It's nearly Christmas!

And before you could say, 'Could I have fries with that?' the year has knocked itself out and sprinted right to December. I won't bang on with lines like, 'Is it just me, or has the year gone really quickly?' cause I know that the older I get, the faster time flies and there's diddly squat I can do about that. 

It's been a big old year, far too much death for my liking (not that I have spoken about it here) but if everyone could stay alive, that would make me one happy camper. 

I haven't quite yet finished up for Christmas however, as I sold all social real estate this week, this is potentially going to be my last blog for the year.

And what better way to end it than with some pearlers from People of Walmart? 

First up we have some Japanese panda emos. Bless. 

As for our next fellow, I think Vegas has put out a Missing Persons Bulletin, they want him back!

And words escape me about this picture, I do want to whisper in her ear, 'Umm white is potentially not the most flattering colour when you don't have a tan..'

As for the snowed in convertible, I'm thinking that maybe the device that controls the roof broke. Either that, or it's stolen and been sitting there since October.

Thank you for coming and visiting during the year. And thank you, yet again, my lovely commenters. I hope you all have wonderful, SAFE, happy Christmases. 

And I'll be back in the new year!

Goldilocks? Or Goldiseal?

Would you get a load of this wee fella ? My sister sent this to me. Wouldn't you love to come home to find him, snuggled on your sofa? (Fish breath withstanding).

Apparently, after a hard day at the office, Goldiseal made his entry via the cat door at Annette Soffer's home in Tauranga and took a wee kip on the sofa.

Apparently the cats and dog were not amused however, as any self respecting seal would do, our furry friend ignored them and promptly got himself the best seat on the sofa.

I like Goldiseal's style.

When Less is More.

There's lots of things I like about Christmas. I suppose it's just the festivity of it all. It's also a real social full stop, 'We must catch up before Christmas'. Consequently, all social real estate has been sold this week.

However one thing that's guaranteed to extinguish my festive spirit is when retailers start telling you about it in October. I am happy to embrace Christmas in December but try telling me about it earlier and I'm wanting to lock Santa in a wardrobe whilst wagging my finger and telling him that that less is more.

I mean, would we appreciate the Franklin Road lights if they were on for three months a year? I live just around the corner and last year I spent a lot of December traipsing up and down the road looking at the amazing spectacle of it.




I think the thing that makes these lights even more special is that they're only on for the month of December, they're not trying to muscle into November or January and that's a good thing.

Christmas, I love it - in December.

Since it's Friday, it must be stupid animal video time...

Sometimes, not having opposable thumbs must be a real bitch.

Stop Press! Santa's bought a Prius!

Face it, it was inevitable really, Santa was always going to go green one day.

However it does render the reindeer are out of work. But fear not, turns out they're an enterprising bunch!

Don't you love those have the ability to turn a negative situation into a positive one?

Neglect!

Earlier in the year I was given an orchid.

Now, being about as competent at growing orchids as I would be hunting wilds pigs, I turned to the Oracle, Dr Google to see what he had to say in keeping orchids alive.

Apparently not much.

Hah! My specialty.

So I did exactly that and look what I woke up to yesterday morning.

Orchid flowers!

How cool are they ?

I have a whole new respect for orchids, not only are they a beautiful plant, but they're low maintenance.

I love a plant where doing very little can go a long way.

If she looks like a hippo, then I'm a giraffe.

A friend of mine at work is pregnant. She looks fantastic and dresses really well to her pregnancy.

She, however, does not think so.

'Oh, I look like a hippo!' (She doesn't).

'No you don't', says I, 'I think you look fantastic. I can't decide whether you look more like a Sellotape dispenser or a snail'.

She laughed and squealed simultaneously, but I reckon if she had a Sellotape dispenser within reach, she would have hurled it at me.

For some reason she didn't see my compliment in my compliment.

Misconception

This morning, while I was waiting at TVNZ for a meeting, a man with incredibly dark skin came in and sat down, also waiting to be collected from someone on the other side of the revolving doors. I'll replay you the conversation that I had with my multiple selves in my head.

'Wow, that skin of his is really black. I wonder where he comes from.'

'Don't stare.'

'I wonder who has the darkest skin on the planet.'

'Somewhere really, really, really hot.'

'Must Google it.'

'You're a weirdo.'

'But that skin is so black...it's almost green.'

'Don't stare.'

'But really, his skin is so dark he's almost licorice coloured.'

At that point his person was came to pick him up - I learnt from what she said to one of the receptionists that he was going to be a guest on Good Morning. For those of you not in New Zealand - Good Morning is a morning lifestyle magazine show.

Anyhou after my meeting I went back to work and had a look to see who was a guest on Good Morning this morning. And I found my friend.(At this point I'm thinking dancer? Singer?)

I discover his name is Lucky Diamond Rich and I am delighted to inform you that I wasn't wrong. The reason he looks licorice is because he's The World's Most Tattooed Man and he's here for a tattoo convention.

You'll be pleased to hear that he didn't look that scary in the flesh. Black track suits aren't that intimidating. I have to say the metal teeth were a bit of a surprise.

But the thing that struck me is that, although he's spent thousands of hours having art work inked onto his body, he no longer looks tattooed - he just looks coloured in.

Flour is Fun.

You may have already seen this. It got sent to me at work on Tuesday and it's cracked me up since then.

I had never realised the potential of a bag of flour. This is what happens when a three and one year old get their mits on a bag of flour when their mother isn't watching.



Move over bread, biscuits and cakes. Flour now has a new purpose.

A Little Bit of Kiwi Makes the Muppets.

Let me count the ways I love The Muppets. And how cool is it that one of our own, Bret McKenzie, is getting to jam with Kermit for the latest movie?

He wrote some songs for the movie and, along the way, discovered there were some strict rules he had to follow. At one point he wrote a lyrical joke for Kermit where he would sing, 'I remember when I was just a little piece of felt'. I smiled when I read that line but it didn't fly with Disney because the Muppets have always existed. (And you have to admit, Kermit's aged well).

When people say who they'd invite to their ideal dinner party - (Shakespeare, the Queen, Brad Pitt, Joan of Arc..) I generally have to think of which member of the Muppets cast I wouldn't want at the table.

Miss Piggy would either be a hoot or a nightmare. My cousin met Miss Piggy once when she was visiting England- she was in ten different boxes lying in her boss's hallway.

But that's Miss Piggy to a T, isn't it? Even in bits, she's still a diva.

You know iPads have overtaken the world when...

...you go to the hairdresser and you get handed an iPad instead of a pile of glossy magazines.

Animals Being Dicks.

I got sent this yesterday and, because it's been a while since I've posted stupid animal videos, I have absolutely no problem in posting this.

I think my favourites are Mime Cat and Crafty Sea Lion.

I'm also rather partial to the kangaroo.

I don't think I've ever said that last sentence before. Please don't judge me.

Expanding Vocab.

Yesterday I learnt a new word.

It's a police slang term for a dog on the motorway.

A quadestrian.

Quadestrian, I like you, you are now a fully signed up member of my vocabulary.

Ben Stiller is a Planker

Since I've recently been doing a bit of work for Mr.M.Mouse, I've become familiar with the cartoon Phineas and Ferb. Not exactly being Disney's target audience, I had no prior knowledge of this cartoon however, when I told friends who are in possession of small people, they all started cackling away telling me how good they thought it was.

And they were right. It follows a triangle headed boy (of course), Phineas, and his English stepbrother Ferb on summer holiday. There's an annoying sister, a baddie (the evil Dr Heinz Doofenshirmtz), oh and a playpus. Cause what cartoon is complete unless there's a platypus, right?

The cartoon got me about two minutes in, with a ballgowninator - a gun that shoots ballgowns onto its targets. It was especially funny when teenage boys were targets.

Anyhou, I've just seen they've now got their own talk show. Take Two with Phineas and Ferb. Their first guest, Ben Stiller.

I have to say, the planking was a high point for me.

This post will have absolutely no meaning to those of you who don't live in New Zealand.

I've noticed that there are an awful lot of silver Subarus in Auckland with number plates beginning with 'F'.

I pointed this out to a friend yesterday ('You really are crackers, aren't you?') and I'm pleased to say that I went on to enjoy vindication when I was able to point out three silver Subarus to him with number plates starting with 'F'.

Crackers I may be, but I am also correct.

**UPDATE**

After I posted this blog I texted my brother, Sunshine, because it suddenly occurred to me that they have recently purchased a silver Subaru.

'Random question: what does the Subaru's number plate start with?'

'FTK. Why?'

Boo-yeah! And another to prove my theory!

Ad Brilliance to Share

Every once in a while an ad comes along that you think is gold. And this is one of them.

It's a drink driving ad, paid for by NZTA and they decided that they weren't going to go for the shock tactic on this one.

So you heard the guy, don't go internalising really complicated situations.

It's amazing the material you can find when you go surfing on Facebook.

Genius.

Parallel Dream Universe.

Phew, so the boys in black managed to secure the required piece of shiny loot that the country has been lusting over for the last twenty-four years.

And we only had to sit through seventy-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds (give or take) of vague terror.

However the scary thing I found in all of this was not the mere one point victory, but was what my dream brain did with the Rugby World Cup.

Last night I dreamt that the Rugby World Cup wasn’t just a competition over rugby, it was also a chocolate chippie biscuit competition.

Oh yeah.

My dream didn’t go into the finer details of the competition but in the ticker tape parade it did have Richie McCaw on a truck brandishing the Webb Ellis Trophy. The truck was also hooked up to a trailer that was carrying the GIANT chocolate chippie biscuit that had won the baking competition. I must say, it was a fine looking biscuit.

Should I be very afraid of my brain?

Question.

Don't you think that......stretching...
..is one of the most underrated pleasures on the planet?

And New Zealand breathes a collective sigh of relief.

Who-ho! We're through to the finals of the Rugby World Cup.

Phew. Looks like we'll avoid any rioting in the streets as I had feared.

While it would have been nice to have been up against Wales in the final, I did point out that we'd get a lot more satisfaction out of beating France.

You blow up one boat...

You know you fly alot when...

...the airport parking guys not only know your name...but they also know your car's number plate.

Surprises.

Some very old friends of mine who have been living in the U.S and Canada for the last ten or so years are out for the World Cup and, with them, they've brought their Nearly-Three-Year-Old.

It's the third time I've met her since she was born and she's growing into a very cute wee person.

Just one thing I wasn't prepared for.

The fact that if you're born in the States and you grow up surrounded by Americans, you will have an American accent.

'You've got an American accent!' I squealed.

Nearly Three-Year-Old gives me a Welcome-to-State-the-Bleedin'-Obvious-Productions look.

'Yes, she has, hasn't she?' Says her mother.

'It never occurred to me!'

'Yeah, but you're a fool.' Says her father.

I love my friends.

It's Serious Stuff.

A woman at work was telling me that she could hear her husband speaking on the telephone on Sunday. She said he was sounding deeply distressed.

'OH NO! No, no, no. Fuuuuuuck. Please say it isn't so. No. NO. NO.NO!'

My colleague said she was beside herself. She was desperately motioning to him to tell her what had happened. After was seemed like a lifetime to her, he hung up.

'What's happened? Whose died?' She asked her emotionally truamatised husband.

'Dan Carter's out of the World Cup.'

Clang! Did I just drop something?

Under the heading:Entertaining Texts to Get.

One from one of your very old friends telling you that he's just been at a black tie fashion event at The Met where he was mixing it up with Ban Ki-moon and Martha Stewart.

My only thought was, I wondered if Ban Ki-moon enjoyed the fashion event ?

A Treat.

As I wait for the second of three flights for the weekend I thought I'd treat you to a bit of Awkward Family Photo action. I haven't been lurking around the interweb much of late, however having a few hours to kill at an airport is a nice wee window of opportunity.

Let's just say, it never fails to disappoint.

I thought I'd kick things off with the family who likes to stay connected. Either that, or Grandpa invented the mobile phone.

For Christmas Santa gave gingham...
And I'm not sure what the sparkly leaves/acorns/pinecones represent in this photo. Maybe how he'd feel if he won Lotto?
All I'm saying about this one is that I'm really hoping Dad was off to a fancy dress party.
And saving the best for last. I think the children have the 'we-haven't-seen-our-sister-days-and-we-think-we-know-where-she-is' look of fear in their eyes.

However, I looked at this photo and I looked and looked again. It looked vaguely familiar. And then I realised.

Have a great weekend!

John Cleese Genius.

The English Office sent me this recently and, oh my, it made me hoot.

It's an article by John Cleese on different country's terrorist threat levels.

The shameless cutting and pasting starts here.

ANNOUNCEMENT

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re- categorized have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

And it goes on. I thoroughly recommend you go and read it. However I just have to throw a couple of other references. The Italians:

Italy has increased the alert from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

And the Australians:

"Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be alright, Mate." Three more escalation levels remain:"Crikey!", "I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend," and "The barbie is canceled."

And from the the Things-you-may-not-know-about-John-Cleese-File. His father's last name was actually Cheese, but his father changed the family name in 1915 upon joining the army.

Don't say you never learn anything here.

But if he does it again, I'll kill him.

Wow, what a few weeks it's been.

Wall to wall work and then my father thought he'd spice things up by throwing a wee heart attack into the mix.

Not ideal for all concerned.

I'm delighted to report that a couple of hospitals and some heart hardware later he informs me his health status is officially 'A Box of Fluffies'.

I knew the world was returning to normal when I got a text from my sister after he'd just got home, 'Dad is checking his spuds.'

But, being the glorious bastard my father is, do you know what his line is for his mates who he knows will give him stick for potentially being an old bugger?

'At least I've had mine. Yours is coming.'

RIP REM

I stole this from Popbitch cause it's simply too good not to.

Proper service will resume next week.

Please keep stopping by!

I've haven't abandoned this. It's just I've done the whole bitten-off-more-than-I-can-chew thing.

Currently also working for Mr. M. Mouse, so a bit too busy.

Be yapping in a few days.

(She says, trying to stop herself spinning).

Communication with the Tooth Fairy.

Email this morning from my sister with a photo of Seven-year-old niece sans her third tooth. With the amount of indoor-outdoor flow in that child's mouth right now, she could eat a carrot through a tennis racket racket.

What I love is the letter she had written for the Tooth Fairy. In it she said that she and several friends, "are up for training to be a fairy. I'm also wondering if there are any other types of fairys? From Seven-year-old-niece, a friend, another friend, another friend and another friend. PS: Mainly from Seven-year-old-niece!!! PPS: Nine-year-old niece wants to be a fairy too. PPPS: what's the difference between a pixie and a fairy?"

I'm dying to know what the Tooth Fairy's response was.

You know when the Rugby World Cup is about to start when...

...you're at your local cafe (which is a stone's throw from Eden Park) and you notice a new face amongst all the regulars.

Except this new face is not quite the same as the other faces. This new face is dressed stunningly.

A beautifully tailored leather jacket, a skirt to the ground. A bit like this but floatier.

Olive skinned, manicured, pedicured, minimalist makeup. Diamonds, not the size of my head but closer to the size of rice, in her ears.

Understated yet so stylish.

Basically, if you ever wanted to feel like a bush pig, this is the woman to stand beside.

When she ordered her coffee, it was with a French lilt.

If you ever wanted to sound like a bush pig, this is the woman to stand beside. (Could someone explain why a French accent makes, 'May I please have an espresso?' sound so much more interesting).

You tell the blokes were thinking, 'Smoking hot' and the women were thinking, 'I felt quite good when I left the house, now I feel like Barney Rubble'.

Yes, a taste of the next six weeks to come.

It's going to be fun.

Yay!

Happy Spring!Who-hoo. I absolutely adore spring!
And I don't know whether it's because it means winter is over or that summer is coming.

Letter to the Editor - or Not.

A friend in England sent me the following letter. In fact, he's sent me so much material, I may have to start referring to him as The English Office.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shown below is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by an 86 year-old woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire pension, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally answer your telephone calls and letters, but when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an OFFENSE under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope.

Please find attached an Application Contract which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.

In due course, at MY convenience, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:

IMMEDIATELY AFTER DIALING, PRESS THE STAR (*) BUTTON FOR

#1. To make an appointment to see me

#2. To query a missing payment.

# 3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.

#4 To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am .

#5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.

#6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.

#7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to that Authorized Contact mentioned earlier.

#8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7

#9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.

#10. This is a second reminder to press* for English.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.

May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year?

Your Humble Client

And remember: Don't make old People mad. We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to piss us off.

************

Don't 'cha just want to invite this woman to Christmas? I reckon she'd be a hoot.

However a quick Google check on this landed me on the Lie Pie, a website that tells me that if you invited the writer of this letter to your Christmas table you wouldn't be dining with an 86 year old woman with a killer attitude. Just another pissed off customer.

Regardless, I reckon the author of this letter would be an entertaining addition to any dinner party.

I forgot to ask him how many lives he thought he had left.

I recently met a guy who has climbed Everest, been crushed by an iceberg (eight broken ribs, a broken sternum and a ten hour helicopter flight) AND been in a helicopter crash.

I should also point out that none of these incidences were related, except for the fact he was the common denominator.

I guess that pretty much rules out all possibility of him ever winning Lotto.

There is the possibility that only people who come from farms will find this amusing.

I was having a drink with an old friend who was in town the other day. Today he's a successful cameraman/producer with awards coming out his ears, but he started out earning a crust as a farm hand and a fencer before picking up a camera. And every once and a while we get reminded of this.

We were sitting there, nattering away, when my phone rang.

Or, I should say, barked.

His eyes lit up. 'Is that your ringtone?'

'Yup.'

He held the phone closer, listened intently and then asked, 'Is it a Huntaway?'

More testament to the fact that you can take the bloke out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the bloke.

I have a hunch...

...that Gaddafi was really good at playing hide-and-go-seek as a kid.I think the fact that he looked too scary to be found would have worked in his favour.

Don't Judge a Book by its Cover.

A friend of mine sent me these.

Awkward Family Photo, you now have competition from Soviet Dating.com
I'd like to introduce Mr-Casual-Soviet Dude.
Or then there's Mr No-Really,-I'm-a-Talent-Spotter.
Ladies, ladies, ladies try and resist Mr I'm-a-Devil-on-the-Inside?
Unless of course Mr I-Will-Protect-You-for-Eternity-and-Beyond floats your boat?

But then, I'm just confusing you with Mr I'm-Actually-A-Bear, am I not ?

And now here's the scary part.

It's not a dating website.

These pictures are from an East German archive of the secret Stasi handbook of disguise.

The agents were on a course on the 'art of disguising'.They were learning how to blend in to society i.e these not only are these pictures serious, these men were deadly.

It just goes to show just because it may look like a goose, sound like a goose and smell like a goose - it doesn't necessary mean that it's a goose.

Does anyone else have any ideas ?

A friend in England sent me this photo. It was titled, 'Why raincoats are yellow'.

And from where I'm sitting, I think that photo is testament to a great reason.

But I want to know why?

She lost at a game of strip poker ?

Went to have a naked spa with her bloke and her friends thought they'd be funny and steal her clothes ?

She woke up in her dream ?

One thing's for sure, I bet this woman hates the internet.

Guest post from The Fruitcake

For those of you basking in summer, you may not know that currently Mother Nature is icing New Zealand.

An Antarctic blast, which the Metservice is describing a one in fifty year event, is currently bitchslapping the country. It's been greeted with delight by those regions who never get to see snow while others, understandably, are a little snow weary.

In light of this, my mother sent me this email last night. (I must admit, I do swell with pride when I can put the words, 'my mother' and 'email' in the same sentence. She is such a clever clogs. Even though I'd put ten dollars on the fact she'd rather a slate and chalk).

Kate

Look what I thought tonight.

‘Snow flakes, flattening themselves on my kitchen window.

Do they want to come inside, to be warm and dry?

Shouldn’t think so – that’ll make them dead.

They probably just drew the short straw – onto a window, slide down, that’s that, end of commitment, next please.

Can’t you just hear them - “Head Office never told us what very mucky windows we could encounter.”

“Think how clean we’ll leave them.”

“Pollyanna.”

“Pollyanna yourself. I’ve had my photo taken.”

“Why’d anyone want your photo? You’re just a smear down a glass slab.”

“He took a photo with a flash. That means – in case you didn’t know – he would get all my individual shapes. My own pattern will be captured – for ever –. He’ll very probably post it on Twitter and I’ll be immortal.”

As she slid into wet oblivion at the bottom of the window, she looked sideways. He was all crumpled and out of shape.

Smiling to herself, she gathered her sides to her middle, shut her eyes, and glided into history.’

I might make more of this, but can you see them sliding down the window?

my love

hteM xx

I LOVE that story, unfortunately I'd better head for the hills, cause she's going to have my guts for garters when she discovers I've posted it.

Serendipity...

Some months ago I was in Christchurch and, as it was An Occasion, a dinner out was appropriate. But where to go? All the usual haunts have been reduced to rubble.

Due to the fact that I am such an organised type, two days before I wanted to go out for dinner, I leapt on the phone and rang round the four remaining restaurants in town seeing if I could get in anywhere.

No, no, no and you’ve got to be kidding. At the place I really wanted to go to, I left a grovelling message leaving my name and number on the answer phone… and started contemplating dinner in Ashburton.

You can imagine how happily gobsmacked I was when they rang me back the following day and told me that, yes, they had one table left and they could squeeze us in at 8.30.

I was stunned at my luck.

So off we went and, ten minutes after we arrived at the restaurant, the chef/owner came over to our table. While the personal touch was very nice, didn't he have more important things to do? Like cook for the rest of the packed-to-the-gunnels restaurant?

And then it all fell into place.

Doing his best to (*cough*mask his disappointment) explain his presence he said, ‘Oh! I was just coming to make sure you’re not the other Kate Mylastname.’

‘Sorry, I’m another one. We’re common as mud. We’re everywhere'.

He then proceeded to try and convince us to purchase an extraordinarily expensive bottle of wine, before making a hasty retreat to his kitchen.

Sometimes, just sometimes, sharing the same name as the local restaurant critic does have its benefits.

Please pass me the sofa and a blankie.

In the last three weeks I have; flown over four thousand kilometres, driven about two thousand two hundred kilometres, drunk my body weight in Tattinger, been to hospital (the last two weren't related), been a ghost (a tan blanket ghost), been stranded by snow for three days and had my arrival at my uncle and aunt's announced by my cousin's husband with the words, 'I thought I could smell troll!'

Which could explain why I have a sneaking suspicion that Mr I.N. Fluenza may have just purchased some real estate in my body.

But I'm just holding out that his finance will fall through.

Question.

Do you think Barack Obama ever wakes up and thinks, 'I really can't be arsed going to work today?'

Isn't it a bit frivolous ?

So it appears there are plans to build a temporary cathedral in Christchurch.

Out of cardboard.

For those of you who haven't heard, a renowned Japanese architect by the name of Shigeru Ban, has designed the building. It's apparently to be made out of cardboard tubes, it has shipping containers for foundations, with a stained glass window and capacity for 700.

And the Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Trust, run by the Prime Minister's office, has granted a $50,000 feasibility study which will include things like how the four million dollars needed for the project, would be raised.

The four million dollars?

Four million dollars to build a temporary structure?

Call me very ill informed and not very bright but could someone please explain to me why these people are considering spending enormous amounts of money on something that's going to be replaced?

If it was a hospital, a school or housing I would completely get it. But a temporary cathedral?

Nope, don't get it, don't get it at all.

And from what I can gather, it seems there are others who are equally mystified.

Jetstarred, I narrowly avoided it.

So after months of managing to avoid flying Jetstar, I got seduced into it because it came down to a matter of dollars. When you're smiling down the barrel of a two hundred dollar difference, I can't justify paying for minor details like reliability.

Anyway, being Little-Miss-Anal-Checking-Online-Pants, the day before I was due to fly I looked at my flight's status. And I discovered that, 24 hours out, my plane was already delayed by two and a half hours. Jetstar was already stealing a whole lot of my Friday evening real estate and, quite frankly, that real estate is expensive and I wasn't prepared to give any of it up...let alone to Jetstar.

So on I leapt to the telephone and tried to wangle myself an earlier flight. Unfortunately they were all full.

'Isn't there any way I can there?'

'Okay, I'll see what I can do for you.'

'Pleeease', I grovel-begged, 'that would be really kind of you.'

'I'll see if I can get you on Qantas.'

'Hmmm', think I, 'I didn't think Qantas was flying domestically anymore in New Zealand - but maybe she knows something I don't, best I kept my trap shut'.

After a few minutes she came back on the line, 'I can get you on the Wellington to Christchurch at 5.30 pm.'

'Okaaaay, but how do I get to Wellington?'

'Can't you drive?'

'It's a nine hour drive....'

Silence.

Needless to say, that was a fruitless phone call, but the nice lady did give me access to all the free stuff in the lounge.

However, eventually I did manage to to wangle myself an earlier flight which pleased me alot - especially as I discovered the flight I originally was booked on landed at....2.07 a.m.

The only good thing about being previously Jetstarred, is that it potentially arms you with the weapons of how to avoid it in the future.

I think.

Crikey, my dream brain is losing the plot.

I had a dream last night that my friends, the parents-of-four-boys-nine-and-under, had all moved to Japan. Not too outlandish scenario, considering they used to live there. They even took their car. Okay, potentially not so economic, but an not-out-of-this-world thing to do.

In my dream I went to visit them and they were all in fine form. Again, within the realms of possibility.

They had a acquired a new dog. Not too far fetched, either.

Just one thing not quite so usual - its ears.

They were the design of television test patterns.

Just your average nondescript dog with really colourful ears.

It's at this point I ask myself: just where does this shit come from ?

So I've been following the News of the World story with avid interest.....

..and I have one observation.

Actually I have many - but I'm just going to make one here. And it's not going to be that Rebekah Brooks looks like Mick Hucknall.

(But don't you reckon they may have shared the same hairdresser at some point?)

No, my observation is, didn't The News of the World newsroom sound like a hideous place to work in?

It's my party and I'll riot if I want to.

So I was having a beer with some friends on Saturday night and we were talking about the nearly-upon-us Rugby World Cup. They live a stone's throw from Eden Park, home to the final.

'Oh god', said one, 'I just hope we don't lose, can you imagine how we'll behave?'

'We can't lose, ohhhh, we just can't lose', said another.

'Don't even suggest it', said another.

'Morale will be horrific,' said another.

'No', said the first, 'Can you imagine what people could do, if we lose?'

And then it dawned on me. If we lose, there is the potential we will behave appallingly.

' Oh no', said I, 'under "Poor Losers" in the dictionary I think it says, 'New Zealand after losing a World Cup final. Under "Poor Losers and Even Worse Hosts" is 'New Zealand after losing a World Cup final - when they're hosting it.'

Nope, not an outcome I'm willing to contemplate.

Okay, so I already have.

Just as long as we don't have an Armageddon style riot.

Now that would be embarrassing.

Question.

Should I be concerned that I potentially have a little too much on my plate when I get to the car to discover I've put the remote control in my handbag and not my telephone?

In case you were wondering...

I haven't bailed! Just got a few big things to get done and delivered...back in a day or two...!

I am so transparent.

I wasn't going to post other people's material today.

Nope.

Not one intention.

No, this post was going to fall right out of my head, through my fingers and into this piece of blog real estate.

But that was before I sashayed over to Awkward Family Photo and found this.

Yes, that is a bride and those are her bridesmaids. (And, I assume, her stuffed toys?)

Oh, let me count the ways how I love people.

Especially those who make guest appearances over at Awkward Family Photo.

Fashion, she's got one hell of a sense of humour.

Check out what she's been up to.

Just in case you'd forgotten, or missed it along the way.

A friend of mine sent me this and, oh my, there's lots more where this selection came from.

I'm picking Star Wars has a lot to answer for as well as The Flying Nun. See you on the other side.

I think I can successfully say that I've left the best for last. I'm going to struggle to beat 'Men in Belted Sweaters.' Fashion pulled off a beauty when she came up with that one. (Mind you, that collar on steroids is proving mighty stiff competition).

Giddy up.

Timmy tipped me over the edge.

Regular readers will know that I am forever stealing material from Awkward Family Photobecause life really does seem so glorious over there.

In light of this, Brother-in-law headed me over to this post featuring vintage ventriloquist dummies.

Oh yeah.

So without further ado, here we go! First up, vintage potato head puppet.

As for the polka dot sisters who appear to be channelling Zoro...

About now, I start to become at a loss for words.
Sorry, still nothing...

*shudders*
*Wonders when the nightmares will start*
*Books herself in for therapy*

Why is it that Timmy seems older than both of them?

And why is it that I fear Timmy is going to terrorize my dreams in the near future?