Tag Archives: humour

The Lies We Tell

Butter Wouldn't Melt in his Mouth!

Butter Wouldn’t Melt in his Mouth!

The lies I told today when making a booking with the ‘pet friendly’ hotel today:

Them: “Is your dog a small dog?”

Me: “Well, you know he’s not teeny small, but he is a small-ish Labrador.”

(Lie #1. He weighs 40 kilos and he can easily put his paws on my shoulders when on his hind legs. He’s huge. In fact I’m not so sure he’s not part Great Dane or Mastiff.)

Them: “Oh, well we usually only accept small dogs. Is he very well behaved?”

Me: “Oh yes, he’s an angel, he is quiet as a mouse and doesn’t chew. He’s basically like a guide dog but we’re not blind.”

(Lie #2. He’s terribly behaved. He eats shoes like he’s on his last meal – prefers expensive designer brands –  He howls terribly if we leave him alone for more than a few hours because he’s used to me being with him all day (I work from home). If he were a guide dog the blind person wouldn’t last a day,he’s the most (happy) undisciplined dog I’ve ever met.)

Them: “And is he used to travelling with you and being left at the hotel if you go out?”

Me: “Oh yes, he’s a regular traveller, we travel with him all the time. He loves it and he’s just a part of the family, waits patiently for us to return when we’re out and gives the hotel and it’s patrons no trouble at all. All the places we’ve stayed love him.”

(Lie #3. He’s never been to a hotel with us before. It’s really hard to find pet friendly hotels in Australia (God Bless America – so much easier to find them there) and  because he’s such a pain in the ass to take places we leave him with my sister who he adores nearly as much as he loves shoes. Or as a last resort, in a kennel where he pines and has been known to attempt suicide. Really.)

The thing about him, he’s adorable. We’ve actually just signed him up to start stem cell therapy for his elbow displasiya and osteo-arthritis – ground breaking stuff in the animal world. He’s sweet and loving and funny….and not very well behaved.

All this for a last minute quick trip away, oh the lies! Blogging is my confessional.

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BYO (Anti-Venom That Is)

English: Sydney funnel web spider

English: Sydney funnel web spider (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Another ‘American living in Australia‘ experience has prompted me to post…

My poor husband. Truly there are times where he marvels that our country is so heavily populated. How so many more of us haven’t perished from a spider/box jellyfish/crocodile/shark or snake bite defies logic for him. The fact that we have so many deadly creatures is one thing, but this recent development to him was going way too far.

It was announced on the news recently that there was an anti-venom shortage for the funnel web spider bite. For those of you that don’t know, the funnel web spider is the deadliest in the world and is found well, pretty much everywhere people are also found en mass. As you can imagine this creates quite a problem.

My (apparently incorrect) assumption was that ‘they’ (being those anti-venom experts) had some kind of breeding center where they bred these nasty beings and milked them for their venom. I’m not suggesting that I’ve come up with some kind of ground breaking solution or anything, but to all those funnel web experts out there, you might want to consider this option in preference to the ‘solution’ (and I use that term loosely), you offered below.

Surprisingly this is not the case. Given that there is no such facility, along with the announcement about the anti-venom shortage was also a rather detailed segment on the prime time news explaining what we as good citizens can do to help alleviate this problem. In short, they were asking regular Australian citizens to catch funnel web spiders, and all they were suggesting we do it with was a cup, a piece of cardboard, and a well-written will in hand. (I lie the will was never mentioned,  an oversight no doubt.)

It was this segment that I found my husband watching in horrific disbelief.

You must watch the clip, it’s really quite laughable and only 2 minutes long. (Note how he moves the cup so calmly when the spider looks to be headed in a different direction – 2 inches from his hand!!)

How to catch the worlds deadliest spider – with a cup and a piece of cardboard.

Being a good Aussie girl I myself watched this segment with relative disinterest thinking back to all the times my father had searched the yard for these notorious killers when we were kids, pouring mineral turpentine into their holes, lighting a match and throwing it into the hole before walking away in search for his next victim. I never thought much about this, his obvious duty was to protect his family and this was the safest and most efficient way to get the job done. Funnel webs were an unpleasant part of life, but not one that I gave much thought to – until now.

Hubby looked at me when the segment ended in absolute disbelief. “That would never air on the prime time news anywhere in America” he exclaimed; “In fact I doubt it would air for any reason, ever, anywhere in America! That’s the kind of advise that would end up in lawsuits by the thousands!”

I pondered this for a moment and came to the conclusion he was right. That said, I also don’t think too many Americans would choose to play with such a dangerous creature even if the segment were to go to air – unfortunately there is a large population of (mostly) young men here in Australia who seem to be er.. mentally challenged in such areas. That segment essentially endorsed stupid and dangerous behaviour, they would be most happy to comply.

No doubt this is why you saw the very clear direction from the expert on not allowing dad (read: men) to perform this task. As you can see, the one positive my hubby took out of this whole clip was that he wasn’t expected to catch the spider – in fact it was deemed that both children and dads should stay away from these deadly creatures. It seems that us ‘mums’ are either strangely resistant to the bite of such a spider, or perhaps perceived as just a little more dispensable. (I’m fairly sure which, and I don’t appreciate the insinuation!)

This whole ‘population rescue’  that us mothers are supposed to make, is all contingent of course on the fact that we aren’t bitten by this worlds most deadly and notoriously agressive spider in the process! Which, ironically, would require the need of an anti-venom that is already in direly short supply.

Is it not enough that we are almost solely responsible for populating the world, and now we’ve been lumped with the responsibility of keeping you all alive as well? Something seems very wrong with this picture if you ask me.

I did find a special kind of pleasure in hearing him say in the post script portion of the segment “The one you catch may save your child, mother, friend or relative.” Notably, he neglected to mention that the one you catch could also end up being the one that causes demise of your own being.

Gotta love the Australians it’s such a small detail, no need to mention it and get people all all worked up over nothing.

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Darwin Award Contender?

Following on from those ‘mentally challenged’ males who seek out danger and make stupid decisions that seem to exist en mass in Australia that I mentioned in my last post on the Anti-Venom shortage, here is a classic example of one such creature that was arrested a few weeks ago in the same state we live in.

This is an actual  police report that was released to the media about the incident:

ASSAULT POLICE/HRPCA

About 3am 4 April 2013 Police were about to leave the Station when they noticed a 2011 Holden Commodore sedan driving in a westerly direction at about 10klm/h.

The driver of the vehicle has allegedly leant out of the window and given Police “the bird”. He travelled for another 50 metres and then ran out of petrol coming to a stop. 

As Police approached the 38 old male he has become abusive towards Police. The male has advanced towards Police allegedly threatening assault. He was subdued with the use of OC Spray and due to his continued struggling he was handcuffed and conveyed to the Police Station. 

The male appeared to be affected by alcohol and was subjected to a breath analysis which returned a reading in the high range. A check of his licence revealed that it had expired on the 20 March 2013.

He was bail refused to appear at the  Local Court today.

Did I laugh my ass off when I read this? You bet I did!

Giving some cops the finger is dumb. Doing it when you’re running out of gas is dumber (running that low on gas is a whole new kind of dumb), running out of gas after giving cops the finger is bad. Being agressive and abusive towards them when they approach you is epically bad.

Doing all this while drunk and driving a vehicle with no valid licence is just plain stupid.

I suspect this guy will hear about this from his friends and family for a very long time. (Plus I hope they throw the book at him).

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Faux Pas

5652724063_de2b6d2ee5_zI wasn’t sure I wanted to have a child when I was younger.

I spent my 20’s traveling, working, eating at great restaurants and generally enjoying life. I had a good job that paid well with a company car, laptop and phone. My personal expenses were almost zero. I lived in an apartment just steps from the beach, and I used my 4 weeks vacation a year to travel overseas as much as possible.

I ended up giving up the well-paying job and moving to Ireland and then England to travel, before finally settling in the USA with my (now) husband. It was so much fun! Living in and experiencing new countries and cultures should be a rite of passage for all 20-somethings. I met so many interesting people, visited so many fascinating places and wanted more and more of it. I wasn’t sure that kids and the kind of travel I envisioned for my life would mix very well…

Then my son came along. After a few years of misery (the kid was born 3 months early, spent 4 months in intensive care and never slept through the night until he was three years old due to a feeding disorder – so yes, I can honestly say it was often miserable), he became one of my primary reasons for a good laugh.

Kids are funny, they just are. Even better, most often they aren’t trying to elicit a response so their hilarity is even more endearing. Like when we were driving by a large cemetery in a city far from our town and the headstones could be viewed as far as the eye could see. The 8-year-old said:

“WOW, it looks like a whole lot of people have died…”

Yes it does son, yes it does.

images

However, the biggest laugh my husband has had of late can be attributed to me when talking about my son to his teacher during a school interview a few months back. About halfway through the interview all was going well with the teacher until I came out with the following;

“Sorry he hasn’t completed all of his homework over the past few weeks, we’ve just moved house and getting internet hooked up in this town is harder than scoring cocaine…he’ll get it finished as soon as we are back online.”

Yeah, I really said that. It sounded a lot better in my head than it did after it came out of my mouth and I saw the teachers response (she did not smile). I couldn’t see my husbands response, his head was already in his hands by the time I looked over at him.

The conversation in the car afterwards went something like this:

Hubby: ” I can’t believe you said that! It’s possibly the number one thing you should never say to your child’s teacher!”

Me: “Oh come on, she had to know I was kidding, I volunteer in class every week for Gods sake! Surely that buys me a little credibility? Surely I can get a pass based on my history of good works? It just explained the situation so well. We moved weeks ago, and the damn telco company still hasn’t been able to get our internet hooked up, it’s ridiculous!”

Hubby: “I’m sure she’s reporting us to DOCS.” (Dept. of Community Services)

Me: “Oh well then, judging by the copious quantity of cigarette-smoking parents towing bare-footed children behind them with snot running down their faces and coughs that sound like the death rattle in the middle of winter – along with the large display of grammatically incorrect cuss words spray painted on the bridge heading out of town, they seem largely useless at their jobs – so I suspect it will all turn out just fine.”

Kiddo (little voice from the back seat): “Why is cocaine so hard to get?”

Hubby and I (in unison): “Because its dangerous, don’t ever try it!”

Hubby has since announced I am banned from future interviews until he has time to redeem our family name.

With him on the job it could take decades.

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Beauty or Brains?

If someone can show me the full-amenity indoor bathroom and tell me the number to dial for turn-down service, this is the kind of camping I could get excited about.

My sister and I are about 8 years apart in age and we are vastly different beings.

I am older and wiser. (ie. I have more grey hair and love handles). She is blonde (with the help of a little Loreal) and I am brunette. She is short (5 foot even – though she claims 5′ 2″- and we all nod and smile encouragingly while rolling our eyes at each other behind her back), and I am tall(er) at 5′ 5″. I’m know I was 5′ 6″ at one point but I seem to have somehow shrunk over the years, and I have no idea where the inch went.

It’s generally agreed that she got the looks in the family and I got the brains. (By ‘generally agreed,’ I mean by me.)

My father and my mother seem to think she got both the looks and brains and I’ve just pretty much wasted my prime years perusing J Crew cataloges and visiting Anthropologie stores while mastering the complexities of social media and decorating houses. But what are parents for if not to blow their opinions off as senile and absurd? So that’s what I do.

Our grandmother won’t commit on subjects like these, she’s considered our family’s version of Switzerland and will probably take her true opinions with her to the grave, and I love her all the more for it.

Regardless, for the purpose of this post my sister is the pretty-but-sometimes-dense member of the family. With that in mind, I’d like to recount to you a conversation we had recently.

My sister rented a cabin in our town with some girlfriends and spent the week doing what young women do best; eating out, sleeping in, drinking cocktails and lying on the beach sun bathing. At the end of the week her friends left town she came to stay with us for the weekend, before heading back to her life in her own town a few hours away.

We went out to lunch together and were chatting about her week, when I asked her about the accommodations at the cabin. I am not a fan of any kind of camping – especially when it’s made to sound like it’s a more exclusive experience than camping – like when people call it a cabin but what they really mean is a tent with firmer walls.

To me, unless your cabin has a/c, cable TV, fancy soaps in the bathroom and daily maid service – it’s camping – and no fancy siding or stylish roof line will convince me otherwise.

We had started this discussion about how cabins were still roughing it (in my world) before she went on the trip, and she had tried to convince me of the luxurious level of these particular cabins, adding that they even had air conditioning! I have to be honest it had impressed me, so now I wanted to know what other luxuries were on offer that I didn’t know about.

I mentioned the a/c and asked how the stay was overall, her response went something like this:

The first day we got there there was a horrible smell in the cabin (just as I suspected – glammed up camping is still camping!) and there was no air conditioning or seaside views as had been promised in the photos when we booked, so we went up to the reception area and complained. They responded instantly, assuring us they would move us to a suitable replacement.

We went out that day and when we got back they had moved all our stuff for us into a nicer, more modern cabin, and it did have the a/c wall unit and the ocean views from the deck, so we were pleased.

We got changed and showered and decided to go out for the night and in preparation of our homecoming later, we turned on the a/c to full power to make sure the cabin was nice and cool when we got home and we were trying to sleep.

We got home many hours later (it was a big night!) about 3am, and the place was stinking hot and smelled of something burning!  We had to open the windows to let the hot summer night air in, just to be able to breathe comfortably.

We had seen a sign on the a/c unit asking us to never leave it on when we were out of the cabin, but we had ignored it, assuming it was a cost-saving measure. Now we were panicking, had we done something to the unit leaving it on for so long in our absence?

Had running it for so long unattended somehow overheated the unit? We didn’t want to get into trouble or have to pay for it, so we turned it off and sweltered our way through the rest of the week without mentioning it to the staff.”

The day we left when returning the keys, the guy at the front desk asked if our stay lived up to our expectations?

I made the comment that the a/c hadn’t worked for the entire stay and the guy looked at me with confusion. “we don’t have a/c in our cabins” he said.

I argued with him, “I saw it in the photos when booking online, and we definitely have one, it just wasn’t working.”

“I can assure you, none of our cabins come with a/c.” he responded. I started to get irritated, thinking that instead of offering an apology or some kind of refund, he was being difficult and rude. “Well, what do you call the big unit with the on/off switch on the wall that blows out air?” I retorted.

He looked at me with a huge grin. “I call it a heater. All our premier cabins come with those.” “Oh,” I said, “Well, that explains the burning smell…”

I know the guy at the desk was going to enjoy the memory for the rest of the afternoon, so humiliating!

This story sent me into gales and gales of laughter, because of course it proved my point. There is no such thing as luxury camping, or camping with amenities, and that’s why no one will ever get me out there.

Ever.

Even better, it proved my point that despite my parents obvious disappointment at my lack of achievements in life, I’m still the smarter one.

As an added benefit, I get to repeat this story to all her friends and future children over the coming decades – not to mention the blogosphere – and we can all have a chuckle at her expense. As a sibling, it just doesn’t get much better than that.

Disclaimer: My sister has a very important job earning lots of money and by all accounts her boss thinks she is brilliant. Still, she’s my little sister, so to me she will never be allowed to be smarter than me – it’s simply not possible – right Beck? 😉

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Sneaking in the Back Door

A barnstar given to people as an apology

(Nothing says "I'm so sorry'" like an apologetic Barnstar)
Image by Wikipedia

You know that friend you have that seems to disappear off the face of the earth?

You wonder where in heck she’s gone, leave a few voicemail messages, wonder if she’s alive or dead and eventually give up on the whole thing. You refer to her as some kind of urban legend in your subsequent conversations with your group of friends for years to come.

Then one day you’re at an event and she comes sneaking in the back door, quietly trying to meld into the crowd and pretend she was never missing in the first place. She doesn’t want a scene and she thinks she may have gotten away with it as she cheerfully joins in on conversations.

As you watch her, you’re annoyed. Agitated. You called for goodness sake! You left messages! She couldn’t even put themselves out for a simple reply?

You and your group of friends lock eyes and give each other a simple nod.

You all know what’s going on. You head on over to the person with a determined look on your faces, you will get an explanation and it better be a *doozy. (Secret CIA mission would probably be acceptable…or astronaut duties, coma, lost at sea, or even becoming a monk would scrape them by. That about covers it though.)

She knows it and you know it. It’s going to be addressed.

As she watches you all head her way, her palms become sweaty and she starts to rehearse in her minds what she’ll say. It all comes down to this. How they handle it will make or break the friendships. (Talk about pressure!)

I’m that person.

I wasn’t sure what the blogging equivalent of ‘sneaking in the back door’ was, but I wanted to attempt it and have you all forget I was ever gone.

I spent at least 4 excruciating minutes thinking about it, trying to figure out how to make it work.

I had nothing.

Zilch.

At the 5 minute mark, my mind started to wander and I ended up thinking about that special I saw in my email inbox about J Crew shipping to Australia for free. That in turn became a marathon online shopping hour at J Crew, and that got me thinking about a winter wardrobe for my son.

I was completely off course.

Trying to be clever clearly wasn’t going to work, so I had to get focused. I visualized the equivalent of the group ‘heading on over’ (and might have peed my pants a little).

I imagined Eleanor and Carrie and Elyse and maybe even UC and  SSM storming over with that ‘you owe us an explanation missy‘ look on their faces… (it bears mentioning, you people are considerably frightening when I think of you banding together in some kind of ‘pack’ mentality.)

(Just saying.)

So I decided to pull up my big-girl panties and grab the bull by the horns and address it directly. Like a grown up. One that isn’t afraid or anxious. Or worried. Or considering wearing combat gear.

“I’m just a really bad person. I’m inconsiderate, irresponsible, selfish, lacking discipline and uncaring. I have no excuse that will give me a clean slate, I’m just plain terrible… so…. is there any chance I can play again? Be one of the gang? I’ve really missed you – I have – but life just has a habit of getting in the way sometimes. Work, study, the end of summer holidays and getting kiddo back into school, planning an 8th birthday party, hubby expanding his business and a house move. 

I actually have 3 posts that I started to write but was never able to finish, I’ll use them one day. (They were good!)”

Well? Where are we at? How was it?

Pass?

Fail?

How about a little sucking up as well?

“On a positive note, I’m nearly all caught up on reading your posts, I’m good on UC, Carrie and most of Elyses. I haven’t even started Eleanors (this weekends treat!) and SSM and Dor’s I will be reading later this week. We are actually going on vacation (thank God) this week, so I will have plenty of time for my favorite bloggers gems of wisdom.”

C’mon that had to help, at least a little?

I’m moving into ‘pretend-I-was-never-gone’ mode, let’s see how that works…

It’s Easter this week as you probably know, and in Australia we have 4 public holidays in a row. Good Friday, Easter Saturday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday. The only places that are really open are restaurants and of course the shops will be open Saturday – Monday for shorter than usual hours. All other businesses are closed. It’s a favorite weekend of the year here – the only one with 4 consecutive holidays – so many people go away on vacation.

We’ll be heading to Sydney again.

Sydney is kind of like the New York of Australia. If you able to go there, why go anywhere else?

It has so many fabulous things to see and do, the weather is great this time of year,  and we can be there within a day. Other people go to the beach for vacations, we live at the beach, so to us the city is our ultimate vacation destination!

Many of you will be in church celebrating the meaning of Easter this week. I will be in a restaurant somewhere celebrating with a good-quality meal and some not-often-seen family. It will be the first time these particular family members have been together since before my son was born – 8 years ago! A nice way to celebrate such an important holiday.

My son offered up an excellent ‘modern day’ Easter story to me last night that I think I’ll share with you as I shuffle out the door with the crowd, laughing and joking as though I was always a part of the party and never really left…

My 8-year-old:

“Mummy, I learned about Lazarus and Jesus in school  today. They both died and they were wrapped up in material like mummies and their bodies were placed in a tomb, and a rock rolled in front so no one could get in there. But God rose them from the dead, and when they walked out of the tomb, people were really freaking out because they would have looked like some of those guys from **Plants vs Zombies.”



Plants vs. Zombies

Out of the mouths of babes…eh?

* Doozy is a slang word that I think is only used in Australia?? Doozy:  something extraordinary or bizarre, difficult or daunting.
** Plants vs Zombies is a computer or ipad game that has these ugly-looking zombies and mummies that you have to ‘kill’ to ‘save’ your garden from being destroyed by them. It’s a huge game amongst my 8-year-old and his friends (and my 38-year-old husband).
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New Years Resolution – Starting In October

‘Post a Week 2011’ logically,  started on January 1st, 2011.

I’m just starting it today. To be fair, I only heard about it today – so its not like I’m late – rather, I’m uninformed.

There was a very official-looking letter I was supposed to post on my blog, to let you know I was joining the challenge, and what a tough and yet inspirational slog it would be. It was all very moving, and not like me at all. So I decided to change it.

Title: I’m Posting every day in 2011!

That was their official title. As you can see, I changed mine to

New Years Resolution – Starting In October.’

(It just seemed a little more accurate, and in the spirit of honesty I decided to go for it.)

I want to blog more.  But I also want world peace and lets face it, we can’t always have what we want.

That being said, I think starting a yearly resolution in October may just give someone like me the ability to come through and fulfill it. 12 weeks, 1 post a week, how hard can it be? In addition, I get to say that I completed the ‘WordPress Post A Week 2011 Challenge.’

Not bad, not bad at all.

I’ll probably achieve this while bitching continuously to my hubby – things like, “7 days have already passed goddam it, and its that time again, what they hell am I going to write about this week?” or “Where the hell am I supposed to find the time?” and “These other people must not have jobs.”

But that’s just part of my charm.

Of course, there will always be the days where hubby, kiddo or another completely insane family member (of which we have a few), will give me some great material to work with and the words will just flow.

I appreciate and look forward to those times – but not so much the aftermath from the aforementioned people, when they find out I wrote about their issue/indiscretion/failures or stupidity – publicly.

Still, by definition an artists life is a complicated life, am I right?

(Here comes the part where I will use WordPress’ suggested formatted post – because it seems only fair I give them a good plug. After all, they are actually completing a post a day,  and have done thus far, for all of 2011 – including the holidays when the rest of us were all at the beach! Kudos to them, right?)

“Therefore I’m promising to make use of The DailyPost, and the community of other bloggers with similar goals, to help me along the way, including asking for help when I need it and encouraging others when I can.”

Ok, I could only stand so much niceness in one post. My personal thought is that if I can’t manage a post-a-week on my own, then I shouldn’t be writing.

But I will encourage others, I promise. In my own special way.

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Don’t Alienate Your Children

My son walked into the bathroom today and looked and me and said; “Don’t alienate your children.” 

What???

Apparently he had been watching an advertisement on CNN channel that talked about teenagers and drugs and how not to alienate them.

I marveled to myself at how clever he was to understand what they were talking about and how he must have gotten that intelligence from me, how cute he is etc. etc. Then he ruined it all for me by saying; “why did the aliens ate the children?”

Unfortunately it’s not me he takes after, its his father. Dimwitted-ness runs in his family, not mine.

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How To Fit In, In Australia

2006 WSOP Main Event Table

Image via Wikipedia

My American husband has been playing poker on Tuesday nights almost since we moved to Australia 9 months ago.

One of the things that really stood out to him when he first started, was the lack of people asking what he did for a living.

In our experience in the US when you meet someone new, pretty much the first question out of their mouth is; “What do you do?”

It’s so different here in Australia. People just aren’t judged by their job, we  have a completely different system for sizing people up and its pretty simple and unique; you fit into category A or category B.

A. Is he a wanker?

A ‘wanker’ is pretty much the equivalent to being an ‘asshole’ in the USA.

or

B. Is he a ‘good bloke’?

A ‘good bloke’ is generally defined as someone with nothing to prove, who isn’t trying to impress anyone and who ‘bashes’ (trashes) the Kiwi’s (New Zealander‘s) and loves beer.

So hubby starting going to this weekly poker match about 6 months ago and for the first few weeks he didn’t say anything about this. After about 2 months he came home and it was as though he couldn’t contain himself any longer…” Its been months now and no one has ever asked me what I do for a living!” he exclaimed.

He was really quite fascinated by the whole process. Everybody chatting, playing cards, drinking and having a laugh. No station or prestige, just guys being…well, guys. Its been about six months now and he just recently found out that he’s playing every week with a Doctor, a judge, a trash collector and a newspaper reporter, amongst others. What a fantastically eclectic bunch!

I really love this about my country. No matter who you are, what your situation is in life, you’ll be given a ‘fair go’ by strangers just as long as you keep downing those beers and blasting those kiwis!

Ok, I jest a little, being a ‘good bloke’ is much more than this. Being able to laugh at oneself, not being ‘up yourself’ (pretentious) and being affable and willing to lend a hand are all traits that will take you far. Things like telling people you come from a ‘good family’, or announcing some prestigious sounding job, or showing off a fancy car or watch, will take you to category ‘A’ faster than you can say ‘friendless!’

Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not the fact that you might have a prestigious job, wear a fancy watch or drive a luxury car that’s the problem. It’s the need to make people aware of it that turns us off. We are always happy for a ‘mate’ to have success and good fortune. As long as he remains a ‘good bloke’.  Confused yet?

The overwhelming message here is that what you do, what your title is or where you come from, is not important. Who you are, what you stand for and how you treat others, is. And to us, it defines you.

It’s a message I am so happy to be instilling into my son as I watch him grow up.

* Disclaimer: I know that not everyone is the US judge people by these values, and of course not everyone in Australia doesn’t. This is just an observation from the snapshot of our lives and the experiences we have had overall. My husband is American and we love all of our many and varied American friends!
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The Fedex Guy

Here’s how the last 10 minutes of my life just went.

Me: (hearing a car downstairs and thinking it was my husband home for the day only to go down and find it was the Fedex guy) “Oh, you’re not my husband, I thought you were my husband.”

Fedex guy: “No I’m not, sorry to disappoint you.”

Me: “No problem, at least you have a nice big package for me, he doesn’t come with a big package.”

Fedex Guy: (looks at me like I’m a weirdo) “We’ll…ah… yeah here it is, just sign here please” (and leaves).

I was MORTIFIED…’a nice big package…he doesn’t come with a big package?’ What was I thinking?

There are days when my brain is simply not equipped to keep up with my mouth and these days are occurring much too frequently for my liking.

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