October Fly on the Wall - A Walk Down Memory Lane

It is time once again for Fly on the Wall. In this series, a bunch of bloggers get together and show all of the madness you would witness were you a fly on the wall in their house. This month there are seven bloggers participating, be sure to click on all the links below to witness hilarity.


This month seven bloggers are participating, so be sure to click on all the links below to see all the hilarity.

Baking In A Tornado            

Menopausal Mother             

Spatulas on Parade                                                              

Never Ever Give Up Hope                                     

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy             

A Little Piece of Peace                              

So this month has been pretty quiet for us, so this time I am doing something different. You see I've only been doing Fly on the Wall for about three years now, and there have been many hilarious moments that happened well before I joined this series that I haven't had a place to share elsewhere, so today's Fly on the Wall is actually a look back at some of the shenanigans that have happened before I started this blog.

I was walking past my dad one day with a bag of cotton wool in my hands.
Dad: Ooh marshmallows. Proceeds to take a ball of cotton wool and pop it into his mouth. That's not marshmallow.
Me: Yeah dad don't eat those, they won't taste too good.
Dad: Why didn't you say anything until after I put it in my mouth.
Me: I didn't think it would take you that long to realise it wasn't food.

Ben was living with me for a while back when I was about 24. One day we came home and found one of his cats had been hit by a car. I was given the task of collecting the remains off the road, so I scooped it up in a plastic bag and took the bag to Ben.
Me: Hey, you know what? You could totally make a puppet out of this.
Ben looked like he didn't know whether to laugh, cry or punch me. Luckily for me he chose to laugh.

*Now I'm not sure if this story is an overshare, but my family still love to tease me about my stupidity.*
When I was 20 I booked an appointment for my first pap smear. I was very nervous, and the doctor could tell, so she was just making small talk to try to distract me. For the record, she was looking at my medical records when this conversation happened, I just didn't realise that until after I had put my foot in my mouth.
Dr: So I see here that you smoke yes?
Me: You can tell that from a pap smear?

Nat and I were arguing about a line from the song Linger by Cranberries.
Me: I think it says do you have to pull my finger.
Nat: No, that's not what it says, it's something about linger.
Sam walks past both of us to the bathroom, then sticks her head back out of the door.
Sam: Let it linger Nat, let it linger.
Me: Did she just fart and tell you to let it linger?
Nat: I hope not.
Me: Oh wait, I think that's the lyric.

Nat: Now don't laugh at what I'm about to say OK?
Me: OK.
Nat: Breakfast cereal scares me...
Me:.....
Nat: You're not saying anything.
Me: I'm waiting for the rest of that sentence. It's really hard not to laugh at you right now you weirdo.

When Ben, Nat and Kim were still kids, they went to the pool together heaps one summer. Kim was always worried that Ben and Nat were going to do something to embarrass her. One day Ben decided it would be fun to scream "I'm the girl in the blue bikini's brother" as he did a belly flop into the pool, just to embarrass her. Unfortunately he hit the water before he could say the word brother, so he just ended up screaming "I'm the girl in the blue bikini!!" We still give him hell for this nearly ten years later.

Ok so today I am going to finish with a joke that Miss K told me this month.

Miss K: Knock, knock
Me: Who's there
Miss K: Banana
Me: Banana who?
Miss K: Knock, knock
Me: Who's there
Miss K: Banana
Me: Banana who?
Miss K: Knock, knock
Me: Who's there
Miss K: Banana
Me: Banana who?
Miss K: Knock, knock
Me: Who's there
Miss K: Orange
Me: Orange who?
Miss K: Orange you glad I'm not a banana in a fruit bowl?

Well that's all from this side of the world, be sure to visit the other bloggers participating this month and I shall be back with more madness soon.

July Fly on the Wall

Welcome to another instalment of Fly on the Wall. This is by far my favourite time of the month. I get to share little stories and tid-bits you'd hear if you were a fly on the wall. Today I am joined by 8 other bloggers who are all sharing their innermost crazy. Be sure to buzz around and visit all of them.

Baking In A Tornado
Menopausal Mother
Spatulas on Parade
Never Ever Give Up Hope
Dinosaur Superhero Mommy
Southern Belle Charm
Go Mama O
Molly Ritterbeck

I'm going to warn you now that there is a lot  of toilet humor in today's post. I try to keep things as clean as possible around here, however sometimes life has a way of keeping things in the gutter when I'm around. If you are easily offended I'd look away now.

Mum: I think I'm hungry.
Me: Well let me know when you're sure.
Mum: Why? Are you going to do something about it?
Me: No, I'm just really invested in this story.

My little sister Kim is staying with us at the moment, and my favourite thing to do with her is turn everything she says into an innuendo. It bugs the hell out of her, but it's not my fault she's so filthy.

Me: I remember that pie I made that had the cod in it, I was pretty proud of that fish pie.
Kim: Oh I remember that. I loved eating your fish pie.
My cue to fall on the floor laughing.
Kim: Oh shut up.

Kim: Mum do you want your meat separated
My cue to fall on the floor laughing
Kim: Stop it. I'm just trying to figure out if mum wants her pork loins in twos.
I have to rush to the toilet to prevent having an accident on my couch.
Kim: I hate you.

Mum walked in to the room and started smacking me in the back of the head.
Me: Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.
Mum: Oh sorry I'm just like Pavlov's dog. Whenever I see you I have to hit you.
Kim: Mum, it's not nice to call her Pavlov's dog.
Me: No, mum is Pavlov's dog. And for future reference it's called a Pavlovian response mum.
Kim: I know all about the pavlova response, I work in childcare.

Me: I'm a diverse person.
Mum: I thought you were about to say you're a diabetic.

Me: Mum do you have regrets?
Mum: I have a few, too few to mention.
Me: No, I'm being serious. Thanks a lot Frank Sinatra, I'm going to punch you in the nads when I next see you.

Me: Miss K have you eaten your dinner yet?
Miss K: I don't like it. I want a different dinner.
Me: Well this isn't a restaurant. You eat what I put in front of you or you go hungry.
Miss K: Well let's pretend this is a restaurant then and you make me something else.
Me: If this is a restaurant it's a soup kitchen, where you get what you're given or go hungry.
Miss K: I don't like this restaurant.

Mum: You're getting more and more anti-social as you get older.
Me: Yep I know. I love it.
Mum: I don't.
Me: When you think about it, I've spent fourteen years speaking on the phone to people I don't know or don't like.
Mum: I'm your mum.
Me: FOURTEEN YEARS MUM!

Miss K came up while I was surfing the web and started randomly mashing at my keyboard.
Me: Don't you even think about it miss.
Miss K: I'm going to think about it.

Earlier this month one of my dad's sons from his first marriage became a grandfather for the first time. This makes my dad a great-grandpa and me a great-aunt. This news disturbed me because I feel at 32 I'm way too young for this crap. However it does make for great conversations with the family.

Me: I found out today that dad is a great-grandpa.
Ben: Whose kid had kids?
Me: One of [older brothers] kids, not sure if it was [nephew 1] or [nephew 2].
Ben: That's crazy.
Me: Tell me about it. That makes you a great-uncle, and yet still so mediocre.
Ben: That's the pot calling the kettle black.

Me: This is freakin' weird.
Mum: What?
Me: I'm a great-aunt.
Mum: (laughs) Meh, you're ok...

Here is another in the wonderful series of Minecraft conversations which sound weird without context.

Eliza: I have a head. Where did that come from? Mum where are you, I have a head.

Miss K has been sick on and off with various viruses these past two months, but one night she woke up with weird swelling in her chin. I rushed her straight to our after hours medical service where we were prescribed antibiotics for an infection which had caused her glands to swell up like a balloon.

Dr: Now one of the side effects of this antibiotic is diarrhoea.
Me: Did you hear that Miss K? This medicine may give you runny poos.
Miss K: Runny poos in my neck?
I don't think the doctor appreciated that I laughed so hard at Miss K's shock.

Sadly for us, that visit to the doctor wasn't the end of the saga, and after going to my own GP for a second opinion we were told to rush to the local hospital as the swelling was an indication Miss K was forming an abscess in her neck. Miss K ended up spending three nights in hospital on IV antibiotics, and I spent three nights sleeping on a mattress on the floor in the ward next to her. but she took all of the poking, prodding and needles like an absolute trooper and on the fourth day we were finally allowed to go home. She's still on antibiotics for the time being, as there is still some swelling in her neck, but we've hopefully avoided surgery as long as her recovery continues as well as it has.

Conversation in a public toilet.
Miss K: Mum I did poos and wees.
Me: (Very aware that there is another person in the stalls with us) Yes I know you did now hurry up and finish.
Miss K: But there were lots of them.
Me: That's great. Are you done yet?
Cue the toilet next to us flushing and a woman comes out laughing.
Woman: It's ok, I have kids too.
Me: The conversations you have once you're a parent.

We had a federal election in Australia this month, and my sister Natalie decided to vote for the first time.
Nat: I have no idea who any of these people are or what they want. I remember watching some political show at dad's once and they kept talking about a cabinet, but they never once showed a picture of it. I couldn't understand what was so amazing about a stupid cabinet that they felt the need to discuss it for so long. What is this cabinet?
Me: It's the group of politicians which make up parliament. And you are one the people deciding who runs our country for the next few years.  I worry about you sometimes.

Natalie was temporarily promoted to room leader at the daycare centre she works at this month, but the promotion did not come without issues, and one of her co-workers quit suddenly, saying that she couldn't work with Natalie because she stressed her out, and now she was constipated.

Nat: I don't understand what her problem is, I looked at the roster and I only spent 3 hours and 20 minutes a day with her.
Me: Well apparently that's long enough for you to constipate someone.
Nat: Yeah. You better not spend more time than that with me otherwise you'll start having problems too.

Luckily for Natalie her bosses were able to see the humor in the situation, but Nat now has the reputation of constipating those who work around her.

Well that's it from our crazy part of the world, be sure to visit all the other bloggers joining in today, and I'll be back to share more fun again soon.

What Parenting Means

So the other week while working at a craft stall with a good friend of mine, we had a heavily pregnant woman come and sit down at our table to make a card. Some gentle probing later we discovered she was about a week away from popping. We decided this was a perfect time to terrorise the poor woman by telling her exactly what being a parent meant, right when it's too late for her to back out. Of course it was all in good fun, and we didn't reveal any of the real horrible truths (we like to leave some mystery for new mums). But it has been on my mind a bit since that weekend. The word parent is universal, and while customs and traditions can vary from person to person, there are some things that stay the same no matter whether you live in an igloo in Antarctica (do people really do this?) or a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. So as a handy guide for anyone who is thinking of being a parent, or for those of you who are already parents, and just want a reminder of why you're not going back for a second (or third) I present the following.

Source

1. Putting yourself last. Forever, and ever, and ever.
2. Never getting to blow out the candles on another birthday cake. And forget about unwrapping your own presents. That job now belongs to your children.
3. Being woken up by a tennis racket to the face (seriously)
4. Acting like you know exactly what you're doing, despite the fact that inside your head you're screaming as loud as the baby is right now.
5. Boring all of your friends with all of the super adorable things your little one did in the few hours since you last spoke to them.
6. Using your clothes as a tissue or napkin for someone else.
7. Catching vomit in your hands.
8. Eating baby foods to find out exactly why your darling one is spitting it out. (Hint, it's because it tastes like butt. You'll find this out the hard way.)
9. Having someone new to blame any time you break wind in company. (This one only works until they learn to speak.)
10. Having your heart explode with pride and love every time they do something new. It never gets old.
11. Having a deep seated hatred for toys that need batteries to work.
12. Watching the same movie twice in one day because it's their absolute favourite and they'll scream the house down if you don't let them watch it again.
13. Ice cold feet pressed into your back when they sneak in to sleep with you at 3 in the morning. 
14. Waking up to a little person sitting on your head, because they're hungry and you're being boring by sleeping right now.
15. Discovering that toy makers hate you, I mean really hate you, by making you build every darn thing you ever buy for your child. It seriously took me over an hour to put Miss K's bouncer together when she was a baby. I'm not a stupid person, but that thing needed an engineering degree just to assemble four parts. And don't even get me started on her bike.
16. Spending the day convinced that you have given birth to the spawn of Satan, only to forget every horrible thing they did that day the minute you see them sleeping like an angel.
17. Feeling like the worst person in the world every time you have to discipline them. 
18. Spending the first four years of their life complaining that they are so needy, only to realise that was only temporary, then spending the next few years panicking that one day your kids aren't going to need you any more. 
19. Feeling like your heart is going to break in half every time you see them growing up right before your eyes.
20. Being someone's super hero, simply because you were able to fix a slightly broken toy.
21. Hating yourself the minute they realise you aren't a super hero, and are in fact (gasp) human.
22. Being a policeman, chef, maid, clown, magician, chauffeur, referee, cheerleader, hostage negotiator, and anything else you need to be just to keep your house running.
23. Looking at every other parent you ever see and wondering how they can possibly have it all together like that. (Little hint, they don't, they're just as confused as you are.)
24. Hour upon hour spent worrying about things that once upon a time you never though worth your time. 
25. Lying awake at night convinced that today was the day you screwed up your child. 
26. Finding yourself singing the theme song to your child's latest favourite TV show, while in public.
27. Apologizing to a million strangers because your child walks like a drunk old man, and keeps crashing into everyone they find.
28. Feeling mortified the first time your child swears. Bonus horror if it happens in public. 
29. Months spent carrying your sleeping child to the toilet because if you have to wash one more pee soaked sheet you are going to lose your mind.
30. Discovering exactly how fierce you can truly be the first time someone hurts your precious little one. You're normally a placid person, but right now you could cut a b***h.
31. Feeling a mixture of pride and revulsion the first time you realise babies are capable of farting like full grown men after a meal of baked beans.
32. Endless games of "What is that mysterious smudge on my new shirt?"
33. Dancing like a one legged man in a butt kicking contest all around your living room because it makes your child squeal with laughter.
34. Feeling like you've lost a part of yourself the first time they spend a night away from home.
35. Rediscovering the joy of jumping out at someone as they come around a corner. This one never gets old with kids around.
36. The joy of hearing your kid tell you that you're the best mum/dad in the world. 
37. Bony elbows, knees, backsides, all in your internal organs. You wouldn't believe something that chubby and squishable is really able to inflict immense pain with one well placed limb.
38. Being able to heal all boo-boos with a kiss.
39. Having to wait until your child has been kissed, cuddled and questioned before any adult will speak to you ever again. 

And finally...

  40.  Loving someone, and being loved more fiercely than you ever thought possible.

The chair killing bottom strikes again and other stories

Hello again people, I know it's been waaay too long between posts, but I've been slowly trying to get into a groove between work and home, and that sadly leaves very little time for extra curricular activities like sharing with you guys. But I'm still here, and things are still going well, and hopefully I will have more to share with you wonderful and patient people soon, especially about my current downsizing. I've been having a huge cull, and have taken the mantra "if you're not going to use it then get rid of it" to extremes by trying to use up a heap of my craft stash so I don't have to throw it away. I'll have more on that as soon as I remember to charge the batteries in my camera so I can take pictures.

So for a bit of a back story, and for anyone who doesn't know how deadly my backside can be to a common chair, check out this post here which goes into details of chairs that I have killed in the past.  Well this week my butt struck again, destroying my office chair at work. Now this time I can't blame sitting on my feet, which is my excuse for most other chairs I've broken (that and shoddy workmanship when building the chairs) as I can't sit on my feet at work. First it is incredibly bad OH&S so I'd get into heaps of trouble, and second I can't operate the dictation machine unless my feet are on the ground. But I have gotten into the terrible habit of throwing myself into my chair while at work, usually because I'm insanely busy, and I don't have time to sit down like a lady, so a lot of my day is spent just diving onto the chair as quickly as possible so I can do the mile long to-do list the boss has just given me before I forget any of it.  Sadly the standard office chair is not designed to be used in such a manner, and my poor chair has been creaking and groaning at me for several weeks now, so  I had a feeling that what happened this week was really inevitable, but it still came as a shock when it finally happened.

It was close to the end of the day, which happens to be the worst time to work in a law firm. That's usually the time when my boss checks over the correspondence for the day, and signs the letters that are good to go out, and returns the ones that need corrections done. So I usually have a massive pile of letters that need to be folded and stuffed into envelopes, another massive pile of letters that need adjustments before they can be signed, stuffed and posted, and yesterday I had a handful of people I had to call to reschedule their appointments because there had been a massive double booking in today's calendar. So needless to say I was incredibly frazzled, and not very worried about being delicate with the office furniture. But this time when I flounced to my desk and threw myself down, my poor chair decided it had had enough, so there was a huge crack sound, followed by a very unprofessional scream from me as I jumped up to save landing ass first on the ground. My office manager happened to be standing next to me when I decided to go all Incredible Hulk on the chair too, so I couldn't even hide the fact that I was destroying the office in front of her. Of course she was more concerned about me than the chair, but I explained that I was so used to chairs breaking underneath me I wasn't even scratched. (Gotta love ninja like reflexes at times like these.)

I inspected the chair and found that one of the five legs had snapped clean off and escaped somewhere to enjoy its new found freedom. I still can't find the leg so it has done a good job of falling off the grid. I just hope the boss doesn't find it on one of her random trips to the front office because then I'll have some explaining to do. Of course if she notices I'm using one of the crappy spare chairs I'll still have some explaining to do, so I can only pray she's too distracted for the next few weeks to start asking any uncomfortable questions. Of course if she does find out about my amazing skills of destruction, I could use it as a bargaining tool in the future. I'll start threatening to break all the chairs in the place simply by sitting down unless I get a longer lunch break, or a higher rate of pay. (Of course she could just use my pay rise to fund the replacement of every chair in the place.) In the meantime I may just start looking at the office catalogs to see if any of the office supply stores in the area sell steel reinforced chairs for flouncers like me.

And so with that I've had to say RIP to yet another brave chair, it tried its best to support my ample frame, but the stress was just too much. Memorial services will be held this Friday, and we ask that instead of buying flowers, you donate the money to the science of finding a chair that I cannot break.

© Reystleen | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Oh the humanity!

Attack of the chair killing bottom

So today I had the dubious honor of being the person who finally broke our computer chair. The screws holding the seat to the legs have been coming out for months now, and the holes are now so big that the screws don't even have anything to grab onto really, so it was only a matter of time before someone came and sat on the chair wrong (I tend to sit on my feet so the weight is never distributed evenly) and the whole thing would just collapse.

The sad thing for me is it isn't even the first time I've broken a chair just by sitting down either. Years ago when I was living on my own I had some bar stools that sat at my kitchen counter never being sat on because I never went near the kitchen. One day my little sister Nat was over, and something impelled me to sit on this bar stool, but not three seconds after my backside made contact with the leather I found myself becoming suddenly shorter, and my whole house seemed to grow quite tall, until I was on the ground, snapped metal poles surrounding me, and my sister was on my couch in stitches. To this day I have not lived down my chair breaking efforts. The best part she says is the look on my face as the chair and I sank to the ground.

So I now have to go computer chair shopping on pay day which is still a week away. Now for anyone who loves interior design or jumps at the chance to buy new pieces of furniture for their house, an activity like this would mean days scouring websites trying to find a chair with the perfect design, in the perfect material, looking at things like arm rests, back heights, hydraulics, cup holders. But maybe because I have never been very good at looking at things with a decorators eye, or maybe because I just don't have the darn time, this means a trip to one of the scores of discount stores that line the streets where I live and grabbing the cheapest chair I can find.

Luckily for me, buying a new computer chair has been on the to do list for several months now (of course) so I have even managed to spend a little time testing out computer chairs whenever I visit said discount stores, making this trip even faster than I could have hoped. And who knows, maybe my brand new executive style black leather computer chair will have a positive effect on the way I work while I'm in front of the computer. Maybe I can make better decisions with more cushioning around my already ample behind. Maybe the correct back support will mean the difference between a good blog post and a great blog post. Or maybe it will just be one more thing I have to protect from Miss K. (She thinks the whole world is a trampoline at the moment. It could have something to do with the trampoline in my big sister's back yard, but I'm no expert.)

In the mean time I'm stuck using an old dining chair as my computer chair, and my butt is already screaming at me for more padding. So if this blog post is terrible, I blame the chair. In the hopes of inspiring myself to write better, I'm off to stare at pictures of chairs with more stuffing than this one.

Source

I feel better already. 

Belated birthday revenge...

Whoops a daisy, I almost forgot the special birthday post for my little sister. I knew last night that there was something I was meant to be doing on here, but do you think I could remember what it was? Well it's probably for the best that I left it for today because I am fresh as a daisy and ready to pay back my little sister for hacking my Facebook.

But it isn't just about revenge, it's also about wishing her a happy birthday. And because she didn't have very many humiliating photos on her photo board at her 21st birthday party last year, I figured now was the time to rectify that oversight and flood my blog with as many cringe-worthy pictures as I could find.

So I guess a little bit of a back story is needed so that you guys can understand the content of the following photos. Well once upon a time many years ago (ok four years ago) Nat and I were drinking buddies. Given that by the time Natty was old enough to drink I'd been out of the pub scene for about 3 years we tended to meet up at my place to hold our shenanigans, as I preferred being able to enjoy my alcohol without the hoards of sweaty, sloppy teenagers that you tend to find in pubs and nightclubs. Now the one drawback of drinking at home is you don't have to behave yourself quite as much as you would in public, so we would get a bit messy ourselves. And for some reason we always decided to capture the messiness for future generations to admire. (I don't understand the logic there either.) But terrible photography aside, I always had fun with my drinking buddy, and we would spend lots of time laughing (and crying once the alcohol started wearing off.) It was a sad day for both of us when I realized that our days of drunken shenanigans were over now that I was going to be a mum and had to start acting like a responsible person. So in a way I'm glad that these photos exist because they are all that's left of my wild and misspent youth. Although I'm not quite sure that Nat will feel the same way about them as I do.

Careful, I think she's about to burst!

Now where did I put my cigarette then?

I said love, I said pet, I said love...

Now that is one happy camper...

Like I said, messy.

So happy birthday Fat Kat. Even though this is a day late the sentiment is still the same, I have horrible photos of you and I'm not afraid to use them. 

*Editors note, I know I promised the next blog post would be about a Christmas planning book, and the post is still coming, however the batteries in my camera died so I have to wait till they recharge to take some photos of the finished product. 

Mark Zuckerberg

So tonight I have the urge to blog, but no inspiration. I have sat here staring at my blank page for about five minutes without anything popping to mind as interesting enough to write about. I even got desperate enough to try a random topic generator to try and inspire me, but it wasn't much help. It told me to write a blog about the magazine that is easiest to digest, and while I find that I can eat a whole issue of Women's Weekly faster than an issue of Time Magazine, I don't think that's interesting enough to turn into an entire blog.

I'd tell you about my day, but that would be so boring, I'd fall asleep while writing it. The most exciting part of today was I saw a huge rainbow out my lounge room window, and rushed to grab the camera so I could take a photo of it. Don't ask me why I needed to take a photo of it, I guess it was either take a photo or go back to staring at the wall blankly. And right now instead of thinking up witty topics to write about, I'm having a Facebook war with my little sister. Here's a great way to annoy all of your friends and family, if you type @[4:0] anywhere that you can comment on Facebook, it will change it to Mark Zuckerburg. In a rare moment of genius, I have flooded my sister's statuses and photos with this, and she of course had to reciprocate. I have succeeded in waking everyone up in the house with my laughter, but have achieved very little in finding inspiration. And so I have decided to try and find inspiration in my photo files and I think I've found a winner. Check out this little gem 

Attractive right?

For anyone who hasn't run from the room screaming in absolute terror after viewing this atrosity, this is a photo of myself eating breakfast, it was taken about 3 years ago, and edited by my lovely little sister, the same one I just won my Facebook war against. If you can't read the caption at the top, it says I eat Fat Chicks For Breakfast! and is titled thus because shortly before my sister edited this photo, we were in Melbourne together to go see a Gwen Stefani concert with our littlest sister. On our way from the train station to the stadium we stopped off at Hungry Jacks for some dinner, and as we all walked out of Hungry Jacks loaded up with our carbs and sugars, a young guy ran past us screaming I EAT FAT CHICKS FOR BREAKFAST!!!!!! Of course both of my sisters assumed he was screaming it at me, given that at the time I was the heaviest one in our group, but I'm unconvinced that he wasn't referring to either of them or in fact all three of us, but we still had a good laugh about it as we carried on. Of course little did I realise that it was something that I would be reliving every time I looked through my photo album, but I can't help but laugh every time I see this photo. Not just because I look so miserable to be eating my Rice Bubbles with cream and sugar which can't be true because it's my favourite breakfast. It used to be my favourite dinner before I had Miss K, but now I have to eat like an adult and not a 6 year old so I had to give it up.

And there you have it, that's how to get past writers block. Humiliate yourself in front of total strangers by showing unflattering photos of yourself in your dressing gown. And I still have that dressing gown, and it is still my favourite piece of leisure wear for around the house. I hope I have entertained you all with my quest to write tonight, until we meet again, stay awesome.

Never invite me to your parties...

So this is what I do when I'm trying hard not to laugh in someone's face...

Yup, this is how I spent the candle party this evening. Writing down everything I thought so that I wouldn't open my big mouth and embarrass either myself or my little sister. I have a bad habit of opening my mouth before I think, and it never ends well. Once I was at a store with my little sister, when the cashier asked one of her co-workers to call her a price check because something wouldn't scan. I, much to the humiliation of my sister turned to her and said "OK, you're a price check." Yes it's very vaudeville I know, but I said it without even thinking. Sometimes I wonder if everyone else has an internal filter that just happens to be missing in me. It doesn't matter how disgusting it is, if I think it, I say it. For example, when my sister gave me the piece of paper, I told her it would probably be covered with men's genitalia by the end of the evening (although my language wasn't that clean when I said it, I just prefer to keep this blog G-rated.) This lack of filter causes much laughter and disgust in my family, and gets me into lots of trouble. But I don't go out of my way to be disgusting, or to get into trouble. Like I said it just happens before I can think. I can only hope that Miss K has more of a filtering system in her brain than her mother does. Although given that she lives with me, and hears the way I talk every single day I'd say the chances of that are slightly slimmer than for most.

So I have walked away from a party without causing any discomfort for anyone, but I had lots of laughs, as did my little sister, who I have now renamed Danny because for some reason, even though this is the second time the woman running the party had met her, she couldn't get her name right, and just kept calling her Danny. And I have also learned something very important too; don't swear when someone tells you that an infinity candle will cost you over $150.00 because it just gives the game away that you have only come to the party for the free wine and devilled eggs.