Strings That Make You Go Hmmmmm

Anyone who blogs will tell you of some of the unusual, odd or downright creepy search words or phrases that bring some people to their blog. To make it worse, Google takes these phrases, pulls the individual words out of pages and makes it seem as if it has found exactly what you're looking for! Here is a sampling of mine from just the last 10 days:

which brisbane broncos circumcised
- Why do you think I know this? Why do you think anyone who does know this would tell you? Why do you want to know this? You disturb me.

circumcision puppy fat
- I had never heard this term until Clive was circumcised, so I don't know what to make of this. Someone else doing research? One can hope, anyway. And for heaven's sake don't end me any more nasty emails about how I'm butchering my son - piss off.

circumcised yank
- A lot of them. I am not one of them as I don't have a penis. Go away now.

what shoes does mark gasnier wear
- I don't know. Big ones. I'm not interested is Gaz's shoes if this post is anything to go by.

n.r.l porn
- I know Nathan Hindmarsh looked like a porn star not so long ago, but I don't really think he was. I think they're all a bit busy playing footy to be in any porn, at least anything hard core.

pitchers of brisbane broncos team
- Dear Sir/Madam, please look up the term 'pitcher' and see if it applies to a football team. Google does not look for things that you've spelt phonetically. Love, Mooselet.

darren lockyer's body fat percentage
- Low. Really, really low. Otherwise I have no idea and I don't really care so long as he continues to train shirtless and show off said lack of body fat.

Darren Lockyer shirtless
- I am the #1 Google result with this search phrase. WooHoo!!!! Mom will be so proud.

18 MONTH OLD WAKES UP SCREAMING PINS NEEDLES HAND
- I'm confused. Does your 18 month old really wake up screaming, "Pins Needles Hand!!!" Because that's messed up.

photos of kids with retainers in their mouth
- Why do you need to see this? Tell you what, find your nearest child, take a small strip of aluminium foil and place it over their teeth. Or go look through any high school yearbook. Stay off my blog.

my son has his ear pierced
- Well what do you know, so does mine!!! Let's be BFF... or not. Freak.

Can a 15 year old be left to watch a toddler overnight?
- It depends on the 15 year old. Why are you turning to random blogs for this type of advice? I'm worried for your toddler.

ce decadent indulgence vibrator
- You're looking for Mitch McDad, not me. I know nothing about these types of things, really. I've just, you know, heard things about vibrators and have no first hand knowledge.. at least not about this kind. Is it any good, because I'm looking for a new one and...

"lyrics""mythbusters"
- There aren't any. Go away or shall taunt you a second time.

southpine sports complex phone number
- Use the White Pages, not the blog of an American/Australian woman. Thank you.

give way street road rage had to reverse back down the street
- Wow. Just what were you searching for, because I'm not entirely sure what you did. Also, please turn in your license right now because I don't want you driving on the same roads as me.

shave wookie
- Oh my freakin' gawd. I thought this was a joke, or perhaps some new slang for the bare-down-there look. Instead it refers to actual Wookies from Star Wars and is some weird subset of the fandom. Look, I understand fandoms and I'm all for them but a naked Chewbacca is just wrong and that you came here looking for it is even more wrong.

tweens penis pictures
- You fucking pervert! I hope your paedophiliac ass goes to jail and you are anally raped by a large hairy man named Bubba and his gang. Repeatedly.

Match Report Monday Returns!!!

I've got a few new regular readers since the end of the last football season and you're all shaking your heads and going "Match Report what?", so let me clue you in. Those in the know, just skip down...

The Tween as well as Miss WTF's and Mumfies boys play junior rugby league for Wests Panthers (see the link in the sidebar if you're interested). Each week, Miss WTF writes up a match report for the game as only she can and distributes it to the parents. I used to forward it on to the folks back stateside, but now it goes here. It doesn't matter that you don't understand the game or that you don't know who the boys are (I don't edit the names or try to come up with nicknames for 17 boys). They are the perpetual underdogs and you will enjoy reading about their attempts to get it together to win a match. Think I'm exaggerating? Check out the scores for these games and relive our nightmare highlights of last season.

Instead of putting links to things I think you may not understand, especially the terminology, I'll be using a new handy feature I found called the acronym tag. Go ahead and hover your cursor over those underlined words and see what comes up. Also for those not used to it, in order to protect the privacy of players from the opposing team Miss WTF will be digitally altering the photographs. Results may vary but they're usually quite appropriate and worth a giggle at least.

Thus endeth the introduction, and on to the report:

Date: Feb 25th, 2007
Where: Caloundra, QLD
Who: Wests Panthers v Caloundra Sharks
Score: Well, seeing as it was only a TRIAL game, we won't mention the score hey??

Well, the boys rocked up to their first trial of the season with high hopes. I rocked up with a plethora of cameras and a slight hangover (I think it's only fitting to start the season as I finished it last year...sort of a continuity thing I've got going LOL). Parents lined the sidelines in anticipation of a cracking first game of the season. It was cracking alright! Rib cracking. Our normal-sized (roid free) under 12s jogged onto the park and then Caloundra came out. Holy hole in a donut batman. I'm sure some of those kids drove their team mates to the game, had a shower and a shave, had a quick pie and beer and then used their drivers licences as ID to play. Several of them were massive....and I mean MASSIVE, bigger than their coach. Still, we had a team on the park that were keen. We can do this fellas! Right?

Yeah, um... well it didn't quite work out the way. The first team we played were the Caloundra A side. We completed our first set of six and things were going well. Then Caloundra got the ball and we pretty much didn't get hold of it for the rest of the first quarter. 2 minutes in, Caloundra score. (And I turned to Mumfies and Anissa to say, "And so the season begins!" - Mooselet) 4 minutes in, Caloundra score... are you getting the gist of it? Well, that's pretty much how it went for the rest of the quarter. Finally, we got the ball and were just about to play it and race down to score under the posts (ok, I may have ad-libbed a bit there) but the damn siren for quarter time went. Ripped off!!

The boys came into the sheds a little demoralized, but a quick pep talk by the coaches had them back out on the park for the second quarter, chomping at the bit. They held Caloundra out a few times with brilliant defence. Signs of good things to come. Unfortunately, Caloundra scored another couple of tries and that was the first half over and done with. I think we were down by 6 tries. No problems! Then in the second half, the Caloundra B team came out. We can take these guys for sure. They were normal sized kids. Woohoo!! The mighty Panthers played really well. They dropped a few balls and missed a few tackles, but the signs are there that these guys will be a good team when they have a bit more practice together.

Back to the scores... I'm not sure really. I know we didn't, and they did. That's all you need to know. Some brilliant tackling from our guys. Caloundra were passing the ball left, right and centre and we stopped them scoring several times. We even got the ball in attack and completed a few sets of six. The 4th quarter came and went and our boys were looking a little knackered in the heat of the afternoon. We packed up all our stuff and waited for the kids to come down to where we were sitting, and then something really strange happened.

Now I don't profess to be a mathematical genius, but I reckon I've got a firm grasp of fractions and 5/4ths doesn't equal 1. Am I right? On the boys walk for their fifth quarter. We were all a little confused but apparently, Caloundra also field a composite team of players from both the A and B sides. So back came the big boppers (probably after a quick punt down at the pub and a few straight whiskeys), fresh as daisies whilst our lads had been out there slaving away for the last hour. Needless to say it wasn't very pretty, but they did hang in there and played it out right to the end.

So, well done fellas. A good showing and definitely a few lessons learnt. You can't run without legs being the main one I'd say! Congrats to all the new guys on a great first game. Hope you enjoyed yourselves. A good team outing and although the result probably wasn't what you were hoping for, you did yourselves proud and we hope you had a hoot.

Happy Birthday Mumfies

I'd sing for you, but you really don't want that. Trust me. Instead, I'll do this for you:


Betcha Mr. Mumfies doesn't get you Billy Slater. Hppe it's a good birthday!

Saturday Skinfest

The Wests Panthers edition...

Pictured here is frequent commenter and good mate Miss WTF and her Master 11. Last week she travelled to Sydney to watch her beloved Wests Tigers in a pre-season match and sent me two of the three photos you'll see today. Also contributing to today's drool-fest is Anissa - you may remember her from this photo of two beached whales lovely pregnant ladies. Anissa is my new best friend as she sent me a bunch of photos that will be gracing these hallowed pages over the next few weeks. Pictures like this:

Yeah, is she your new best friend too? Now let's see what we can see in this shot of who I think Miss WTF told me is Paul Whatuira. A whole lotta leg, a peek of belly and, uh, yes well...

Fellas, Miss WTF didn't forget about you. I wonder if she had to explain to her mates why she was taking pictures like this:


More skin next week!

Photo Friday

I know most of you US folks are still in the grip of winter, so I thought we'd take the opportunity to warm you up, or make you jealous:

Mooloolaba Beach, about 90 minutes from my house and one of my favourite beaches. Photo by Shepster... in September, which is still spring Down Under.

... and so Does the Teen

Need a brain, that is.

Today is picture day at her school. This morning I filled out the payment form for her to take to school. As I was filling out said form, the Teen asked me if I had any money. Knowing she spends it on junk, I fished out a mere $3 in coins, put it down on top of aforementioned envelope on the table and said, "Here, it's with your picture stuff."

Out to the car I go, shortly after the Teen. She asks to be driven to a different bus stop than her usual one; I assume it's because it's near the bakery and now that she has $3 she wants to spend it on something sweet. I say this, she denies it and claims she wants to go to the newsagent for some gum and water... and no doubt some gossip rags. Pictures are mentioned. I drop her off and away I go.

Stepping out of the car at home, the Hermit greets me with my mobile phone in his hand. The Teen has tried to call twice (the Hermit does not answer phones because he is a hermit, remember). I ring her back to see what she's left at home. I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

"You didn't give me my picture money!"

I suppose she's right. I didn't hand her the envelope, look deeply into her eyes and say "Here is your picture money, don't lose it now." Because that is what I would do if she were 6. Silly me, at 15 I thought gesturing to the table and saying where everything she required was was enough.

That dull sound you hear is me banging my head against the wall.

I would be a happy mummy
No spitting of the dummy
My head all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry
Life would be a ding-a-derry
If they only had a brain

It's Official - the Tween Needs a Brain

The Tween is the human version of the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. That mass of grey matter up in his head is just taking up space, I swear it. Don't believe me? Observe what happened this morning:

Wednesday morning the Tween has school band practice, which means he needs to be at school by 7:45. Normally we leave at 8:30, so leaving an hour earlier is not normal. I woke him up at 6:30 - he's very slow to get ready and needs the full hour, trust me - and with 10 minutes to go I was asking if he had everything. Yes Mom.

He had forgotten to put his bands on his braces, so he went into the bathroom to do that whilst I went out to the car to wait. He came out a couple of minutes later, put his things in the back and away we went. Traffic was backed up along the main road, but we were through it within 5 minutes. I pulled into the far car park and the Tween hopped out, grabbed his bag and came round to my window to say goodbye.

"Where's your trumpet?" I asked, noting he wasn't holding it.

A dumbstruck look crossed his face. You guessed it - he left it at home. He'd forgotten his trumpet, the WHOLE REASON why we leave the house early!!!! When I announced that I would not be driving home to fetch it - wouldn't go back home and then back to school through the ever increasing traffic back up and then back home again, with the Hermit waiting all the while so he could leave for work - he had the gall to look upset with me. I told him he'd just have to go to band, not to mention his regular lesson also scheduled for today, and hope they had a spare one there or just sit there and listen. I think he was hoping I'd bring him back home and take him back at his regular time. Fat chance! He gave me one last dirty look and moped off.

I wonder if you hooked those electrodes that measure brain waves up to my son if they would register anything. So now each Wednesday morning before we pull out of the driveway I'll have to ask the most obvious of questions - do you have your trumpet? And I'll guarantee that more than once he'll have to get out of the car to go back inside to get it. If anyone knows where I can find some spare brains for the Tween, please let me know.

Zzzzzzzzz

Sorry about the not posting thing since Saturday. I'm just wiped out. 74 nights of interrupted sleep take its toll, and there seems to be no end in sight. Only once has Clive had a night where he only woke up once and went right back to sleep after a feed. His routine has been to have a good first half of the night - asleep somewhere between 7pm and 9pm and sleeping quite well until 1am-ish - and then a fragmented rest of the night where he's up every hour and a half or so. He then finally nods off for another solid sleep around 7am - just in time for my morning routine of getting kids off to school.

If the FBI, CIA, ASIO or just your local cop showed up at my door right now and asked me to sign a confession to just about anything in return for 8-10 hours of uninterrupted sleep, I'm pretty sure my only question would be "Do you have a pen?".

President Bush and Australian Attorney-General Philip Ruddock don't consider sleep deprivation torture? Did they not get up during the night with their kids? I've walked into the door frame between my hallway and kitchen so often I'm beginning to leave indentations. I have very little energy left for housework so it looks as if a bomb went off in my rumpus room, and I have even less energy to nag my ungrateful offspring older kids into giving me a hand in keeping it clean. I found myself wondering how much time I would have to myself to sleep if my gall bladder suddenly flared up and I ended up in hospital.

In the small rational part of my brain that is still functioning, I know that this will end eventually. Clive will figure it all out and I'll get to sleep. I just hope it is sooner rather than later. Until then, there's always caffeine!

Saturday Skinfest

Welcome to the birthday edition of the Skinfest. Not my birthday, but those of Miss WTF (today) and Hermit's L'il Sis (Monday)! Miss WTF is celebrating by going to Sydney and watch a pre season ass kicking match of her beloved Wests Tigers, so I thought I'd give her a little Tiger skin to wish her well:

Now they don't have rugby league in the States where Hermit's L'il Sis is, so I've had to guess on this one. Given her DH is the tall and lean type, I could rule out the brawny Webcke types. I went with the tall lean Darren Lockyer instead. If she doesn't like it she can return it and I'm sure I can find something to do with him:

Whilst trawling for birthday pics, I came across this one and had to use it. Thankfully for the menfolk, no other clubs have announced that they're cheersquads will be finding pink slips in their pay packets, unlike this poor lass from Souths:


More skin next week, and happy birthday ladies!!

Photo Friday

I don't want to leave you with the impression that I'm a bitter unromantic person. To celebrate the meaning of love that is supposed to be behind that sham of a holiday Valentines Day I give you my first ever love interest:

I think we had matching gum lines, or maybe it was his cool feathered hair that drew my interest. Wherever Roger is today, I hope he is well.

Don't Be Mine

Don't bother asking me what the Hermit got me for Valentines Day. The answer will be nothing, and he has never gotten me anything in the 9+ years we have been together. We did go to dinner the first Valentines Day we shifted from friends to dating, but it was a strict one off that for some reason we both felt we had to do.

I don't do Valentines Day. I think it's a fake holiday, created and promoted by card companies and perpetuated by florists and confectionery makers. It pressures those in a romantic relationship to outlay large sums of money to 'prove' their love - this not 2 months after Christmas.

Why should we need a specific day to show those we love that we think they're special? Does it let us off the hook to act like boofheads the other 364 days of the year (narrow that down to 361 to include birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas if you're well and truly attached) because we 'proved' ourselves on February 14th?

And why does it fall primarily to the men to make this point? All the ads are aimed squarely at men to make the women feel 'special'. What about the guys? Don't they get to feel special? Aren't they deserving of our love and affection, thereby being the recipients of expensive gifts and sappy cards?

Now I will admit that many years of experience and failed expectations in my relationship with my ex-husband, aka the Bastard, may have influenced me in my conclusions. However I'm generally a practical kind of person, so I don't see this as a bitter reaction to my crushed romanticism. I never had a huge amount of romanticism to be crushed in the first place.

So the Hermit knows he's off the hook in terms of flowers, cards and chocolates on this day. Although I do enjoy teasing him about it and seeing the brief look of panic cross his face as he wonders whether I've changed my mind on the deal. I'd rather he buy me something nice in the middle of July because he felt like it, not because he felt like he had to prove he cares. I know he cares - no proof required.

Now if I can just get the Most Unromantic Man on the Planet to actually buy me flowers in the middle of July for no reason at all, I'd be all set.

John Who??

When the American ambassador to Australia made the comment in the lead up to the 2003 Australian election that the Australian Opposition (that's the party that's not in power) was anti-American and therefore not deserving of a vote, people were outraged. American officials, especially representatives of the government, had no place sticking their noses into domestic politics. Shut up or go home was the attitude.

And fair enough. The US has no business interfering with the electoral process of one if its allies, or anyone else for that matter. But I guess what's good for the goose isn't necessarily what's good for the gander.

To sum it up if you can't be bothered to follow the link in the title, the Prime Minister of Australia John Howard has publicly stated that a win by US Presidential candidate Barack Obama would be a victory for terrorism. In Mr. Howard's world if any Democratic candidate wins the Presidency and withdraws US troops from Iraq than al-Qaeda will be dancing in the Iraqi streets.

Dear Mr. Howard: Shut. Up. Love, Mooselet.

I can't figure out why in the world the PM would say such a thing. There is an Austraian federal election coming this year, the Iraq war and Australia's participation in it is hugely unpopular and the Opposition Labor party is ahead in the polls. I know that the PM thinks Dubya is the best thing since toast, and Dubya returned the favour by giving the PM the red carpet treatment when Mr. Howard when to Washington DC last year (by comparison the Chinese, there at the same time, were not shown such favoured status). Johnny and Dubya, BFF.

But why open your mouth and let these stupid words come forth? He must've known the criticism he would cop at home. Senator Obama was naturally disparaging, but I'm fairly certain someone would have to have briefed him on just who the PM of Australia was. No offence to my new country, but we're not that big of a player on the world stage. I'm fairly confident that if you did a random poll on any street corner of any mid to large size US city and asked them who the Prime Minister of Australia was the overwhelming majority of them wouldn't know. A comment such as Mr. Howards was therefore not aimed at Americans who are considering voting for the Democratic candidate, whoever it may be. As far as I can see, there was no logical reason for his comments... unless his BFF Dubya rang him up all upset and asked Johnny to prove his commitment to their spit-in-the-palms friendship.

Maybe the PM is finally losing the plot? Or perhaps he should heed my grandmothers advice - if you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all.

Editorial cartoon from The Courier Mail.

Bling

This is the Tween:

And this is the Tween's new bling:

He asked to have his ear pierced for his birthday. I have a thing about 98% of body piercings - I hate them. Eyebrow, nose, tongue, belly button and the myriad other places people pierce is not something I'd go along with. But an ear? Meh. The Hermit was not crazy about it initially, but when reminded that he had the ear bling as a youngster the protests, weak as they were, died.

My little boy of Photo Friday is growing up.

Saturday Skinfest *Tweaked*

On this fine birthday weekend, I thought I'd get to the Skinfest early. I'm off shortly to take the Tween to get new football boots from Grandma, then a stop to check out a party venue and finally to get his other present. I'm keeping that under my hat until tomorrow, then you'll see!

Summer is in full swing so let's bring you some more beach pictures! Yes our beaches are lovely, and not just for the surf. I believe this tasty morsel is Ashley Harrison:

Anyone fancy taking Nick Youngquest and checking out his version of the Opera House?

Russell Crowe, new co-owner of the South Sydney Rabbitohs, (yes the very same Russell Crowe) has scrapped cheergirls for his club. He claims they make fans of both sexes feel "uncomfortable". Oh come off it, Russ... Danielle caught you out and made you get rid of them, didn't she? He's replacing them with a drumming band. Riiiiii-iight. Ah well, the Bunnies may be the laughing stock of the NRL but in their honour, let's give their cheergirls one last bit of show (*and a better picture than before):


More skin next week!

Photo Friday

In honour of the two whose birthdays it is this weekend - the Tween on Saturday and the Hermit on Sunday - I bring you this pic from the archives:

Road Rage

I drive a lot. During 'peak season' with school and sports, I can drive 600 kilometres (370 miles) without breaking a sweat. And as I motor around, there are times I wish I had a flame thrower on the hood of my car. Or perhaps some RPG's, or maybe just a machine gun. I admit I suffer from some road rage. I'm not the type who will tailgate you or try to run you off the road, but I am the type who will scream at you - thereby teaching my children some colourful vocabulary words even though you can't hear me - throw my hands up into the air and occasionally flip you the bird in an attempt to relieve my escalating blood pressure.

An example of people who've pissed me off in the past week alone:

• the wench who cut me off whilst talking on her mobile phone. Nothing you do is so frigging important that you can't pull over, or at the very least stay in your damned lane.
• the dickhead with the Bluetooth earpiece who blatantly took my parking space at the Tween's school. Hey asshole, why did you think I was stopped in the middle of the car park while someone backed out? Did you think I was saving the space for you so you could walk your precious 10 year old - who couldn't possibly make it there on her own, she's only been going to the same school for 5 years - to class whilst pretending to be important with that silly earpiece in?
• the buttmunch who experienced car trouble in the merging lane. I would've felt bad for him, but he was a large man driving a sporty car (can you say 'compensating for a small penis'? I knew you could) and he left his car in the middle of the lane with no attempt to pull the car off to one side so the rest of us could get around him. Instead he sat with his fat ass in the car while the rest of us had to reverse back into traffic and make the impossible 90 degree left turn onto the narrow road. I hope someone didn't see you and smashed into the back of you.
• the schmuck who got halfway down the drive-thru at McDonalds and changed his mind, forcing a mass reversal rather than explain to the pimply faced teen that he changed what little brain he had and continue forward. Bonus demolition points for looking all pissed off that we didn't reverse quickly enough for you. Getting myself a Diet Coke should not be this much trouble.
• the organ donor pea brain motorcyclist who drove between the two moving lanes of traffic this morning. I've accepted that they can cut up through traffic stopped at a light to get to the front of the line. I don't like it, but I admit I'm just jealous. It's also not particularly dangerous unless someone opens a door. But to drive between the lanes when traffic is moving at 70 kph (45 mph) is just asinine. Not only might you get yourself killed - no great loss but you'd totally fuck up the psyche of an innocent driver - but you give decent motorcyclists like the Hermit a bad name.
• the bitch who swerved around me on Eatons Crossing Rd at the construction to get into the left lane that shuts down 20 metres up ahead and has been in that state for months in order to get 2 car lengths ahead of where she was, cutting someone else off in the process of merging. She was not the first to do this, only the latest. And to what purpose - I passed your sorry ass after we both turned onto South Pine Road not two minutes later.
• the two drivers voted Most Likely to be Pulled from the Twisted Metal That Was Your Car who felt it necessary to cross the solid yellow line - the one that means no passing - and blow past me at 10:30 last night on the dark and twisting road as I drove the Teen home from work. Oh I'm sorry, I was only doing THE FUCKING SPEED LIMIT, which is 80 kph (50 mph). I'll give your parents my condolences when you become a smear on the road.

You know, maybe it's a good thing I'm not allowed to carry weapons. I'd leave a lot of carnage in my wake.

Miss Pronunciation

As with most 3 year olds, what they mean to say and what actually comes out of their mouths are often not one in the same. Some classics from the Toddler:


Says - "Do you have legs like a hookey?"
Means - "Do you have legs like a Wookie?", referring to the times when I don't shave.

Says - "Why Clive give me head budget?"
Means - "Why does Clive give me a head butt?" I have no idea how one gets budget from butt, or even how she knows the word 'budget'.

Says - "Ah-hi there my hearties!"
Means - "Ahoy there me hearties!"

Says - "I put on my swim swims."
Means - I put on my swimsuit."

Says - "Is the policeman done fixing the toilet?"
Means - "Is the plumber done fixing the toilet?" I don't know why she insists on calling the poor plumber the policeman, but I do wonder what she'd call an actual policeman.

Says - "Can I have some Santa?"
Means - "Can I have some Fanta?"

Says - "What up honey?" (pronounced hone-ey, not hun-ey)
Means - "What's up homey?" The Teen tried to teach her this, to be cool, but the result is not what she intended.

True Stella Awards

We've all heard them - the guy who crashed his Winnebago after getting up make a coffee after setting the cruise control sues and wins bucketloads of cash; the thief who sues after getting locked in the garage and must live on dog food for a week; the restaurant who must pay for damages ensued by a customer after she slips on spilled soft drink... that she had thrown. The reasons society is going to hell in a handbasket. There are plenty of reasons, but the above cases are not it because, quite simply, they are not true.

The real cases are, in fact, scarier than any of those imaginary ones. And if my Aussie friends want to chalk this up to American craziness and that it'd never happen here, I have a bridge in Sydney to sell you. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you:

The 2006 True Stella Awards

Issued 31 January 2007

(Click here to confirm these are legitimate.)

#5: Marcy Meckler. While shopping at a mall, Meckler stepped outside and was "attacked" by a squirrel that lived among the trees and bushes. And "while frantically attempting to escape from the squirrel and detach it from her leg, [Meckler] fell and suffered severe injuries," her resulting lawsuit says. That's the mall's fault, the lawsuit claims, demanding in excess of $50,000, based on the mall's "failure to warn" her that squirrels live outside.

#4: Ron and Kristie Simmons. The couple's 4-year-old son, Justin, was killed in a tragic lawnmower accident in a licensed daycare facility, and the death was clearly the result of negligence by the daycare providers. The providers were clearly deserving of being sued, yet when the Simmons's discovered the daycare only had $100,000 in insurance, they dropped the case against them and instead sued the manufacturer of the 16-year-old lawn mower because the mower didn't have a safety device that 1) had not been invented at the time of the mower's manufacture, and 2) no safety agency had even suggested needed to be invented. A sympathetic jury still awarded the family $2 million.

#3: Robert Clymer. An FBI agent working a high-profile case in Las Vegas, Clymer allegedly created a disturbance, lost the magazine from his pistol, then crashed his pickup truck in a drunken stupor -- his blood-alcohol level was 0.306 percent, more than three times the legal limit for driving in Nevada. He pled guilty to drunk driving because, his lawyer explained, "With public officials, we expect them to own up to their mistakes and correct them." Yet Clymer had the gall to sue the manufacturer of his pickup truck, and the dealer he bought it from, because he "somehow lost consciousness" and the truck "somehow produced a heavy smoke that filled the passenger cab." Yep: the drunk-driving accident wasn't his fault, but the truck's fault. Just the kind of guy you want carrying a gun in the name of the law.

#2: #2: KinderStart.com. The specialty search engine says Google should be forced to include the KinderStart site in its listings, reveal how its "Page Rank" system works, and pay them lots of money because they're a competitor. They claim by not being ranked higher in Google, Google is somehow infringing KinderStart's Constitutional right to free speech. Even if by some stretch they were a competitor of Google, why in the world would they think it's Google's responsibility to help them succeed? And if Google's "review" of their site is negative, wouldn't a government court order forcing them to change it infringe on Google's Constitutional right to free speech?

And the winner of the 2006 True Stella Award: Allen Ray Heckard. Even though Heckard is 3 inches shorter, 25 pounds lighter, and 8 years older than former basketball star Michael Jordan, the Portland, Oregon, man says he looks a lot like Jordan, and is often confused for him -- and thus he deserves $52 million "for defamation and permanent injury" -- plus $364 million in "punitive damage for emotional pain and suffering", plus the SAME amount from Nike co-founder Phil Knight, for a grand total of $832 million. He dropped the suit after Nike's lawyers chatted with him, where they presumably explained how they'd counter-sue if
he pressed on.

©2007 by Randy Cassingham,
StellaAwards.com. Reprinted with permission.

Saturday Skinfest

Tomorrow afternoon I take the Tween to sign on for his 4th year of rugby league, which means the real season won't be too far away. Huzzah!!!! Means I can find new nearly nekkid pics for all of you. I'll have something to watch on Friday nights because currently viewing options blow Twinkies. Although the Hermit came in last night to tell me, with a sly grin, that I was missing Mythbusters. Guess he read that entry.

So let's get to it, shall we? My #2 team are the North Queensland Cowboys and their go-to man, Jonathan Thurston. He has to be one of the goofiest looking men from the neck up, so let's not look there, 'kay:

I hope no one got the wrong idea about my Hairy Harry Potter post a few days ago. I like my men beefy and brawny and to be, well, men. Not jail bait boys. I'm fairly certain I could find someone to fit that bill nicely here, and bonus! There's plenty to share:

I'm having a hard time coming up with someone to continue the 'bat for the other team' theme. Not that there are a dearth of hotties out there, but I think my lack of sleep is affecting my ability to explore my inner butch. So I'm going with an old standby. If my NRL guys can feature more than once (hello Darren Lockyer, ye shirtless wonder) then so can the women:


If anyone would like to suggest a new 'hot women' theme for me to run with, feel free. Otherwise, more skin next week!

Photo Friday

When I started Photo Friday it was primarily because I was looking for a way to have a post that I didn't have to think about too much. Come Friday I'm pretty worn out, but I don't want to go too many days without a post. It's also a great way to share some decent pictures of my times in Australia - or other parts of my fascinating life (sarcasm clean up, aisle 5!) - with everyone.

But I had no idea there was an organized Photo Friday. I thought briefly about participating, but then I'd have to stick to a theme. That would just blow my idea right out of the water, so I'll continue to go solo.

Today's offering is from 2003 when the Hermit and I - six months pregnant with the Toddler - had a weekend away in Sydney:

Harry Potter and the Snail Trail

You may not like Harry Potter. You may never have seen a Harry Potter film nor read a Harry Potter book. But no doubt you would know the actor who plays Harry, one Daniel Radcliffe, at least from the endless publicity:

Of course kids don't stay kids forever. They grow up. See how much Daniel has changed from the first film (above) to the fourth film:

But my oh my nothing could've prepared me to see just how much Daniel has grown since then:

Insert your own Harry Potter and his wand joke here.