SO THAT'S WHY THE COFFEE TASTED SO GOOD

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.

GOLFING ENTENDRES (DEDICATED TO JLO)

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."

HULA HANK CONFESSES

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?

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.

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

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?

POOLSIDE MUSINGS

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?

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..

POSITIVELY PERFECT POST IN EVERY WAY

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!

INTERPRETIVE WHAT??

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.

MY DAY IN PHOTOS

I'm lovin' this craze on people's blogs to snap photos of the things people do throughout their day. I thought I would spread the love and share my day with you via pictures.

First I wake up, late as usual. I ripped off the covers and raced straight into the shower, got dressed and ran out the door. Sorry, no photos of any of the above events.

Of course, as I told you I was running late (as per normal) and I had an early meeting, so I pushed the speed limits, wove through cars and was making good time.

Until this:

And this:

This particular stretch of street is an official swan crossing. You must stop and wait. It is illegal to kill the swans, even if they step out in front of your car. I must admit that the thought of strangeling them did briefly cross my mind as all of these swans decided that they were going to take a break and stop right in front of me... for at least an hour.

When I arrived at the meeting, and went to park, all of the cars around me were blue. Do you tend to park next to a car that is the same colour and or make as yours?

The meeting went well, I think that they are interested, only time will tell. Who cares because now I need to race down to Fremantle to have lunch with a journalist.

This particular journalist has also over time became a close friend of mine. We have worked together to create many many articles and have shared many many laughs over many many lunches. I am not sure if it was the bottle of champagne or the beautiful sunny day, but this lunch was especially memorable.

First of all, the waitress/hostess was a tall German woman who wore a tiger print dress with Nike shoes. Then opposite us was a sweet old dear sat with both her stockings and her slip showing.

I should have bought her a cup of tea.

Oh yes! At the next table, two daughters had brought their mother to lunch for her 76th birthday celebration. The two daughters seemed genuinely pleased with themselves, they even bought her a lovely corsage. The mother sat the whole time leaning her head against her hand staring longingly out of the window.

The only time she came to life and smiled was when her grand daughter popped in to wish her.

Back to the office (PS - It was me who broke the cappucino machine) and finally on my way home. Sometimes I see the same cars at the same time and the same places, I have only seen this one once before, and I am still not sure whether to think it is cute or creepy.

I think it would be cute if there was a matching pink car called Miss Piggy. That would be adorable!!!

Now I am home, lounging on the couch and writing this blog. See?

What was your day like?

FABULOUS FRIDAY

Driving past an elementary school this week, I saw this sign out front:

I wonder what they learn about on Thursdays?

The What? Bear

Pure gold. I wonder when they are going to come out with a whole range of animals other than bears.

Unusual Keywords

Every now and then, I like to go into my blog’s stats tracker and see what people are typing into their search engine when they find this site.

Sometimes the searches make sense (“life should be a musical”) and others are very out of the ordinary (“black woman pancake film”). I sometimes wonder what the people who have searched for “black woman pancake film” were hoping to find and if anything on this site helped these gentle readers (yes, readers with an ‘S’! More than one person has done the aforementioned search) with the answer they sought.

I am also puzzled as to why anyone would want to see a pancake film. What is a pancake film?

In addition to “black woman pancake film”, I get several other regular search engine keywords that have brought people to this site.

“GAY RAILROAD WORKERS” – This has to be one of the most popular searches, as it never fails to get a mention at least every 2 or 3 days. Is there a fascination with railroad workers being gay? Is this some sort of fantasy? If you were brought to this site after searching for “gay railroad workers” please leave me a message and let me know what it is you seek!!!

The second most popular search?

“ANGELA LANSBURY’S BICYCLE” – What the…? I did once mention Angela Lansbury riding a bicycle in the opening credits of Murder, She Wrote… but how is it that many people are sitting there one day and make the decision to look up information on Angela Lansbury’s bicycle???

Again, if you have come to this blog after doing a search for “angela lansbury’s bicycle” I beg of you to leave a message and let me know what it is that you specifically want to know about Ms Lansbury’s bicycle.

I am dying of curiosity.

Overheard

Part of my job role entails me attending various trade shows to promote my company's product. Often times at these trade shows, a large number of stands are filled by products who have absolutely nothing to do with the trade-at-large.

These products are usually domestic items to make a housewife's life easier. The sales people for these domestic goddess items are usually spunky older women with short haircuts and sensible shoes, and will say anything, no matter how ridiculous or dated to sell their product.

The following sales lines were heard at the past trade show:

For a special plate that instantly brings metal to a brilliant shine:

"Imagine how much time you will save polishing all your silver. Ladies, what are you going to do on your Sundays now?"


Regarding food containers that vacuum seal food:

"You can take it right from the freezer to the microwave. and that is the best thing ever!"

I should also note that with these product, you can keep cheese fresh for 60 days. I haven't decided if that was good or bad point.



For bidet (and this is the best one yet):

"The great thing about a bidet is that it also cleans and you don't need to worrying about bits of toilet paper stuck to your pussy."

There Is Only One Conclusion...

Last week, as I was walking through a carpark, my eyes were attracted to shiny silver coins laying on the ground. Of course, I wanted to lunge down to scoop them up and shove them in my pocket before anyone noticed, but I stopped myself. I thought, "It is only about 45 cents, and you don't know where those coins have been."

As I stood staring at the coins out of the corner of my eye, I noticed there were other objects in the pile of coins. A well used eye shadow brush and a bunch of pink sequins... in the middle of an office car park.

There is only one logical explanation... someone mugged a drag queen.

I Can't Believe It's Butter

I hate Australian sandwiches.

This is the general construction of sandwich in Australia:

Layer 1: slice of bread.

Layer 2: butter.

Layer 3: One slice of meat.

Layer 4: Lots and lots of "salad".

Layer 5: more butter.

Layer 6: slice of bread.

My first issue with the good ol' Aussie 'sambo' is this:

One slice of meat?!? Who is one peice of meat sandwhich supposed to satisfy? How stingy can one get?

The second and more confrusting is the sandwich is constructed on slices fo buttered bread.... butter on a sandwich... Can you imagine anything less necessary?

The Australians, and one can only assume the British, have an odd habit of smearing butter all over a sandwich. Order a Ham Sandwhich and there is butter on it. Order an egg salad sandwhich and there is butter on it.

When I left my previous place of employment, I was thrown a "leaving-the-company-for-a-better-job-so-let's-all-pretend-we-got-along-and-will-miss-each-other" party. To honour my american heritage, someone made Peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, with grape jelly.

Now the grape jelly may not seem like a big deal to anyone who is living in the US, but it is next to impossible to find grape jelly in Australia. Why? Beats me. I suppose they use all of the good grapes to make wine, and all the reject grapes to make sub-standard wine for export to America.

So needless to say, I was deeply touched that someone had taken all of this thougt and effort to make Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwiches with Grape Jelly for my LTCFABJSLAPWGAAWMEO party. So I energetically bit into the sandwich only to discover a layer of butter between the bread and grape jelly AND a layer of butter underneath the blooming peanut butter!

WHY?????

Believe me when I tell you that butter does not add any flavour to the sandwich! You do not even know it is there until all of your sandwich innards slip out from between the bun!
Putting butter on your sandwich is only wasted calories and fat for little return.

Why not use lard? That would give my ass the same amount of jiggle as butter AND contribute to the taste of the sandwich!

While I am on the subject, how do you even spell 'sandwich'?

wait... what?

I am not big fan of a certain "musician" Nelly Furtado. But that latest song she has out is catchy.

It is almost like Kylie Minogue reject song. This morning on the way to work I actually listened to the lyrics:

"Dogs were whistling a new tune
Barking at the new moonH
oping it would come soon so that they could
Die"

WHAT?? What the hell does that mean?