FACEBOOK INTERVENTION, STAT!

God I'm sad. I am now scouring Facebook lamely searching for people who I went to school with that couldn't stand then just so they can be my Facebook friends now. Tragic.

I also keep adding photos of my dog and children, like some mad old fucker who refers to herself as "mummy" to the dog and whose just begging those pedophiles to get in touch real soon.

And the groups I belong to. My god. As if anyone gives a flying fig that I love sushi or that I will walk out of my way just to tread on the crunchy looking leaf. Facebook is evil and must be stopped. In fact that is a great name for a new group. Hang on I'll be back.

CONFESSION

Forgive me blogspot, it has been ten days since my last post. This is due mainly to the fact that sod all has happened in Landsend for the last millennia and therefore I have nothing to write about.

Except for the fact that a hundred and thousand from a gigantic freckle I was stuffing my face with last week has rolled under my B key ensuring that everytime I try to write a word with B in it I have to say "what the fuck" really loudly and hit the key repeatedly really hard until it works. This could possibly be adding to my reluctance for recent posting.

However, children are now ack (see what I mean, fucking annoying) at school which means I have free government sanctioned childcare and will try my best to have rollicking good adventures and write about them.

Garden Update; Some plants. In ground. Look good, I think not.

YES I'M A HALLOWEEN SELL OUT

Mocked I have. And even scoffed. For years my cry of "Halloween is Australia, outrageous, is there no depth we will not sink too to be like the yanks" rang out across the suburbs every time October rolled around. I laughed at my sister taking her children trick or treating, and not even behind her back like normal, but right to her face.

It's not that I have anything really against the old All Hollows Eve except you know, Christian, but besides that it kinda looks like a fun tradition. Except it's not our tradition, it's stolen from a country that sells candy corn cola (it's true, see I have proof).

Except this year when my little one sighed " I love Halloween" instead of screaming "what the hell" and slapping her, I said " do you darling, why don't we buy a pumpkin and some decorations and you can dress up and give out lollies to any trick or treaters".

What the fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who is this women and what has she done with my brain? And where can I buy some of that cool candy corn cola from? no really, where?

TORCHWOOD REALLY DOES SUCK

Torchwood. The mere name sent me into spasms of middle age geek excitement. An anagram of Doctor Who, concepted by the brilliance of Russell T Davies who not only revived Dr Who but wrote the extraordinary Queer as Folk, set in Wales so it wouldn't be full of annoying Americans, an incredibly funny, sexy, shag anything that moves spin off character. What was not to love? The way my kids eyes glazed over every time the promo came on I just knew it was going to be great.

Except it's not. At all. I tried to love it, I really did. I even stayed up to 10.30 to watch the first two episodes. But it just couldn't sustain this kind of devotion because, you know, old and need my sleep.

But I persevered, I bought the entire first series (for the unholy sum of ninety bucks thank you very much) and watched it from beginning to end and my giddy aunt it sucked. Really. Every episode is riddled with stolen ideas and dialogue. Seriously, if there is an original story line in the whole series I'll whistle Dixie, backwards. And the characters, the writers have managed to take a fantastic character from Dr Who, given him his own spin off and completely bastardized every facet of said character. Are they mental? And the supporting cast? Just die, please.

The series arc? Please, we should be so lucky. Nothing happened. No character development, nothing was resolved, no relationships evolved, no overarching theme emerged no lesson was learnt. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I don't think I have been quite so disappointed. Expect for maybe when I found out the true life expectancy of guinea pigs but that is quite another story.

Backyard update - Nil, nilch, nothing. Way to busy over the weekend becoming a trivia higher demi-god.

BACKYARD BLITZ

This paradise of sand is the latest rush of blood to my head. I have grand plans to convert this wasteland to an oasis of green and lushness. And I want it done by Monday. The Walking Wallet insists that it can't be done but what does he know? He also said I couldn't book an overseas cruise leaving in two days to get my parents out of my house but he was wrong about that too. Fool.

Do not underestimate the power of the deranged.

Anyhow there will no doubt be many delightful photo updates of this trip to the hospital waiting to happen appearing on this blog soon!

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME.............

Anyone looking at this photo would thing "oh a rose, nice" or some such thing.

Well they would be wrong. This is not a rose, this is a symbol of the passing of the thing I hate most in life (besides Ray Martin) - WINTER. Winter with it's freezing cold, it's grey sky, it's bitter winds, women who insist on tucking their jeans into their boots. I detest it.

This rose also symbolises the beginning of my beloved - SUMMER. Oh fair summer with your blue sky's, your heat, your light breezes, your thongs (on my feet, not my arse).

Finally I can stop staring out the window and sighing at five minute intervals. I can now go to bed without my matching Kmart tracksuit which my partner finds oh so alluring. I can smile again with my sun chapped lips. Heaven.

So that's what this photo tells. Oh and that I need to spray my roses for Black spot.

WHY,WHY,WHY??????????????

Why did I forget how awful taking three kids to the Royal Show is? How can 365 days so dull my memory? Sure the beer hasn't helped but surely I shouldn't forget the horror that quickly?

It was terrible. The crying, the whinging, the spending. And the kids behaved really badly as well.

Above are three photos. In case you couldn't guess they are in chronological order. Look at me in the first. There I am looking strong and young and clean. God help me, I was off with a song in my heart and many shekels in my wallet.

Then there is the photo of what I walked through. Over 100 times. With three children. One who refused to walk.

And at last, there I am. Destroyed, poor, numb with grief ..........but no doubt already forgetting the awfulness of it so come this time next year I will be eagerly waking the kids with shouts of "yah, it's show day". Idiot.

THIS IS NOT NEWS

I have managed over the last 36 years to successfully never watch more than a milli second of A Current Affair before I scream wildly and lunge for the remote control. This is record of which I am notably proud. If I had a badge I would wear it.

Sadly this outstanding record is no more. On Thursday night, during the news bulletin which proceeds the dread show, I became mildly excited at the prospect of A current Affair story that was coming up on which fake tan lotion is the best to waste your money on. Now, normally this would not fill me with the warm fuzzy, but having recently turned a vivid shade of orange from a never to be mentioned again tanning incident and because I am incredibly shallow and self obsessed I made squealing noises and sat back ready to be infomercialised.

Of course what I didn't realise was that in the world of A Current Affair the tanning story was gold and therefore would be the Jewell in the crown as the last story on the show.

Well fuck me, what a load of mind numbing, soul destroying shit proceeded it. There was the old fat guy who was teaching kids in some rural town karate and the parents, damn them, where pissed because he had no qualification and apparently knew no karate. Well so what? He had the white pj's on, he had a mustache and he was throwing moves that made fat Elvis look like a martial arts master. Absolute champ. If I lived in Hill Billy town instead of Lands End my kids would so be there.

Then there was some story about ....... god I can't even remember. Oh that's right, some crap. And so and so on until we got to the long awaited fake tan story which was ok except all the girls turned out ORANGE.

That is half and hour of my life and many, many brain cells I will never get back. The whole experience made me so angry and depressed that tens of people in this country watch this shit every night and consider it current affairs. I could weep except it would make my tan streak.