Here’s the hits, dooods:

1.  I think I may have shared with you how much I like short term gain.  Especially for very little investment.  And that is why I love House Rules.  No weeks and weeks of waiting to see the “reveal” on this baby.  It’s all over in a week.  House Rules does come with one drawback though:  THE BITCH.  There is always a bitch isn’t there?  And this one is a doozy (yes, I just typed doozy and autocorrect allowed it, even thought it won’t allow fuckstick.. Go figure.)  Anyway, I hate this bitch character with all the beige hatred I can muster at 8pm of an evening when I am safety ensconced on my couch in my comfortable home.  I direct much invective in her direction.  I may have called her a “slut” a little earlier this evening.  I know not why.  Seems a bit extreme now I look back on it.  Oh well.  I’m sure the scriptwriters at Channel 7 would be happy with the level of my emotional investment.

2.  Praise the baby cheeses for haircuts (and hairdressers)!  I have been growing my hair for a while now and it is driving me slowly, but irrevocably insane.  I am follicularly abundant, so there is TOO MUCH HAIR.  I can no longer cope with the equivalent of a normal person’s ponytail shoved behind each ear, as I try to grow it.  So yesterday I went to Jules and said “GET RID OF THIS HORROR”.  She refused because she is a long-hair chick and also bossy and she wants to see it longer.  She did, however deforestate the shit out of it with her thinning scissors.  Oh sweeeet relief.

3.  Sydney Swans vs Geelong.  Greatest winning margin ever against the Cats.  Most  possessions ever in a game.  Well done little Swannies.  I have a soft spot for them, South Melbourne was such a sad little club way back in the Then, and they were so brave to move to a state lousy with rugby, and disdain for the code.  Cheer, cheer the red and the white.

4.  Coco mastered the cartwheel.  I guess I’ve told you before about her tenacity- for a kid who isn’t that strong, and who fatigues easily due to her anaemia, she is full of surprises.  She has been trying to cartwheel for the last month or so.  Often.  In our bedroom.  Hitting the walls with her feet.  Hurting her wrists.  And sounding like she is about to smash through the ceiling when I’m working in the room directly below.  This week, she tamed the ‘wheel, and I granted her her ‘hard surfaces licence’ so she is now allowed to cartwheel on concrete.  So even though I have to hold my breath every time she does a flip, it makes my heart sing.

5.  Coles online shopping.  Do you do it?  Well if you don’t, take my word for it and get on it.  Stop wasting an hour or so every week trudging around the stupid supermarket.  In answer to your questions: yes you can still get the specials, yes the fruit is perfectly fresh, yes they deliver at a specified time, yes you can get it delivered at a time when you are busy working and your husband is home and therefore has to unpack it.  All that and you can get it done during one of the ad breaks of Elementary.  Do it.

So there you have it, the hits of the week.  Have a great weekend, full of hits of your own…

… From The Ashers xx

We have a cat.

It looks like this:

Hairy.

Very hairy.

Sometimes this cat does poo.

Mostly the poo ends up in the kitty litter, and all is right in the world.

Once upon a time, the poo didn’t end up in the kitty litter, but remained in the hairy hair for quite some time before my nostrils were assailed by a fecund faecal odour not befitting this establishment.  There was a kitty-dag.  This was bad, but the poo was quite firm and could be easily removed with toilet paper, a little water and much gagging.

Once upon a THIS time, the poo didn’t end up in the kitty litter.  Neither was it firm.  It was quite pliable.  And securely affixed to the hairy hair.  Entwined in fact.  Almost poo-plaited in.  I believe surfers have a term for a similar phenomenon, when they have been surfing for hours and their arse-hairs get a little matted and then they desire deft defecation.  I have it on reasonable authority that this is known as a “netty”.  (Don’t.Even.Ask how I know this.)  So Woofa Butterball Popsicle Asher had a feline fur-netty, and was showing no signs of removing it of her own accord.

The other three sooks in this house were gasping and gagging and basically carrying on.

So, as with all things daring and dangerous and disgusting, it fell to the woman.

I demanded gloves, scissors and toilet paper STAT.  I also demanded a camera, because: blog.

I donned the gloves, held the cat prostrate, and performed the nettyectomy.

A little bit of vomit might have scalded my throat as I swabbed the area clean.

And that is that story of why an unfortunate event has led to me imbibe my second Stella on a school night.

For your viewing pleasure: a blurry pic of the netty. It was difficult to get a clear shot due to the retching.

You might not believe me, but I SHIT YOU NOT: less than five minutes after I cut that poo-pouch off, the cat was LICKING HER BUM HAIR.  I know not why.   It was cut it off.  And if she likes licking faecal-fur, why did she wait?  Why was she licking it at all?  What is wrong with nature-y things?  Excuse me now, whilst I go and eat a placenta I have in my freezer*.

*This is not true.  I do not have a placenta (although our midwife was strangely keen for us to keep them).  I didn’t have a crock-pot back then: opportunity missed.

…From The Ashers xx

How do you handle setbacks in your life?

I had a little setback yesterday, nothing major, it just seems that some things that might have been going to happen quite quickly might take a little longer.  No big deal, and if I’m to be honest, it is probably better anyway, as I was moderately stressed about putting my toe in the water with these two new, and quite different ventures.

It has been interesting to observe myself though, to see how it is that I ‘do’ disappointment.

1.  Act as if it’s all cool.  You know, the drill: fake it a bit, until the new information can be assimilated, but in the meantime, pretend that, yeah, no worries, she’ll be right, it’s all good, no probs, and on and on until my brain is going to explode from all the bullshit.  I might also go further than to pretend I didn’t really want that thing, into making up a shit-hot story as to why, even though all of the available facts show otherwise, someone has made a mistake, and I’ll soon get to do or have what I thought I was getting.  So I guess stage one is basically just denial.

2.  Get a bit pissed off.  Here I’ll usually be a bit cross that I didn’t get/have/do the thing I wanted.  I’ll probably sulk a bit, because that my friends, is something that I’m pretty bloody adept at.  Might as well play to my strengths.  So this could pretty much be the anger stage.

3.  This is a good stage (it’s not really, I’m really bullshitting you again now), this is where ‘if only’ is on high revolution.  If only I’d…. If only things were…. etc until everyone around me is about to spontaneously implode from all the whinging.

4.  Attack of the sads.  I’m ridiculously bad at crying, unless there is a chocolate emergency, but I can do a good old sook if required.  If I need to actually shed tears, because you know sometimes only actually salt-drips will do, then it’s time to dust off the old copy of Bridges of Madison County or E.T. and get the ducts a’flowing.

5.  There really is no five.  I just go back to 1. and pop this list on repeat until I end up getting so sick of myself that I either ‘shit or get off the pot’.  Usually I shit.  Because if anything is important enough to get past stage one, then it is probably worth it.  Or at least worth having a dip.

Interestingly, my setback stages are pretty much the Kubler-Ross Model of Grief, (although step five by her reckoning is acceptance- you can guess what I think of that as an idea) and that makes me wonder, do other people also run through this little schematic when things don’t go to plan, or when they just feel like being a big baby?  Or is it just me?  I guess I really am a psychologist’s dream…

Do you run through the stages?  Do you get stuck on one of them?

P.S.  Talking of Big Big Babies, check out this.  No, I don’t know what the hell is going on with it either, but I do know the Evil Geniuses like to  say “There’s a chicken in a box do you like my socks? Boom. They’re elasticated” more than is humanly necessary.  So there’s that.

You’re welcome.  (Warning: it can’t be unseen)

…From The Ashers xx

I had the wind knocked out of my sails a little this afternoon, no big deal, just things might trot along a little bit differently than the way I had imagined.  Some longer term goals might need to shuffle around a bit.  Providentially I had been to the shops this very morning, exchanging a Mother’s Day pressie, that although very lovely and floral and well, motherly, wasn’t really my style.  Instead I swapped it for this book.

So I spent the rest of the day mucking around in my imaginary world, and rescheduling a few goals.

And now it is time for me to arrange myself on the couch to watch the House Rules reveal.

I am telling you all this by way of explaining why the Evil Geniuses are in charge of what you are receiving here as blog content.

I asked them for ideas and the following is what they came up with.  According to Unit One it’s viral, and at 159 million views, it appears he speaks the truth.  How do they know that?  Why haven’t we heard about it before this?  How do they know all the words, and even have a little pantomime arranged, and we adults have NEVER EVEN HEARD OF IT?  Is there some secret child world where they go to and play Minecraft and Rainbow Loom all day?  So here it is, but before you click, beware: EARWORM.  Okay, click here now.

You’re welcome.

If it’s gonna drive you mad singling “Waddle Waddle” all day, there is an antivenin, and it is the sweetness of this one by the girls.  I’ve watched it approximately one million times and I still don’t know the tapping.  I want to be those girls.  Either one.

Have a fun day.  Happy singing.  (I might put the tapping on the top of my Five Year Goal list…)

Got any grapes?

…From The Ashers xx

Today I was reminded of why I love the interwebs…

I remember about two years ago Melbourne experienced a “devastating” earthquake.  Remember it?  We were sitting on our couch in Southeast Queensland, and before any of the old school media could inform us, Twitter had told us there had been a ‘quake.  Just moments after it happened, and even before the last aftershocks had settled, this is how we discovered the horror that had befallen The Garden State:

We pissed ourselves whilst ringing our friends and family to see if their Jenga games had emerged unscathed.  The funny part for me, was not so much how pisspoor the ‘quake actually was, but the fast response of regular punters sitting at home with their meme makers.

Today the Wonderfully Witty World Wide Web delivered again.

Nathan, for some reason, was looking at Vintage Wooden Boats on eBay (at least that’s what he said he searched up), and was admiring the clean lines, and warm tones of some such vessel when he came to what shall henceforth be known as the infamous Image 9.  Please scroll through the images HERE.  It’s worth your effort, I promise.  Again, we sat on our couch and pissed ourselves at the funny things that people do.

So of course I posted the cover pic on Facey and Twit, and then continued for the next  hour or so to snicker at the juvenile double-entendre flowing in from real-life and twitter friends.  Jokes about being water-tight, and seaworthy, about wood and deep hulls and other such nonsense.  I emailed the seller, telling him how much I liked his Image 9.  I was half expecting a ‘whoops’ and for him to take the pic down, but instead he sent me ‘  …Not even the whole semicolon/half-bracket thingy that people use to denote a wink- just the sleazy winky-eye.

We pissed ourselves again.  IDK why, it’s just funnier that way.  With just the winky-eye.

And that, my friends, is why I love the internet so*.  Not for live-streaming and wifi and research and Dr.Google and time-saving and all the rest.  But for funny shit like this.  I know today there was yet another shooting tragedy in The States.  I know today somebody got bombed, somebody died in a car-crash and somebody else went bankrupt.  I know some politicians lied and some children fought each other in cages. You can find that all out too, if you want to.  But somewhere in Nerang, some dude, sitting in front of his computer, uploaded all the best pics of his boat, for us to bid on, and thought he’d add one last surprise for all the other boat-nerds who happen upon his listing.  It kinda gives me hope.

So are you gonna make a bid?  She seems fairly cheap.

*Well that, and funny cat videos, but that goes without saying.

…From The Ashers xx

Here’s the hits of the week:

1.  These eggs.

A lovely patient gave them to me this week.  Two boxes.  They were meant for the Evil Geniuses, but, you know, the Easter ship really had sailed, and, I think it is best that they receive information on a need to know basis.  So, umm, kids, you don’t need to know about these.  I’ll take good care of them.  Promise.  Hope you aren’t reading the blog this week Liam (Or you lovely Nadine).

2.  A good week.  You know, I can admit it now, but I never really thought Coco would go to school, not formally, and I never thought she would be able to do weeks and weeks at a time without days off to rest and get her energy levels back up.  I have always known that she’s pretty sharp, but I guess I never dared hope that her life would be pretty much like other kids, at least on the outside.  This week it has been fun to look back on how far she has come, from a tiny yellow tot who was pretty touch and go for a while there, to a bright, funny little ray of golden sunshine that skips off to school every day.  Even if she has recently taken to making cawing noises like a crow at 6am.  (WTF?)

3.  Having the opportunity to pick Liam up from camp and listen to the endless chatter, each word tripping and tumbling over the next, to get it all out.  He was trashed, dirty and asleep by 6pm, and he had a wondrous time, treading his own path.  For those RRs, did he come back changed?  Well yes he did.  I noticed a quiet and  confident determination when he said he won’t be sleeping on the bottom bunk next year (he has done so for the past two years at camp).  I haven’t seen that before, usually he  will acquiesce just to keep the peace, but it seems that enough might be enough.  He is also, by his own account, braver.  He said the Giant Swing was “terrifying until I did it, then I was exhilarated.  Just like you said.”  Winning on two counts: He did it, and I was right. (Recording that right here for posterity and teenage years).

4.  I’m a bit of a reader.  I like books, paper books, with covers and scoliotic twisted spines, and pages that want to be loved with spilt food and dog ears.  But increasingly I’m doing more and more of my reading on screens.  Mainly blogs at this stage, but also a book or two.  It’s weirder than when I sold all my vinyl at the record shop in Altona and replaced it with CDs.  Here are a few of the blog posts that I liked a lot this week: Fat Mum Slim,  A Life Less Frantic, and  Anna Spargo Ryan (of course).

5.  And one last thing, regarding all things reading… I might be late to the party, but I’ve arrived.  I am currently reading a prescribed text from my astrologer (yes this is now a thing over here at The Ashers) who thinks I should write some Clit Lit (She may well have actually said Chick Lit, and I misheard her), regardless, she said I must read at least one of the 50 Shades books.  To save embarrassment at my local bookstore I have downloaded it to the iPad, and I’ve gotta say, so far I’m a bit cross about spending the $7.99.  I say a “bit cross” when what I really mean is absolutely outraged.  IS THIS FOR REAL?  Did 50% of the females of the Western World actually get through these.. things (I will not call them books, that is an insult to all of the other books on my iPad)?  I find myself getting very hot under the collar and passionate as I’m reading, not from the sauciness, but form the pure horror at the writing.  And the publishing.  And the waste of paper.  Jeez, if she says Jeez one more time I’m gonna go all Flappy Bird on my device and chuck it onto concrete.  Hard (ooh, but not as hard as Mr Grey’s throbbing member).  But I digress, what I really want to know dear RRs, is: Have you read any of them?  Did you actually like them?  And, if you don’t mind me asking, what did you like the most?  Is it just the dude, or do you like how she is such a twit?  etcetera etcetera.  Do you want me to write you a rudie book like my astrologer says?  And then, finally, why oh why did I just pay a bill online, that had a big throbbing red button saying submit when I’d finished entering the data?

And on that note, have a ripper of a weekend.. Seeya Monday.

From The Ashers xx