Miss Junior Rugby League Comp

A few weeks ago I told you how Miss Thing had been asked by Sparky's footy club to represent them in the Miss Junior Rugby League pagaent. Things happened pretty quickly after that, with picking out just the right dress, getting hair and nails done and getting said dress altered slightly before the preliminary judging on the 22nd. Fortunately that didn't require fancy dress, although the way some of the other girls turned up you'd be surprised for thinking otherwise.

We were lucky enough to have Miss WTF taking photos during the preliminary judging phase (for all contestants, not just us) so she was able to put Miss Thing at ease a little bit as well as provide this fantastic photo:

Two of the judges were current Broncos players Sam Thaiday (that's him on the left) and David Stagg (on the right) and they were good enough to pose for this photo after they were done asking questions. The other two judges were past Miss JRL winners. First question asked was "Why are you doing this?" After being advised that all girls were answering "To promote my club", Miss Thing decided a bit of truthfulness was in order:

"Well, to be honest I'm the only girl who turns up at training so they asked me and I said sure, why not. Sounded like fun." They'd be sure to remember her.

This past Saturday was the big night - the final judging and banquet. Miss Thing looked simply smashing and had a great time. When it was time for the girls to make their walk across the stage and be introduced to the audience, most girls came out and struck a classic model pose or smiled demurely before going to the podium to answer a few more questions. But not our girl! Miss Thing came out flashed a huge smile along with a peace sign before going to answer her questions. Yup, that's my girl!

Miss Thing and I with Sammy Thaiday during the banquet. He wasn't as big as I thought he'd be but he's got hands the size of baby piglets. A very sweet guy.

In the end, it was Miss Redcliffe who took the crown with Miss Easts as runner-up. Rigged I tells ya! Still, Miss Thing looked great - you can see more pictures here and I will add to it as Miss WTF has promised to send me more from the preliminary judging and I hope I will get the official photos from the night - and did the club proud up against 17 other girls. Or at least I think she did. I know I was proud of her not for looking gorgeous, but for being herself.

Well done Miss Thing!

Hideous Mutant Modelling Freak

I was about to sit down and catch up on some more happenings when a package arrived. Yippee - Momma Mooselet's care package had arrived!!! My mother is the best. Among the items (which I'm not certain I want to share and can you blame me after the weeks I've had?) were a couple of pairs of undergarments as well as a catalogue from the company I had ordered from. Not only do I like the company for making affordable garments that make it possible for me to continue to zip my up jeans, but they help those less fortunate than us by employing genetically mutated freaks as models:


You might think that a girl like me, who features the Saturday Skinfest, would appreciate this cover. Sure he's buff and all that so I could possibly overlook the fact he's waxed within an inch of his life - I don't even see any arm hair - but I keep getting distracted by his dangly bits and NOT in a good way. They're not normal. They're freakishly square with no hint of the meat that's supposed to accompany the two veg if you know what I'm getting at. They're also in the wrong spot as they're much too low. If you saw him naked you'd be tempted to either laugh hysterically or run screaming in the other direction.

So good on ya, Fresh Pair, for giving a job to the poor men who may possess a tone, tan body but have hideously deformed genitalia. It's corporations like you that keep men like that off the unemployment line.

Saturday Skinfest

Ok, I'm back just like I said I would. House is still a minor disaster area that just may qualify for federal relief funding, but it's a quiet moment and I'm taking advantage of it.

Miss WTF wants me to go to bed and forget the Skinfest, but I know so many of you look forward to it so here we go. I really need to get myself down to Red Hill and the Broncos Leagues Club one of these days where my boys do their training and get to see some of this tasty flesh in person. I'd like to ogle blokes like Darius Boyd up close:

Or maybe I could find out where the Gold Coast Titans do their training and keep an eye out for the likes of Mark Minichiello:

Someone told me it was faithful reader and fellow blogger's Harmonica Man's birthday this past week. In order to celebrate, I thought I'd give him this pic of Mrs. Minnesota America (2004) Melissa Hall. Happy Birthday mate:

More skin and hopefully less sickness next week!

A Plague on My House

I feel really badly about not posting this week. But I feel as if I should put a sign above my house warning people "Beware All Ye Who Enter Here". I'm so tired of coughs and sniffles and picking up used tissues and wondering when the last time I gave medication to someone. Everyone is sick, from the Hermit right on through to Clive - who incidentally was feeling a little warm when I put him down for a nap after arriving home from footy. Great.

The cause of all this illness is Her Majesty. This is her first winter in kindy/preschool so she catches every germ known to mankind and brings it home to share. She is currently on antibiotics for a middle ear infection. Both Miss Thing and Sparky missed 3 days of school last week, and even the Hermit came home early Thursday.

Of course the only one who can't take time off is me. This past week has been among the worst I've had since coming to Australia and it has very nearly made me regret the move. All I wanted was to go to my mother's house, collapse on her couch and let Grandma take over for 30 minutes. I had to remind myself of all the reasons we stayed here - which are all still valid and right. Then I had to tell myself that this period won't last forever. The kids will get better and I'll be able to get some rest. My house will recover from looking like a bomb shelter, and my blog will still be here when it's over.

So my apologies to all of you, my faithful readers. I will get the Skinfest up tonight at least and then will slowly work on getting the rest of it back on track.

Happy Birthday - a Little Late

I'm only late in the 'making a public announcement' sense. It was Her Majesty's 4th birthday on Sunday:

And I have a confession, one that may just land me in the "bad mother" column. We're not having a party.

This is not to say Her Majesty didn't have presents or any other recognition of her birthday. At present, the haul she's gotten include 2 Barbie dolls, a life-size Princess Barbie throne with tiara to go with her name, a new dress, a new swimsuit, Dora the Explorer figurine (complete with horse), a light-up makeup mirror complete with makeup, a bike, a bubblegun, a top, a Wests Tigers balloon (any guesses on who that's from?), 2 books, a Little People fire truck, and a Dora the Explorer hat and socks. She's had not one but two birthday cakes - one at the footy on Sunday and one yesterday at kindy. Trust me when I say she doesn't feel cheated in the slightest. Not once has she asked me when we're having her party.

Why do we feel the need to have such huge parties for our little tykes? I was looking at old pictures from birthday parties when I was a kid. Mom would bake a cake. Friends and family would come around to our very small apartment, we'd play for a while with my old toys while the grown-ups had a beer or two (or 12 in my family), we'd gather round the table to open the new presents, sing "Happy Birthday", eat cake and ice cream and drink Kook-Aid, and then play with the new toys. A short while later everyone went home stuffed to the gills. There were no petting zoos, no jumping castles, no themes, no goody bags and no complaints. At least I don't remember any.

Now kids as young as 1 have these huge parties where more is spent on the party and guests than on the birthday child. MTV has a whole series devoted to the over the top parties of rich snotty 16 year olds. Parents compete with each other to have the best birthday party, and soon kids insist on having more and more so that they, too, can keep up. It's insanity, and I refuse to jump on that hamster wheel for as long as possible.

I'll be dragged on eventually. Her Majesty will go off to primary school and learn the ways of the Birthday Party. She'll be corrupted and will look at me as if I'm insane when I suggest a quiet birthday at home. But for now she's happy to share her chocolate cake with a bunch of sweaty 11 & 12 year old boys and their parents, to be cuddled and told "Happy Birthday" by her substitute Aunts, to be sung the Happy Birthday song incredibly out-of-tune by a mob of 3 & 4 year old and to rip open her presents.

Who could ask for anything more? Happy birthday Maive - Mummy loves you.

Saturday Skinfest

Last night, when I finally had the time to sit down at the computer, I was exhausted. I'd been up since 6am... Friday! That's right, boys and girls, I'd been up the entire night with very restless children and hadn't gotten more than 45 minutes of sleep - 30 minutes of solid sleep from 5-5:30am and the rest of it scattered. Most of the problems came from Her Majesty, who started in every 20 minutes or so crying and whining. This would wake Clive up - they share a room - and I'd have to try and get them back to sleep. No idea what set Her Majesty off - they've both been sick but nothing serious - but I couldn't snap her out of it. Just had to ride it out.

So I was doing well yesterday, mainly because I was so busy I didn't have time to stop moving. But when I did, around 9:30 last night, I just couldn't muster the energy to do up the Skinfest. Fortunately by the time I got to bed at quarter past 10 I was able to get 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, so now I'm right as rain.

Miss WTF sent me this picture in the preseason of one of the Tigers, whom I believe is Daniel FitzHenry. Correct me if I'm wrong, or just ogle. The choice is yours:

Like the tat, hate the shorts. Honest to goodness, how can you be seen in public with those Daniel Conn? It's like you're wearing your grandmother's dress - there is such a thing as good taste, even on the Gold Coast:

The best thing Pelenope Cruz ever did was to get the hell away from Tom Cruise, otherwise she'd never be able to look this good in a bikini for all of us:

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

Yup, that's my momma! She hates having her picture taken so Shepster was quick enough to sneak this one in as we were all doing the family photo thing at their place back in 2004 (my last visit back to the US). I think she looks great.

Love ya Mummy!

Harry Potter Predictions

:::ahem::: Please stand by for the disclaimer. I repeat, your attention please. Disclaimer to follow...

PLEASE NOTE: I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO FOREKNOWLEDGE OF THE FINAL BOOK, HARRY POTTER & THE DEATHLY HALLOWS. WHAT FOLLOWS ARE SIMPLY MY BEST GUESSES AS TO THE OUTCOME. I ALSO DISCUSS THE PREVIOUS BOOKS - IF YOU HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE OF THOSE AND DON'T WISH TO, STOP READING NOW. PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME TO TAKE DOWN ANY SPOILERS, OR COME CRYING TO ME IF YOU READ THIS AND LATER WAS DISAPPOINTED BECAUSE I HAPPENED TO BE RIGHT, THEREFORE RUINING THE BOOK FOR YOU. I WILL NOT CARE.

There, that should make everyone happy.

Yes, I admit that I enjoy the Harry Potter series. I do not think JK Rowling is a literary giant or a particularly deep thinker. I don't see hidden messages of greater things, or even sinister ones, in her work. What she has done is create an entertaining magical world that allows the reader, be they child or adult, to escape from our own not-so-entertaining and not-at-all magical world for a little while. Where's the harm in that, especially if the escape is by reading and not passively sitting in front of the television. Kids enjoy magical thinking, and it's nice for the adults to indulge their inner child now and again.

So I, like millions of others, am eagerly waiting for my pre-ordered (just last weekend) copy of the seventh and final book in her series. I will be collecting it Saturday morning, but I won't be lined up outside Dymocks at 9:01 Brisbane time. I'll do some other shopping first and then when the mobs have dispersed I'll go fetch it. Sparky, who has read the other 6 books numerous times, had claimed first dibs on the book. Miss Thing did this with book 6, so I felt it was fair. Since Sparky is a slow reader - like many 12 year old boys - I have also decreed the book may not leave the house. This lessens its chances of being damaged or lost at school and gives the rest of us a chance to read it when he's otherwise occupied. Personally, I anticipate finishing it by the end of the weekend. Unlike Sparky I am not a slow reader and the material isn't particularly challenging. Fun, entertaining and interesting but not challenging.

While I didn't see the death of Sirius Black in the fifth book coming, I correctly called the death of Dumbledore in book 6. Since JK Rowling has publicly stated at least two characters will die in book 7, I'm throwing my guesses out there. Please see the disclaimer above if you were so blind to miss it the first time.

I predict the following three characters will cease to be by the time we reach the final paragraph:

Voldemort - The obvious choice. The bad guy must die. If he continued to survive Ms Rowling have to write more books, something that she has stated she does not wish to do for many many years, if ever.

Professor Snape - Dumbledore, Harry's hero, had insisted that Snape, despite all the evidence to the contrary, was on the side of good. His killing of Dumbledore will be seen as necessary, even asked for, by the Headmaster in order to allow Harry to face Voldemort. Snape will die protecting Harry, thereby redeeming himself in Harry's eyes. But don't hold your breath for a touchy-feely everything is wonderful scene between Snape and Harry - the contempt will be there until the bitter end.

Neville Longbottom - Poor Neville, always trying to do the right thing but never quite succeeding. He could be easily written off as a Harry wannabe, except for that tiny little role he plays in the prophecy in book 5. You think that plot point was introduced for nothing? Since the prophecy didn't clearly name Harry Potter as the destroyer of Voldemort, that role is therefore ambiguous. Voldemort chose Harry whilst ignoring Neville, who as the child of "pure-bloods" should be the stronger wizard. Neville will therefore have a large role in the downfall of Voldemort before meeting his own end.

Who Won't Die:

It is my belief that Harry, nor his best friends Ron or Hermione, will meet a gruesome end. That would happen in an adult novel. And while the world of Harry Potter has indeed been embraced and nearly overtaken by near fanatical adults, JK Rowling writes for children. Not those of Her Majesty's age, but the pre-tween, tween and teen set. In that world, good triumphs over evil and hero comes out on top. She won't kill Harry. The deaths of Ron and/or Hermione are possible, but I find them unlikely. It's too obvious, and she's already got one of those.

So what do you think? Am I completely off base? Is my reasoning sound? Do you agree or disagree with me? Could you care less (and there are many)? Go click on that little 'witty remarks' link and tell me what you think.

What the Hell???

I logged in this morning to do a post and a Word Verification do-hickey popped up below the text field. When I clicked on the little question mark icon to discover if this was a new Blogger feature, I was stunned to find out that Blogger think my blog may be a Spam Blog:

Blogger's spam-prevention robots have detected that your blog has characteristics of a spam blog. Since you're an actual person reading this, your blog is probably not a spam blog. Automated spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and we sincerely apologize for this false positive.
We received your unlock request on July 19, 2007. On behalf of the robots, we apologize for locking your non-spam blog. Please be patient while we take a look at your blog and verify that it is not spam.

What the hell? Someone best explain to me just what about my humble blog has the 'characteristics' of a POS spam blog and not just take away this stupid little word verification crap. I don't feel their explanation applies to my blog:

their irrelevant, repetitive, or nonsensical text, along with a large number of links, usually all pointing to a single site.

Ok, maybe the irrelevant part... and I'm occasionally nonsensical. But the rest is utter bullshit. You've pissed me off, Blogger, and I may take my little blog and find someone else who plays nicer. You're not the only blog hosting company, you know...

UPDATE: I awoke this morning to find this email in my inbox:

Your blog has been reviewed, verified, and cleared for regular use so that
it will no longer appear as potential spam. If you sign out of Blogger and
sign back in again, you should be able to post as normal. Thanks for your
patience, and we apologize for any inconvenience this has caused.

I should've guessed I wouldn't get more than a form email. I was after an explanation as to what caused the dreaded Spam-bot to flag my blog as potential spam, not a 'whoops sorry, all set'. I guess the ball is in my court now to see how much hassle it'll be to move my blog to its own domain and use a different blog company. I hear WordPress is pretty good...

A Smile and a Giggle

I'm still having problems getting Clive to settle. Feels like I've been going non-stop since Friday and I'm ready to drop. It doesn't help we're having record breaking cold here in Brisbane with temps hovering just above freezing in the mornings. So much for that sub-tropical climate.

But a couple of things made me smile today. The first one was from Her Majesty this evening. Like most young siblings, Her Majesty and Clive share a bath. However my bathtub is quite small - it's a corner shower unit with a bathtub at the bottom. Great for conserving water, but not a lot of room. I cracked up when Her Majesty uttered this complaint with regards to her brother's movements:

"Hey, he kicked me in the china!" Gives a whole new meaning to the question 'why did they build the Great Wall of China?'

After the two little ones went to bed, I sat to watch a bit of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. One of my favourite scenes is the "Camelot" song and dance number, so you can imagine my delight when I found this on YouTube:

And I thought the Lego version was good!

Finally this ad never fails to make me giggle. You don't have to know squat about rugby league or the Broncos to appreciate this one:

I hope I made you smile too.

Headache

US peeps, remember this commercial?

That's me at the moment. A headache THIS BIG. Clive hasn't stopped crying since yesterday, Her Majesty is sick, Miss Thing is very into herself at the moment and the Hermit is in bed. Only Sparky has managed to stay on my good side since Friday (when all the current madness started).

The Hermit actually brought home some Excedrin from his last US trip so I popped a couple. All the sweet goodness of Tylenol (Paracetomol), asprin and caffeine in one little pill. Hasn't done bugger all. Could be because Clive is still screaming. I may have to hit the Aussie drugs. I love the fact you can get Tylenol and/or Ibuprofen with codeine without a prescription here. If codeine doesn't touch my headache, nothing will.

And if anyone has a way to make my son stop screaming before I sell him to the gypsies, I'd appreciate it!

Saturday Skinfest

Darren Lockyer, or as I like to call him The Shirless God (mainly because it gets me a lot of Google hits), did his anterior cruciate ligament in the Broncos win against the Cowboys Friday night, meaning he'll need a total knee reconstruction and is out for the remainder of the season. Fuck. I don't think this is the complete end to the Broncos season, but it'll be extremely difficult for them to keep the winning ways they've worked so hard to find this season.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. That should get me an 'R' rating on my blog now.

So I'm given Darren a double hit this weekend, since I won't be getting any new shirtless pics of him for ages:


And to completely ruin my season and threaten my love of the Broncos, Petero Civoniceva (or as Miss WTF likes to call him, 'Petrol Seventy Cents a Litre') will be departing to play for the Penrith Panthers next year. At lest that asshat Gower will be gone so I can enjoy watching the big fella play in a jersey(or train without) other than Brisbane:

For the men this week, here's some more Alessandra Ambrosio, model for Victoria's Secret. I could look like this you know, but I choose not to:

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

Miss WTF swears by the authenticity of this photo. In her words:

One of our customers is currently working in Almaty, Kazakhstan and we’ve been sending emails to and fro. He’s a keen photographer and we’ve been swapping pics as well as the obligatory Borat jokes. When he sent me this photo that he took on the weekend in a nearby village I damn near spat my coffee all over my computer screen.

Tasmania

Today I learned a new bit of Aussie slang -

Mappa Tassie: map of Tasmania - a woman's pubic area


Which gives a whole new meaning to the following phrases:

Bushwacking
Deforestation
Going for a bush walk
He's gone bush in Tassie
Would you like to go see Tasmania?
How did you enjoy Tasmania?
I'm going to go explore Tasmania
You got lost in Tasmania?
Honey, I really want to visit Tasmania.

Why yes, my mind is firmly entrenched in the gutter this week. How good of you to notice.

Phallus

That got your attention, didn't it?

Look at this building and tell me what you think it most resembles - a flower or a big ole penis:

Okay, so it doesn't look like just one penis - I count three from this angle - but it sure as hell doesn't look like the flower the building's designer, Sandor Shapery, claims it does:

“The whole concept is it's really an organic form with no angles. Everything is flowing and rounded.”

Dude, a penis could certainly be considered an organic form. And they're certainly pretty rounded - not many angular ones out there. Flowers have petals - I don't see any petals on that building, a proposed 160-unit hotel and condominium tower in downtown San Diego.

"So, Dick, I hear you're off to San Diego. Where are you staying?" Yeah, that'll go over well.

The designer has been asked to "revisit" and "tone down" the design. Shapery is upset:

“If it looks like a phallic symbol, someone has a strange perception,” he said. "You can find sex anywhere if you want to. . . . There's just some sick people out there.”

Yeah, they'd be the ones building scale models of their dangly bits and turning them into buildings.

“People aren't really looking at what the building is really about.”

It's about your schlong, mate. Can't you buy a sportscar like the other guys do? Then again, you wouldn't be the first man to construct an overly-phallic building:

At least it can get away (barely) with calling itself The Gherkin.

If you're going to pretend your building isn't a giant penis, find something other than a flower to compare it to. And if all these references to the male anatomy don't get me a lot of misguided and disappointed Google hits, nothing will!

But That's Not What Happened!

This is a familiar phrase in my house. It doesn't come from Miss Thing or Sparky, however. It comes from me whenever I sit down to watch a movie based on the popular Tudor dynasty of England. It doesn't matter who makes the film - the Poms or the Yanks - I'm still left yelling at the television.

I have an utter fascination with early English history. Why this topic and not others I'm not quite certain. Is it because all I ever learned in elementary, middle and most of high school was American history and so became quite bored with it? Likely - it was when I was one of 5 seniors chosen for our school's first Advanced Placement history class that I began to see that history wasn't dull. Is it because of Katherine Hepburn? I happened to stop by my mother's one day when she was watching The Lion In Winter with Katherine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole and was enthralled with Hepburn's portrayal of Queen Eleanor, wife of King Henry II. It prompted me to go and actually start reading about her - Eleanor, not Hepburn - and that started me on my journey. Or is it just one of those things that one can't really explain. Probably a bit of all three.

If you were to look at my bookshelf you'd find many books on the English monarchy, and especially the Tudors. The Hermit marvels at the fact that I will buy new non-fiction books on the topic when I already have so many. It's not the facts that are in question but the historians take on them that I find interesting. I also enjoy reading fictional novels based in this broad time frame and on these larger than life people.

But I don't shout at the books like I do at the movies. I was aghast at the treatment given to William Cecil in the 1998 Elizabeth staring Cate Blanchett. I was spitting when I watched the death scene of Robert Dudley, played by Jeremy Irons, in the more recent 2005 TV miniseries Elizabeth I with Helen Mirren. Tonight I watched The Virgin Queen, yet another BBC miniseries, and wanted to pull my hair out when Queen Mary I was portrayed as dying in childbirth. "But that's not what happened!"

So why do I get so cranky? Firsty, the fictionalized books play more around the margins than with the established facts. At least the better ones do. Philippa Gregory may have writen Katherine of Aragon (she'd be King Henry VIII's first wife) as something other than the virgin she claimed to be when she wed King Henry in The Constant Princess, but the truth is nobody really knows if Katherine did the deed with Henry's brother Arthur or not (most believe not). Secondly, I think that what really happened is more interesting than the fictionalized version you see on the screen. For example, among Queen Elizabeth's belongings was found a letter from Robert Dudley, with 'His Last Letter' written upon it in the Queen's handwriting. Would not a scene of the ageing Elizabeth, alone and grief-stricken, writing those words upon the letter before putting it among her keepsakes been moving? Instead you were given some trite and overplayed nonsense.

We live in a society where people are less likely to pick up a book and more likely to watch the small screen. They are also more likely to believe what they see on the TV. It is unlikely that someone will read a fictionalized version of medieval English history without some sort of interest and/or knowledge of the subject and therefore be able to sort the fact from the fiction. People who go see the latest Hollywood film may go because they like Cate Blanchett, or Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson in the upcoming The Other Boleyn Girl (also based on a Philippa Gregory novel) and walk away thinking they know history.

I should give people some credit, I suppose. After all, a movie helped to kick start my interest. But given the trend of dumbing down of society I don't hold out a lot of hope. When you have a passion for something, you want it portrayed as accurately as possible. You know what they say about history - those who do not learn from it are doomed to repeat it.

Mooselet's Childhood Laws

A child's ability to help perform household chores is inversely proportional to their willingness to perform said household chores.

Example: Miss Thing is perfectly capable of folding her laundry, yet prefers the floordrobe method of storing her clothes. Her Majesty, on the other hand, simply loves to help me fold the laundry. This involves laying my perfectly clean clothes out on the floor, rolling it up into a ball and then throwing it to me.

Just when a child stops needing parental supervision in the morning hours, that child begins to sleep longer than the parents.

Example: Her Majesty awakens at oh-dawn-thirty, Sparky around 9, Miss Thing won't be seen before noon.

The level of parent knowledge as defined by the child decreases sharply around age 6, plummets off the cliff around age 13, disappears completely around age 16 and makes a spectacular comeback around age 25. I'm still waiting for that last one to be proven correct.

Feel free to add your own 'laws' in the comments.

Saturday Skinfest

A word problem: You live in a country where there is an ongoing war of words over which state is the "heartland" of rugby league - New South Wales or Queensland. Now consider these two numbers:

48,621 - the official attendance of the Brisbane Broncos vs Gold Coast Titans game, two local teams, in Brisbane last night
12,385 - the official attendance of the Wests Tigers vs Penrith Panthers game, two local teams, in Sydney last night

Also consider that not two days before Brisbane hosted the third State of Origin game that was attended by 52,469 fans. Now tell me - where does the true heart of rugby league belong?

Wow, numbers this early in the morning. I don't do math well at any time of the day, never mind at this hour.

Last week I offered up a chance to caption the photos, and you all fell woefully short. Bunch of Peeping Toms is what you are. So I guess that means you're stuck with what passes for witty commentary from me, or just skip all of it and look at the pretty pictures. I don't blame you - Matt Cooper's bod is particularly droolworthy in this photo:

Ah Darren Lockyer, you Shirtless Wonder, is there anything you can't do? Captain of a Premiership winning team last year, captain of the winning Queensland State of Origin team two years running, Australian team captain, playing a record 274 games for the Broncos, kicking the winning field goal in extra time last night after playing a brutal Origin game two nights ago... hey, I know! You can't seem to be able to get all that manly chest hair to migrate back where it belongs on the top of your head:

Can someone tell me why Victoria Secret model Alessandra Ambrosio is wearing a bikini top crotched by my mother:

More skin next week!

Photo Friday

I haven't embarrassed myself in a while, but this time I'm taking Mumfies with me.

Sometimes (ok, a lot of times) you get asked to help out at the junior football matches doing various tasks and sometimes (less often) you actually agree. When brother Gabe was here Mumfies and I got sucked in graciously volunteered to be the duty officials for the game. Our job was to walk around and make sure the spectators were behaving themselves, not threatening players or referees, not consuming alcohol outside the designated areas and if any of those thing happened we decided we would someone bigger than ourselves to deal with it while we ran and hid. Thankfully, we had a peaceful night. I wonder why:


Would you mess with a couple of women who looked like we did? I thought not.

Girls Update

Thanks to everyone who gave me suggestions on what to bring for Her Majesty's kindy celebration of Independence Day. We ended up bringing in the American style flag we fly outside of our house (side note to Momma Mooselet - we need a new flag holder, ours was bent in the recent winds), a small wooden "America" block letter knick-knack done up in red, white and blue with a small flag and "God Bless America" sign and some American flag coloring pages:

I gave serious thought to baking but simply didn't have the time. I even bought some strawberry-flavoured Jelly (better known as Jello) to cut into stars. It's the thought, right? Her Majesty had a good time today, however, and I promised the next big American holiday I'd be more on the ball.

My other news to share concerns Miss Thing. Not only has she landed a new job working reception at the pool where Her Majesty and Clive have their swimming lessons, with an eye towards teaching some lessons herself, but has been chosen as Miss Wests Panthers to represent Sparky's football club in the Miss Junior Rugby League Quest. Really, see it for yourself here (where you'll also learn her not-so-secret identity):

Pretty wild, given her grandmother Momma Mooselet is such a staunch feminist and I spent much of my teenage years in pair of combat boots courtesy of Civil Air Patrol. I mean, Miss Thing gets a sash and everything! A sash!!! Somewhere up in Heaven, my grandmother is clapping her hands in glee to finally get a girly-girl out of this bloodline.

How did she end up as Miss Wests? I was approached my our club president who asked me if she'd be interested. My daughter, I asked?

"Yeah, tall pretty thing who walks around like she owns the place when she comes by."

Yup, that'd be Miss Thing. Confidence is not something she's terribly lacking in.

Apparently there's a judging in a couple of weeks where she'll be asked "world peace" types of questions followed by a dinner/ball the following week. It should be good fun, if nothing else. I'll keep you all posted.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the sash bit.

Quiz Cop Out

I'm drained after watching the third Origin match tonight in which Queensland lost but only after having at least 6 players injured seriously enough to be taken off for various amounts of time ranging from minutes to an entire half. I'm pretty certain Dallas Johnson, concussed in the first 30 seconds but played the second half and made 30 tackles, won't remember the game. At least we had the satisfaction of winning the series. Bring on 2008!! I hope you watched the game, Prof!

So in light of this, I'm coping out and bring you quizzes:

You Have Your PhD in Men

You understand men almost better than anyone. You accept that guys are very different, and you read signals well. Work what you know about men, and your relationships will be blissful.

How Well Do You Understand Men?

Yeah, like it's difficult...

You Are 60% Open Minded

You are a very open minded person, but you're also well grounded. Tolerant and flexible, you appreciate most lifestyles and viewpoints. But you also know where you stand firm, and you can draw that line. You're open to considering every possibility - but in the end, you stand true to yourself.

How Open Minded Are You?

This is probably why I've adapted so well to our new life in Oz.

Your Cell Phone Etiquette is 14% Bad, 86% Good

You are practically a cell phone saint. You never annoy the people around you. Everyone should have phone manners as good as yours. And you sure wish they did!

How's Your Cell Phone Etiquette?

Damned straight. Too many people should have their mobiles shoved up certain orifices that don't see the light of day.

Oooookayyyy... guess they haven't seen the Skinfest then!

Holiday Help

As you all know, the 4th of July - also known as Independence Day in America - is Wednesday. Her Majesty's kindy class has been nice enough to postpone their celebration by a day as Her Majesty doesn't go to kindergarten on Wednesday, which was very nice of them.

My problem is they've asked me to bring something in for the kids to help them celebrate. Aside from my American flag, which isn't a very exciting thing for kids to look at, I can't think of anything! Miss Thing and Sparky both suggested sparklers, but I pointed out the inherent dangers of letting 3 & 4 year olds have flammable objects. I told Her Majesty's teacher I'd try to come up with something, but it's not a holiday big on props. And I want to help - this is the first time in my 5 years here I've been asked to help explain/celebrate an American holiday (Mumfies, your pleas for a proper American Thanksgiving aren't forgotten, but you keep wanting a pageant and I keep telling you that only happens on TV).

So I turn to you, my readers. What kind of things could I bring, or help suggest to make, that will help a room full of ankle biters celebrate America's birthday? Remember I'm 10,000+ miles away from American shores, so a quick run to WalMart for American themed decorations are out. Any help will be gratefully received.

Saturday Skinfest

I'm feeling really run down - not even the win the understrength Broncos managed to pull off last night over the Panthers (Dear Craig Gower - you are a wanker and I am so glad you're going to France, which is where wankers deserve to go, because I'm sick of looking at your unattractive mug in between every second play. Love, Mooselet) can give me energy. I need a vacation, but aren't going for a few months yet. Actually, I need a vacation away from my offspring, which isn't going to happen for another, oh, 18 years or so. Shoot.

But I can't deny all of you the Skinfest. Hell, I can't deny myself. I usually preface the presentation of the hotties with a comment or two, but I just can't this week. My tank is empty. So fill in your own in the comments section and I'll use the best:




A return to your witty banter, plus skin, next week!