A Dingo's got my Barbie!!!

Now let's hear from her boss...

I'm sorry, I just can't help myself!

A side of Condi rarely seen.

I love these guys, they're called dayjob orchestra, and they're are also very talented musicians.

Warning! Don't play the clip if your kids are around.

No truer words have been spoken...

Fun Monday...postscript

I've learned a few things this Fun Monday...

1. The simpler the assignment, the better.
2. The older your kids, the more likely you are you use glass instead of plastic.
3. A lot of you prefer not to wash up, so you drink from the bottle(can).
4. My pewter seemed to be a big hit.
5. Some of you have weird drinking vessels.
6. Numbered lists are fun.

Seeing as you liked my pewter so much, here's a bonus picture...

The smaller ones I got in Thailand when I spoke at a conference there a few years ago (that's why there's elephants instead of horses), and MDW gave me the hip flask.

Now to the reason for this post:

• There were a couple of stuff ups in the list, a) I got Katie's address wrong and b) Benthany doesn't exist.
• Gawilli is a late entry.
• Two people offered to host next week's round:- Karmyn and Nikki. Karmyn generously offered to do it if no-one else came forward (just Like I did last week), but seeing as she has borne the responsibility once already, next week's Fun Monday will be hosted by that fabulous jewellery maker Nikki over at What the Hell.....

Fart alert.

Hey guys, listen up! As you may be aware, we haven't seen any fart stories around for a while, the good news is Mert has just posted one for your reading pleasure. Go and checkout Mile High Flub.

Jurassic Park you say...

Jenny asked if I lived in Jurassic Park, and while the answer is "no, I don't, but there are plenty of critters around here", there is quites a funny co-incidence. You see, for years we lived behind the Australian Reptile Park. You should follow the link and read some of the history, it's quite interesting, especially of you have kids.

Actually, MDW still lives there (and that's where I've been on and off for the past three weeks), but a few years ago, as a result of Urban encroachment and rising property values, the Park moved and a housing development has taken it's place.

What has this got to do with Jurassic park you say?  Plenty I say, just have a look a me and ET out the front of the Park (it was moved about 3 years after this photo). ...

PS. Just got an email from MDW, she landed safely in LAX.

Shocking revelation.

This is big, and I mean Watergate big! I have in my posession an extremely revealing photgraph of Robin over at Pensieve.

So shocking is it that I'm not going to post it here but rather, I'm linking to it so that only those brave enough need see it. This picture shows what dear old Robin looks like without all the primping (no you morons, I said primping not pimping) that she does to make herself look good.

So, if you're game, here it is! My eyes! Oh the humanity!

Well I guess that ought to teach her not to give me a prize.

Labels: yeah sure.

Dogs are such men.

I've got a couple of funny stories I've been thinking about but they need some work, and I'm just not motivated so I'll leave you with a picture I found funny. I think the title is a pretty good turn of phrase even if I do say so myself.

Labels: lazy

A failure to communicate

When I lived in England I worked for a department store called Marks & Spencer. Not all dressed up nice and selling quality merchandise, but in a small warehouse loading trucks. Not loading quality merchandise but rather, shop fixture and fittings, toilet rolls and paper goods, stationary and anything else to do with the operation of the stores.

This was unskilled labour, and everyone except me was Irish. One day I was working with Paddy and Paddy (that wasn’t their real names but to Aussies all Irish are Paddy and all Scots are Jock, interestingly the Scots call everyone Jimmie). Old Paddy had lived in England for a long time and spoke quite clearly. Young Paddy was another matter; he had only been there for a couple of weeks and was near impossible to understand.

We had to load one of those (heavy) refrigerated deli display units onto a truck. This was one big mutha and it would be a tight squeeze getting it onto the loading dock. I was at the back pushing and young Paddy was at the front pulling and guiding it through the door. “Weet! Mairnscart!” he called called out to me. Not being fluent in Gaelic, and seeing no sign of a Wheatman’s cart, I took this to be Irish for “Push harder!”. This was not the time to discuss the Irish language, so I just pushed harder. “Asset weet! May Airn Scart!” he repeated (this time a bit louder) and once again I complied. It was then that Old Paddy, who had been alerted by young Paddy’s increasing volume, came rushing over and shouted at me “He said wait! His hand's caught!”. Which, I now saw, it was.

In fact all I could see was four fingers sticking out between the fridge and the door frame. Unfortunately we were laughing so much it took us another couple of minutes before we could free his hand. (It didn’t help that while we were pulling our guts out trying to get the unit off his fingers, I yelled “Pull man! Pull like you’re pulling an Arab off your sister!”). Until then I had never seen an old man's knees buckle and collapse in hysterics on to the ground. That’s one thing about the Irish, they not only tell a good joke; they appreciate one too. Oh yeah, no broken fingers, just bruising and swelling.