Star-gazing, two-headed pineapples and smiling pets

My Family

Good grief, those annoying bumper stickers!
Anyone living in SE Queensland, particularly the Gold Coast, will know what I am referring to.
Those stick figure graphics that people purchase and plaster onto their cars to advertise to the world at large the constituents of their family unit.
Vomit.
Allow me to make a few post-feminist observations.
Why is the 'father' figure never depicted attending a household chore like dish-washing, or reading a book; why is this figure always represented by an adult stick figure male holding a football or BBQ-ing?
Why does the 'mother' figure always appear be-skirted clutching a 1950's handbag and/or a laptop; (mine would be far more accurate with a bottle of anti-depressants and a frantic look in the eyes)?
And where are the 'father' figures like my ex depicted by an obese man grafted to a couch watching a tv sitting on a bulging wad of cash with his hands up in a gesture of negation towards an office of the Child Support Agency?
whoops!
Showing my Freudian-slip again!
Still feel irrational rage at those stickers though...

A big hello to my international friends who the statistics tell me have viewed this blog!
Yes, all three of you!

:)

Happy endings

In case you were wondering; yes, thank you, I have survived another day of prolonged interactions with the kids.
No, I didn't sedate them.
No, I did not implement the chinese 'one child' policy.
I had a lovely large glass of wine for dinner. Couldn't really care less that the cat still smells suspicious (he is on my lap as I type).
This may well be the answer.
Also, drinking alcohol might facilitate my being able to endure a man enough to see him past the first date.

Contemplating the here-after

It has occurred to me during the weekly grocery shop as I purchase the same items consumed as the week before, to prepare the same meals, while washing the same clothes all to the accompaniment of a 13 and nearly 12 year old endlessly bickering, pinching and poking; that there must be a special part of heaven roped off for the single mothers.
I can picture it very clearly; I am reclining while sipping a delicious alcoholic beverage and flicking through gossip magazines (these can't be read, due to the reliance on photographs of celebrities thighs in swim-wear, celebrities walk of shame and my favourite, celebrities without make-up), I can have as many treatments from a beautician I could possibly want AND there is a freudian-looking doctor/therapist who is prepared to listen to my endlessly complaining about my life, children's behaviour, ex etc etc etc.
Well, at the very least I have no fear of hell, ... because I am living it right now!

I can see clearly now...

oh! and I have collected my glasses.
I have taken to wearing them all the time at the moment as I believe they lend me a 'sexy, librarian' look.
The disadvantage is I can see my disgusting home, desk, garden etc.
Gently taking off the glasses now...

Call me!

Good morning Dear Reader!
Yes, yes,...I know! It has been yonks since my last post. But that is all part of this weeks rant/vent/therapy session.
Telstra.
yup.
That oughta be all really.
Oh, I have left out the repetitive and frustrating phone calls to Telstra re-directed to call centres in some unfortunate third world country, the 1 hour 45 minutes spent on one call alone, the assurance "A case manager will call you at 4 pm on Wednesday Miss Roxanne" (never happened), the sing-song patter of their scripted questions "Have we successfully resolved your issue for you today?" (my reply...prolonged silence followed by "are you playing with my mind now?"), blah, blah, blah...
The effort to synopsis this drivel defeats me (much like Telstra).
sigh.

Eye-spy

What a corker of a week!
Finally, an accrued day off from work, ahhhh!, spent in a haze of ..., well, actually, a haze! or rather myopia, or so I have just learned.
After spending the amount of a third world country's national debt on my daughter's orthodontic treatment at the crack of dawn (thank YOU, Mr Mastercard) my next mission was apparently confirmation that I am indeed ageing.
As if the state of one's breast's, skin elasticity, hair colour, moustache etc etc is not enough to get you contemplating whether to be buried, cremated or made into a human popsicle like Mr Disney, my eyes have decided to turn traitor too.
Reassuringly, although I now need glasses for some distance vision, the kind child-optometrist informed me I am still legal to drive.
Phew!
I have a defence for all those bollards, animals and small children I have mowed down recently in the car (just kidding).
Good grief; glasses, prescription lenses, some sort of superman-x-ray vision coating, total comes to $600.
Thats right, $600.
I had a rictus grin frozen on my face when the assistant asked how will I pay for this.
'Credit card' hissed between my gnashing teeth. Probably preferable to my honest answer which would be  'I have absolutely no idea'.
Can I add as I write this the cat still seems to have many loose motions. What in the hell is going on there?
Well, in two weeks time when my glasses arrive I may indeed find out!
:)