A free plug for Cadbury Dream and my pink flouro shorts

All my life I've been skinny. I've had knobbly knees, bony hips and a double A cup - until now. I still have knobbly knees but middle age has unkindly altered my body shape. Now I don't know about you, but I've never been one to commit to a regular work out. However, since I can now "pinch an inch" (and more!) I thought I should don my pink flouro shorts and give it a go.

Whose body IS this?

 It didn't last. Here's why:

I didn't know we even had a rowing machine but it's something Beloved came home with on one of his many outings to "collect junk and bring it home to clutter our environment". He got it for free apparently. As you can tell from the look on my face, I can see why.  So I moved onto the next piece of apparatus:

The elliptical trainer resides in Zeeb's bedroom. A dedicated regime has given her the body of a Greek goddess - like the one I used to have.  Something that I was unable to earn within 2 minutes of prolonged agony. I opted to explore other options.

 I thought hula hoops were meant to be easy. It's my 7 year old daughter's toy for goodness sake! Perhaps it was time to consider training without equipment. That's right, the dreaded...*foreboding music please*...SIT UPS!

Promising start...

The PAIN!

Oh God...no. Have mercy! It hurts so much!

 I think that's enough exercise for one day, don't you? There's only so many scary photos I can subject you to in a single blog. So I decided to veg out and recover.  I was reclining in Beloved's chair watching "Maggie's Garden Show" when I had a hankering for some of that Cadbury Dream white chocolate that Beloved had stashed in his drawer. And that's when I DISCOVERED HOW TO DO A SIT UP WITHOUT HURTING MYSELF!!!! I am a GENIUS!
CHECK - ME - OUT:

It's so EASY! The recliner chair actually does the sit ups FOR you! I should totally patent this! And do you know else I discovered? I can snack and watch telly and "work out" simultaneously!

Remember back in the day when the leotard-clad Jane Fonda did her own workout video? Well I think I might slap that smug self-satisfied smirk off her face and create my own "Easy Workouts For Lazy Middle-Aged Women Who Like To Wear Pink Flouro Shorts And Leg Warmers". Catchy title, eh? Watch out for it on You Tube!

My daughter got Mono for Christmas.

Well, the Christmas thing has been done for 2011 and may I say, been done extremely well in our household this year. I'm especially impressed with my 20 year old daughter, Zeeb. For weeks we were wondering what was going on with all the special delivery packages turning up with her name on them. It turns out that she did all her Christmas shopping online. Here's some of the cool stuff we got from her:

Zeeb knows that I'm a huge fan of Corrie. She also knows that I have an aversion to taking a dump anywhere except for the comfort of my own loo - for further details see: POTTY TALK 
So really, this is an exceptionally thoughtful gift (and I'm sure there is no connection between Corrie and Poos at all)

Here's what she got for her 7 year old sister:

How cool is it to give your baby sister a plush giant microbe for Christmas! Isn't it cute? For a look at the full range available, check out: I WANT THAT

And for her 15 year old brother, M (look up "geek" in the dictionary and you'll find his picture):

I am so jealous! Or at least I was until he challenged me to a game and slaughtered me with in a few moves. I don't want to play with him any more. I taught him how to play Chess when he was four years old and it transpires that I created a monster.  Although M's present was pretty cool, the most awesome thing about this gift was the accompanying note:

It does seem a bit harsh considering M is a Leap Day baby and will have waited four years for his next birthday. Nevertheless, I am going to laminate this piece of literary genius and put it on the Christmas tree EVERY year. It will become a family heirloom, just like my eldest daughter's angel that she made in 1989:

And on a non-Christmas related matter. Here's a picture of what happens when a baby is left in Zeeb's care for more than five minutes:

It seems she's developed a "thing" for facial hair.

Next year, I'm doing all my Christmas shopping online too. I can't wait to give away a dose of plush Herpes.

Oh, so YOU'RE the wife!

Teeth. I've nothing against them. Really, I like teeth. They're pretty attractive and very very useful when it comes to opening a packet of potato chips that just won't cooperate with being pulled apart by hands alone. But what I DON'T like about teeth is conversations about teeth. You know, when somebody starts off with their story about visiting the dentist and the next thing you know, everybody jumps in and starts talking about their own molar problems...as if I'm even remotely interested. Which I am not! So don't talk to me about your teeth. In fact, don't even mention that you went to the dentist. Unless you're me.

I went to the dentist last weekend. It wasn't planned. I'd procrastinated for about five years and a dental emergency popped into my mouth. Actually, it popped out of my mouth but as you know, I don't have conversations about teeth. My own dentist was closed and the next thing I knew, Beloved was escorting me to his own expert in Otahuhu. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the busy metropolis of Otahuhu but it's quite a cultural experience for a girl who was brought up on Auckland's North Shore.

Beloved's been going to this man for over 25 years and has become pretty friendly with him and his VERY attractive wife on reception. So when he escorted me in (not that I needed to be escorted in. It's not as if I was trying to get out of it or anything...much...*cough*...) it was natural for him to introduce me. The dentist looked surprised.
"Oh...hello...yes. I've met you already!'
"Really?"
"Yes, I met you at the Botany Downs shopping centre. You were dressed in a costume." Then he muttered something about a mustache.
Well, that was enough for me. Clearly the man HAD met me. So I lay back and stretched my gob to expose decades' worth of abused and blackened amalgam:

Hey, I never said it would be pretty!

 And as I lay there, desperately wanting to swallow and choke on my own tongue, I began to think. It's not unusual to see me wearing a costume at a shopping centre at all. Nothing weird about that is there? It must have been when we were on our way home from a pirate costume party and I looked like this:

For a pirate, I think I'm pretty cute.

Hang on. That was at Sylvia Park shopping centre and there was no mustache involved in that pirate get up. I was blonde and really really cute. It kept going round and round in my head: "Mustache...mustache...Oh CRAP! MUSTACHE!" It was five years ago and I need to make it clear that there was a very reasonable explanation as to why I was wandering around a busy shopping mall on a Friday night looking like THIS:

Come on girls. Admit I was hot. Heck, I even fancy myself!

 Finally it was time to rinse so I had the chance to confirm. It was a bit delicate but I asked the question:
"Ummm...when you met me at the shops a few years back, was I...ummm....dressed like a...a...."
"A man? Yes, you were. You had a mustache and chest hair and your husband introduced you as his wife. All this time I thought your husband was a bit...ummm...I thought he was in a relationship with a man. But now I actually see you here..."
Phew! I'm not sure which was the worst introduction, the man or the gaping mouth.

Oh, I'm going back on Monday. I won't tell you what for because conversations about teeth are just so boring. I'll tell you one thing though. I'm going to wear a dress!

Zombie Dolls and the Kiwi Road Trip

Here it is, the last day of the school holidays, and I can safely say that THIS time I haven't allowed myself to get caught up in a fad. In the past I have:

...developed a two week passion for Reborn Dolls which led me to procure (a much nicer word than "steal") all my daughters dolls, decapitate them, gauge out their eyes, paint them purple and hide them in the top of the linen cupboard. It's like a toy graveyard in there and one can only pray that vengeful zombie dolls are all a figment of the imagination. Mind you, with all the Facebook applications I've played with, I should be ready for any zombie attack heading my way - even if I am solely responsible for it.

Then there was the Green Phase. I was on a mission to save the planet and not buy any cleaning or personal hygiene products I didn't have to, while saving thousands of dollars and paying off my mortgage within five years. That's what the inspiring magazine article said anyway. So it was baking soda for toothpaste and gelatine in my hair. The toilet needed extra scrubbing, the kids missed their McCleans and I smelled like jelly. The zombie dolls couldn't care less, since I'd pulled out most of their hair with a crochet hook.

Just call me "Earth Mother"

Then there was the new-found passion for ironing...I think I've already mentioned the ironing. I'll just slip that into the "What Was I Thinking?" file.

So these holidays I've done STUFF instead. I did a painting. Ummm...it's abstract but it's "art" because I say it is. I made myself a tunic dress. I had nothing to wear with it so I had to go out yesterday and buy myself some accessories to go with it. Having done that, it might have been cheaper to just go out and buy a dress.

One of the coolest things I've done these holidays is the great kiwi Road Trip - with NO husbands and NO KIDS!! Smiley and I headed off in the car to Wild Whangarei, a whole two hours drive away, to meet up with our long lost work buddy, Ant. We drove all the way there with the headlights on because that's what kiwis do on a Road Trip (at least, that's what I told Smiley). I packed healthy sandwiches to eat on the way, Smiley packed lollies and chocolate. We stopped off at a cafe in Wellsford and I parked more than 1 metre from the kerb because we were rebels on a road trip and that's just how we roll - it had absolutely nothing to do with it being a parallel park *cough*. We met up with Ant at a slightly seedy little motel in Whangarei where she had blinked her pretty eyelashes at the manager and promptly had us upgraded to a flasher room with a bed each, two hours free internet and extra milk. We even managed to get the use of the spa pool room after the manager's bed time (although he wasn't invited).

Cameras and steamy spa pools don't mix well. Luckily I didn't drop it in the water.

We ate at a pub and checked out the latest version of "Footloose" at the movies. We were so rebellious, we stayed up till 10:30pm and slept in till 8am! The first thing Smiley said to me on waking was "You talk in your sleep", to which I replied "You snore!" After checking out of the motel (did I detect a tear in the manager's eye?) we headed off to explore the sights of Whangarei. We were finished by lunch time.

Incidentally, if you're ever up North be sure to check out the coolest cafe I've ever been to: Eutopia, where the tea is served in bone china and the birds will eat out of your hand.

See how I cleverly disguise Smiley's true identity. The bird however, signed a release form.

This running-away-from-home-with-the-girlfriends thing has a lot going for it. We've vowed to do it all over again during the Summer holidays. I've also decided to talk my friend R into running away with me for a weekend sometime when the pressures of her job get to be more than she'd like to cope with. I reckon her pretty eyes could get us a free upgrade from a backpackers hostel to a Penthouse suite at Sky City. I just hope the zombie dolls don't follow us.

Boobs and Moobs and Bratwurst Sausage

Being one of those OCD type people who let's her brain run away at inconvenient times, I've been keeping myself awake at nights this week. Last night was one of "those" nights and I ended up sitting in front of the telly at 3:30am. That's where I saw it - the "Ahh Bra".  I was glued to the screen. It wasn't so much that I desperately wanted an Ahh Bra that I could just step into while wearing jeans, it was Rhonda Shearer's enthusiasm. Never had a bra provided such a thrill - and I've seen Trinny and Susannah get pretty excited over boobs and bras.

Despite looking like a product out of "People's Friend" (you know, the kind of thing that fits in with orthopedic shoes, stair lifts and crocheted toilet roll covers), the Ahh Bra will transform any woman's life with plenty of support and cleavage and NO UNDERWIRES. I'm not sure if I'm convinced personally. Being more of a Trinny than a Susannah, I want my bra to have plenty of padding and lift and I didn't see any of that going on with the fabulous Ahh Bra. Mind you, I don't think the niche market should be aimed at just women. We live in a world of equal opportunity and I don't think it would do any harm for a few moobs to be offered some support.

Anyway, I managed to restrain myself from whipping out my Visa card and dialing the 0800 number and flicked the channel to an old episode of "Allo Allo". Strangely enough, Renee and the Germans were running about chasing the famous painting of "The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies" that was hidden in a bratwurst sausage. I drifted off to sleep wondering her reputation might have been reprieved had she worn an Ahh Bra.

Never Trust a Wet Jellybean

I like to think I'm a good person. Growing up, I was a good teenager. And despite getting strapped twice, having three detentions and being a C grade average student, I was a "pleasure to teach" when I was a kid. Which is why it might disturb some of you to learn that I have done naughty things. So here's a brief rundown of the most shocking:

1. When I was 9 years old a house in our neighbourhood was being pulled down for a new building. I snuck onto the property with a couple of kids from my class for a nosy. Wandering over to a pile of rubble, I found myself picking up a brick - just to see how heavy it was. Then the devil and I had a conversation. I tried to resist him but I was 9 and the devil pulled a gun on me and literally FORCED me to do it. So I had no other option than to hurl the brick at a window, smashing it into a zillion pieces, before legging it home leaving the boys in my class to cop all the blame. It was their own fault really. Turns out they were there to steal the copper pipes so they had intentionally gone there with criminal activity in mind, whereas I was just innocently being held hostage by the Tempter.

2. I had an older sister who was 7 years older than me. She didn't like me very much but occasionally she found that I had my uses. Every now and then she would have me legging it to the corner shop (known in NZ as a "dairy) to buy her lollies and Crazy Joe Cola iceblocks. Incidentally, it took me ages to find a picture of a Crazy Joe. I was starting to think I'd imagined them, but I finally found proof that they did exist:

Anyway...as I said, my sister didn't seem to like me very much and when I would return full of hope that she'd share the goodies, she'd simply snatch them from me and walk off munching, leaving me empty handed. I may have been 7 years younger than her but by the time I was about 6 years old, it eventually occurred to me that I was being taken advantage of. One day I was a little keener to run her errand than usual. On the way home I made a tiny little hole in the Crazy Joe wrapping and sucked that cola taste out of that pinprick hole with all my strength. It was stolen cola taste and it was fabulous. Next I moved on to the .20c bag of jellybeans. I carefully sampled each one, ensuring that my teeth made no contact with their sweet yumminess before spitting them back into the bag. It may have been puzzling for my big sister to find that Walls had now started manufacturing Crazy Joe Colas in white with no taste and I imagine that she would have been equally surprised to find that all her jellybeans were sticky, but she ate them all the same and never said anything about it. Not that I mean to be unkind but I don't really think she was firing on all spark plugs. I'm not suggesting that she forgot to pay her brain bill but being outsmarted by a 6 year old might imply that she'd been playing too much without a helmet...

Actually, there are a few dairy stories I could tell. The lady behind the counter was called Mrs Sands and she had tattoos all the way up her arms. The cool thing about Mrs Sands was that she used to give kids a free bag of lollies if it was their birthday. I say "used to" because it didn't take long for Mrs Sands to grow weary of us all having a birthday at least every week.

3. Then there was the offering money my mum gave me for Sunday School. Each week I had every good intention of putting that money into the collection plate. But the devil...well...you know...he planted a dairy en route and...you know....he pulled a knife on me and made me buy lollies - against my will I tell you!

There are plenty more misdemeanors I really should confess but I'm a Baptist and we don't do Confession...or dancing...except at the Sunday School mid-winter disco...

I confess...I dance like a chicken

A really crappy post

C once told me off for using the "C" word. Being told off by a 7 year old is quite a humbling experience but I think it was unwarranted in this case so we had a discussion about the word "Crap" (what did you think I said?)  My argument is that "Crap" is not a rude word since the modern toilet was invented by Mr Thomas Crapper and the word has been adapted from his name. So I defend the title of this post as completely decent.

It was Banana Split night at Dennys with R on Wednesday. The car park has been pretty full recently but on this occasion we were fortunate enough to get a space a little closer than that time a few weeks ago when I attempted to park in three different spaces, couldn't fit, got cross, parked on the road for a second before swooping in on an empty space under at the far corner of the car park with R getting out of the car to ensure I didn't scratch the Audi in the space next door. So on Wednesday, I was quite pleased with my maneuverability skills in getting Beloved's car (which I'd borrowed) into a nice position under a tree.

One-and-a-half banana splits later we returned to go home. When we got in the car we thought we heard rain on the roof and didn't really think much more about it and went home. Then the morning came. I was taking the rubbish bags out to the gate and saw something very similar to this:

Reinactment - not actually Beloved's actual car

Thomas Crapper's name came to mind (or something very similar). All right, so maybe parking under a tree at Denny's wasn't the best move after all, but right now I had an emergency to deal with. If Beloved saw his car in that condition, he would go ballistic!!!! Fortunately, Beloved was still in the shower, or on the loo or something, so I had about three minutes to hide the evidence.  I have no idea what to use to wash poop off a car so I just ran around in a flap for about 60 seconds, grabbed a bucket of water and a towel and proceeded to rub the stuff off. It's sticky stuff. I can't say it was perfectly done but I figured I'd removed enough evidence to cover my tracks.

Birds really are quite evil, aren't they?

It wasn't too long before I bumped into Beloved - what, with living in the same house and all.
He took one look at my face: "What have you done?"
HOW does he DO that? "What? Nothing? Why?"
"You look guilty!"
"Wha??!?"
"You've done SOMEthing!"
He kissed me goodbye and headed out the door to work. I held my breath.
"Oh, you've washed all the bird sh&* off the car! When did you do that?"
He knew!!! He'd been out earlier in the day to pick up the daily paper.
There was only one way out of this situation. Blame him! "Well it's YOUR fault!"
"How is it MY fault?"
"Because YOU should have TOLD me that you KNEW so that I wouldn't have to wash YOUR car before YOU found it!"

I've given this some thought, and have decided that birds really should learn a few good manners. All I know is that after I go to bed, I manage to get through the night without continual crapping. But because the birds at Denny's are bird-brains, I think the local council should fit arrange for all of them to be fitted with these:

Bird Nappies!

Yup. If you google it, you will find it.