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May we finish May?
Posted on May 25th, 2009 by prinny.
Categories: News.
End of Autumn.
End of post partum.
End of financial year.
End of my tether…um.
I’ve always been a poet. Lyrical, I am. A fucken joy to the ears. I’m like tubular bells. A human pan flute, if you will. I should put out a CD.
Life is starting to get back on an even keel. Shit, I just spilled apple tart and cream all over myself… as you may have deduced, I am not quite back on my low carb diet yet. I’m still in the “shove as many bad carbs as possible down yer neck hole” – pre diet stage. It’s going VERY well. A gift that comes naturally. Sadly.
Where was I? Ah yes, when my jumper was clean I was telling you how I’m getting back to ‘normal’ – yes yes, a relative state (gawd, Chantilly cream is a lovely thing). My lungs are working as well as they did on a bad pre-pregnancy day. Nothing to write home about but certainly better than they have been the last 10 months. My face is regaining it’s fight against gravity and compressed nerves. Again, not 100% – now I look like I’ve had half a face of Botox or, like Sam Newman’s arse which is [only slightly] preferable to looking like John Merrick WITH Bells Palsy. AND the pain is going away. But the best part is, I’ve had a chance to touch up the roots and my naturally red hair is again, one colour. Naturally Red. Not nine colours. One naturally red, eight grey. My eyebrows on the other hand are in Susan Boyle territory. But that’s what a fringe (bangs) was invented for. Gawd bless a blunt cut.
Both my boys have their own spots on the web. Spike’s here, and Morrison’s here so I shall (continue) to update their fascinating progress on their own domains and will return this corner of the web back to all things, ME! Me I tells ya, MEEEEEEE!!! I’ll wait while some of you clean up the pee of joy I just squeezed out of you.
Brace yourselves for talks of all things Ikea. The lighter side of low carb dieting… you know, once I recover from the fury of cutting carbs out of my diet – again. I shall talk about Twitter. I shall bitch about FaceBook and not utter a word about MySpace. I’ll discuss the latest bottle of vino cracked by Ben, Rin and I. (the last bottle of red was a CORKER!) Chris Morris and all his brainiac brilliance will be bandied about and Miss Itchy rumours may be fanned, fuelled or denied. Try me.
The point is, never again shall this page be devoted to tales of my morning sickness or swollen ankles. Well, not without being closely followed by stories of My Law Suit and My Divorce.
Loob and I are off to see French & Saunders in July. It’ll be great to see what they’ve come up with with our stolen brains. But I should be back before then to yammer on about life changing and interesting things. Bait your breath, await instructions and for crissakes, stay off the furniture – until it’s been Scotchgarded (TM).
Til next time.
Yours, The Boss of Completely Everything. xxxx
Boss Of….
Posted on March 24th, 2007 by prinny.
Categories: Stories.
Well, not carbs, that’s for sure. I’m back on my stupid diet and I stupid hate not having any stupid delicious stupid carbs. I dream of things carbariffic! B reminded me last night about the chocolate smokes 
he found IN THE HOSPITAL GIFT SHOP while I was in labor with Sir Spike. And for a moment I thought… yeah, I could go one of them. Horrible, chalky, poor excuse for chocolate, chocolates. Chocolate cigarettes, in a cigarette pack displayed at kid height in a major metropolitan public hospital. If you’re looking for the gift shop, by the way it’s juuuust around the corner from where the people have their chemotherapy.
B bought them back upstairs to the labor ward and we laughed… hee hee hee haaaaaaa – deep cleansing breath and relax. But our midwife just about had a prize dairy cow named, Susanna Lee. “Baby’s First Smokes”, I said. She snatched them from my hand, studying them intensely. “They do NOT say that!” heh No, they didn’t. But it would have been fit-pitching gorgeous if they had She vowed to have them removed by the next day and low n behold – when B went back to buy another pack the day after our son was born, they were no longer in stock. The Wizz Fizz, with Share-Me-AIDS-Syringe dip stick was still there though. I guess the infirm love their Wizz Fizz and even a zealous (and thoroughly wonderful) midwife can’t control that. that Wizz Fizz, that’s a hard one to kick.
This week really has just been a meandering piss-off of all the things I’ve already whinged about. Health Insurance. Tax. The weather! Carbs. Grrr. So bugger that.
On the plus side, I did get my eyebrows waxed today. “Hi. Long time so see. You want mani/pedi today?” I did want a mani/pedi but Spike has been a little fine, fine, fine NOT FINE. It’s startling when you get to the latter so I wanted to be around him to encourage more of the former. “No, just tame the thicket please.” I love the little Shoppe de Beaute around the corner. The girls are Vietnamese (my favourite ese) and they have a lovely grasp of the absurd. Last year before we left for Australia I waddled in to have the brows pruned (it’s $7 takes 5 mins and she gives a lovely arch without all the tedious pluck pluck pluck) and a mani/pedi. Partly because I thought when will I have time again? (It’s March and still no time) and partly because I could no longer reliably see my pedis for the application of polish. 
I have learned to choose my polish colour carefully. The first time I went there with my pal Susan (pictured over there) I chose the Pillar Box red for the toes and settled on a simple French Manicure… When I left, I had Pillar Box red toes and what can only be described as and is still referred to – to this day, a Pennsylvania Dutch Manicure. Odd pink nail beds with a WhiteOut/Tippex half moon shaped fingernail. It was the oddest/ugliest thing I’d ever seen. I had marionette hands. Ewww!!!
So back to August. I’m perched there, 7 months pregnant, newly plucked eyebrows and a bottle of Jet Black nail polish for my toes. She’s jabbering away – mainly to her friend in Vietnamese interjecting in broken English, “You sure you’re only 7 month?” She gets to my hands, which have been soaking and says, “What colour you want?” I point to the black. “Top ‘n tail me, Mrs.” She laughed and reached for the Pale Peach. “No, I’ll have the black.” She reached for my hand as she untwisted the top of the orangey muck in her hands. “You so funny.” “No, I really will have the black.” She stopped, looked at her friend. They exchanged a rapid fire conversation. “Really?” said the other one. “Uh huh.” I said. They looked at one another, leaned forward conspiratorially and my girl finally said. “Oh no. What happen?” I’m still not sure what they thought had happened but they wordlessly gave me matching black talons and sent me on my way. $20 for the lot. I really will have to make time to get that mani/pedi soon. You know, before the moon rises three times… bwahahahahaaaa
That’s about it Sports fans. What’s happening with the swimming? I love to watch it but of course, it’s not on over here. Have there been ANY protests about the building and filling of the Olympic sized pools in the middle of the worst drought in history? I guess, so long as we’re winning gold – who gives a flying belly whacker, eh?!
Til next time.
Her Dry Royally Highness. xxxx
PS For those who have asked – I don’t know where my Herald Sun article went! I do know where the cash went (and fast) so I thank them dearly as I prepare another column of equally impressive enough to pay for but perhaps not to publish collection of words. I’ll post it here some day. They only hold the articles for 28 days then it’s considered back on the market. My column, the ugly freckled step child. Huzzah! Have a great April, kids. (And you can check out Spike news on his blog.)
PPS – If you can and you aren’t already. Watch Clatterford. There are simply not enough funny, odd looking women on television beautifully underplaying real inviting characters. That Jennifer Saunders should be Knighted, Earled and Kinged!