single good memory came to mind.

Grandma J in her heroic optimism reminded a very excellent childhood memory I wrote about when I was back on My Big Fat American Journey or The Adventures of THAT Shirt. (Remember that? I am still not done showing you all of the slides either!)

So big hugs to Grandma J for reminding me of summer days, bike rides, candy store grab bags, creepy viaduct tunnels.

Now in the midst of this wholesome feeling I need to make a childhood confession from when I was eleven.

In the middle of the night, I stole money out of my mother's purse.

Once you get over the shock horror of it all, after about a two weeks of thinking of all the candy it could buy, I used the money one Friday night to order pizza so my mom didn't have to cook when she came home from work.

DEAR SHERRY

2009-01-27T13:12:00.001+09:00

Dear Sherry

I respect that we all have differences in beliefs and opinions, and I am all for discussing and celebrating these differences so it is with great respect that I say do not understand why you feel so much anger that I, as your fellow gay American, have been inspired and moved by the election of Barack Obama.

What clearly you failed to read in my words was that I do not feel Obama is a messiah or a saviour… even The Wizard was only a man.

However some men have charisma, vision and persuasive inspiration. Obama is such a man.

Only time will tell what kind of a President Barack Obama will be, however for one Tuesday in January 2009, most of the world inspired by the spirit of hope, joined hands with their neighbour and we all became one.

That feeling was what the world has been so desperate for and even if it was destined to last for only one Tuesday in January 2009, it will forever stand as a reminder that united, we as humankind are capable of greatness.

To me that is inspiring.

Sorry you missed it.

THIS JUST IN...

2009-01-25T18:49:00.000+09:00

Bossy rocks.

That is all.

ANOTHER MARTINI, PUMPKIN?

2009-01-22T21:04:00.005+09:00

Continued....

Pumpkin Delight: If you could have any other job than the one you have now, what would you do? Why?

Hula Hank:

I would produce musicals. That way, I could direct, design and star in them.

But you know when I was 10 I wanted to be a figure skater, when I was 12 I wanted to be an international fashion designer, 13 and advertising executive, at 14 I wanted to live on a commune, when I was 16 I wanted to be a male model and at 18 I wanted to own a cabaret, from then on out there were flashes of being a famous trashy novel writer, torch song singer, event planner, restaurateur, fashion buyer, radio DJ, piano player, interior decorator and TV presenter.

So ask me again next week.

Can I get you another martini?

Oh yeah, that reminds I was hired as Royal Martini Maker for The Queen, which, of course I have dreamt about my entire life.

PD: What is your favourite childhood memory?

HH: Uh oh! We are going into childhood! I better make this a double.

You know as I sit here chatting with you, it is very difficult for me to think of a good childhood memory. Give me a second.

PD: (sips martini)

HH: (gulps martini)

PD: (sips martini)

HH: (gulps martini)

PD: (sips martini)

HH: I got nothing.

PD: OK, well if you were to have any celebrity as a best friend, who would you choose?

HH: Ha! Ha! Ha! Now we are talking! I would have to say Bette Midler. I don't really know why, except that a few weeks ago, I had this dream that I was filling in at work for a friend of mine, who happened to be a CEO of some company. I was trying to get a hold of someone on the phone and I told the secretary to call every 2 minutes until I got a hold of this person, when suddenly a call came through and my secretary said "I have Bette on hold."

Well, I got on the phone and we started talking as if we had known each other for ages, then she appeared in my office and I started to talk to her about when she starred in Gypsy, more specifically that I pretend to be Mama Rose, which I do actually do, and I just couldn't figure out this certain section of choreography during "Rose's Turn".

So she showed me and then my puppy woke me up.

So because she would have some great jokes and teach me choreography it would be Bette Midler.

PD: If world leaders told you they would solve any world problem of your choosing which problem would it be?

HH: A bad martini.

PD: (outrageous laugh, for approximately 5 minutes)

HH: Where do I even begin with the world's problems? There are so many, and I am sure that lots of them are cruel necessities. I want to say something along the lines of anger. If we didn't have anger we wouldn't have hate which means we wouldn't have war or racism or homophobia or ageism or xenophobia or genocide.

So I guess I choose for them to solve hate.

(HH's mobile phone rings (ringtone: "All the Meat and No Potatoes" by Fats Waller))

HH: Oh look! It's Bette!

PUMPKIN DELIGHT WANTS TO KNOW....

2009-01-22T18:53:00.003+09:00

My! This certainly has been the week for interviews, hasn't it? I was thinking that I should just devote my whole blog from here on out to answering questions, what do you think?

So Pumpkin Delight's foreign affairs representative (ie her e-mail) travelled over a very large ocean, a very dry contintent and a very expansive gap in timezones so we could hang out by the pool, drink cocktails and have a good old fashioned chin wag...

My Stenographer is a sucker for a cocktail and stuck around to record everything that was said.

Pumpkin Delight: So tell me how and why did you move to Australia?

Hula Hank: I am in the Witness Protection Program.

PD: (blank stare)

HH: Really what happened was I was in a relationship with an Australian who had lived in the US most of his life, but was feeling the strong desire to move back home.

Eventually he took a position here and because of Australia allowing for immigration of "inter-dependant partners", I tagged along.

I was happily living in Chicago where we met and was devasted to find out that he lived in Milwaukee. I had no idea where the fuck that was, to find out that it was only about one and half hours drive or train ride north of Chicago.

He worked at a high level in a very specialised field which did not allow him to move from Milwaukee, so after a alternating weeks... he came down, I went up... I made the decision to leave Chicago for colder pastures.

Milwaukee is boring frozen tundra wasteland of deep fried cheese curds and bad beer. The highlight of fashion was attending the yearly Holiday Sweater Show, so as you can see, I fit right in. LOL

I become horribly depressed and the thought of escaping the town dominated by thoughts. By the end of my time there, he could have told me that he accepted a job in Timbuktu and I would have packed my bags that night.

At the same time, America had a year under the Bush regime and had began to make a great shift towards uber-christianity, war and divisive politics. It was no longer a country that accepted me or that I felt safe in.

I didn't feel threatened by terrorism, I felt threatended that I was no longer part of a country that included me in its politics and where I was no longer allowed to speak my opinion of the government or continue my birthright of the pursuit of happiness, because my happiness did not fit in nicely with one man's interpretation of Bible.

Of course, when I moved away from America, I was greeted by a world of anti-American hostility and frustration. It was almost as if I was single handedly been responsible for electing Bush and going to war.

Seven years later, it only got worse. Now the world is broke, people are losing their jobs and their homes and it is all America's fault. The difficult part is that I wished I didn't agree with them.

Now Pumpkin, I am going to admit something to you that even Stuart does not know.

When I watched the Inauguration of Barack Obama, I cried.

The next night when I watched the recap of his speech on the 10 o'clock news, and the world's reaction to his election, I cried even more.

After seven years, in one afternoon, the hostility has lifted. My country is no longer the World's embarrasment, it is now the World's hope.

For the first time in a very long time, My country is inspired, and in turn has inspired the world.

Pumpkin, honey, wake up.

More to come...

"IT'S MIDNIGHT, DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR INAUGURATION IS?" OR "THE DAY I INTERVIEWED WITH THE QUEEN"

2009-01-20T22:57:00.005+09:00

This is so ridiculous, here is it 11:00pm and I still waiting for the bloomin' Inauguration.

Why is this so ridiculous? It is not really, except I have an 8:30 am meeting to discuss a 75-page business plan I wrote over the course of the past few weeks. Who does things like that at 8:30 in the morning when the Inauguration is on all night long?

Seriously I am so totally going to quit. It doesn't matter anyway because I am interviewing for a fantastic new position working for The Queen. That's right, THE Queen, as Royal Dog Trainer.

Why did I get offered an interview for this specific position? I don't know... and I am working serious overtime to avoid making any doggy-style jokes here.

In order to be considered further for this, a-hem, position, I had to have an interview with HRH Phrump. I took my stenographer with me so I could have a record of this meeting. I think it went well.

The Queen asks: Hank, the most important question we have for you today is, Can you teach Gracie to Hula?

HH: Your Royal Highness, I am truly humbled in your presence.

The Queen: (blank stare)

HH: Any creature can learn to Hula, the only difficulty will be in finding a coconut bra and grass skirt small enough to fit a dog.

I assume that you already have a Royal Ukulele Player?

The Queen: (blank stare)

HH: (blank stare)

The Queen: When Gracie pees on the Dining Room rug, what will your course of action be?

HH: What rug? What pee? Who's Gracie? Can I make you a Royal martini?

The Queen: (blank stare)

HH: Don't worry, Queenie, I won't use the good stuff you save for company. Do you have any olive brine? I like it dirty!

The Queen: (blank stare)

HH: No? That's OK I carry my own brine for just these emergencies.

The Queen: Because Gracie is...

HH: Just a sec, Honey Q, I can't hear you over the cocktail shaker. OK, that's better. What were you saying now?

The Queen: Because Gracie is not “food motivated” what kinds of rewards will you be using?

HH: Maybe puppy wuppy is motivated by martinis. I know that martini motivate me, and Queenie, I am very motivated! I see you giving me that look... So you disapprove of starting her out on hard liquor. Maybe you are right. Ha! Ha! Of course you are right, you are THE QUEEN!! Can I try on your tiara?

The Queen: What is your philosophy on pet “cobedding?”

HH: Wooooo hooooooo!!!!! Wait... What?

The Queen: Do you actually feel qualified to take on such an enormous responsibility?

HH: Oh honey, I have had much bigger martinis than this one.

The Queen: (blank stare)

HH: Oh look! You have a dog!

I think I have this one in the bag. Fingers crossed.

TODAY THE WHOLE WORLD IS AMERICAN

2009-01-20T22:24:00.003+09:00

I cannot express to you how excited I am about the Inauguration. Well, actually I can. They are showing it "live" here at beginning at 1:25am and I plan on staying up all night to watch it. Exactly 3 hours to go.

3 hours? Oy vey. I could die waiting.

THE JASON SHOW INTERVIEWS

2009-01-12T18:54:00.005+09:00

During a session of martinis (for me ), several days, an entire ocean and breadth of a drought-ridden continent between us, The Jason Show and I (and the rest of the blogosphere) sat down for a probing session of Q & A.

Jason: Are you a gassy fella?

Hula Hank: No, I do not have offensive emissions.

Except for once a day when, for five minutes straight, all of the build-up comes trumpeting out with the force of Old Faithful.

This is usually done when I am in total isolation and is usually followed by the kids choosing that precise moment afterwards to come into the room to give me a hug, only to immediately run out tell everyone in the house what happened.

Jason: Describe the time when you came to the realization that you were gay?

Hula Hank: Probably when I was 10 or 11 and couldn't get the thought of a naked Mr Brady and his three sons out of my head.

In saying that, I don't believe when I was that young I ever thought about it in the clinical terms of "sexual orientation." I only know that those are the fantasies and feelings I had and there was no connotation of it being right or wrong, gay or straight.

It was not until about 13 when the environment around me started to fill with the idea that it was wrong or un-natural.

When I was 13, in the eighth grade I didn't want to go to a school dance with a certain girl and so she told everyone that I was gay.

From that day I was greeted in the hall with "Fag" "Homo" "Cocksucker" The verbal assault I could block out, the physical attacks were more difficult to ignore.

One day I had a total meltdown and after a particular harrowing attack, broke down in tears. I was promptly sent to the Vice Principal's office where I was informed that if people were calling me a Fag, I must have done something to make them do so.

Thus began a feeling of intense isolation. Over the next year I began to realise that I am not the same as everyone else, nor could I truly relate to anyone else around me, or be honest about my crushes, my thoughts, my feelings... My Self really.

By the time I reached high school, the closer the connection between my fantasies and sexuality became until they were joined and the lightbulb flashed over my head and the epiphany arose "Oh! I am gay."

Around 15, life outside of school and I were introduced and began to get better acquainted. There are other people out here like me! And they hang out here and buy their muffins over there and have parades!!

Jason: How long is your...?

Hula Hank: ...Foot? A massive 12.5 inches long.

Jason: What makes you laugh really hard?

Hula Hank: A really witty punchline.

For instance, the line from Absolutely Fabulous: "The whole world is one big global shopping mall and you are the last one to still think there is an exit."

or from a Mae West film "Ten men at the door? Send one of them home, I'm tired."

Oh, and the time when my sister and I, both grown adults, fly out to Montana for my dad's wedding and during the rehearsal, I had a disagreement with their preacher about lowering my head to a lit candle. Their preacher explained that this action acknowledged god's presence and I explained that I was not going to do that since I did not believe that god was present.

Needless to say the preacher threw me out of the church. My sister followed me out and we went on a walk. Fifteen minutes later we saw my dad's car driving up the street, so we turn and run and hide behind a tree so he wouldn't see us.

My sister and I both started to hysterically laugh at the naughtiness of it all and then at the ridiculousness of running away from your dad when you are an adult.

Jason: What makes you cry?

Hula Hank: Suddenly realising that the story I just told you is not really that funny after all.

When I tell you the first time my dad had spoken to either my sister or my self in over 4 years was when he rang to tell us he was getting married again. How my sister and I were the only two siblings to fly across the country in the hope that our dad would love us again and how when that didn't happen we ran away from him and hid. And how when we laughed we really wanted to cry.

Jason: Now for a bonus question.

Hula Hank: Oh like a box of Cracker Jacks.

Jason: What do you like/dislike about where you live?

Hula Hank: I must admit that after seven years of being in Australia, I love it less than when I first arrived. However, after growing up in constant blizzards, I like the year-round hot weather, I also like the landscape and uniqueness of the animals. I like that the bush is so rugged and primitive, that you can still get rained in, vanish, get eaten, or poisoned on your way to work.

Although most Australians would never admit to this, they live in small circles and are not welcoming to newcomers in those circles. Which, when you are a newcomer can be exceptionally tough and lonely. I also dislike the lack of culture and musical theatre. But what I dislike the most is the fact that they put butter on every sandwich, whether it adds to the flavour or not.

BLOGGING MARTINI-SIDE

2009-01-09T21:02:00.004+09:00

It is Friday night down here on the wrong side of the world. No one is home. Stuart is out getting Courtney set up for her first dressage show outside of the pony club circuit. Oh because did I mention that she got a new horse for Christmas?

Whilst they are down at the stables dying horses and painting hooves and braiding manes, Blane is out with his Grandpa at the bicycle races. Oh because did I mention he got a new skateboard for Christmas?

Soooooo, that leaves me home alone left to my own devices...

I debated watching Little House on the Prairie on the big screen, going for a swim in the pool or practicing my poached egg technique, but martinis and dancing around to club remixes of my favourite musicals won out.

This decision was made after watching a few bits of Nigella Lawson on YouTube.

Let me tell you about Nigella Lawson, she is English and she has a cooking show. I am sure that she is on the Food Network, so you may have heard of or seen her shows.

I have never been interested in Nigella because of the cookbooks she publishes. You know, one of those recipes books entitled How to Be A Domestic Goddess and have three pages of ingredients per recipe, all of which one would never be able to find without traveling to Italy and picking your own mushrooms and then popping over to Greece to prepare feta from Mrs. Dimitriadios's goat farm located on the highest cliff which can only be accessed by a 7 hour donkey ride.

OK, so I have never actually read one of her cookbooks, or even seen one of her shows before today but that is what I imagined them to be like.

The ladies at work are all jealous of her and my girls tell me that she cooks with her boobs hanging out and licking her finger like she was performing a bedroom act and how all of their husbands lust after her.

After hearing that I totally had to check it out!

So she is not is not as much of a culinary whore as all the women I know make her out to be. Alright so she cooks in black silk pajamas with full hair and make-up in a dimly lit kitchen.

But she is "woman" sexy, the kind of sexiness that women hate about other women. I reckon that my work mates are just jealous because deep down their husbands all wish their wives were like Nigella.

I don't blame them. After seeing the show, I want to be married to her too!

She pops out of bed in the middle of the night, looking drop dead gorgeous and in a relaxed and casual manner pulls a few ingredients out of her pantry and whips up Caramel Croissant Pudding, or Doughnut French Toast...

Nigella, please marry me now.

http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=AXaovJPSS5E

DEAR ____ PART TWO

2009-01-04T12:37:00.003+09:00

Now we move on to the post about the Little Man with a string hanging between his legs.

DEAR JASON,

Slut.

DEAR JLO,

In the past, the smallest things always brought a tear to my eye too.

PS - Your ass doesn't have a crack already?

DEAR MOM#1,

I am incredibly sentimental but I try not to let anybody know.

When I posted those sideways pictures, I had a little too much Holiday Cheer (aka champagne)and could not fathom going into Photoshop to crop and rotate...er, what I meant to say was, Yes, you were way too drunk! Those photos appear perfectly normal on my screen...

DEAR GEOFF,

Thank you for stopping by, it is great to see you. You know, I also lived in Idaho... I lasted 6 weeks.

DEAR GRANDMA J,

The beautiful Grandma J, I am both blind and a comedian, however I only speak the truth!

Jean died of (in case you have not already Googled it) a lung infection transferred from certain birds through bacteria in droppings or feather dust. Most people can be treated with a round of anti-biotics, however my neighbour was in her 80s and already suffering with other lung related illnesses.

So have you heard from Eddie since the grocery store? I mean after all, you number is in his phone!!!

DEAR _____ PART ONE

2009-01-02T16:01:00.003+09:00

Over the Christmas break, a few more posts than normal appeared on my blog. Therefore I have quite a few comments to respond to so, I will have to break this week's DEAR ____ into several parts.

First, I had no idea that the whole family photo Christmas card this would elicit such an out pour of emotions from you all! So I will start there.

DEAR GRANDMA J,

You know, I always forget to send holiday cards myself. So technically, I suppose, I shouldn't really be complaining about these photo cards because it is a lot more than I send out.

I think that your response to the drinks party was the perfect option! If I drink straight out of the bottle, then there are no glasses to clean.

DEAR MOM#1,

It is tomorrow down here, therefore I can tell you two things with absolute certainty. 1. The world has not ended and 2. The sun will come out.

I can probably be quite certain that my after my friends who send me those cards read my post, I won't be receiving those photo cards anymore... nor any other form of correspondence.

But I am in total agreement, to those people who will have forgiven me by next December, a generic "Happy Holidays! Love XXXXXX" handwritten on the back would be a loving touch.

DEAR MS DELIGHT,

Thank you! I impressed myself with that ability to list all my BFFs in one post!

I feel the same way when I open those photo-cards. The photos are always cute, but there is a severe disappointment in the lack of a handwritten note. It is even more depressing when you have known some of these people for at least 20 years or more.

Whatever happened to the good old fashioned family Holiday Newsletter? Even though it still lacked that personal touch, at least it gave you some great gossip!

I would so love for you to by next door neighbour and have you over to drink Long Islands Iced Teas... and I would not make you wash your own glass!

But you shouldn't be drinking alcohol in your current state. ;)

DEAR NIKKI,

So did you get all Christmassy? Or at least maybe all Chanukahmassy?

DEAR JLO,

I suppose since you have a fur bag I can forgive the fact that you are a shameful culprit in sending out holiday photo cards without a note!!

Also, it would kind of be fun to have you over as well to drink Long Island Iced Teas and sing Christmas songs. Except because of the whole sending out photo-cards without a note, you will have to wash your own glass!!

Love Hula Hank XX

POOLSIDE MUSINGS

2009-01-02T15:35:00.003+09:00

Today, I am blogging to you poolside. The weather down here has been hot (around 100 + degrees) and sunny. Although there is a slight breeze, the air is otherwise still. The birds are taking an afternoon nap, the neighbours have all taken respite indoors and the only sound on the street is the distant chime of the ice cream truck.

Yesterday we went across the street to the one of the four gay and/or lesbian couples on the street for drinks. I started out with champagne and helped finish off 4 bottles of varying white wines. Needless to say a massive headache started immediately.

I mentioned earlier about the four gay and/or lesbian couples on the street. This may not seem unusual to some of you and if we lived in a different neighbourhood, it would not be so unusual for us either.

You see, when Stuart and I met I lived in a very artistic, free and easy port city of Fremantle and Stuart lived out here in the far outer suburbs. When it came time for us to buy a house together, we started had to stay in the same area Stuart lived so the kids didn't have to change schools.

It took a lot of adjustment for me to move to the outer suburbs, with the manicured lawns and lack of shopping and coffee shops. However we found a house that soothed all of my needs for outside life.

So in the outer suburbs there is an extreme lack of gay folks, which was another adjustment for me. Australia, as a whole is not a homophobic country and the city where we live is the second most gay-friendly city in Australia (only behind Sydney). However there is a lack of visibility and sociability which at times can feel quite isolating.

We move to this new house on a quiet cul-de-sac and within a week, met the two gay guys across the street, the lesbian couple two houses down and the other gay couple on the corner. We all moved to the street within six months of each other.

On top of this, they have just built a new coffee shop around the corner and an Italian food store where I can buy mangoes and tomatoes in bulk.

For Christmas Courtney (the daughter) gave me a cookbook by Maggie Beer. Maggie Beer is somewhat similar to an Australian Martha Stewart minus the pretentious handicraft.

She has a farm where she grown fruits, vegetables, grapes (for verjuice) and pheasants. She spends her whole life growing things and cooking "rustic" foods from her and neighbouring farms and bakeries.

I have been reading the stories in this cookbook and it has re-kindled my dream of having a farm to grow fruit and vegetables and making foods directly from the garden. I want chickens for the fresh eggs, and to raise a few cows to get the perfect cuts of beef.

Stuart tells me that my currently lifestyle of waking up at 11 and watching Golden Girls all day then taking an afternoon nap does not fit into this dream.

Maybe he is right, but the last I checked dreams only happen when asleep.

IT STILL COUNTS RIGHT?

2008-12-30T14:51:00.000+09:00

Today I had a schedule jam packed with meetings, lectures and presentations. The prospects of eating lunch was not looking good, so I decided to pop into the only bakery in town that actually sells bagels.

I never eat breakfast.

Although I love breakfast foods, I cannot abide eating said foodstuff before 11:00am, but today, a nice morning bagel and cream cheese would keep my energy up and soothe the afternoon hunger pangs.

I walked into the bakery, drooled over the bagels, went to pay and oops!! I left my debit card, credit card and cash at home (45 minutes away).

I race out to the car and check every possible nook and cranny for lost change. I managed to scrounge up $2.50… Still two dollars short of a pack of bagels.

No time to beg passers-by, I had to rush off to my first meeting of the day, where the woman set out fruit mince pies and shortbread biscuits between us on the table. I was doing most of the talking in this meeting which means there was not even a slight chance to stuff my mouth with the leftover Christmas baking that was sitting before me.

Sometime around 1:30 in the afternoon I finally had ten minutes at my desk, where I found an old bag of Jelly Bellies. At this point I was feeling like a starving subway rat that spotted a fallen french fry.

My eyes turned beady and bright red, I glared and anyone who dared to walk past.

I checked the key to see what two flavours were left. What luck! Strawberry jam and peanut butter! So I combined equal parts of both types and ate them. My secret hope was that the flavour combination would trick my stomach into believing there was a sandwich on its was down.

I think it worked, now only if Jelly Belly made the flavours Escargot and Garlic Butter… I'm in the mood for French tonight..

THE CHRISTMAS SPLITS

2008-12-25T10:40:00.003+09:00

A couple days ago, over on Grandma J the beautiful Grandma J showed off her favourite christmas decorations, then asked if we had any that had to put up every year.

I have a few special ornaments and decorations that go up every year, but the most special one to me is a little man that hangs on a door knob.

When you pull the string that is hanging from in between his legs, he does the Christmas splits.

I once, regretfully, lived in Milwaukee for a year and a half. While my time there was wrought with freezing cold weather and depression, I was fortunate enough to live a beautiful apartment building on the lake.

I could write a book about the people and happenings in this building. The 70% of the residents were retirees who sold their houses in the suburbs to live in the city. Noboby went to the mailboxes unless they impeccably dressed and in full hair and make-up.

Down the hall lived a wonderful elderly couple, John and Jean, whom I struck up a good friendship. Every Christmas she put this little man on her door knob. Once at a holiday cocktail party I was telling Jean how wonderful the little man is. The next morning as I was heading out the door for work, the little man was has hanging on my door knob.

Jean loved birdwatching and her son gave her a caged bird, which then caused her to develop Psittacosis. A few weeks after I was given the little man, Jean died.

Every year I when I see little man I think of Jean and wish her a Merry Christmas.

OH YEAH! - UPDATE

2008-12-24T15:38:00.003+09:00

I bought a 23 pound turkey for 2 adults and 2 kids. I am pretty sure that this means that, on average, we will be eating 4,000 pounds per person for Christmas dinner. What I really want to know is what this the average temperature and time per pound that one needs to cook a turkey???

UPDATE - Thank you Pumpkin!! You know it hadn't occurred to me to check the package... Go figure. I should point out that I have not made a turkey in ages (I think since leaving the US) as you have to special order them here and only at Christmas time. Are you guys sitting down?

This turkey, because of the turkey rareity down this way, a 23 pound (10.5 kg) turkey cost me a whopping $185. So you can see I am under added pressure, and please don't tell Stuart how much it cost. I told him it was only like $20 or $30.

Frangelico and Pineapple

2008-12-24T15:23:00.001+09:00

I am getting a lot of searches to my blog for "Frangelico and Pineapple". I once made a pineapple panna cotta and drank Frangelico.

Let me give those searching a word of advice:

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Christmas Cards

2008-12-24T14:45:00.002+09:00

OK, so it is Christmas Eve here already. I realise that the only post I have done about Christmas was complaining about work holiday parties... this one is not any different, except I have one other observation I want to talk about.

I am "working from home" today. Which means I am slaving over my computer doing work, but also drink a very large pitcher of long island iced tea and making cookies. I will let you decide whether (weather, wether... what? Is that correct? whether?) that is worth still being paid without counting towards an annual leave day.

Anyhow, yesterday I was invited to yet another work cocktail function for those of us who are "working" on christmas eve. I kid you not, the e-mail read as such:

"The drinks will take place from 2:30 until approx. 3:15 {what? 45 minutes for drinks?} As a special christmas request, please wash and dry your own glass."

Again, needless to say, I will not be attending that one. Not because I am unwilling to help out, but it is the point that it is shameful to put that on an invitation. Should I bring my own glass too?

OK, my second observation. I have been recieving quite a few christmas cards from my friends who still live in America.

However the Christmas "card" is just a photo of their kids with some printed inscription like "Happy Holidays".

I live in Australia, most of my friends and family still live in the US, so when I get something like this from them, I get excited!

Yet when I flip over the "cards" there is nothing but "Kodak" printed on the back. No letter, or quick hello.

So if I can make a suggestion to all of you who send out these cards, please please please write something... anything... on them! Child's ages, or a "Hello" maybe???

I love seeing photos and I love every last one of my friends, but I feel cheated, and I can guarantee you, that if I feel that way, 85% of the people who you send these too feel that way.

Now that that is out of the way, I love Christmas. I don't celebrate the religious aspects of it... I am personally an atheist who wishes he was Jewish. However I am a homo and this is the time of year where it is acceptable to throw around glitter, re-decorate and play fabulous music!!!!!

I want to make a special shout-out to Pumpkin Delight (I am too drunk to link right now), I hope you are having a fantastic time in Hawaii, and I really hope that you get a good lai. ;)

I love you all and wish that I could teleport and give everyone a big hug or fur purse (Hello, JLo!) and see your stained glass plates (Big smooches Grandma J!) and have naked picnics (Hugs Mr Show & Giancarlo and Live. Love. Eat.) and pretend to be a prima ballerina doing the Snow Pas from Nutcracker (Kisses Mom#1) and split a pitcher of holiday spirit (aka long island iced tea) with Bossy, Someone in a Tree, ktk, Nikki, Bloom, Sabrina T, Mush and learn all about opera (Big Texas love to SarahB).

I think I may have successfully talked the kids in celebrating Channukamas or Christmaskah next year.

Cheers, big ears!!!

DEAR ________

2008-12-20T18:46:00.003+09:00

Dear Mr Show,

Is your second grade show complete with a music teacher wearing a bad holiday sweater who sings the loudest using an opera style whilst banging away at the piano and conducting the kids at the same time?

I'll bring the champagne.

Dear Sabrina T,

Any special holiday spirit recipes you can share? Or is just drank straight from the bottle?

Actually a martini does sound nice right about now! My lower back is killing me and I think it will do the trick!

PS - How was The Night Before Christmas??

Dear Mush,

I learnt evil from the best. ;) XXX

Dear Nikki,

I feel like it has been ages since I saw you last! Toby is awesome so far, except for a little annoying habit of waking me up on the dot at 5:15am every morning!

Dear ktk (aka anonymous),

I hope that there is some serious cute footage to come. He is so awesome I love to just look at him and think of how devastating gorgeous he is.

Then after I move away from the mirror...

Dear Grandma J,

The kids here go to school based on the yearly calendar. So They start in early February and finish in mid December. They get nothing like the super long summer vacations that we got!

Thanks for the info on the rawhides. That is horrible! I don't normally get them because they unroll and then you get slimey sheets of rawhide laying everywhere... which, you know, is sooo much worse than slimey bits of a gigantic brown pig's ear.

One of the funniest stories happened about a week after Toby came home. Stuart and I were in the spa and Toby could not stand to be at any distance from he, so he jumped right in and fell asleep on my chest.

Dear Mom #1

I am so happy to read that everything is alright with Baby Boy! Now you can really celebrate these holidays.

You would have to waiting to read my essay on why I hate Mary Ingalls! That one is taking the me the longest to write because I have to go back and watch all nine seasons of the show to get every last point as to why she drives me insane (but not as insane as Carrie Ingalls).

How was The Nutcracker?

Dear Pumpkin Delight,

Bad boys do it for you, eh? LOL

My mafia names (yes, I have four accounts to get the maximum addiction load) are highly unsexy. They are 1. Sophia Petrillo, 2. Dorothy Szbornak, 3. Tony Pianostrings and 4. Hot Lips Zucchini.

Not quite what you were hoping for?

Oh by the way, I have put your Sweet Potato and Apple recipe up on the site. I just haven't put up the site yet! Many thanks for letting me use it!

FW: WHAT? IT'S NOT BLOODY FRIDAY YET?

2008-12-18T16:01:00.002+09:00

This has been the absolute longest week in history... ever...

It has been non stop holiday lunches and brunches. I have received 3 invites from my work alone. One was for a company-wide picnic in the botanical park. I didn't go. Picnics are not moments meant to be shared with co-workers whom you do not even wish to socialise at work. Picnics are for getting drunk and laying naked in the grass.

The other two work invites for a dinner and brunch, respectively. They both started out right, but ended with the same sentence:

"ALL STAFF WHO ATTEND MUST ASSIST IN CLEANING UP AFTERWORDS."

I won't be RSVP'ing to either of those.

How many Secret Santa's can one do in a year before you realise a total of $300 has been spent buying presents for people whose names you pulled out of hat?

I was totally in the holiday spirit on Monday. I pranced around placing fabulous sparkling baubles on plants, lamps and puppies while singing "We Need a Little Christmas" from Mame. Now it is Thursday and the only holiday spirit I want is vodka with three green and red olives.

POSITIVELY PERFECT POST IN EVERY WAY

2008-12-16T06:18:00.004+09:00

Yesterday for the first time, I tried to e-mail a blog post about Zimbabwe.

Because it was my first time, I was particularly excited and curious about the results. As you can see from yesterday's post, I had nothing to worry about!

The font and text colour came out perfect. FAIL!

The sizing was consistant and neither to large or too small. FAIL!

All of the pictures appeared without a hitch. FAIL!

FW: Daily inspiration.... "The power of poor leadership"

2008-12-15T11:03:00.003+09:00

From an e-mail sent around the office this morning:

Today's daily inspiration is larger than usual but I felt it was an interesting look at how leadership can add value to or devalue the worth of their currency and thus the lives of the people.

We think that the current economic crisis is having a large impact on us all but the poor citizens of Zimbabwe have been coping with their own one since the collapse of the agriculture sector in 2000 when the inflation skyrocketed to 231 million percent a year! Just think about it – 231, 000, 000%. Unemployment went up to 80% and a third of country's population departed it.

Lets now have a look at the photos that you probably won't see anywhere else in the world.

Here is a boy getting change in 200 000 dollar notes!

One 200 000 dollar note equals less than 10 cents.

A new note of 500 000 dollars introduced to the market!

Next - 750 000 dollars.
Another new note of 10 million dollars.

This US $10 dollar note is worth 10 times more than the 10 million dollar Zimbabwe note.

Happy but hungry

A case worth 65 billion Zimbabwe dollars to pay for a meal.
This guy is going to a supermarket. The exchange rate was then 25 million Zimbabwe dollars for 1 US dollar.
This mountain of cash is worth $100.
50 Million note is then introduced!
Next is 250 million dollars note!
Sorry, how much is this t-shirt?
- It`s cheap, only about 2.76 billion dollars! Note the price is in 'millions' or 'billions'
Gee….hope it survives the wash.

May - a note of 500 million dollars is introduced!
June - note worth 25 and 50 billion are printed.
And finally - 100 billion dollars note!
What can you buy for it? Well, these 3 eggs for example.
This is how people go to restaurants!
And the bills:

In August, the government devalued Zimbabwe dollar by removing 10 zeros from notes.

However, inflation kept going up and in September for this amount of cash you could only buy 4 tomatoes.
And for this - some bread.
And then it started again: 20 000 dollars note in September. Remember, this is after removing 10 zeros!

50 000 a couple of weeks ago!

When will it end?
And equally importantly, How will it end?
 

Find your ideal job with SEEK Time for change?

AND FINALLY PRESENTING... THE PUPPY!

2008-12-14T18:24:00.003+09:00

I have been teasing you for weeks with threats of photos of my new puppy.

Well finally I have some decent pics and would like to introduce you to Toby.

Toby is a pug x shih tzu, however he looks and acts just like a pug. The one great benefit from the shih tzu is that he has hair and not fur, which means no shedding! Hurray!

Toby was a bit older than the typical puppy one brings home. He was 4 months old when we got him, and the price had been reduced. Nobody wanted him and that broke my heart. I could not figure out who would not love his cuteness and sweet face.

It took me several days to work out a name for him. The kids kept hassling me every 20 minutes and asking if I decided on a name yet. I mean geez, when humans get pregnant they have 9 months to think of that perfect name, can't I at least have 24 hours?

After a long list, I finally settled on "Toby" after the boy character in Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Mainly because in Sweeney Todd, Toby's big number is Not While I'm Around, and I felt that was the perfect song for a dog to sing, if a dog could sing.

Here are some more photos for your amusement. Note that in the first photo he is not only chewing on a rawhide but also a squeaky toy.

INTERPRETIVE WHAT??

2008-12-12T17:46:00.005+09:00

So last night was Blane's middle school awards and the Year 9's graduation into high school (Blane is only Year 7) night. I cannot convey to you how thrilling this is for Stuart and I to attend.

After 3 and half hours of awards, certificates, speeches, announcements and farewells, the entire middle school gave us a year end Christmas recital finale. I cannot convey to you how thrilling this finale was.

It started out with three Hip Hop Travellers on their way to Africa.

The Three Hip Hop Travellers wore white hoodies and white masks and they apparently do not travel the world by plane, boat or train, they get places by krumping or break dancing or having epileptic fits... I wasn't sure.

So they finally arrive in Africa and we are treated with an African Christmas carol and some very uninspired dancing by two students who are from Africa... and now we know why they left.

The Hip Hop Travellers then convulsed their way to the Bahamas, where the official Christmas carol is Jingle Bells with a metal drum banging in the background.

The HHTs are off again to Indonesia, this time they can get half way around the world by simply striking a pose. We are serenaded with a traditional Indonesian carol, Silent Night.

Yes, but wait! There was a long musical interlude during Silent Night, where the school's blind girl played the flute while the Year 9 girls did an interpretive dance... which was something like tai chi with a little Hawaiian hula thrown in.

I know what you are thinking. I am a horrible human being for making fun of a bunch of 12 year olds. You are right, but I may also remind you that you did not have to sit through the entire 30 minute finale.

I might also remind you of the logistical gaps present in this recital. First being, was that really a very efficient trip around the world? North Pole to Africa to The Bahamas to Indonesia? What were the Three Hip Hop Travellers searching for? Every good christmas recital needs to have someone searching for something, and then finding it on christmas morning, where they learn that the holidays are not about hype, they are about getting things.

The costuming was lousy. Obviously low budget.

This production has a long way to go before reaching Off-Off-Broadway.

TUESDAYS WITH TONY

2008-12-09T19:03:00.002+09:00

OK, so technically this is a performance at the Tony Awards, but it is not of a Tony nominated musical.

I vividly remember this opening and have been dying to see it ever since! Thank goodness for YouTube!

The above clip is from a Tony Awards opening and features Megan Mullaly doing a very abridged and very funny song from How To Succeed in Business...

You may know Megan Mullaly as Karen on Will & Grace.

On the lam..

2008-12-06T18:10:00.003+09:00

Well, I have not posted anything this week. Pathetic, I know.

I figured that everyone deserved a break from the World's Longest Slide Show, because believe me, there is a lot more to go! I have also been really swamped at work as I trying to prepare a whole new budget as the government has decided to cut it's funding to my department in half.

OK, I must admit to you now, that while those above reasons are true, the real reason I have not posted is because I am addicted to recently discovered application on Facebook called Mafia Wars.

In all of my spare time I have been robbing drug dealers, holding bank heists and buying Italian restaurants to pay for my new bullet-proof Escalade.

I do have some interesting posts coming up including the return of Tuesdays with Tony, Fabulous Friday, four new additions to my family and some essays I have been working on ("Why I Hate Mary Ingalls" & "Neuroplasticity and Quantum Mechanics: More Than Just Big Words").

I must close here because I need to go burgle an art museum.

Dear ______ ,

2008-11-30T10:25:00.003+09:00

Dear Pumpkin Delight,

Thank you so much for sending on the recipe for spoon bread, and for re-posting your tortilla soup recipe. The tortilla soup was a smash hit! Blane ate three bowls for dinner and wants it again today for lunch.

Teenage debauchery was so much fun, I have to admit. I think that the best part of being a teenager is going through life without knowing the implications of what you are doing. The blissful ignorance. The braissen outspokenness. The bold gestures. The fearless chance taking.

To be honest, I always hated drinking in that park. It just felt so undignified. Even at 15 I much rather preferred a martini in a skyline apartment with Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background.

Did you ever see the movie Sweet Charity with Shirley Maclaine? Remember when she met the Italian movie star and he took her to that restaurant/nightclub and everyone was wearing black and walking around in typical Bob Fosse fashion? That was have been my dream teenage house party.

By the way, you were right. The jack-o-lantern that I carved was the starry eyed one. How did you know?

Dear Mom#1,

Wow! Can I have what you are on?

I am glad you seem to be feeling better, or at least distanced from the pain! Have you had your surgery yet?

Dear JLo,

Lurk away, gorgeous!

The fall trees were always my favourite thing about growing up in a climate with four distinct seasons. The beauty of it was the one thing I never took for granted.

OK so I am perfectly happy living without having to rake up those leaves every week, but after you are done, and the leaves are in a big pile, you jump in them and throw them around and it makes it all worth it.

Dear Jason

I suppose the viaduct is a bit creepy. I mean technically it would have been the perfect respite for kidnappers, hobos, murderers, child molesters and possibly aliens, but whenever I looked at it all I could see was the history and immense man power and engineering it would have taken to construct something like that over 150 years ago.

Old buildings have always managed to put me in a trance like state. For some reason I feel connected to them. My imagination starts to run wild and I try to experience what the building would have looked like new, who owned it, how it was used and what clothes were they wearing.

PS I guess you have to give snaps to Kim! She called you out, Grandpa!!

Whilst we are on the topic of gorgeous grandparents,

Dear Grandma J,

It is great to see that you have been thoroughly enjoy your Thanksgiving season, and it seems to me that you have a lot for which to be thankful.

Of course I noticed your eyelashes. Do you remember how I said that you remind me of my favourite aunt? Well she always had long eyelashes too. It is spooky the similarities.

In certain parts, that river was deeper than it appears in the photos. Enough to go rafting, but not canoeing. I must first point out that my brother and I never got very far because the blow-up raft we used had a slow leak and we spent most of our Great Adventure floating around half underwater.

Come to think of it, rafting was a pretty stupid idea, we would have had better luck using the old water bed mattress.

Dear Everyone in the World Right Now,

I hope everyone had a pleasant Thanksgiving weekend. We don't celebrate it down here, but every odd year I will throw a big Thanksgiving dinner party to keep the tradition alive for me. This was an even year.

If you celebrate, is it your tradition to put up your Christmas tree and decorations the day or weekend after Thanksgiving? Have you done so? I want pictures!!!!

love, Hula Hank x