Well the Swans have won their Qualifying Final and now have a week off before the Preliminary Finals in two weeks. Last night was crazy! It was the most nail-biting game I've seen since last year's grand final. I was going nuts... yelling, screaming, jumping around. At one point Will said to me in a concerned voice "Mummy, why are you being so silly?". Why? Why? Because this isn't life or death, my son... it's much more important than that.

The Swannies won by ONE POINT. It was as close as it could possibly be... and oh so damn sweet. The final goal, kicked by Michael O'Laughlin, was magic. He kicked it right in front of goal and the momentum kept him running straight at the fence and the West Coast supporters screaming at him just behind it. The look on his face was amazing, it will live with me forever. It doesn't take much for the civilised facade to crumble!


Stick that where the sun shine don't shine Eagles!

The Swans have finished fourth on the AFL ladder and the finals series begins next weekend. Shit September is a stress filled month. I always forget until the last minute and then it all comes back to me.

Next Saturday night my boys are playing West Coast Eagles over in Perth in the first Semi-Final. It'll be tough but anything is possible and the Swannies are on fire (even the fire engines turned up at today's game).

Come on Swannies, you can do it. Dare to dream!

I had an ephiphany last night. J and I were at the Countdown Spectacular concert. [For those not familiar with Countdown - it was a music program which was one of the major constants in my life from 1976 to 1987, shown on Australia-wide ABC TV. It was shown at 6:00 pm each Sunday night and featured mainly live Australian and international bands and video clips as these became popular.]

This may come as a surprise to some of you... Are you sitting down? I'm getting old. I'm not 8 years old any more. In fact it's been THIRTY YEARS since I was and it was that long since I first became mesmerised by the Countdown magic. It's been thirty years since I fell in love with Skyhooks (my poor immigrant parents were terrified that their eight year old was listening to songs like "You just like me 'cos I'm good in bed" and "Horror Movie"), with Sherbert, with John Paul Young and Mark Holden and his bloody white suit and carnations.

Last night, surrounded by other old people, I watched a long line up of the previously spunky and lust-worthy idols of my youth drag out their old hits and gyrate as best they could manage with their rusty, arthritic hips. It was partly wonderful but mainly terrifying and awful. It occurred to me that if THEY were old then SO WAS I.

I decided that these sorts of concerts really aren't so wonderful, they are really a sad way of trying to grasp onto our youth. I watched the other old people, both on the stage and in the audience, having a great time and I felt a horrible yearning, a bottomless pit of sadness and I thought that maybe it is better that some things remain in the past, sweet memories held close in our secret selves, that trying to re-live such memories was something not dissimilar to the whole Pet Cemetary concept.

When I first watched the sexy Darryl Braithwaite signing "Howzat" on Countdown the whole world was at my eight year old feet, there was endless possibility and wonder and excitement and that song, like many others of that time, represented something intangibly joyful.

Last night a bunch of old men, with grey, conservatively cut hair, looking more like mortgage brokers than pop superstars, came on stage and reprised a song which had so many precious memories attached. In some ways I now wish I hadn't seen them at all because the memories I had were much more important than seeing and hearing what I did last night. Very bittersweet.

A few performers from last night deserve special mention:

* James Freud. Jeez, that guy was hot in the '80s. When he pranced on stage last night with one of his old bandmates from The Models I thought "shit, James' still got IT!". He was all long black rock star hair, tight jeans and faded, couldn't-care-less, just pulled it on at the last minute rock star t-shirt. Then they showed a close up of his face on the big screens and I thought "oooh, James, way too many drugs in the '80s my friend". It wasn't pretty. Still sounded quite good though.

* Renee Gayer. I used to love that woman and her gorgeous, whiskey and cigarettes husky voice. Well, I'm guessing there've been just a few too many whiskies and packs of ciggies during the last twenty-odd years. Didn't sound or look prettty. Shame.

* Mondo Rock. Ross Wilson has aged well and he still sounds fantastic. "Come Said The Boy" is just such a loaded song and takes me back so much it almost hurts.

* Finally, Australian Crawl. James Reyne came on stage with his guitar and did "Reckless" and it was worth going just for that alone. It blew me away and made me wish I could go back in a time machine and see Australian Crawl when they were at their peak in the '80s. "Reckless" is such a quintessential Sydney song:

Meet me down by the jetty landing
Where the pontoons bump and spray
All the others reading standing
As the Manly ferry
Cuts it's way to Circular Quay

Hear the Captain blow his whistle
So long she's been away
I miss our early morning wrestle
Not a very happy
Way to start the day

Refrain
She don't like that kind of behaviour
She don't like that kind of behaviour

Chorus
So throw down your guns
Don't you be so reckless
Throw down your guns
Don't you be so

Feel like Scott of the Antarctic
Base camp too far away
A Russian sub beneath the Arctic
Burke and Wills and camels
Initials in the tree

Not a lot to say about last night's Idol. It was a bucket of poo!

As I predicted... Lavina Williams and Lisa Mitchell are through to the Top 12. Fudge! (That's for you J.)

Then they picked the Wild Cards for Sunday night's show:

* Chris Murphy: Well, I like him but song choice is dubious.
* Nathaniel Willemse: Weirdly good looking but boring. South African - surely one is plenty and we already have Dean.
* Amanda Streete: I liked her but she won't go far.
* Guy "Mutto" Mutton: He shits me. The hair!!! The scowl!! The name!!! [Who can see MUTTO on an album cover?!]
* Chris Grafitti: BORING!
* Ricky Muscat: DOUBLE BORING!
* Brendon Boney: Love him but don't think he's got much chance, sadly.
* Klancie Keough: What the...? I'm in that Twilight Zone again.

Young Love: As Will's tutor left our home last night he ran to the door and yelled "Goodbye, Sweetheart".

* Bobby Flynn and Joseph Gatehau got through to the Top 12 from the 3rd semi final. I picked them both. If only I could earn a living from this uncanny gift I have... To be honest I was quite surprised that Bobby got through, I wasn't sure that the OzIdol voting public was ready for someone so very unusual... I guess I should give them the benefit of the doubt more often... nah, what was I thinking. Joseph, while terrible on the night, does have the super cuteness factor working overtime for him. I hope he can show more of his real talent when the performance shows begin.

* The 4th semi-final was generally painful but also surprisingly good. A couple of the girls I didn't remember at all from the auditions: Lydia Denker who performed the dreaded Whitney Houston's "One Moment in Time" and Raechel Lee who performed the much loved Paul Kelly's "I've done all the dumb things".

* Raechel was kind of OK but I couldn't quite figure her out, certainly not a classic voice, just kinda quirky. Not sure if I like it or not, probalby won't get a chance to find out more as she's unlikely to get through in my opinion.

* I loved Lydia, much against my better judgement. Sure the song choice was cheesy but the song is actually very good and she sang it beautifully - a first class example of choosing a song which allows you to really show off your vocal ability. She's also a very beautiful girl in an exotic sort of way. I'm picking her to go through but maybe in the wildcard rounds (see below for those I fear/dread will go through from this round).

* My early favourite Jess Griffin (she of the lesbian mum) did Christina Aguilera's "Fighter", a song I absolutely adore (not only for helping me get through a few dozen Pump classes when I used to go to the gym). Fantastic song but the whole thing was a dog's breakfast. Either Jess was off her nut or she has never performed with a band before. It was like a car accident and as an eye witness I eally didn't know where to look. Oh, the shame. Sadly she doesn't have the Joseph "cuteness" factor to help her through this major stumble. I doubt we'll see Jess again.

* Unfortunately I think I know who will go through from this round but I don't like either of them. "Them" being Lavina Williams (Aretha's "Natural Woman") and Lisa Mitchell (Ben Harper's "Diamonds on the inside").

* Look, Lavina can sing, OK. But she's the Mariah Carey/Celine Dion classic over-singer. Each syllable must be milked for all it's worth and it's simply painful to my ears. I wasn't a fan of her sister's in the previous OzIdol and I'm no fan of hers. However, I fear people love this shit and she'll get through.

* Sadly people (at least the judges) seem to love Lisa Mitchell's shit as well. I honestly feel like I'm in the twilight zone when she performs. To me she sounds (as I've previously mentioned) like the vocal love child of Missy Higgins and Kasey Chambers and you may as well be scraping fingernails down the blackboard as far as I'm concerned. Pure aural torture. I think she ruined a beautiful Ben Harper song and I want her gone (I'm sure she's a very nice young girl though). The judges however are orgasmic each time she performs and to me they sound totally mad. I don't get it. In fact, the way Mark and Kyle leer at this poor girl actually creeps me out. Stop it.

* Speaking of Kyle... the man is a truly dumb shithead (that's mature, isn't it!). He's like the worst judge EVER! When they advertised the beginning of his tenure with OzIdol last year they made it clear he would be the MEAN judge, however, he's turned out to be the piss weak judge. He is so shallow if he was a puddle you wouldn't be able to drown an ant in it. He literally drools at every pretty girl and overlooks their vocal ability or lack thereof as he contemplates his chances of getting them into bed. He is mean to anyone vaguely overweight (which is a huge case of the pot calling the kettle black). And worst of all for a judge on a music talent quest is he has no musical knowledge whatsoever; he doesn't know any song outside the Top 40 from the last 5 years. If it hasn't been performed by Brittney Spears or Justin Timberlake he's never heard of it. He really is a first class dick!

* And while I'm on the subject of judges; Mark is just plain weird and/or mad (sometimes he has moments of clarity allowing one a glimpse of the production genius behind the babble) and Marcia is nice to the point of embaressment (I'm sure she'd say something nice about my singing should such a nightmare scenario ever materialise). I never thought I'd say this but I miss Dicko. What a sad state of affairs!

(I'm only talking about all this Idol stuff 'cos there's nothing exciting happening on the personal front - all good right now [well, my grandma is in hospital again but that's sadly getting to be a too regular scenario lately]). Anyway...

The third semi-final:

* Reigan and Jessica got through. As you know I'm a fan of Reigan's, so that was great. However, Jessica is nothing special. I'm sure she's a nice young girl and she has got a good voice but she is young and immature and well, boring. Her song choice was Whitney Houston's "I want to dance with somebody" and you can't get more coma-inducing boring than that. I was sad that Amanda didn't get through but I have hope for the wild card night.

* Bobby Flynn did an very unsual but beautiful version of "Under the Milky Way". After initially thinking "what the...?" I was swept away. He's an odd bod, Bobby. He's a very unusual looking man (is there a chromosome problem here?) but his voice is just so different I couldn't even begin to describe it. I want him to go through if for no other reason than he is just SO not the R'n'B type and he's sure to bring something very left field to all his performances.

* My other great hope was Joseph Gatehau, the beautiful young man with the angelic voice and the cow-like eyes. His nerves and song choice shot him in the foot badly last night. It was so sad to watch. He chose that shite song "Let Me Love You" (I don't know, all that R'n'B rubbish sounds the same to me - I find it hard to recognise without the gyrating bikini girls) and then his voice really shut down, you could literally see his throat constricting. Poor kid. He is so talented but he's going to have overcome his nerves big time to get on. I have faith that he'll get through to the Top 12 but after that...

* Everyone else was just not my cup of tea and I'm trying not to feel a sympathy vote for James Steele... single father, blah blah.

Idol:

* Dean and Damien got through from the first semi-final to the Top 12. I picked them both; if only I could use my powers for good instead of evil... It was probably my single text vote for Damien which tipped him over the edge into stardom. Only problem with Deano that I picked up last night was his "thank you" to the "Lord, my Saviour". You know how it is, that stuff doesn't sit well with me. And he's South African. If only he wasn't so damned gorgeous and talented I could really hate him.

* Last night was the first girls' heat. Very average stuff. But...

* I loved Amanda's version of Pink's "Trouble": I've said it before and I'll say it again - "she rocks". The downside is that she really doesn't have a broad ranging voice so she only has one level of performance which may not see her through the comp.

* Reigan regained some of the ground she lost between the auditon and now with a beautiful version of "I wish I was a punk rocker (with flowers in my hair)". She really has a fabulous voice and is a very pretty girl. Her clothes choice was horrific though - straight out of the Eurovision Song Contest - very wrong and broken. OzIdol stylists take note.

* I was also pleasantly surprised by Klancie's version of "I'm not ready to make nice". Though I do quite like the song I'm no fan of The Dixie Chicks and I was no fan of Klancie's but she swayed me somewhat last night. Don't want to see her go through though. Enough already.

* So I'm hoping for Amanda and Reigan to get up tonight but really can't be bothered voting. There're only so many text messages I'm willing to let my employer pay for in the OzIdol cause.

Personal updates:

* Dentist. Pleasant surprise. They don't seem to use those HUGE needles I remember from my childhood anymore. Just something called a "wand" and it was magical. Just pressed this contraption into my cheek... no pain. Two fillings and two fissure seals later I was out of there with no discomfort and only a tingling lip as evidence of my dental adventure. Oh, and a wallet lighter by $378 (after the health fund rebate, sheesh!) - gee, you wouldn't want to be poor.

* Chili Pepper tickets are in the bag. Great seats too! The Gold Membership to the fan club has paid off - access to member only pre-sale tickets (a REAL pre-sale, not this Visa Card crappola). Now the promoters get to hang onto my hard-earned for 8 months while I sweat on the concert which will be in APRIL 2007. And you go to jail for holding up a bank!

* Planning stages for our holiday to Thailand in October 2007 (well, we like to plan ahead). Have a looky here if you want to join us or just feel jealous:
http://www.sixsenses.com/evason-phuket/index.php Infinity pools, cocktails under the stars and Kids' Club... here we come!

A few comments on the first Oz Idol semi-final:

* Chris Murphy's version of "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" was truly underwhelming. Call me a purist but you don't mess with this sort of stuff. Didn't suit his style at all. Disappointing. Don't think his chances of making it through are very high at this point.

* Dear, weird Brendon Boney chose one of my fave's "Higher Ground" (Stevie Wonder/Chili Peppers). Personally I thought he did it justice but it is a damned hard song to sing well. I'm afraid this is the last will see of BB.

* Damien Leith's voice makes me think "Jeff Buckley". It's sublime. I think he was nervous last night, slightly diminishing his version of "You are so beautiful" (corny choice, wouldn't have been my pick). I've sent him a vote but hard to know where he'll stand with the tweenies.

* Dean Geyer. He really is THE package. Gorgeous and you know he can really sing too. My sis J is searching around for a bet that this guy will take out the whole comp. I think he's a big chance. Watch this space.

Well, Oz Idol 2006 is here and I'm excited! I know, I know. It's lame and cheesy (apparently my two favourite attributes in a television program) but I can't help loving it. The anticipation each week is so bittersweet: the song choice (will we ever get over Daniel's choice of [cringe cringe] "Rock DJ" in the 2004 Oz Idol?); the clothes; the comments.

So far we've (yes, the Big J is also a fan - I got him hooked on the auditions and now he's in it for the long haul) enjoyed the auditons (three groups: the good, the bad but just doing it to get on tv/on a dare and the crazy [i.e. think they're good but are really really really CRAP]) and now that the two twenty four are chosen we are all geared up for the real comp to start.

I have a few early favourites (but last year my absolute favourite left on about week three so I hope I'm not the kiss of death here):

* Brendan Boney: beautiful voice, great kooky presence, it's just his uncanny resemblence to one of the weirder members of staff at my workplace which makes me feel a tad uncomfortable/sick-in-the-stomach when I see him.

* Joseph Gatehau: sweetness personified, not only has he got the most beautiful cow eyes surrounded by long thick dark cow eyelashes but he sings like an angel and genuinely seems like a sweet young guy. I'm sure he's going to end up being a damned born again Christian like Guy Sebastian but I'll try not to hold that against him.

* Damien Leith: he's "old", he's Irish and his teeth are crooked (can't knock him on that one) so I'm not sure how appealing he'll be to the 14 year old girls but he has a bloody beautiful voice (ok, I was worried sick at his choice of "Hallelujah" for his solo song but he pulled it off beautifully and Jeff Buckley may continue resting in peace).

* Chris Murphy: he's cool and he rocks and he doesn't sing that shit R'n'B nonsense. Let's see what he can do.

* Dean Geyer: he's cute and sweet and can sing. Maybe?

* Amanda Streete: like her voice and her attitude (see Chris Murphy, above).

* Jessica Griffin: has a cool lesbian mum (neither here nor there but there you go), I like her voice and her look, not sure if she can pull off the whole Oz Idol package, fairly sure she can't.

* Reigen Derry: loved her voice in the initial audition but she's been very poor in the second round of the comp, not sure about her right now but hope she follows up on the initial promise.

* Lisa Mitchell: she's not a favourite of mine though everyone else seems to think she's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Her voice is a mixture of Casey Chambers and Missy Higgins and that's not a good combo in my books. She sounds sweet enough but if I had to listen to a whole album I'd hang myself.

I'd put money on a boy winning this year. Let the fun begin.

I may be biased but... well, you know... cute, etc...

It's been the best day. Textbook family fun at the park. Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous taste-of-Spring Sydney day. Centennial Park and a picnic lunch.

Followed by a small shoe-shopping stopover on the way home. No, not for me. Summer shoes for the kids.

Life is good.

This morning Will and I had one of those "Telstra BigPond" advertisement moments in the car. I was listening to my old fogey retro station of choice and Donna Summer's Hot Stuff came on. Will loves this song and was busily singing along to it when he turned to me and said "What do Hot Stuff mean?".

Instantly my pea-sized brain began to run around my head like a rat in a maze, searching, searching for an appropriate answer. I hadn't really envisaged explaining the meaning of Hot Stuff to my 7 year old son (that's the sort of question they never ask you at the adoption interviews). Part of me wanted an honest,mature answer but I really couldn't think of anything even vaguely mature so I mumbled something like "... it's something that keeps you warm...".

Luckily by that point Will was back to playing his GameBoy and couldn't care less. But it did underline how hopelessly unprepared I am as a parent for the "big questions" that I'm sure will be coming sooner or later (I was hoping not so soon!).

Strangely enough a few moments later as my brain was still swirling around and flagelating itself for its own inadequacies I overheard Will singing along again and this time he was singing: "Lookin' for some Pa-sta baby this evening...". And I thought "aren't we all, Will, aren't we all?!".

My love of all things reality tv is well documented. A sub-genre of particular interest to me is the SuperNanny-type program which involves completely dysfunctional families being pulled into line by sane and well groomed professionals. Australia has recently Ozzified the British program Honey, we're killing the kids and it is currently one of my favourites. I'll be the first to admit that I love these shows because they are a cheap and totally wrong way for me to feel better about my own parenting.

I can smugly watch these shows, occassionally learn something, but mainly come away with the feeling that I'm not THE worst mother in the world. And that's worth the price of admission alone.

My question about this particular program is: why do they need to film the weekly interview/hand over of the weekly tasks segment in what looks like a converted dungeon. The room inspires thoughts of electrodes on testicles and has very little do with parenting (well, I haven't stooped that low yet). I really can't figure out the purpose of this stark room at either the psychological or entertainment level.

The other thing I can't figure out is the segment which "shocks" the parents by showing them hypothetical photos of their children at the age of 40. This really is schlock of the highest order. I mean most of these parents are totally clueless: their children don't eat right and/or sleep right, they don't function well at school and/or at home, they swear, fight and generally hate themselves and the world. Yet cheesy Photoshop'd photos of their children with a few wrinkles and pouchy jowls turns them into weeping wrecks. I don't get it.

The Big J and I really love our British police murder mystery shows. Cracker, A Touch of Frost, Prime Suspect, etc. The last couple of years we've really been into Wire in the Blood and enjoyed last week's episode which was the start of a new series.

The question must be raised though: is there a disproprionate number of sex related murders in the world? If you watch these sorts of shows (and I won't even touch on the American CSI and Law and Order-style franchises for whom this sort of thing is bread and butter) you would be lead to assume that our cities are jam packed full of horny, clever, seriously depraved maniacs who spend their entire time planning and executing the most horrendous rape/murder scenarios on young women dressed mainly in lingerie.

I would like to see the statistics. I would be willing to bet the majority of murders in our cities are very mundane and very rarely involve lingerie. But I guess a storyline about a guy clobbering his neighbour over a fenceline dispute wouldn't make for very rivetting television viewing.

If you don't read www.dooce.com daily you must do so - immediately.

Here's why: http://www.dooce.com/archives/nubbin/08_13_2006.html

Stop it, Heather! You're killing me!

I have a new hero and he can be found at www.marksteyn.com . We have only recently become acquainted but I have fallen for him hard and fast. He articulates so much of what is in my brain but I am too lazy, stupid and tongue-tied to fully express myself.

I read what he writes and yell "yes, yes, yes".

Just a tiny taste:

“You may not be interested in war,” said Trotsky, “but war is interested in you.” The Israelis have always grasped that. If war is going to come, why not ensure that it comes at a time and place as advantageous to one as possible? That’s a large part of what’s happening in the Middle East. If you try to avoid confronting Iran now, you’ll only have to confront them under worse circumstances later. Jimmy Carter, who embodied the west as a smiling eunuch, wanted to avoid confronting the newborn Islamic Republic three decades ago and now it’s a nuclear power. As I always say, there is no “stability”: behind the polite façade of the UN peacekeepers patrolling the stalemate, history is always on the move; the bad guys get new weapons, new rockets – and, as we’ve seen in Haifa, these bad guys use what they have to their full extent. So what will they have in five years’ time?

Since she comes to work with me I thought she may as well make herself useful.

A born multi-tasker, just like her mum.

Some of you may have noticed (humour me) my lack of comment on the axing of my new ex favourite show, "Yasmin is getting married".

I've been too distraught to talk about it.

There is now ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to watch at 7:00 pm. This is my exercise machine time and I need shit TV. My whole evening schedule is completely rooted. I can't possibly wait until the next installment of "Australia's Biggest Loser".

What's a girl to do?

These days anyone can be a celebrity. You just need to go on Big Brother, be a sportsperson, a very poor approximation of an actor or even just get stuck in an underground mine for a couple of weeks. Viola! Instant celebrity.

However, being a STAR is something different. There are so few these days. The main ones I can think of are aging and past their peak (some of the few examples that immediately come to mind are Barbara Streisand, Bette Midler, I'm stretching here... but for me, Cher...). I am talking about multi-faceted, multi-talented stars; people with charisma and genuine, heart stopping, mouth dropping talent. We are talking so far out of the ballpark in comparison to the majority of modern celbs a la Ms Spears, Tara Reid and their cohorts that we may as well be in another universe.

On Saturday night I had the pleasure, the joy, the wonder of seeing such a star live and it was truly awesome. I am talking about Hugh Jackman, the gorgeous, unasuming young man from Australia with more talent in his little finger than the vast majority of Hollywood put together. We had fabulous seats at the much anticipated The Boy From Oz at the Sydney Entertainment Centre and it was very much worth the wait.

There are the two aspects of this show: the sheer spectacle of Hugh Jackman's talent, he can sing, dance, act and hypnotise the audience (and has a mighty fine backside, which I got to admire only two short metres away as he picked a guy on the other side of the aisle from us to dance with him); then there is the magic of Peter Allen's songs which are backbone of this wonderful production.

It is these songs which brought tears to my eyes on more than one occassion and caused my lack of sleep as I tossed and turned after the show. I think Peter Allen is an invisible star to the majority of Australians, with the possible exclusion of 50-odd year old gay men. But hearing his songs again on Saturday night was a little overwhelming for me.

Of course "I still call Australia home" is a well known classic, but possibly more associated with Qantas than with its songwriter. This was a hugely produced number in the show, complete with the Australian Girls Choir and a giant Oz flag. Corny but heartwrenching for a patriotic nutcase like me.

"Don't cry out loud" sung by Colleen Hewitt (who knew she still had it in her) was very powerful. "Once before I go" sung by a lone Hugh/Peter at the very end was just sublime.

But it is "Tenterfield Saddler" which always gets me. I can't quite put my finger on why. Why am I so affected by a very simple song about Peter Allen's family back in Tenterfield?

The Late George Woolnough worked on High Street
And lived on manners
Fifty two years he sat on his verandah
and made his saddles
And if you had questions 'bout sheep or flowers or dogs
You'd just ask the saddler, he lived without sin
They're building a library for him

Time is a traveller
Tenterfield saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackeroo
Think I see Kangaroo up ahead

Thank you Peter. Thank you Hugh. A night that will live in my heart forever.

It is somewhat appropriate that my 100th Blog Entry is about my children and my struggle to be a better parent.

I was going to do something "special" for #100 but I didn't have a thing to wear and just couldn't be bothered.

So Thursday night saw me attend the first of the Triple P Positive Parenting sessions I had signed up for. Jason and I are keen to learn some techniques which will help us to discipline the children, Will in particular at this point, without screaming like Banshees and banging our heads in frustration. I had heard good things about the Triple P course but hadn't yet had an opportunity to attend a course.

One of the interesting things for me was that all the attendees were mums. I guess that is just the dynamic in families, it is the women who tend to get out there and be pro-active with family issues.

The first session was an introduction and a discussion of the common discipline problems (guilty on all counts, your honour). It was reassuring to know that other families face the same sorts of issues and that we weren't freaks (you know, the sort you see on Super Nanny and think "bloody hell, look at those FREAKS"). The sorts of discipline issues we face with Will, including the sibling rivalry issues, are common, normal even. In fact we would probably be freaks if we didn't experience them.

I am hoping this course will give us ideas on how to manage Will's behaviour in a positive way. So far just thinking clearly about the problems is reassuring in it's own way. We're not supposed to make changes in the first week, just keep a diary. So I'll forgive myself for the fact that I've just yelled at Will for getting all his textas and scissors out and allowing Marianna to cut up one of his workbooks (not a school one, thank goodness).

May the Force be with us.

It's been an up and down sort of week with Yasmin. As you know the first episode saw me fall head over heels in love. It was a real "love at first sight" moment. So it was with great anticipation that I tuned in on night two (Wednesday). It was friggin' awful!!! Not only did they try to weazle extra lots of 55 cents out of the viewers by making them (notice I don't say "us"?) vote twice but Deryn didn't "win".

There were numerous moments of stupidity:

* The three "suitors" waiting anxiously in a "nearby cafe". Oh, come on.

* The first rejected suitor Vincent being taxied to the studio for no other purpose than to have Jean-Claude Van Damme jokes thrown at him. You know how awkward it is when people who have English as a second language try to understand Aussie-isms and vise versa? Obviously the producers caught on very quickly and poor old Vincent disappeared, quite literally, within seconds of arriving.

* The final seconds with baby-faced Peter knocking on Yasmin's new door (yes, she's been whisked off to a glamourous new, inner city pad, her boring-as old aparment being deemed unsuitable - der!) and asking her if she'd consider marrying him and offering her a ring. I realised this wasn't spontaneous romance but tv producer shlock but it was still fairly nauseating.

At this point, end of episode two, I was almost ready to throw in the towel. My disappointment would have regisered on the Reichter scale. From the highs of the night before I was now crashed on the jaggered rocks of some new found lows.

But I braved it for episode three (Thursday). Again, disappointment.

* Peter and Yasmin go on a date to The Aquarium. BORING! This date seems to bring out their most inspid characteristics and it doesn't make for rivetting television entertainment.

* Peter apparently tells Yasmin she has "gummy teeth" and a "nasally voice". Gee, you old smoothie. Nothing like pointing out a woman's obvious less attractive physical characteristics to cement the romance. We just love that, don't we girls? I told you he was a dud, but did anyone listen?

* For some unfathomable reason Yasmin takes Peter shopping for wedding invites. The wedding planner drops a classic, asking Peter what it feels to be picking out wedding stationery for another man.

* Yasmin decides to cut her losses and gives Peter his ring back, hedging her bets by asking if she can call him in a few weeks if she gets desperate, I mean, if she realises he was really the one for her. Bad move Yasie baby. You'd need to be "last man on earth" desperate to give Peter another call.

* Show ends with three new guys being shown (pics and brief bio only) and the panel choosing her new date. What happened to the voting? I was a bit confused by this twist but somewhat reassured that the audience wasn't going to have to vote every single step of the way.

* The girls chose peirced boy Byron. I have to say he wouldn't have been my pick but Episode Four proved me wrong, oh so wrong...

Last night's episode rekindled my love which was now just a shadow of its former self. Byron is perfect and if Yasmin doesn't marry him immediately (bugger waiting the requisite 59 days) I may have to marry him myself (is polygamy legal in this country or will we all have to move to Utah?). I don't want to jinx the whole situation by waxing lyrical about it all too soon so I'll end by saying "don't screw it up Yasie and please don't turn out to be a psycho Byron". Looking forward to Monday.

Oh, the joy of reality tv. No sooner is one show history (Big Brother who?) than another takes its place in my affections.

Dear friends, welcome... "Yasmin is getting married".

I watched the first episode last night on the premise of "seeing how it goes". I'm not one to rush into commitments with unknown tv programs. I like to ease in, playing it cool, not showing my cards too soon. Well, 10 minutes into "Yasmin" all my cards were on the table... I was in love.

No, not with Yasmin. In fact she seems like the weak link so far but I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. I love the format and I love Jo Staney (the host) and the panel (two guys of questionable pedigree, but bloody funny, and one matronly marriage counsellor who adds the sensible note to proceedings). A perfect combo.

Highlights of last night's episode:

Peter. Who must have repeated how "social" he was about 50 times. Warning bells! This man wants to party, baby... marriage, mortgages and babies are about as appealing to him as dropping an anvil on his toe.

Vincent: Oh, be still my beating heart. It's true you can say almost anything ("Your BO is the most disgusting thing I've ever smelt!") and it sounds damn sexy with a French accent. Vincent is a classic French smoothie... and he's a Pastry Chef to boot. He made Yasmin a chocolate Cinderella shoe with Yasmin written on it surrounded by chocolate covered strawberries decorated as tiny tuxedos. Too too too cute. But as one of the panel said: "What good is a chocolate shoe? He might as well make her a custard hat." And I'm sure that's just what he's hoping for.

Athan: The body builder giving her a box containing little hand weight thingies. At least it didn't contain Gwyneth Paltrow's head, as one of the panel suggested.

Adam: First class wanker. You must be kidding.

Deryn: My vote. Nice. Maybe too nice. Possibly he's a psychopathic mass murderer and they'll find body pieces wrapped in plastic in his freezer. But I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Go Deryn!

Jamie won. There is no god.

At least one mystery was solved. Who did he remind me of? The voice? The way of speaking? Derek Zoolander. Frightening. (Answer found on the Merrick and Rosso Breakfast Show on Nova FM this morning.)

It is always a weird sort of anticlimax when Big Brother is finished. As soon as the finale show starts so does that sinking feeling. It's all much ado about nothing at that point.

And there was certainly much ado last night. It's a lesson in how to drag approximately 10 minutes of entertainment into a three-odd hour "spectacular". Note to BB producers: less is more, people... less is more.

First a note about Gretel. I like the woman, no two ways about it. She's a fabulous older woman, gutsy and strong minded, on prime-time television. That's enough to like just there. But she really needs to stand up to those wardrobe people. Mostly they are not doing her any favours and last night was a prime example. A shiny silver ball gown and silver eyeshadow. No good. It was overdone by a long shot and the make up seriously made her look older (and no-one needs that, perhaps Nikky Webster?).

Then there was the horrendous bit of entertainment known as ex-housemate Danielle singing "Under the Radar" with the Big Brother "All Stars" doing the back-up dancing. Beyond silly. I don't have the vocabulary to describe how stupid it was. If I was the ex-housemates I would be checking and double-checking the fine print in my contract to make sure they really could make me do that shit. Obviously it was a very tightly worded contract.

Then there's Katie. All I have to say after seeing her last night is she must be missing a chromosome. Nothing else would explain the way she talks, acts and the sub-human look she gets on her face when she drops her jaw in that particular way. Jamie is no catch but I have to say "good luck, buddy".

What was most scary for me was the dream I had last night following the finale. It involved me and Jamie... no, god no, not like that. I had also been in BB and had been evicted (?) last night. Jason, the kids and I AND Jamie were all staying in the one hotel room after the final show. Jason and I kept tidying up and Jamie wouldn't help. I kept saying "see, look how lazy he is!". Then we decided to go home and I kept saying to Jamie "we'll be in Perth at Christmas time, we'll catch up then". I woke up with a horrible feeling and feeling quite disgusted with myself. I hope it isn't a premonition about actually seeing Jamie when we are in Perth. Sheesh, what a way to ruin a perfectly good holiday.

PS: "Big Brother Showdown 2006- Team Fag Hag vs. Team For God Sakes Pull Up Your Damn Pants" This is the funniest description of last night's finale I've seen (on http://betterthancheesecake.blogspot.com/2006/07/big-brother-showdown-2006-team-fag-hag.html)

The nutters love nothing more than a good US flag burning.

Well, that should fix everything.

Good work, nutbags. What time do you have to be back at the assylum for your yellow pills?

Mel, Mel, Mel! How the mighty have fallen.

You are SOOOOO wiped!

Jamie! Camilla! Who would have thunk it?!

All I can say at this point is... GO CAMILLA!

She's so cute...

Marianna is going through a super cute stage. She really thinks she's a BIG girl and no evidence to the contrary will convince her otherwise (i.e. she's short, she can't talk [properly], she drinks milk from a baby bottle, she wears nappies, etc).

On Friday, when I had to do a mad shop at Coles in preparation for feeding family for Jason's two birthday lunches (and then had to rush to another "thing" before having to rush home to wait for a barage of tradespersons who were to attend our house that afternoon), Marianna decided that sitting in the baby compartment in the shopping trolley was for babies NOT big girls like herself. She wanted to walk, on her own, without any assistance the whole way around!! Half way around the aisles she found a giant bottle of dishwashing detergent which was almost as big as her which she just had to carry around the rest of the way, both hands gripping around the girth of the bottle and hiking it up every once in a while as it attempted to slip out of her grasp. She had a look which was a perfect mixture of joy and concentration on her gorgeous little face. Her tongue stuck out just a little and every time I would glance back at her and she would catch my eye a smile of pure self-satisfaction would uncurl. It almost made the stress of taking over an hour to do a "quick" shop bearable.

Also, as can be seen in the photo above, she has decided that sitting on the dog's bed, which is near the french doors in the kitchen, is a very enjoyable thing and does so at every opportunity.

Despite my constant whinging about the children there are moments (sometimes numerous moments) when they are both content and even happy in each other's company. These glorious moments are pure bliss and provide me with windows of insight when I remember why I wanted to have children in the first place and why I really do love them so very much. Here is proof:

Last night as I was watching the BB Surprise Eviction, during which that non-entity Chris (he of the "I hate fat chicks with confidence" comment) got his much overdue marching orders, I contemplated the sad/happy/whatever reality that by this next week Big Brother would be over for another year. The way I feel right now I know I couldn't care less if I ever watched Big Brother again (well, you know, after the next week's finale, of course!) but I know in just a few short months I'll be saying things like "I wonder when the new Big Brother will start?" and "I wonder what sort of buffoons they'll have on Big Brother next year.". This is the nature of my stupidity and obsession.

Currently there is the problem that I don't want any of the last four to win.

There's Max who seems like a nice enough Italian mama's boy but he's only been there for two weeks and it seems hardly fair that he gets the "big bucks" after such a short stint of BB torture.

Then there's Camilla who is probably too much like yours truly to be likeable. Sure I admire aspects of her "shove my opinion down your throat whether you like it or not" personality, sure I admire her ability to argue someone down to the point of collapsing in a foetal position in the corner and crying for their mummy. What's not to admire? But she has recently taken to fawning in a disgusting and unappealing manner to David, who did start off as her friend but has drifted between "best friends" constantly througout the last three months and managed to alienate everyone, including the two-faced Camilla. If they say "I love you... no, I REALLY love you" to each other one more time I will have to be sick.

Which brings us to David. He's gay. Tick. He's amazingly, eye-wateringly good looking. Tick. His blue eyes almost, just almost, take away from the fact that he genuinely says things like "Grouse", "Beaut" and "Bloody Oath" without an ounce of irony. But he is just way too earnest, patronising and good with a capital "G". I am sure I would either be his best friend or hate him to the point of murder should we ever live in the same house. If a gun was held to my head I'd probably prefer him to win but really, I don't know...

... like, you know... there's always Jamie. I nearly had a brain explosion when I realised that Jamie was in the final four. I mean how does that happen? The man with the pants which defy the laws of physics, the world's ugliest, most annoying and totally unnecessary headband, no shirt and the overwhelming urge to admire and tune himself in every mirror and shiny surface he passes has survived to the final week. If he wins I will definitely, with full certainty know that there is no justice in the world (because the wars, starving children, unpunished criminals and AIDS epidemics just haven't convinced me so far).

So stay tuned, for next week you will read my final 2006 Big Brother comments and, you have been warned, there will be no more until next year! You will just need to entertain yourselves with my Oz Idol comments in the meantime. Aren't you eternally grateful for reality television?

Just so my sister and husband aren't the only ones to suffer my tirades on the subject just a few words on the Middle East situation.

I may sound heartless but I am sick of the endless images of Lebanese children in hospitals on our news day after day. Yes my heart goes out to them, like to anyone suffering in the world, but let's get a grasp on reality here. It may be very primary school to say this but "who started it anyway?".

I am fed up with Israel being blamed for what is going on. Yes, I'll claim a bias... my family is Jewish and we lived in Israel in the early 70s after we fled the former USSR. I was routinely taken to the bomb shelter as a 5 year old as bombs were dropped on Israel. But bias be damned, the media presentation of the Israeli-Lebanese conflict right now IS biased, verging on anti-Semitic.

It is Israel who has suffered through decades of terrorism, of having their people blown up on buses, in cafes, in the street. Israel does not initiate these conflicts but I fully support their right to defend themselves and, in this case, go a step further and try to put an end to an orgaisation which pretends to be a legitimate political force but is nothing more than a group of fantatical terrorists. Even without Israel's bombs Lebanon is screwed unless they can rid themselves of Hezbollah. If they are too weak to do it internally Israel is forced to do it externally because these people have a sworn philosophy of wiping Israel off the face of the earth.

Of course it is terribly sad to see the dead and wounded on both sides. No-one can deny that. But when will enough be enough? There are no forces on earth which can stop the bitterness and hatred in the middle east. The UN yet again shows itself to be the pathetic toothless tiger which it is. A resolution calling for Hezbollah to be banned can not be passed (I guess they must have run out of Iced Vovos at that meeting). Who could be surprised? I have heard that Malaysia's ex deputy Prime Minister is being heralded as the future replacement for Kofi Anan. A Muslim nutbag heading the UN? Gee, why not? Is Idi Amin not available? Possibly he's dead. How about Saddam Hussein? Surely once his farce of a trial is over he'll be looking for a new career opportunity.

Like everyone else I hope for an end to the suffering soon but not until Hezbollah has been stopped or at least taught a very big lesson. We must keep blaming terrorists and not let the mind fog of political correctness make us believe that all are equal in this conflict. I am confident in who the real victims are.

I have started reading "Secret Mothers' Business" by Joanne Fedler. It's truly fantastic and a much needed normaliser for a guilt-ridden mother like myslef. Despite a totally unnecessary political reference (which adds nothing to the story but does piss off those like myself who may not be on the middle-class leftie bandwagon so "in" right now) it is a greatly appreciated sanity saver.

Here is a passage I could/should have written myself:

"Motherhood, like the image of a beach at sunset on the glossy pages of a travel brochure, was such a perfect place of infantile cuteness and compliance. And then I got there, and the water was too cold, there were bluebottles swirling in the depths, and the sand insisted on getting in everywhere. When motherhood took on the contours of a real relationship with another person whose thoughts, wishes and personalities confronted my own, it all started to unravel. I watched in powerless horror as the person I had been began to erode.

[Particularly peritnent to us adoptive parents] My audition for the part had been impressive. I was confident I had it in the bag. But as the ensuing daily performances came and went, the role of 'The Perfect Mother' slipped from my grasp."

While I'm only a third of the way through the book I truly recommend it to the mothers who, like myself, don't ever feel good enough, happy enough and all alone in the category of "Worst Mother of the Year".

Quick update:

* School is back this week. Yippee! I'm getting a lot better at the school holiday thing but it's still somewhat of a relief once the routine is re-established. I'm such an anally retentive control freak (no, really) that routine is seriously my best friend. These holidays went well with a day trip to Disney on Ice (which both children and friends enjoyed hugely); a couple of days out with our visiting Adelaide friends K, D and C (oh the guilty joy of fish and chips at Watsons Bay on an unnaturally warm and sunny Sydney winter's [working] day); Jay took Will to Luna Park for a father and son bonding day and they had a ball (Will seems to be better at rides when I'm not around, possibly I silently transmit my fear of all things which move in a unpredictable and possibly dangerous manner).

* Both the kids are fantastic:

* Marianna is turning into a right little madam. She is very stubborn and bright and very much her own little person. At almost 14 months she is walking very confidently now, in fact trying to multitask like a typical woman by walking and eating or drinking or generally holding onto some toy or rubbish she has picked up from the floor. She loves music and bops along to any and every kind (from Hi-5 and The Wiggles on TV to Robbie Williams and Red Hot Chili Peppers on CD and radio, she even loves music in ads and has a few favourites for which she'll stop and turn to give it her full attention). She is also trying to sing along and her favourite right now is my rendition of Old McDonald which brings out a beautiful chorus of "ei ei".

* Will is turning into a real little man now. We still have our "moments" of stress (some last longer, much much longer, than others) when he insists on smothering Marianna with kindness, he literally follows her around so closely she trips over him, crying [hers] and screaming [mine] ensues. I guess the big brother/little sister adjustment period is taking longer than I first thought/hoped. On the positive side his language is maturing and he is saying a lot more about thoughts and feelings. He is into compliments right now ("Mum I love your skirt", "Dad I love your shoes"...).

* My dear sister J is back from her European Vacation. She had a blast and is missing the lovely European summer while we freeze our patooties off here in Sydney. Not only did she have a great time but she managed to squeeze in a bit of shopping resulting in a beautiful Dolce & Gabbana handbag for moi (yes, dear reader I am the proud owner of a genuine Italian designer handbag, as opposed to the Australian designer handbags I generally covet). She also bought some clothes for the children (fabulous!) including a tiger print D&G bodysuit for Marianna (too cute!). Jay got a pin for his collection from the World Cup (which made him a happy little camper - I know which pressie I'd prefer!).

* We have dipped our toe very briefly into the investment property pool but the water is too cold and we are withdrawing to the safety of the warm sand. Though it seemed like a good idea at the time our accountant has presented some hard financial facts which have made it all seem just a little too stressful and problematic. Maybe in a few years time?!

* Big Brother is almost finished for another year. Where does the time go?! I'm really over it (as I usually am by this stage of proceedings). I hate them all and don't care who wins (there's only $215,000 left at this point anyway). In just over a week they will all disappear back into the mediocrity from which they emerged after a few flickering moments as C grade celebrities and then I'll need some new reality TV program to replace the void...

* ... luckily Australian Idol is just round the corner and then there's always Australian Princess to look forward to. Us junkies need to keep getting our fix.

The United Nations... it sounds so good... all the countries of the world coming together as one to work for the benefit of all humanity. Surely something a bunch of teenagers attending an alternative school would come up with given the assignment "How would you bring about world peace and harmony".

The reality? A bunch of useless beaurocrats sitting around in never ending meetings day after day after day achieving nothing at great expense. Let's just name one resolution which has actually achieved something... well, there's... and, um, there's... there's got to be some bloody thing. Anyone? No, didn't think so.

All I can say is North Korea must be shaking in their boots right now because the UN Security Council had an emergency meeting last night to discuss possible sanctions. Gee, there must be panic in the streets. We all know how damned effective those UN sanctions are. They really get things changed at a political level, especially in those [communist] dictatorships where the people's suffering means so very much to the ruling elite. I say "don't panic people", it will take months, possibly years, for any potential sanctions to be voted in. Do you know how many meetings, complete with a full range of beverages and iced vo-vos, must be convened before an actual, fully-fledged resolution comes into place? Dozens, possibly hundreds.

It's a sad and disturbing state of affairs and I certainly don't know any of the answers... but I continue to be happy to point out some of the problem areas.

Look, I love Susan Sarandon as an actress. "Rocky Horror Picture Show"... perfect as Janet in the ultimate cult classic which is so close to my heart. "Bull Durham"... so memorable as Annie. "Dead Man Walking", "Thelma and Louise", "The Witches of Eastwick"... all personal favourites... amazing roles in amazing films.

But come on now! What the...? Hunger strike!!! Really people, have a good hard look at yourselves. Hollywood stars NOT eating! Who is going to take that seriously??!! Maybe Susan and dear deluded Sean should go on an EATING STRIKE. Now that would shake Hollywood to its foundations. I can see the headlines now "Stars eat a full meal... with carbs!" READ ALL ABOUT IT!

I fully respect (well, not really... but that's another story) celebrities of all denominations supporting their cause (whether I agree with it or not) but this is so silly. The caloric intake, which would be minimal on a good day, of movie stars does not effect the political goings on of this planet. If only it was so simple. Work with me here:

"Nicole Ritchie's eating disorder

restores peace in the middle east!"

"Lara Flynn Boyle single handedly

brings peace to the Sudan!"

"Calista Flockhart's hunger strike

means no further need for the United Nations.

World peace is here!"

Which brings me to my next point...

Movie Review: "Wolf Creek"

I must premise this review by saying that after we watched "Wolf Creek" last night I told my husband to slap me repeatedly on the head, Benny Hill-style and tell me to wake up to myself should I ever request that we watch a horror movie again. Let's face, I'm way too old for this shit and I just can't go on re-living my teenage horror movie glory days (when my friends and I would watch "Evil Dead" and similar titles over and over again in the darkened rumpus room and scare ourselves stupid).

Overall, "Wolf Creek" is a fine example of its genre, i.e. it's friggin' scary. All the elements are there and they are beautifully choreographed into a top class horror film. It's just my fragile, bordering on middle-age constitution which just can't take it any more.

The story is simple. Two Pommie backpacker girls and one Sydney backpacker boy leave Broome, Western Australia (which we'll be visiting for New Year, as an aside) to drive across the top end to Darwin and Cairns via Wolf Creek, a famous meteor crater site. All is going swimmingly, with a little love side story unfolding, when their car won't start after their Wolf Creek sojourn. Enter Outback Jack, i.e. creepy Michael, and you just know it's all down hill from here on in.

Everything I had heard really hadn't prepared me for how plain YUCKY (visually and psychologically) the bad bits were. It seems the older I get the less I want to be confronted with this kind of stuff. Call it denial but I just had an overwhelming urge to watch "Notting Hill" for the 700th time during most of the horrific second half of "Wolf Creek".

Then there's John Jarrett. He plays Michael (or Crocodile Dundee from HELL) and he is freakishly FREAKY! I mean this is the guy who does the handyman hints on "Better Homes and Gardens", he shouldn't be out in the desert mutiliating people! It's just too wrong and broken and I still can't get my head around it. I'll never be able to look at the poor fellow in the same way again.

If you're a fan of the horror film, then this is one of best I've seen. If you're not, then stay the hell away and watch a nice Hugh Grant film instead.

PS Things I've learnt from watching "Wolf Creek":

1) Don't drive across the Australian outback in a crappy, second hand car.

2) Don't stop to look at dodgy, middle-of-nowhere (literally) crater sites. Who cares!

3) If a crazy-looking, full on ocker dude pulls up to "help" you, beat him repeatedly with the nearest blunt object or run away, fast.

4) If you're running away from the aforementioned crazy-looking dude (who you now know not to be some harmless backwoods knight in shining armour) don't stop to watch other people's videos.

Movie Review: "Shaun of the Dead"

Bloody funny. One of the best movies I've seen in ages. Maybe not everyone's cup of tea. But if you like zombie love stories you really can't go wrong.

Only the Brits can do a zombie film this well. It is just hilarious start to finish.

You must see this movie!

It's a weird feeling to be listening to music created by someone who went to school with your baby sister.

One of the CDs on constant rotation in the car at the moment is Ben Lee's "Awake is the new sleep". I just love this gorgeous little melodic CD. It is just pure clean pop/folk with the optimistic/uplifting lilt I often crave. There are no abstract lyrics to decipher here, just lovely little love songs full of unrequited longing and hope and lust and fun.

I defy anyone not to love "We are all in this together". Not only is the sentiment just perfect but the song is beautiful on so many levels, especially as a soul-lifting sing-a-long as I drive the kids around.

woke up this morning
i suddenly realized
we're all in this together
i started smiling
cos you were smiling
and we're all in this together
i'm made of atoms
you're made of atoms
and were all in this together
and long division
just doesn't matter
cos were all in this together

So this funny little Woody Allen-like human, Ben Lee, went to school at Moriah College in Sydney's eastern suburbs with my sister, and now I listen to his funny little almost broken voice singing songs which simply make me feel joy and I wonder at the mysteries of life and the universe.

Thought you may be missing my Big Brother comments... so here are some more...

Well, the unthinkable happened... no, Jamie didn't put on trousers that secure around his waist... no, Jamie didn't put on a shirt... ROB WAS EVICTED. Despite my SAVE ROB votes, despite my EVICT JAMIE votes (yes, I know I've gone too far, way way too far) dear Rob was shown the BB door last Sunday night.

Rob was pretty much the only one I was enjoying watching last week. He speaks his mind when it comes to the fine-fest stupidity in the house (they are down to $280,000 in prize money!!!!!), he likes a bit of cleanliness (a concept most of the other dropkicks in the house find totally alien; obviously that's mumsy's job) and he has the best hair and he's a Super Bitch.

So now he's gone and .... [this is where my first draft ended last Saturday night]

Shock, horror... I stop to get petrol on Sunday morning and casually pick up the Sunday paper. What the...? John and Ash's dumb young faces are plastered all over the front of my husband's employer's publication with the words "Sexual Assault" in the same general vicinity. For those who've been under a rock the aforementioned J and A were apparently involved in a "turkey slapping" incident with Camilla. They were subsequently asked into the Diary Room by BB, never to return.

Obviously yours truly HAS been living under a rock because I had never heard the term "turkey slapping" before and after finding out what it entails I never want to hear it again. Some things are better left to the younger generations.

Since then a fully formed, but hopefully short lived, moral panic has ensued with everyone from the prime minister down calling for Big Brother to be banned. For f's sake what is going on here? Since when do we call for things to be banned in this country? I'll be the first to say that BB is a bloody awful, mind-bogglingly stupid television program, but I enjoy it (as do many other people, judging by the ratings... and all of us dumb people can't be wrong!). Sure the "incident" examplifies how BB's criteria for being a housemate is that their shoe size must be bigger than their IQ. But banning television programs is just not on. I mean that's what remote controls are for.

If anything this whole storm in a tea cup should be telling the producers of Big Brother that it might not be such a fantastic idea to almost exclusively populate the house with immature young buffoons. Sure they might be sexy (??) in purely blatant physical ways but very few of them is attractive in a human way. I think the producers are way too preoccupied with the idea that it's 12 year old girls who vote and thus the housemates must be somehow appealing to them but I really think they underestimate the older audience and also the capacity of the younger audience to appreciate and enjoy watching more intelligent, mature, well-rounded characters (e.g. the popularity of David this year and previous winners and runners up - not a moronic buffoon amongst them, OK... there's Reggie...).

Like sands through the hourglass... so are the days of Big Brother.

I've realised (doh!) I've spending way too much brain power on Big Brother and other trivia and have totally forgotten about my children... well, not really... but it's definitely time for another...


KIDDIES' KAPERS

WILL

Will has being going along his merry way the last two months. His 7th birthday party at the beginning of May was huge. I love a kid's birthday party and even though they are always a big logistical exercise I do try to go to some effort because they were such a memorable part of my own childhood and I want the same sorts of memories for my children. Anyway, Will's party was held at one of our local clubs (you know the sort which makes a huge profit enticing little old ladies to put their entire pensions through the pokie machines and then they blather on about how much good they do for the community by providing free meals for pensioners - yeah, well they can't afford to buy their own food 'cos it's all in your bleeding poker machines). This club has a great children's facility (get them in early) where they have birthday parties - first half frantic play in the play centre, then an hour or so in the disco (is there anything funnier than 5 - 8 year old kids gyrating around to that godawful crappola which passes for music these days?).

Apart from the party Will has been busy with school and being a really great big brother. On the whole his good big brother behaviour is on the increase and his bad big brother behaviour is on the decrease. He is really very gentle and loving with Marianna most of the time. He often tells us how much he loves her, which is so sweet.

Last week was a huge week for our little man. Thursday night he spoke to 550 stockbrokers at the annual Stockbrokers Foundation Dinner. The Stockbrokers Foundation have been long term financial supporters of the STaR Association (which did amazing work with Will when he was in day care). STaR was invited to speak at the dinner this year and my friend M (who is the president) asked if Will would go along and speak as a child who has been helped by the Association. She wrote Will a brief speech and he practised a few times. I was a nervous wreck all week wondering how he would go. I knew he would either be fine or he would go really shy and clam up. I needn't had worried. Will is a natural star and obviously destined for a career on the stage. He went up there without a single qualm, sat on his stool, read out his speech and hi-fived the cheering stockbrokers on his way back down. Not only was he a star but he helped raise around $50,000 from the assembled stockbrokers and was very happy to go home with a giant remote control car which was his present on the night.

To follow up from this huge night he then had the opportunity to play Auskick with his team (the Pennant Hills Demons) at Telstra Stadium at half time during the Sydney Swans vs Collingwood Pansies game. Again I worried about how he'd cope. After all, going out in front of 60,000 AFL supporters onto a giant field could be a little intimidating. Again my fears were groundless. He had a fantastic time. Ran out with his team, "played" a reasonable game of Auskick and then waved to the crowd and gave the Swans' players thumbs up on his way off the field. Apart from the "slight" negative of the Swans loosing it was a great night and I'm sure one which Will will always remember.

MARIANNA

Our little princess is growing up fast. Tomorrow she will be 13 months old. She is now walking with a tiny bit of confidence. She can do more than 10 steps and can change direction but she is still not completely balanced and is grappling with tricky areas like standing up from a sitting start and getting distracted by something fun half way through a stroll (resulting in an undignified drop).

She now has four teeth, two top, two bottom - exactly on schedule. I swear this child has been reading the baby development book. She is also a total eating machine. Nothing is safe from those four, sharp chompers. She is even attempting WHOLE apples. In fact baby food is now totally history and she will only eat pretty much what we're eating and preferrably in a form she can feed herself. Her spoon to mouth technique is a work in progress but any type of finger food is a hit. It's the fact that she will actually try and enjoy every type of food which we find so amazing and wonderful. J and I enjoy good food and have a "thing" about people who eat good food while feeding their children an endless diet of sausages and chicken nuggets. Therefore our children have always been encouraged everything we eat - sushi, all types of seafood, anything and everything interesting and delicious. So far Marianna is proving to be a real champ and we couldn't be more proud (she even likes to gnaw on a chicken or chop bone like her mother, aaahhhh!).

The talking tap is just about to be turned on. Just in the last few days she is confidentally yelling out for "daaaadddd" and "Wheeeeeellllll" [Will]. She has been saying "mum" for a little while now. She is also pointing at everything she wants - whether it's something to eat or something she wants to play with. That pointing finger is getting a real work out right now.

Her naming day/1st birthday part at the end of May was a huge event. I'm sure it was a fun day but quite honestly I barely left the kitchen all afternoon (and I'm ever thankful that our renovations included an open plan kitchen which at least left me able to chat with the passing guests as I slaved over a hot stove).

Well, now that the children's updates are complete... back to Big Brother.

Thursday night is meant to be Date Night. For the last little while Will and Marianna have been off to their Dodo's house (W) and Baba's house (M) on a Thursday night for a variety of practical and grandparent-need inspired reasons. So we have planned this to be our date night. However, due to a never ending list of stupid reasons we have yet to have a date on a Thursday night. Last night, for the first time, we managed to pull it off and it was lovely.

Movie Review: The Break Up (spoilers included, you have been warned)

I was expecting a chick flick romantic comedy but hoping for something a little better (being a fan of Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau's earlier work Swingers and Made; oh, and if you want to see VV in one of his first films, where he's at his kooky best you must see Clay Pigeons - a true indy classic). But, as usual, I digress. This is no lightweight comedy and a film I certainly wouldn't want to be seeing on a first, second or eighteenth date. After almost fourteen years in a relationship though I felt happy to see it with the man I love. It must also be said that this is definitely not a movie to be seen within twelve months of a break up unless you are the break-up-er and/or you are already blissfully happy in another relationship.

It is a film which is very funny in parts but the writing was very very close to reality (as I know it) and the tissues came out on more than one occasion. The story itself is simple, guy meets girl, guy and girl fall in love, fast forward a few years into the relationship, guy and girl are comfortable yet unhappy, he takes her for granted, he wants to be left alone, she has enough, break up ensues.

What made it so good for me was how well the dialogue reflected reality in terms of male/female miscommunication. There were a number of stand out scenes: the preparation for the dinner party at the beginning, the conversation about the pool table at the dinner party; the non-verbal communication when Brooke comes home to the aftermath of Gary's party; the scene in the bedroom at the end. This scene needs special mention because it really hit me as I watched how close to the bone it must have felt for Jennifer to play such a from-the-gut break up scene with what has been happening in recent years in her own private life. It must be impossible to emotionally seperate during the filming of such a scene and I had a whole lot of empathy for the girl at that moment.

Double spoiler alert!!!

The final scene was perfection. If they had got back together I would have lost all faith in the film. The scene where they meet in the street after being apart for some time was really beautiful. The overly bright, slightly forced smile on her face; the almost desperate, searching look on his face; the realisation that despite the friendly words they wouldn't see each other again. So bittersweet, so perfect. As Jeff Buckley would say "Oh, that was sooooooo real".

A final word must be saved for Judy Davis as Brooke's boss Marilyn Dean. What has happened to you Judy? Are you being eaten up by some horrific parasite which is shrivelling you up and causing you to look like a true head on a stick? Sure the look fitted the characted well and she was great as the acid queen Marilyn but my heart broke for the Judy Davis I remembered as Sybylla in My Brilliant Career all those years ago.

Stadium Arcadium ... #1

To be fair I've only listened to one quarter of the double cd, once, so this is initial reaction only...

1) I love the musicality of this album. The melodies and production values are just beautiful. Musically these guys are at the top of their form and its a pleasure to listen to.

2) Anthony's voice is better than ever. Really. Those singing lessons are definitely paying off.

3) I already love Hump de Bump. It's pure, gorgeous funk and a real time warp back to the 70s and very much at the root of Chili Peppers' music. No party mix would be complete without it.

4) Dani Californication is growing on me, obviously as it is the released single and I've already heard it many times. It's a shout-along-with anthem which works well on the radio. Not too sure what it's about...

5) ... which brings me to the main problem. See, it's the poetry which is problematic for me. Anthony's lyric writing is leaning more and more towards the abstract poetry side of things and it scares me. Listening to this album today I had a very worrying feeling of being back at uni and sitting in a poetry class and dreading the possibility of the lecturer turning towards me and saying "So what do you think Keidis is trying to say there?". My brain just does not work that way. While I love beautiful language and a well tuned sentence, poetry scares the bejesus out of me because quite honestly I haven't the foggiest clue about what they're trying to say. Generally I want to listen to a song and hear a story or get a feeling but when I'm struggling to put my finger on what the hell the gist of the song is I can't really relax and enjoy the song as a package.

Anthony's earlier lyrics, while always tending towards the poetic, have always told a story... at least a story I could easily follow..

I like pleasure spiked with pain
Music is my aeroplane
"Aeroplane" from One Hot Minute

I could have lied
I'm such a fool
My eyes could never never never keep their cool
Showed her and I told her how she struck me
But I'm fucked up now
"I could have lied" from Blood Sugar Sex Magik

I used to shout across the room to you
And you'd come dancin' like a fool
Shuffle step you funky mother
Come to me all warm as covers
Rest with me my lovely brother
For you see there is no other
Memory so sad and sweet
I'll see you soon
Save me a seat
"My lovely man" from Blood Sugar Sex Magik

If you see me getting mighty
If you see me getting high
Knock me down
I'm not bigger than life
"Knock me down" from Mother's Milk

...well, that's just an idea of what I'm talking about. Here's a sample of where we're at now...

The stadium arcadium
A mirror to the moon
I'm forming I'm warming
State of the art
Until the clouds come crashing
"Stadium Arcadium" from Stadium Arcadium

So what do you think Keidis is trying to say there?

Too funny! After last night's Big Brother episode which saw Danielle evicted, Jamie was shown discussing this event with his co-nominee for the Nobel Prize for Intellectual Endeavour, Katie. He lamented that he was surprised at Danielle's departure because he thought that people on the "outside" would be more interested in watching the fun, hip, young people [I'm paraphrasing here, but pretty closely]. He was genuinely surprised that neither Rob nor Camilla (representing the old, unhip crowd) were evicted.

What the...? I've got news for you Einstein. Not all BB viewers are 12 year old girls. Some BB viewers are 38 year old women who should know better... and we aren't all that interested in watching anorexic 19 year old morons talking about nothing in particular (the question arises: why watch BB? Good question!). Jamie, maaate, if you represent young and hip, give me old and boring any day. Take a good, hard look at yourself... sorry, you do that on a way too regular basis already. Maybe stop taking looks at yourself in every available mirror and realise that being buffed is no key for success in life (unless The Hoff is your inspiration).

As a cherry on the Jamie and Katie cake they have both been nominated tonight... how sweet it is. Put that in your clay pipe and smoke it, oh, hip, young masters of the universe. Inspired by the success of my two votes to save Rob last week ($1.10 well spent) I think some votes may need to be sent by way of Jamie this week. I can't believe I'm contemplating doing this (but last week I briefly considered taping Family Fued, so my mental health is a serious and compelling issue, I must admit).

At least the kiddos are excited!

Well, it's THE BIG NIGHT! Whatever. I'm sure I'll be on the bandwagon tomorrow should we beat Japan, but really I couldn't care less right now.

Surprisingly even Jay is staying up to watch this thing tonight. Normally soccer is quite far down on his list of favourite games involving balls.

I just can't get excited about a sport where a "good" game results in a 0-0 draw. Why bother?

Sunday morning happiness...

Will and Marianna cuddled up on the kids' sofa (in the middle of the wreck which will be our playroom) watching The Wiggles and clapping and bopping along.

Getting old and sentimental #1

What is it about seeing Joy Division singing "Love Will Tear Us Apart Again" on a very old, grainy film clip on the TV that has the power to send me spinning backwards into an emotional vortex?

My darling sister J leaves tomorrow afternoon for her second European Vacation (sans Chevy Chase). The last one was a few years ago and it was THE BIG ONE. This is just a mini one (three and a bit weeks) but still exciting. She is starting with a few days in Germany (don't mention the war) to see a France vs Switzerland game at the World Cup, then Italy and France and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it stopover in Tokyo. Oh, to be young, single and free again. The grass is always greener, isn't it?! I will miss her terribly but I am super excited for her. Bon Voyage, beautiful girl.

On a totally different topic... Shannon Noll. Admission time. I didn't like him during the first Australian Idol. In fact I may have sent a vote or two Guy Sebastian's way. Now I see the error of my ways. At the time I dismissed Shannon Noll as a Jimmy Barnes wannabe, all yelling bravado and no musical talent. But recently I've decided I was wrong, so wrong. Sure Guy Sebastian can sing but it's what he chooses to sing that's the problem. There's enough R'n'B in the world, buddy. There's way, way too much, in fact. Enough already. Shannon Noll is actually a song writer in the classic Aussie sense, in the Ian Moss sense, (almost) in the Paul Kelly sense. In the storytelling tradition which makes you feel something. While I can't see myself buying his CDs I do appreciate his songs when they come on the radio. Good work, Shannon!

It's been a busy morning and a busy week. Last weekend we decided to change the house around "a bit". As usual these projects end up bigger than Ben Hur. So far we have moved the queen size bed into Will's room from the "spare" (aka JUNK) room and have dismantled his car bed (going to a good home). We have also moved ourselves out of the big bedroom at the back of the house into the almost as big bedroom at the front of the house. It is actually a much cosier room and we love it. Now we are in the process of turning our old bedroom, which is very large, into the kids' playroom/entertainment room.

Today we went and ordered a new lounge suite (a three-seater, a two-seater and a funky large pouffe). We've also ordered a 106cm LG flat screen plasma TV (why do such things make men so very, very happy?) and bought a home theatre package to turn our tiny living room into our very own realistic cinema experience. Our old 86cm TV will go into the kids' room, along with the old sofa and arm chairs, the Sony Playstation, the old stereo and all the kids' toys, books, games, etc. Our aim is to turn the lounge room into a sophisticated adults' retreat (humour me!) and the back room into a kids' paradise - plenty of room for all the fun stuff the kids need all in one space (and - V. IMPORTANTLY - out of our way).

So basically we end up without a spare/junk room so we are culling all the crap which accumulates when such a room is available for junk breeding purposes. Trip to the tip tomorrow. It also means visitors will not have a dedicated room but when they do stay they can have Will's room and he can camp out in our room or in Marianna's room. It seemed pointless to have a whole room going to waste just for the odd occasion when we have visitors staying over. It's bizarre that the three of us are struggling to find "enough space" in a largish four bedroom house when my parents and I managed quite well in what was basically one medium sized room with a shared kitchen and bathroom when I was little back in the motherland. Everything in life is relative!

You know how I said I hate Ticketek? Well, I REALLY HATE Ticketek. In fact so much so that I have added an item to my list of things to spend money on when I win $27 million on Lotto. Item 37) Buy Ticketek and fire every single sorry excuse for a human being who works there. I won't go on (much) suffice to say T and their piss poor website and phone system have not only wasted most of my day on two occasions now but they have also deprived me of a chance of seeing Mr Sex-on-Legs (aka Robbie Williams) at his forthcoming Sydney concerts. The last concert he did in Sydney was just amazing and I was very excited at the chance of seeing him live again. Well, it's not to be unless a third show is announced.

Oh, and I also hate E-Bay ticket scalpers. There were over 300 seperate RW ticket bundles for sale on E-Bay within half an half of the tickets going on sale officially. I mean I know it's a free world, yada yada... but come on! We're already getting ripped off by performers/promoters when we get whacked for $150 for a ticket. Now this second layer of greedy bastards is snapping up tickets and trying to flog them back to the real fans for even more distorted prices. These people suck big time and I hope the fleas of a thousand camels infest their armpits.

Onto more highbrow matters. Big Brother. Why oh why oh why can't we have housemates like they have in the UK. We have a houseful of variations on a theme. The theme: young, thin, dumb, vain, personality of a wet sponge. For "variety" we get gay. That's it! In the UK they have... Are you sitting down? A guy with Tourette's, a pre-op trannie, a 40-year-old porn star with Britain's largest breast implants (take that on Krystal), a clinically depressed guy who declared he'd be the first person to commit suicide on national television (after having him on 24 hour suicide watch - that's funny on BB - they finally kicked him off for being too much of a risk - can you imagine their public liability insurance premiums??!!). That's just to name a few. Can you compare that cast of freaks (and I mean that in the best possible way) with our cast of Mr and Ms Bland. I don't think I'm in the minority when I say we want more freaks on BB. Spice it up a bit, Kris Noble. What are we paying you for?!

Speaking of freaks... Jamie. I can't take no more. The headband... the pants... the vacant expression. Be warned, buddy. When we're in Perth at Christmas time I'm going to hunt down your sorry arse and make you put on pants that GO TO THE WAIST... with a belt... and make you put on a shirt... I've seen enough of your weirdly buffed chest to last me a lifetime.

Furthmore, I am starting a SAVE ROB campaign. While BB is a big part of my brainless TV schedule I have never been a voter (though I must admit to throwing a few votes to big Trevor a couple of years ago). But I am going to have to do a couple of Save Rob votes this week. He is the only housemate with some flavour, some character, some... well, something that's not just BLAND. He's bossy, sure, but who wouldn't be with those bozoheads. These bufoons have got so many fines in their 46 days in the house there is only $425,000 left out of $1,000,000 - how stupid can you possibly be? I mean it's not brain surgery people. At this rate the "winner" will owe BB money. They are lazy and stupid, so if Rob feels the need to be bossy more power to him. I'd be bossing these people around 24/7. The sad thing is Rob will probably get kicked off and one of the aneroxic morons with their sum total of 3 brain cells will win. Where's the justice?

Something to bitch about...

* I hate Ticketek. Their only purpose in existing is to sell overpriced tickets to poor suckers like me and do you think they can manage this simple task? Shit NO! If more than two unlucky people log onto their shithouse website at any one time the whole thing melts down. My sister and I both spent ONE and A HALF HOURS!!! today trying to get some Robbie Williams tickets at the pre-sale. By time I actually got onto a screen which didn't say "try again" there were only single seats available in the Gold Reserved section. I mean really! How many tickets did they release - 10?! So now I have to go through all this shit again next week when the "proper" ticket sale starts on Monday. I am quite certain he'll announce a second show and the sane part of me thinks I should hold off for that one but the looney, manic part of me thinks "don't risk it, crappy tickets at this concert are better than no tickets at the potentially non-existant second concert". What's a half mad RW fan to do??!!

* Now that much loathed demonical Michael has left Big Brother my roving eye has fallen upon Jamie as the next in line for my wrath. While he is not annoying in the same was as Michael was he has a few characteristics which are really ticking me off:
a) The headband. Just stop it. NOW.
b) The pants. What? Why? If you haven't seen him then picture the baggiest pants ever made worn at way below hip level, let's say below buttock level - how they actually hang onto his body defies the imagination. All I know is that we see his underpants constantly and I wish we didn't have to.
c) That deer in the headlights look he favours. It's really not flattering, mate. I know how much you hate those unintelligence people so it's only fair to warn you that you look just like one of THEM.

* With a rare dip into the political pool I must say "YIPEE" for the cancellation of the sale of the Snowy River Hydro Electrical Scheme. It was a friggin' dumb-arse idea to start with (thank you NSW Labor government, you have a million of them) but I'm very happy that some sanity has prevailed and that an amazing and proud national symbol will remain in public hands. It'll be interesting to watch the political circus which will follow during the next few weeks and I can only hope it will play some role in the demise of Morris Iemma and his cronnies at the next state election.

Some thoughts on this cloudy Thursday...

* Shiloh! Really? Why would anyone name their child after Neil Diamond's imaginery friend? Surely there's a fruit that could have been more suitable.

* Storm in a tea cup here in Sydney about a day care centre teaching young children about homosexuality. Jesus, f'ing Christ! What is wrong with people? The story is such crap. The centre was probably just reading the kids some of those books like "Jenny has two mommies" or "Jack has two daddies" and the media is reporting it like they were showing them man on man porn or a lesbian live sex show. It blows my mind that in this day and age we can't be reasonable about homosexuality and face the bleeding obvious fact that not everyone (i.e. hardly ANYONE) lives in a mummy + daddy + 2.7 kiddies home with a white pickett fence and a dog and a cat (well, we are such a family, but hey! we're freaks, not the norm at all and we don't really fit the perfect image 'cos our kids didn't come via the usual channels). Just come on people! This is silly and embaressing, get with the program and let's have a broad acceptance of all sorts of people, no matter what they like to do with their bits during sexual acts.

* I am having a very bad diet week. Fell off the wagon totally on the weekend with Marianna's party. Tried very hard to get back on that damn wagon as of Monday. Have had limited success and today has been very depressing. We can fly men to the moon but we can't invent great tasting hot chips and gravy which are really healthy and don't go straight to you buttock area. Science and technology is heading way into the wrong direction if you ask me!

Where to begin? A weekend of many parts... at the beginning I suppose...

Friday night my sister J and I went to see one of our favourite authors speaking at the Sydney Writers' Festival. I discovered Edmund White about 15 years ago and he was my introduction into the world of "gay American authors". The first book I read "A Boy's Own Story" just blew me away. Not only was it my first foray into the world of man on man action (and Mr White does not muck about on this front) but there was something else which I found very enticing about his writing. His books are generally autobiographical and I found myself very drawn to the hedonistic gay lifestyle described in his books.

Seeing him live was wonderful. He was not at all how I had imagined. What I found was an elderly man (he's now in his 60s), white haired, short and somewhat portly, with a very gay American voice, delightful. What was upsetting was how he was presented, in interview format with the abysmal, smug, shithead David Marr as his "interviewer". Jeez, if you like the Molly Meldrum school of interviewing then David is your man, otherwise, watch out. As I am want to do I was squirming in my seat within minutes, it was that bad. It took all my strength not to leap onto the stage and start beating Mr Marr with my pathetic tiny fists when he ended a question with "... two men f*#king?" and a "wise" lear in the audience's general direction. What a fool! What a buffoon! We didn't want to hear his beyond pathetic witticisms, we were there to hear the words of Edmund White, a man who had lived a rich and amazing life... travelling from the suburban wilderness of Ohio to New York to Paris (where he worked for Vogue and wrote a biography of Jean Genet, which I am to finish reading... it's dense, brick-like bulk defeats me). For my money we got to hear way too little of his fascinating story and WAY too much of David Marr's droning tones (though it must be said he did find himself endlessly witty and entertaining).

Coming home J and I watched "In Her Shoes" on Foxtel. Having read the book I found the film disappointing. There is much more background and richness to the characters which the film ignores and a large (and I feel important) part of the story which is skipped altogether. Obviously this was done to avoid a "Lord of the Rings" style epic but I certainly found the film less than entertaining.

Saturday we awoke to 1st Birthday/Naming Day preparation chaos. Yep, it was Marianna's big day (her actual birthday was on Friday) and there was so much to do and so little time to do it. The day went wonderfully well. The rain (though much needed) luckily stayed away and we were able to make full use of the deck and the backyard. The ceremony was lovely and the clowns we ordered for the kids were a fabulous success - at least I assume so, the children were happy and quiet for two hours, money well spent if you ask me! Together with some very wonderful and much appreciated assistants I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. My new best friend the deep fryer was put to good use but the very cute mini chocolate fountain, purchased solely for this occassion, stayed unused after we burnt most of the 1kg block of Lindt chocolate I had bought for this purpose.
















After everyone had left on Saturday night we left the mess alone and settled down for the Swans' game. It was the perfect end to a tiring but wonderful day. The Swans' kicked some serious Hawthron bottom. It was fantastic!

Sunday started with breakfast with my dad and grandma at sunny Bondi. It was the usual family chaos. We then returned home to finish cleaning up and for a little rest. It was Big Brother overdose for me as I watched the Friday Night Live I had taped on Friday night and then the eviction show from last night. I am glad Michael got the boot, I seriously think he was mentally ill. What a doofus! I don't think anyone will miss his whacky antics and they might get their toothbrushes back.