Sunday, December 26, 2010

How was it for you?

This Christmas was like most others lately, I got designated as ‘designated driver’, a job I hate but always seem to get on these occasions. Anyone know where the list is made and how you get your name taken off the list?
Recently I decided I needed a challenge and since I'm somewhat famous for not being able to make anything from wood but a damn good fire I naturally chose to make a boat…from wood. The bits are out there in the shed right now, all cut out and waiting for supplies to arrive via courier. One of my son-in-laws saw it there and nearly hurt himself with laughter, something about it NOT keeping my ass out of the water. At the moment it looks a little like a nativity scene boat…but that will change over the coming weeks/months. You cant rush these things you know… and I've only had the plans for ten years so it might be a good time to actually read them eh?
This got me thinking about men and plans. We don’t need them…or at least we don’t think we do. It also got me thinking about my son-in-law and some payback.
How fortuitous then that I should turn up at his house on Christmas day to find him and his brother assembling a new flat pack BBQ. My daughter had put up her hand to host Christmas day for our two families and poor Stan was designated cook. (there's that word again)
The two young fellows were surrounded by boxes of parts and tools and looking perplexed at the apparently limitless heap of bits they had to assemble to make this rather large six burner unit.
They started at 10.30am..
I saw my chance at some payback here.
They didn’t need the plans, so they thought. After all, how hard could it be?
We all gathered our chairs and sat around them offering advice about which bit went where, as you would expect all my advice was complete fiction and absolutely wrong. Bits were bolted on...then taken off to be replaced with the right bit…which was taken off to be turned around the right way. Parts were thrown, tools too, and I was told to ‘shut the f*** up’ numerous times.
Eventually they retrieved the plans and actually began following them. (no fun at all)
But you don’t get this old by giving up easily… I went searching the bins and came out with several sets of gift plans for, among other things, a childs scooter, a pram and a set of nesting tables. Covers removed and discarded I went into action by swapping pages every chance I got. Everyone was in on the joke except the two lads putting it all together and all joined in enthusiastically.
It actually got funnier from here on in, more parts bolted on then off and more parts and tools thrown than ever before. Stan spent a few minutes looking for the storage tray for underneath the pram before realizing I’d suckered him.
They did eventually get the BBQ together amidst much joking and ribbing and they did eventually start cooking lunch…at about 2.30pm.
I hope your Christmas was as much fun as mine was..


Sunday, December 19, 2010


Just a few funnies for the holiday season...

If this seem familiar to you then turn off the PC and go outside into the sunshine...

Is it just me or is this the general feeling about work these days?

Yep, been there, should have bought a paddle..

GO lil buddy...GO!

Thursday, December 16, 2010


I've been a bit quiet lately...a bit of writers block, a bit of 'Oh so busy' and a fair amount of having to spend time programing a new PC that's obviously way smarter than I am. I'm not trying to make excuses cause that's just life eh? But you should know that I'm still snatching precious minutes to read your pages , even if my tortured mind does not allow me to think of smart and witty comments. (did I ever?)
Merry Christmas to you all.


Monday, December 6, 2010

Are men hopeless or not?

Recently I stuffed up a simple recipe, I expected to get some good-hearted stirring but instead got the old ‘men should stay out of the kitchen’ routine.
No one expects men to be able to cook, and when we do, it is a choir of ‘Hmm, that’s not bad…for a man.’
Ladies, let me remind you how sexist that is!
If a woman’s house is untidy they are reminded to get off their ass and catch up, but when a mans house is untidy it is all, ‘Well, he is a man, what do you expect’, or ‘let me do that for you. (you hopeless dimwit)’.

Once we lived in caves and ate dead things…raw! All one had to do was throw the yucky bits out the front of the cave or back into the corners, thereby giving archaeologists something to work with in the future. No floor to sweep, no windows to wash, nothing to paint, clean, trim or mow...and man was as happy as a pig in shi… alright, maybe that’s not a good analogy.
However, somewhere along the line someone decided that we desperately needed to move to a more affluent neighborhood. I am guessing it was someone’s wife…
Now I have to tell you that men and women have different standards, what is clean to a man may not reach the lofty standards set by most women. When you ask your man if something is clean or not, he is looking to see if you can see the thing through the layer of dust…if you can, it is clean! Simple. (remember the cave)
Cooking is the same, is the meat bleeding and moving about? No, then it is ready, dig in.
For some reason women recoil at this relaxed state that men seem genetically predisposed to??

Then there is the ‘Hopeless Gambit’ an all-encompassing theory put into practice when you are asked to do something you do not want to do. It works like this, stuff it up badly enough, often enough and you will not be asked to do it again. (it works surprisingly well) I have witnessed this done by all manner of men, from lowly husband’s right up to our Prime Minister.

What I am saying here is that some men are lowering the standards well below the achievable. Whether deliberately or coincidentally they make us all seem inept and childlike…and I am confused! I do not know whether to scold them or thank them.


Saturday, December 4, 2010

Guns and wives do not a good mix make.

I’ve had guns since I was about 10 or 11, my dad bought me a .22 slug gun and off we went to get a gun license. It cost .75 cents and all I had to do to get it was to ask.
Twenty years ago I was handed my three year old daughter to care for so I sold the last of the guns and haven’t had a gun since. I’ve done a lot of hunting and like many old hunters, I had a kind of awakening and now I wouldn’t hurt a fly. (Well...maybe a fly! Pesky things) Over the years I’ve had maybe 12-15 different guns, but having been raised with them I learned quite young how to care for them and more importantly how NOT to handle them. I’ve been in several close calls with guns and been shot twice. (yes, I know…what a twit) Maybe I’ll tell you about that one day, but today I’ll tell you about the time my dear wife nearly blew my head off.. on purpose!
I was going duck hunting with friends so I bought a shotgun. As a joke I took several shotgun shells and removed the pellets leaving only the wadding, powder and firing cap, which makes it sound like its gone off but there is no ‘bullet’. I put the shells back together so I could swap them into my friends gun as a laugh. This way he would shoot but not hit anything and I could give him shit for being a bad shot. My then new wife was not raised around guns and therefore did not know rule number1.

RULE 1: Don’t ever aim a gun at anyone…EVER.
She had watched me unload the shells and when I went for a shower she got and unloaded a shell to play a trick on me. I walked out of the shower and as I walked down the hall she called to me, I turned as she raised the gun to her shoulder, aimed at me, and fired. (very surreal) I actually saw the missiles coming at me and instinctively dived out of the way. We were about 15 feet apart. (5meters) and I felt the shock wave push past me. There I lay spread eagled on the quarry tiles as a huge cloud of smoke filled the room and the thunderous echo rang through my head. I knew from the sound and smoke that it was a real shotgun shell and was unsure whether to run or what to do.(beg? )
She burst into tears and I realized it was a joke gone badly wrong, the look on her face said it all; she had terrified herself as much as she had me! In her haste she didn’t clean the shell out properly and several pellets the wadding and powder remained in the cartridge. There was a 50 cent size hole in the wall at ear height and another on the inside of the bedroom wall and another in the end of our wardrobe. The pellets and wadding went right through the wall and into the wardrobe which is where I found the bits. (the still closed wardrobe was full of smoke)
Of course I repeated rule number one to her many times after that but need not have worried, the poor girl had given us both the shock of a lifetime and never did anything like that again.
Just to be sure, I took all the firing pins out of my guns without telling her and kept them hidden. ( A little insecure? better believe it!)
Did we fight about it?
Well, no, if you could have seen her face you would know why, she was already well freaked out…and me! I was grateful to be alive. (laugh along with me now)


Saturday, November 20, 2010

Nicknames are funny things

Nicknames are funny things, ever wondered where I got mine?
Not ‘Kymbo”…the other one!
I’ll tell you, but only if you don’t tell anyone…

Two years ago I spent two full months building a sea going fishing boat, 45 feet long and splendid to they call me “Kymbo the boat builder”?...they do not!

Last year I spend a month building a full bodied truck from the chassis up. Tray, boxes, tanks and all the extras, all hand made. Even other steelworkers marvelled at my craftsmanship…do they call me “Kymbo the truck builder”?…the hell they do!

Right now I have a half million-dollar fire engine in my workshop having a ground up restoration, do they call me “Kymbo the restorer”?…not a chance!

But you shag just one sheep……


Monday, November 15, 2010

Why Worry. Part2

I was only just getting the hang of the Boom swinging bit when it struck me. Not some brilliant idea…the Boom!
As I ducked my head I hit Buckys back and I couldn’t duck any lower, I struggled to move aside but the Boom hit me on the side of the head and I was knocked out of the boat in one swift move. I was stunned for a moment, the boat continued forward and I missed the outstretched hands offered by my crew mates but managed to grab the rope thrown me. I managed a wrap of my hand before the rope took up and I was jerked up to speed.

I had the absurd notion that my crew mates would haul me aboard, or turn the boat to come back for me, but NO! When you’ve finally got the boat in the right position and the wind is just right for a long tack back against the wind and safely into port, crewmembers are apparently expendable.
We were out nearly a kilometer, facing straight across the harbor and moving at good speed when I received the news to hold on and enjoy the ride as they would drag me behind the yacht toward the distant dry land.
I went along face down for a while but found I kept getting my eyes full of water so I rolled onto my back, we gained speed and I started skimming over the surface.
I looked right and left, the water was so deep it was black, I started to think about the sharks that were bound to be in the area… the ones, probably right now following along behind me. I had no choice but to suppress such thoughts, and try to enjoy being towed about like so much shark bait.
After the long and thankfully eventless tow into port we came to a stop literally just a few metres from the Bow of a huge freighter ship. Looking up, the hull curved away over my head for tens of metres… It looked like a mountain to me treading water beneath it’s shadow. Beside me was the tangle of huge timbers that made up the docks, looking like a fallen forest, thick weed and all kinds of creatures hung from the timbers and disappeared into the blackness of their depths. Looking below the water however brought a shiver to my spine, I could only see down a few metres before the twisting blackness of it’s depth crowded out the blue.
Quickly I was snapped back to reality as the yacht had turned and the rope took up again, I felt thankful as I was drawn away from the ship, out over the blackness again but closer to the land a few hundred metres away on the other side. Again my mind was filled with black thoughts of the things I could not see beneath me. I had to force myself to look anywhere but down into the blackness, every second felt like my last.
We cruised across the harbor in just a few minutes, the boat stopped to flip the sail around, again I had to tread water for the few moments that took, as I did so something touched my foot…the good hard bump of something solid.
I tried hard to withdraw my legs into my body, but found they just wouldnt withdraw enough... of course had no choice but to continue to swim or drown; about now drowning was looking the better of the possibilities ahead of me.
I lowered my legs again and again there was a solid bump, I put my head under the water and looked down fully expecting to see a shark basting my legs in lemon juice.
It was land… sweet wonderful land, the edge of the shipping channel and just five feet deep, without a second thought I tossed the rope aside and started walking the hundred metres to shore. I’d only gone a few metres when Bucky saw me leaving, realized he to had the choice to either go back across the harbor or walk ashore with me.
He stood and dived overboard covering ten metres or so underwater and coming up quite near me. We walked ashore to the strains of my brother complaining that he couldn’t sail the yacht alone...we didn’t care!
We got to the breakwall in quick time and scrambled up the rocky embankment…I didn’t feel safe until I stood erect at the top.
My brother made one more pass of the harbor and on the way back he hit a moored motorboat and flipped the yacht again, as he struggled to right it he called to say we should swim out and help him: there was no way I was going to do that.
In the time it took to right the yacht the wind blew him seaward another hundred metres and so he had to make one last crossing before he came close enough to throw us a rope, we towed him in and along the pontoons to the ramp.
It was a quiet trip home!

We all learned things that day…
And I’m quite sure we all remember it very differently.
My brother went on as usual, apparently unknowing and uncaring at the terrible mental damage he had done to us.
Bucky went on to own many boats including several sail boats and is apparently a very good sailor these days.
… and I learned that there was nothing on this earth,… nothing at all, that could not be improved by the addition of a big growling motor. To that end I’ve owned three motor boats but I’ve never sailed since that day…. scarred I am, scarred I tells you!


Thursday, November 11, 2010

Why Worry

The place where I grew up has a deep water port; it also has a healthy population of sharks including Great White Sharks… big sharks! It has so many big sharks that many background scenes for ‘Jaws’ were filmed here. (yes really)
There has never been a person confirmed as taken by sharks in our waters, though there have been more than a few people disappear without trace…presumed drowned! (yeah Right!)

A lifetime ago when I was a teen, my brother was one of the youngest people to ever sail the local blue water sailing races, he fancied himself as a very good sailor… and probably was!
I had no interest whatsoever in sailing, I spent a lot of time snorkeling with my best mate Bucky . Of course we fished, both from land and in Buckys parents fishing boat, we waded the shallows for Blue Crab, and searched for the pretty Blue ringed Octopus among the rocks, but sailing had never been an option.
One day, bumming around the house during school holidays we got our chance…

My brother had access to a new racing yacht but needed crew. I didn’t really want to go but Bucky was keen and so it was decided that we would crew this small racing yacht.
My brother was adamant that it would be really easy, we were just ballast you see, and sailing would be even better if we moved from one side of the boat to the other from time to time, that’s all we had to do…easy!
There was no mention of capsize, there was no mention of changing sail or swinging the boom. Funny enough, he even forgot to mention that it would be necessary to re-float the boat from time to time.
The first thing that I noticed was the name of the boat… ‘Why Worry’
The next unsettling thing was the proper fitting of life preservers, not the usual chuck it on and go; but the correct weight and strap settings…like your life depended on it!
The disconcertingly small yacht was usually manned by 4 blokes who all knew how to sail, and were trained and practiced to man these twitchy little racers, this time it had one sailor and two complete novices aboard.
It was scary how much rope there was on this tiny plywood coffin, hanging from every corner there were ropes everywhere forming a spider web above and around us. The hull was so thin you couldn’t stand in it on land, and even in the water the thin plywood hull moved and buckled under foot. Most alarmingly, there were actual holes in the bottom of the boat… “To let the water out”, I was told. All I could think was, “Why would there be water in the boat?”
It took ages to set the mast and ropes, centre board and steering thingy, but when we left the boat ramp things began to move fast. The boat felt like a wind blown twig on the surface of the water, skittering across the surface like a leaf in a gale.
Commands were shouted as if we knew what they meant, the boat turned sharply and Bucky and I nearly lost our heads as the boom swung across the deck like the Reapers scythe. I don’t remember if either of us got hit that first time, but we sure got hit many times that day. We carried bruises and bumps for weeks afterward…
The boat turned to face the open sea with the wind at our backs and we powered up to speed…WOW, this thing moved fast, the water sizzled under the boat, crackling like I’d never heard before. With no motor and the silence of the wind, the water was the only thing you could hear… apart from our heart beats.
The water under us was deep, the shipping channel came right in and past the launch ramp we had left just moments earlier, and this area was well known to be a regular haunt of some very big Great Whites. They were seen daily lounging in the harbor by dock workers, and the stories about the size of these giants were common knowledge.
Ripping along at great speed and having covered quite some distance we apparently did something wrong, Bucky and I didn’t follow some rule we’d never even heard before and in the blink of an eye we were all in the water with the boat on top of us.
This was before JAWS the movie...but you will remember the scene where the little yachts were all capsized and the shark was circling them? Yeah, just like that…

It was bad enough for me, tangled in ropes and several metres under water, I freed myself and easily swum to the surface a few metres from the up-turned hull.
Bucky though, came up under the sail and there he was trapped; I could see him struggling as he swam along under the sail trying to get out. Eventually he did, about 2/3 along the gigantic plastic banner he popped out and took a huge breath, he looked as freaked out as I was. He later told me that he thought he was going to drown there and then.

It was only now that we learned about the boat righting bit, how we had to swim around to the bottom of the boat and stand on the bit that should be under water to swing the boat upright again…Oh, and try not to let the boat fall on you as it comes over, that can hurt. We turned the sodden hull away from the wind, flicked out the tangled ropes and straightened the sail, my brother yelled , “It’ll go fast!”…. Whatever that meant…and the hull lurched forward dragging us as it took off.
As we scrambled into the completely sunk yacht the sail snapped tight and the water moved aside as we again picked up speed and climbed onto the waters surface, the water inside the boat did indeed pour out of the holes in the hull and in just seconds we were as before.

Sadly, it seemed that every turn was to be a lesson in boat righting, standing on the underwater bits and trying to get in before it left without you. One time the boat went completely downside up, the mast vertical underwater...and still it didn’t touch the bottom.
Truthfully, we spent a few thrilling minutes running before the wind at great speed and what felt like several hours trying to get back to port against the offshore wind. We spent as much time in and under the water as we spent skimming across the surface and the remaining time was spent trying to dodge the Boom so as not to have your brains smashed out. The Boom swung at shoulder height with us sitting on the side of the boat, if you didn’t duck it hit you in the chest flinging you into the brine, if you did duck it either ruffled your hair as it passed overhead or hit you in the head if you didn’t move fast enough.
It began to worry me that we were doing a lot of thrashing around out there, moving a few hundred metres then thrashing around the hull again…
I guess we were halfway back when it happened….

I'll be away for a few days and I'll post part2 when I get back


Sunday, November 7, 2010

The truth about women Part 7

There is one force that affects all women, all of the time.
It is an elemental urge of such magnitude it renders women powerless to resist it’s influence.

Only a foolish man would ignore it’s importance.
Read on only if you are prepared to handle:

The secret of how to understand women is in their:
Shoes. (Tah-Dah...Fanfare, drum roll etc.)

Everything you need to know about a woman is right there on her feet.
For centuries we’ve been trying to solve the riddle, and all the time we were looking at the wrong end of their legs!

Think about this:
Why do they all have a hundred pairs of shoes when they only have two legs?
Because they can have a hundred different moods! (head slap)

Take a look around, look at their footwear, then look at their expression- see what I mean?
Once you learn to recognize the messages she’s transmitting through her footwear, you will have no trouble deciphering what sort of creature she is, and more importantly, what sort of condition she’s in.

Here then is your field guide to Feminine Footwear.
Print it, keep it in your wallet, refer to it constantly.

It could save your life.

Consider then that you are now informed, prepared and ready to make contact with women. The next question is:
What on earth are you going to say to them?
If you want them to listen in amused amazement at your witty wordplay, you are going to have to come up with something better than:
“Nice norks, darling.”

In every survey ever carried out by woman’s magazines, the single characteristic they all claim to long for is:
“The ability to make me laugh.”

There are various problems attached to this seemingly simple requirement:
1: Women lie through their tights in surveys.
2: Laughter can be induced by the wrong things.
If she’s creased up and hooting at the first glimpse of Mr. Wriggly, you’re a dead duck.
3: When women smile at you it’s always best to check that it’s for the right reason. Be sure she’s not playing funny face with the big bloke behind you, has a facial tic, or is simply baring her teeth before biting your face off.

It’s been a while since I’ve been game enough to post one of these…or rather, I've been very busy and it takes ages to write these. (you think women are hard to understand… imagine trying to put it into the written word.. and as for making up these pictures…)


Friday, November 5, 2010

Down on the farm

There was a Texan farmer here in Australia for a vacation. Randy, up and goes to see an Aussie farm.  There he meets Glen, an Aussie farmer and the two farmers get to talking.  With pride the Aussie shows off his big wheat field and the Texan says, 'Oh yeah.  We have wheat fields that are at least twice as large as that.'
Then they walk around the station a little, and Glen shows off his herd of cattle. Randy immediately says, 'We have longhorns that are at least twice as large as your little cows.'
Feeling a little insulted the Aussie farmer takes the Texan to see his best and tallest trees. Walking through the thick forest the Texan looks around a little and states ‘In Texas the trees grow twice as big as these twigs’.
The two wonder on, the conversation has, meanwhile, almost died when the Texan sees a big mob of kangaroos hopping through the field. Taken aback he asks, '...And what are those?'
The Aussie replies with an incredulous look, 'Don't you have any grasshoppers in Texas.'

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Apples and Grapes

Women are like apples…..

The best ones are at the top of the tree.

Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree and select them.

Now Men......
Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Aussie Traditions...The BBQ

After 4 long months of cold and winter, we are finally coming up to summer and Barbecue season. Therefore, it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking as it's the only type of cooking a real man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.

When a man volunteers to do the Barbecue, usually on a Saturday, the following chain of events is put into motion:
Barbecue Routine
The woman buys the food.
The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.
The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.
Here comes the important part:
The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.
The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces and brings them to the table.
After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
And most important of all: barbeque jokes
Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.

They tell good old Aussie barbie jokes like:
Question: What do you call a boomerang that won’t come back?
Answer: A stick.

The man asks the woman how she enjoyed 'her night off.' And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women....


Sunday, October 24, 2010

Prayers for everyone


Before I lay me down to sleep,I pray for a man, who's not a creep
One who's handsome, smart and strong.One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,Knows when to answer to "How big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,And always be my very best friend.


I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor store and a golf course. This doesn't rhyme and I don't give a crap.


Saturday, October 23, 2010

Romance Mathematics

Smart man + smart woman = romance
Smart man + dumb woman = affair
Dumb man + smart woman = marriage
Dumb man + dumb woman = pregnancy

Smart boss + smart employee = profit
Smart boss + dumb employee = production
Dumb boss + smart employee = promotion
Dumb boss + dumb employee = overtime

A man will pay $20 for a $10 item he needs.
A woman will pay $10 for a $20 item that she doesn't need.

A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.
A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

To be happy with a man, you must understand him a lot and love him a little.
To be happy with a woman, you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.


Married men live longer than single men do, but married men are a lot more willing to die.

A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn't. A man marries a woman expecting that she won't change, and she does.

A woman has the last word in any argument.
Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

Old aunts used to come up to me at weddings, poking me in the ribs and cackling, telling me, "You're next."
They stopped after I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.


Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Payback Time

What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name?
You didn't hold the pillow down long enough.

What did God say after she created man?
“I can do so much better”.

What should you give a man who has everything?
A woman to show him how to work it.

What's the difference between Big Foot and an intelligent man?
Big Foot's been spotted several times.

Why do female black widow spiders kill the males after mating?
To stop the snoring before it starts.

A woman of 35 thinks of having children.
What does a man of 35 think of? Dating children.

Why is sleeping with a man like a soap opera?
Just when it's getting interesting, they're finished until next time.

What is the difference between a man and a catfish?
One is a bottom-feeding scum-sucker and the other is a fish.

Men are like.....Laxatives.
They irritate the shit out of you.

Men are like......Bananas.
The older they get, the less firm they are.

Men are like.....Vacations.
They never seem to be long enough.

Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because they already have boyfriends.

How can you tell if a man is aroused?
He's breathing.

What is that insensitive bit at the base of the penis called?
The man.

Whats the difference between a golf ball and a clitoris?
A man will go looking for a golf ball.

..and remember: marriage is grand
…divorce is twenty grand!


Sunday, October 17, 2010

But I'm only joking!

Don’t upset your wife

A Police Officer pulls over a speeding car. The Officer says, "I clocked you at 80 miles per hour, sir".

The driver says, "Gee, Officer, I had it on cruise control at 60, perhaps your radar gun needs calibrating".

Not looking up from her knitting, the driver's wife says:

"Now don't be silly dear, you know that this car doesn't have cruise control".

As the Officer writes out the ticket, the driver looks over at his wife and growls, "Can't you please keep your mouth shut for once?"
The wife smiles demurely and says, "You should be thankful your radar detector went off when it did".

As the Officer makes out the second ticket for the illegal radar detector unit, the man glowers at his wife and says through clenched teeth, "Darn it, woman, can't you keep your mouth shut?"

The Officer frowns and says, "And I notice that you're not wearing your seat belt, sir. That's an automatic $75 fine".

The driver says, "Yeah, well, you see Officer, I had it on, but took it off when you pulled me over so that I could get my license out of my back pocket".
The wife says, "Now, dear, you know very well that you didn't have your seat belt on. You never wear your seat belt when you're driving".

And as the Police Officer is writing out the third ticket the driver turns to his wife and barks, "WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP??"

The Officer looks over at the woman and asks, "Does your husband always talk to you this way, Ma'am?".

"Only when he's been drinking, Officer."

The talking Frog

A guy is 81 years old and loves to fish. He was sitting in his boat the other day when he heard a voice say, "Pick me up."

He looked around and couldn't see any one. He thought he was dreaming when he heard the voice say again, "Pick me up." He looked in the water and there, floating on the top, was a frog.

The man said, "Are you talking to me?"

The frog said, "Yes, I'm talking to you. Pick me up. Then, kiss me and I'll turn into the most beautiful woman you have ever seen."

The man looked at the frog for a short time, reached over, picked it up carefully, and placed it in his front breast pocket.

Then the frog said, "What, are you nuts? Didn't you hear what I said? I said kiss me and I will be the most beautiful woman you've ever seen."

The man opened his pocket, looked at the frog and said, "Nahhhhhhh....., at my age I'd rather have a talking frog."


Thursday, October 14, 2010

Now I'm in trouble!

Disclaimer: I have, and will continue to post many anti-male jokes, but now and then I must (for the right balance) post some of the other kind... Of course I love women, how could you not?!
Feel free to abuse me in the comments section.

How many men does it take to open a beer?
None - It should be opened by the time she brings it
Why is a Laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman?
Because a woman who can't even afford a washing machine will probably never be able to support you.
Why do women have smaller feet than men?
It's one of those "evolutionary things" that allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink.
How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?
When she starts her sentence with "A man once told me..."
How do you fix a woman's watch?
You don't. There is a clock on the oven.
Why do men break wind more than women?
Because women can't shut up long enough to build up the required pressure.
If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?
The dog, of course - He'll shut up once you let him in
What's worse than a Male Chauvinist Pig?
A woman who won't do what she's told
I married Miss Right.
I just didn't know her first name was' Always'
Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90%.
It's called a Wedding Cake
Why do men die before their wives?
They want to.
Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.
In the beginning, God created the earth and rested.
Then God created Man and rested.
Then God created Woman.
Since then, neither God nor Man has rested.


Saturday, October 9, 2010

The best dog in the world

On a camping trip many years ago we were camped just outside an outback town in the north of South Australia.
Desert country, and hard to imagine that anything really lives out here...though ‘live’ might be too hard a word, ‘survive’ might suit better.
But survive they do, camels, pigs, kangaroo, emu, rabbit and for our purposes…Goats.
We were on a two week shooting trip to cull as many ferrel goats as we could. Everyday was spent hunting them by 4WD where possible but up hill and down gorge by foot where necessary. As you can imagine that can be quite tiring, especially after a few days of it. So it was that we were in town at the local watering hole, The Transcontinental.
Downing a few beers after a long hot day is good for you, don’t you know!

The most valuable member of our team sat tied in the back of the 4WD, ‘Blue’ the Red Healer dog.
It was Blue that ran the ridges to scare the goats down, it was Blue that runs along the gullies to keep them from escaping into the next hill, and this he did without a word from us. Wherever he was needed ‘Blue’ was there right on time, every time. He shared our food, water, fire and beds.

Inside the pub, the drinking continued. Inside the pub, the gullies got deeper and the hills became higher.
Soon enough the talk came to ‘Blue’ , and that he was, of course, the smartest dog that ever lived….

Graham, the publican disagreed. He felt for sure that he had the better dog.
‘Bouncer’ was clearly the best dog in the district, and any man that knew him would attest…
Our side held the ground for ‘Blue’…words were spoken, veiled threats were made, a wager struck and before I had any idea what was going on, we were out in the car park, beers in hand to sort this out the way drunken men do in Australia.
A Contest!

Terry went to our 4WD, untied ‘Blue’ and gave the command.
“Go Blue, Tucker time!”
The dog barked, wagged his tail and scampered off into the darkness. It was back in a few minutes with a mouthful of twigs, which it piled on the ground. Then, using his front paws he rubbed the twigs together until they burst into flame.
With another bark, the dog bounded into the back of the 4WD and grabbed a Billy between his teeth. He scampered down to the creek and returned to put the full Billy on the fire.
“There!” said Terry. “What d’ya think of that, then?”

Between swigs of beer Graham slurred
“Not bad, not bad at all, but he’s not good enough to beat ‘Bouncer.”
And so saying, Graham untied Bouncer from his place under the pub steps.
“Go Bouncer, Brew time!”
The dog easily repeated ‘Blues’ performance, fetching wood, lighting a fire and getting a Billy full of water from the creek.
But it did more,.. and we assembled drinkers applauded as ‘Bouncer’, having put the Billy on to boil, shot off to the publicans chicken coop and grabbed a new-laid egg, which it gently popped into the Billy.
And then, to everyone’s astonishment (except the publican’s) he stood on his head, his back legs waving in the air.
We were amazed and drank more beer to celebrate.
“What’s he doing that for?” Terry demanded.
“Like I told ya,” said the publican. “Bouncer’s an intelligent dog. He knows I broke my eggcup this morning….”


Monday, October 4, 2010

Top Ten Most Overused Phrases In Personal Ads

Below is my list of the Top Ten Most Overused Phrases In Personal Ads. If YOUR ad does not contain any of the following phrases, please contact me immediately!

10) "I live life to the fullest!"
(Is this really the most profound philosophical statement you can come up with? Dig a little deeper, Nietzsche.)

9) "Loves to laugh" or "Fun-loving"
(Alright! A person who enjoys laughter and fun. What a rare individual; I must meet her at once. Just once I'd like to see "loves to sob uncontrollably for days on end.")

8) "I'm ____ years old but I look MUCH younger!"
(Sure you do. And if I just did a couple more sit-ups, I could still make the Giants starting lineup. Is self-delusion great or what?)

7) "I'm a down to earth..."
(If I see this phrase one more time, I'll... I'll... I don't know WHAT I'll do! I might be forced to actually turn off my computer and go interact with people in the REAL world. Okay, I probably wouldn't do anything THAT drastic. But you get the idea.)

6) "I can go from jeans to a cocktail dress in 10 minutes!"
(You must be very proud. I can't believe they haven't made this an Olympic event yet.)

5) "I'm a intelegent..."
(If you can't SPELL intelligent... do you see where I'm going with this? Class? Anyone?)

4) "I'm a typical (insert astrological sign here)."
(Astrology? Yeah, it's a science. I think they use it at NASA. I don't even know where to begin here. If you're looking for some insight into the nature of my character, don't ask me what my sign is. Talk to the Easter Bunny, he has the real inside track on me.)

3) "I don't have a pic, but trust me, you won't be disappointed
(Trust me, I will.)

2) "Looking for THE ONE" or "Looking for my Soulmate"
(Really? These are the most fresh and original lines you can come up with? Your mother and I had such high hopes for you. Oh well, there's always trade school.)
And the Number One Most Overused Phrase In A Personal Ad is...

1) "Don't worry, I plan to loose [sic] the weight real soon."

(Ok, it's probably just me, but why am I still worried?)
Put them all together, and the end result usually looks something like this....

"Fun-loving, down-to-earth woman with 5 kids from 5 different fathers seeks a intelegint guy who loves to laugh. Must be in shape! I'm temporarily 50 pounds overweight, but don't worry, I plan to loose the weight right after I finish these fries! Must look like Brad Pitt and be no older than 35! I'm 49 but I look MUCH younger! I don't have a pic, but trust me, you won't be disappointed! I'm a Libra so I live life to the fullest! I get along best with Geminis who have six-figure incomes! Must have a big heart and a bigger house, cuz the landlord just kicked us out!"

(Well, as long you have realistic expectations.)

The above was posted on Best of Craigs List. (isn’t it amazing where you’ll look when bored enough?)


Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Pervert, Sicko.

Of course you dont need a motorbike for successful Geocaching..but its as good an excuse as any to go buy one...

An early morning up on a nearby mountain searching for a cache...yes, it was cold!

If you saw someone hiding in the bushes, what would you think?
Pervert, Sicko?
Don’t worry; it’s probably just a Geocacher.

Over many months of Geocaching I’ve been caught searching in the bushes a number of times. I wonder just what people think when they see a grown man skulking in the bushes, especially when he begins to act all nonchalant as soon as he’s been seen, geocaching after all, is supposed to be secret.
In Port Augusta (Southern Australia) there is a simple cache in a public garden right in front of two story motel units, the site is visible not only from the kitchens and top story bedrooms of about eight units but also from two public walkways by the ocean and two busy bridges as well as from across the water a couple of hundred metres to the opposite bank.
I’ve tried to find this particular cache three times but each time I’ve had to abandon the search because of people watching me…so what to do?
Plan B is to get myself dressed up as a council worker with the usual bright orange vest, white hat and blue trousers of the local council and search again. I’m thinking, dressed like that, I will probably attract no attention at all…unless real council workers turn up to find out what I’m doing… A friend suggests that searching earnestly will tip people off as local council workers don’t actually seem to do much work.

There are some joke caches of which I've come across a couple, one is on an island with no way to get there. The owner suggests either an inflatable air bed (LiLo) or a kayak. The water is quite shallow so even a small boat will get stuck in the thick mud and although it looks safe to walk, it’s knee deep swamp mud.
Another can only be accessed by walking across a rail bridge 100 yards in the air. The gap between the sleepers is very disconcerting as you look down into the precipice. Yes, I was foolish/brave enough to do that one…
Every Geocache has to be vetted and passed by an expert cacher, but our local expert is 1800 miles away and has no sense of humour. (Gee!.. I hope the ‘Ump’ doesn’t read my blog)
The Ump has knocked back some of my caches because I’ve put in a one line joke and made me remove anything funny before he allows it to be posted. Obviously then, you cant tell people it’s a joke cache or put hints on your cache page so you just have to let people find out for themselves or tell them when they send you an email asking… ‘WTF?’

I often go Geocaching with a friend who does not seem to get the whole ‘secret’ part of caching. Recently we were way out in the bush searching out a cache, we found it and I’d already signed it then wondered away to take a photo of a nearby mountain range. Suddenly I heard a noise and looked around to see a 4WD with 4 men approaching. I yelled out to Kev to hide the cache and went back to filming so as to keep their attention away from what Kev was doing. After a few seconds I looked back to see that he’d only put the cache at his feet and continued to write in the log in full view of the men in the car. The men turned out to be fox shooters who stopped to unload and put their guns away and spent several minutes packing and organizing their stuff while Kev casually finished writing, packed the cache and put it back where it had been hidden.
Now we men have a very good way of hiding our covert activities, we can simply turn away, put our hands near our waists and pretend to be taking a pee. Other men look away because no man wants to be seen taking an interest in another man urinating, and women giggle and make bad jokes to each other…works every time!
That’s what Kev should have done after dropping the cache into the grass so it couldn’t be seen, we could always come back later… I wonder if that cache is still there.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Flinders Ranges

A long time favorite for our family holidays has always been the iconic Flinders Ranges in South Australia.
I've spent a lot of time and heaps of fuel exploring the area and of course I’ve only seen a tiny bit of the whole.
This area was sea bed 600 million years ago and only recently (over the past few million years) it’s been upended into a small but still growing range of mountains. Here you will see the marks left by lapping waves on the shoreline millions of years ago, now at the top of mountains.
This trip was to try out a new camera and to check the state of the area after the wettest winter for many, many years. The camera part of the trip was a failure, or rather; I failed to work out the new machine…just yet! This camera replaced a very good machine that was state of the art when I bought it 6 yrs ago. I wanted more zoom and more mega pixels, I got both and whole lot more besides, it will take a while to get used to the new level of complexity. (my way of saying I’m going to stuff up a lot more pics)
There's nothing worse than getting home full of expectation only to find most of your photos just not living up to your lofty hopes.
We did a few Geocaches on the way to and from and did Pitchi Richi Pass (wags like to paint out the first letter of each word on the road signs) Quorn, Warrens Gorge, Yarra Vale, Willochra back to Quorn then on to Bruce, Willmington, Horrocks Pass and back home. Phew!
Warrens Gorge is as green as it’s ever been and I got my first chance ever to film a rare and endangered Brush Tailed Wallaby with a Joey. I got just two bad shots, very unsatisfying.
Leaving Warrens Gorge I made the mistake of believing my GPS which claimed there was a major link road between us and the Hawker Highway thirty miles away.
I always wondered where all those small steams went that pour out of the mountains when it rains here… Turns out they empty onto the Willochra Plains, a vast flat expanse between two ranges of mountains. The plains are mainly silt washed from the mountains on both sides and with just a little rain it turns to clinging mud.
We followed a 4WD off the ridge of one range down onto the plains on a road which quickly became a goat track. Slipping and sliding from one side of the road to the other, only held online by the small embankments at each side of the road. My Ford towing a trailer full of camping equipment made it all the harder for us.
Down through thick mud and large expanses of water over the road with nothing to guide us but the weeds growing at roadside sticking up through the water.
Several creek crossings where there was nothing for it but to power through and hope there were no big holes hidden by the muddy water. Ahead the 4WD chose to leave the track to go around a large waterhole, I knew he’d made a mistake… the road is packed by cars into the hardest path, water or no water. I powered through, slipping and sliding but the big Ford clawed its way through and out the other side, a little sideways but still moving forward. I couldn’t stop until I found near solid ground another hundred yards on; by this time the 4WD was stuck fast and throwing mud in all directions. They stuffed branches under the tires and with a little too-ing and fro-ing they reversed out and came through the waterhole as we had.
As we continued on we discussed how much food and water we had, and how long we could make it last should the worst happen, but every mile forward was a mile closer to the tar road and salvation. We could see cars on the highway in the distance, first twenty miles, then fifteen and eventually we could see the colours and types of cars, we consoled ourselves that it was now only walking distance….
Just 100 yards from the tar we found a grave and the cache we came for…perhaps we should have used the highway?!
Returning to Quorn via the highway we headed for Bruce, a very small rail town in the middle of nowhere down a long straight dirt road. Coming over a small rise at 50 mph I had to slide to a stop to prevent going into a swollen creek across the road. There was no crossing this one… trying to find a way around we followed the damn GPS again and ended up bushed (lost) in muddy fields. We never did get to Bruce and the cache there, but we came within a mile of it, halted only by the creek. (no extra points for that)
We placed a roadside cache called ‘Galah’ just before Wilmington township and found a few local caches before heading homeward through Horrocks Pass.
My traveling companion has apparently led a sheltered life as he refers to the trip as high adventure and a string of near misses.
These were far from the only adventures of the trip, but perhaps the most memorable…. But then, there's always next weekend!

Photos of the trip can be seen at my Flickr site…


Sunday, September 12, 2010

It could have happened to anyone…Right?!

We’ve had a lot of rain recently...heaps!
Not rain like the rest of the world knows rain… but around 40mm (1 1/2in) in a week. That’s a lot for southern Australia, and because the land is pretty much flat, we actually got some flooding.
Flooding here is not like flooding in the rest of the world either… Flooding here is a wide expanse of water over roads etc, sometimes a foot deep. A whole foot! (you can stop laughing now)

Going back a few weeks, a friend had borrowed my trailer to pick up some horse poo for his garden and to pay me back he kindly returned the trailer full of said horse poo. I barrowed most of it around to the back garden but left a couple of wheelbarrows full to tuck neatly under the shrubs in my neatly graveled front yard. (we don’t have grass here, it’s too dry) Then the rains came….
Hands up all those who knew that horse poo floats?………..
OK smarties...well I didn’t!
With my front yard under almost an inch of water the horse poo spread out to cover most of the yard. After a few hours the water receded gently leaving it spread perfectly across the yard.
So it was that I found myself with garden rake in hand in the light drizzle raking the poo back where it belonged...under the shrubs. You can imagine how wet my runners got from this adventure. . and the smell? Don’t even ask!
I rinsed them clean and knowing that I needed them the next day I put them in the oven and turned it on just a tiny little bit.
A few hours later when I checked, they were still cold and wet, so I turned the oven up, just a tiny little bit… unbelievably; they were still cold when I checked them later. I turned up the oven just a tiny little bit.
One thing led to another, things happened (no ones fault) ..and I went to bed having completely forgotten the shoes in the oven.
Early next morning when I went into the kitchen I instantly noticed a warm musty smell, my eyes were drawn to the oven…the light was on. I opened the oven to find my runners dripping between the shelves, a mixture of melted plastic and scorched leather…
I didn’t tell my girls about this cause I think they’re planning to put me in an old farts home at the first opportunity, instead I put on another pair and went shopping…no one need ever know.. Shhh!

Speaking of my girls.
My oldest daughter (D1) had borrowed yet another mobile phone and stopped in at one of the others girls houses to get her slow cooker back. (crock pot)
D1 and D3 have had perhaps 25 phones between them in a couple of years.
She shopped on the way home and had to do the usual juggling act to get it all into the house in one trip. (as you do)
Once in the house she quickly plugged the slow cooker in to warm up while she peeled and cut vegetables, poured in stock and diced meat for the evening meal.
She had to rush a bit because slow cookers are …well, kind of slow!
With the evening meal in and cooking she tidied up the kitchen and decided to make a call. It was about here that she realized she hadn’t seen her mobile for some time.
She searched the scrap bin, the empty shopping bags, her bottomless handbag (whats with women and their bags anyway?)
Eventually she found her way outside to check the most obvious place of all, the car.
Nope, not there either!
Tracing her steps in her head she remembered having the phone in the shop…in the car.. in her hand as she struggled to load everything for the trip to the kitchen…
..a dark thought crossed her mind and so she went to check.
Scooping around in the now half cooked evening meal she found a slightly charred, slightly twisted phone in the bottom, right where she’d put it as she scrambled about in her bag for the front door keys.

We still give her shit about her ‘Nokia soup’
I’ve got an excuse because I’m old..but D1 at just 27…..


Friday, September 3, 2010

Glen Forest

One of my favorite places is Glen Forest Farm near Port Lincoln in South Australia.
It’s a tourist farm that specializes in close encounters with native animals and I’ve been bringing my girls here for many years. These days my girls are mothers themselves and we still like to visit now and then to expose the grandkids to the experience.
D3 (my youngest) took her own son recently for his first visit, as you can see, he had the best time. We also took her daughter (miss 2) who didn’t like the animals one bit….It will be better next time. She did provide many good laughs though as she freaked every time an animal came close. At one point a huge, nasty, vicious Budgerigar landed on her knee which had her convinced she was in danger of her life.
I’ve known the Kangaroos pictured since many of them were joeys themselves and now they have their own young. These are Wallabies or Euros which live in scrub or bushland and are similar but smaller than the much larger Red and Blue desert Kangaroos. As you can see they’re really quite friendly as are most Roos, so long as you don’t corner or threaten them.
Kangaroos have a sweet tooth and we always bring some dried fruit mixed with grain and animal pellets, this ensures you get plenty of new friends. The fences you see are to prevent the Roos following you around all day, not to lock them up in any way. They have safe places they can retreat to if they feel uneasy or threatened. (Usually by unsupervised children)
Of course you will be familiar with news stories of Roos kicking the shit out of people, but this only ever happens if they are mistreated or cornered. Kangaroos can’t hop or walk backwards so if you get in their face or surround them they panic with unfortunate results.
The aviary at Glen Forest is huge to say the least, about eight years ago there was a huge fire in the area with many people lost to the flames, smoke suffocated the parks thousands of birds before they could be released. It’s taken a long time to breed up the birds again and there is still a long way to go but what birds there are have already become friendly. The parrots you see all prefer the dried fruit mix and are happy to land all over you to get at the food treats. With a full belly they sit and preen your hair for ages, parting the strands and untangling any knots with great dexterity.
D3 has loved the aviary since her first time here when she was four (18 years ago) and she’s happy to sit for hours with the birds making friends and feeding them. Many of these birds are still quite shy, but in the end they all come to her for a feed.
There are many more animals including Emu, Dingo, Koala, Bulls, Cows, Buffalo, Camel, Peacock, Rabbits etc, etc. A more complete set of pics can be seen at my Flickr site if you’re interested.


Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Love in a modern world

Love in a modern world
In this age of e-mailing, texting, mobiles and picture messaging, it’s easy to overlook one of the oldest and finest ways to a woman’s heart: The love letter. Oh, sure there’s something special about a picture message staring your favorite body part, but can you be sure she wont send it on to all her friends…or perhaps mum or little sisters got the phone at the time? So maybe you should stick with ‘safe’…and safe is the love letter.
Most men are afraid to even attempt one of these, but it’s really not that difficult.
Write about anything that matters to you:
The weather; interest rates; the colour of rain; the size of your hamsters testicles… anything that matters to you...cause you want her to know the real you…right? Shmuck!

Lets face it, the last thing you want her to know is the real you. Do like every other man does and lie your ass off. It doesn’t matter what you write, as long as it sounds sincere and includes the three essential ingredients:
Your name.
A short description of how she makes you feel.
The three words that can change the world: I love you.

Women do like to feel appreciated, and a timely gift or two can make all the difference in how she feels about you.
She, in turn, may reward you with tokens of affection too. Hopefully this will not be socks…
It’s important to keep a sense of proportion here. Don’t get carried away. You really cannot buy a woman’s affections, and there’s always the chance you’ll bankrupt yourself, while she moves to the coast and opens a gift shop.
Flowers, chocolate and gold are always acceptable, but you cant beat a special little something you made yourself. That personal touch means so much more than the gift itself, and she will love that you made the effort… Think twice about sculptures made of motorcycle parts and candles made out of earwax...

Preserve the magic
Just because you’ve known her for two weeks, there’s no need to lose that initial special something.
Do the unexpected, surprise her with wild, crazy demonstrations of your enthusiasm for her.
Jump out of a perfectly good airplane.
Jump out of a cake.
Jump out of your skin if you think it will have the desired effect, but keep her guessing.
No woman will appreciate complacency and even if you make a complete tit out of yourself, you’ll still be notching up brownie points.
Effort is everything.
Be spontaneous.
Make mad, passionate love to her over the table, and ignore what the waiter says.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

HELP! My grandkids are trying to kill me.

Until recently just one of my daughters lived in the same city as me, that and the fact that I was always either at work or fishing meant I had limited opportunity to be infected by the dreaded lurgy.
Over the past year though, my other two daughters, their spouses and kids have moved here as well. That’s three daughters, three spouses and a combined total of nine and a bit kids. (we’re doing our bit to populate Australia)
Ever since then I’ve had one kind of cold, flu or horrible infection after another.
Last year we all went to see a panto right at the beginning of the Swine Flu epidemic…and caught it!
Here in Oz when you have something infectious like that you enter the doctors office and take a medical mask from the little table by the door, put it on, disinfect your hands and take a seat in the corner of the room marked with scull and crossbones so ordinary patients will look at you and scurry away. There we all sit looking bloody miserable and trying to breath through a medical mask, which is no easy task when you’re having trouble breathing as it is. More patients come in, you see their eyes open wide as they spy you all there in the corner, then they sit as far away from you as possible.
Just last week it was plain old ordinary Flu, mild by comparison to the Swine Flu version, just most of the week in bed… that’s all!
I got the clearance from the doc toward the end of the week and so I was again allowed to be seen in public, allowed to rejoin the human race. (If it’s a race…I’m loosing)
One of my first acts after the hunting of food, the gathering of petrol and the paying of bills was to visit family to see how they were all doing, and in particular to see how the kids who infected me were bearing up.
Miss 4 sat right next to me and proceeded to spray paint my face every ten minutes with a mixture of kid spit and disease. Somewhat naturally I complained to her to be met with her usual irresistible smile…and another coating of phlegm.
No surprise then that I was rewarded Monday morning with a dose of the common cold…
Another bloody miserable week.

Do you get muscle cramp? I occasionally do! ...but with this cold I’ve been waking several times a night with my leg or legs cramped tight in screaming agony. I find the only way to relieve it is firstly to stand up and bear weight on the leg, then waddle uncomfortably to the bathroom and run hot water on the affected limb until at last the pain and muscle tension eases. It’s winter here so all this takes place at around 0 degrees…and you have to get out of the shower sooner or later. Of course the searing pain and hot water wake you up about as much as is possible, then the freezing air as you quickly dry and make the goose bumped rush back to bed only make it worse.
Last night it was four times that I woke like that… the last time both legs above the knee were locked solid, in my desperation I finally made it to the bathroom to find I’d used all the hot water…not a drop left! I’ll spare you the details but today I can barely walk, both legs are stiff and very sore.
Between the nine grandkids (currently) the whole family is constantly sick. I’m supposed to go away in a couple of days and again in a few weeks but at the current rate the only place I’ll be going is into a wooden box.
Why are they doing this to me? Is my time on earth nearly up, are they planning to get rid of me?
Before I go I should warn you by virtue of a few things I have learned recently, so when I am gone my sacrifice will not be in vein.

An unbreakable toy is useful for breaking other toys.
It's not hard to meet expenses...they're everywhere.
The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.
Old people shouldn't eat health foods. They need all the preservatives they can get.
On the keyboard of life, always keep one finger on the Escape key.
The first rule of holes: If you are in one, stop digging.
The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you're in the bathroom.
Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change.


Friday, August 20, 2010

So many years

The best photo I have of my mother...she's smiling! OMG

Uncle Alf made good and returned to the family farm with his flash new seconhand car.

I don’t want you to feel bad, it’s not sad, it’s just the way it was, the way it is, and the way…well, who really knows!

My dear old mum has been dead and buried a full year now… I’ve had time to reflect on the person she was.
Actually when I was a kid she was one mean old bitch. Things that would be considered child abuse in today’s liberal society were common place back then. Not just in our house but every kid I knew had it pretty much the same at home, many of my school mates had it way worse than we did.
As a kid during the 1920’s Great Depression my grandfather made the family to walk 100 miles from the coast, inland to virgin bushland they then had to clear and plough by hand. They ate what they caught or grew and they wore clothes made of wheat sacks. She never talked about it much but the one line comments she occasionally made painted a picture of hardships I could not imagine. Boiling Nettles for food, going months without meat, walking ten miles to school…uphill both ways.
Because of these things she could never bring herself to throw anything away…just in case we might need it sometime.
..and what do I mean by her not throwing ‘anything’? ..well, anything and everything.
Every jar we ever emptied, every ice-cream pail and lid, every butter container, every newspaper, book, greeting card, plastic bag…everything.
It all found its place in a saved cardboard box under every bed and on top of every cupboard, until every nook in every room was filled.

God help you if you broke so much as a jam jar and just because something was broken did not mean it could be thrown out, oh no! Plants in leaky kettles or saucepans, buckets or bowls, precariously balanced on that in which a plant could not be grown.
I remember when I was about 10 and doing the dishes, I very nearly severed a finger on the chipped rim of a glass, I nearly got a slap for being clumsy but she decided the pain and blood loss were probably enough. It needed stitches which it never got, a week later bits of it were going white and dead looking with other bits going green and bubbly. Rather than have mum ‘fix’ it, I cut the rotting flesh off with nail clippers each day and doused it in peroxide until the specter of gangrene faded… not something a ten year old should ever have to do. But still that glass could not be thrown out. I later broke it…deliberately! (There! I said it!...)
As a kid none of this was the least bit funny and I never understood what the hell it was all about....but now, knowing her past I see why she did what she did and why she was so damn hard.
I’ve always had a sick since of humour, I find funny in the smallest of things. I once laughed until I had tears in my eyes when the Ant I was watching tripped over… I didn’t inherit a sense of humour from mum, but rather in spite of her.

Mums house was so full of things and trinkets that… now completely honestly here folks.. you could walk into her house with a coffee cup and not be able to put it down anywhere…anywhere!
I know what you're thinking.. Yeah, yeah, very funny! Overstating the truth… No really.
You might be able to find space for a matchbox.. but that’s about it.

When she died we waited a few weeks then started throwing things out with abandon. I felt guilty every time I threw a box of crap out, it was like I could feel her breath on my neck. We recycled almost all of it. Tons and tons of it, as paper, glass, steel, plastic etc.
1940’s Womens Weeklies, canned food with shillings and pence handwritten on the labels, (Australia went to dollars and cents in 1965. anyone want to eat that?) The plastic ice cream and butter containers were so old they were crumbling to dust…and just who keeps sackfulls of hay string*. I laughed loudest of all when I found wheat sacks full of…wheat sacks! “For the love of god!... Aggh!”

I’d like to say that it never affected me at all…but that would be a lie.
There's 7 of us kids. (Apparently she ‘saved’ the condoms too) Several of us are what you would call Minimalist.
I truly don’t own a single statuette, framed picture or anything like that. If I don’t have a real use for something, I give it away. My girls give me nice things, so I have to keep them, but everything else…
Yeah, so maybe that’s a bit weird but I feel claustrophobic when I'm in a cluttered place, to feel relaxed I need space...lots of space.

My three beautiful daughters are pretty much normal, they live in normal houses with normal husbands and normal largely delightful kids. How that happened I just don’t know…but I’m grateful.
You see I have much to be grateful for, life’s pretty bloody good after all.

* The string hay bales have around them


Saturday, August 14, 2010

I was thinking...

We Australians have a joke especially for when tourists ask why we’re not afraid to swim in the water with the giant sharks that live here.
“I don’t have to be able to swim faster than a shark.
I only have to be able to swim faster than you!"

Recently while reviewing Charles Darwin’s work on the Galapagos Islands something occurred to me….
As you know the Galapagos Islands have a huge array of very strange animals and it seems obvious that they have evolved from the standard versions of the creatures which have long ago become extinct.
The extinction itself is a given…some natural event caused a great lack of food, most of the animals died out, probably quite quickly. Some survived… the oddballs which had evolved very different ways of getting food. These creatures had that edge when food became very scarce. Whether the original extinction was caused by a fires from lightning strike or perhaps a year without rain matters not at all…what’s important was the fact that it shows evolution and natural selection can be fast and furious.

The breeding up may have taken many thousands of years, these strange animals pretty much already existed by this time and were thriving with many other similarly bizarre creatures. It was a time of plenty and they all did well until that one event… like a flick of a switch the evolutionary choices were made. The day before the catastrophe there would have been a great many animals of all variations, in natures wonderful way.

It suddenly occurred to me, that is right where the human race is right now!

We humans are all kinds of mixed genes in nature’s wonderful way.
We have bred up in a time of plenty. (The last ten thousand years since the end of the last ice age)
We are now well over populated.
The seas are nearly empty of fish for us to eat.
The forests and other natural reserves are now at their most depleted EVER.
Wild animals (for food) are at historically low numbers.
Even fresh water is getting hard to find.
…and nature is handing out population stresses each and every week. Not to mention what we are doing to ourselves with war, pollution and poor health choices.

I thought that environmental change was slow and that evolution was slow as well.
Now it occurs to me that creatures breed up in an uncontrolled manner to uncontrolled numbers when times are good…and that evolution itself is fast, furious and unforeseeable.
Natural selection suggests that when there is a catastrophe on Earth, those who find themselves already naturally selected to suit the new environment will be the ones to survive.

Am I right? Wrong? Or what do you think?


Sunday, August 8, 2010

Cache me if you can!

Do you see the Geocache clearly visible in this photo?

It's the small plastic fake stone in that Saltbush.

This small cache was just tucked under a corner of a huge rock and covered with small stones.

Another average sized cache for in the town, in this case tucked under the edge of tin flashing around animal cages.

I haven’t been Geocaching very long but already I can see some of the things that make some caches and some cachers quite special.
Each cache is memorable in its own way, some you hate with venom, some you don’t like doing at all and still others are moderately joyful, indeed there's a lot in common between those few really good caches.
I've found that I really don’t like micro caches*. Most but not all of these seem to have been placed by people who want no one at all to ever find them. Ever!
Maybe this is what happens when you Geocache in a bad mood? I can see them there, hiding the smallest object with military precision, muttering something about “Find this you ********…..”

Most caches though, seem to follow the gentleman’s formula of being hidden in plain sight, an all together more civilized form of caching.
Ordinary people walk by caches all the time without ever stumbling across them, but those who know what they’re looking for, with GPS stashed on their person, can go straight to them and retrieve them without being noticed.
A little cloak and dagger, a little James Bond but certainly none of your thrashing through the undergrowth like Bear Grills** subduing his dinner.
It had even occurred to me that the City Council had placed many of the local caches to save on their gardening costs.
Most of our local new caches are first found by the same few names and I’m bound to wonder how many of those few work for Local Council gardening dept. Hmmm!...

I prefer larger caches, small to lunchbox sized, and have really enjoyed some of the even larger ‘Ammo box’ style caches, but of course those are all out of town, in the bush or up a dirty great hill usually in the middle of a prickle patch or ants nest.
There are lots of great dry creeks hereabouts but when it does rain enough to fill them… (every 20 -30 years) all the caches would be swept away with the abandoned cars, unlucky campers and startled roos.
Here at least, all of the out of town caches are at the top of hills or way, way out in the bush. (read: Press marching through prickles, thorns, spikes, booboo’s and having the crap scared out of you by disturbed rabbits, emu and roos) Consequently these Geocaches don’t get many visitors, witch kind of defeats the purpose somewhat.

I’m quite sure you can guess what happens to larger caches foolishly hidden within the city.
It’s children, of course that cause the most caches to go missing, my own grandkids use everything outdoors as their play gym. I've taken to observing them in the hope of finding somewhere that small kids can’t go. I'm telling you folks, such a place does not exist within the city…
As I watch the kids use a park bench as a gym set there does not remain one area they do not use…yes, even under!
In fact the last time we were at the local park, miss 6 went exploring into the largest cactus patch in the whole city, over the safety fence and wondering in among the huge thorns and threatening giants as casually as going for a walk anywhere else, how could you hide something that kids wouldn’t stumble across? ..and having found it, they are SO curious.

This, I think is the main limiting factor on geocaching within the city limits.

It’s a stark choice. Either you make small annoying micro caches that most people hate… or you make larger caches and hide them somewhere that no one ever wants to go.

It comes down to this I think.
Some people put out caches for the ‘fame’ (such as it is)
Some like to make a challenge or problem for us to solve. (sadists)
Still others are trying to teach us something. (those that can, do! Those who cant, teach)
Others just do it to personally piss me off. (that’s not my opinion, it’s scientific fact!)
For me? I do it for the cache.

* Think smaller than the message tube they put on carrier pigeons. (yes, really!)
** Action man, bound to go the same way as Steve Erwin.


Friday, July 30, 2010

Odds and Ends

Just cleaning out my files and found a few unrelated funnies that need sharing before deleting.

I once knew a woman whose virginity grew back….
..or so she claimed. (who am I to have doubts) Actually this one is true...

I discovered that even though I wash my hands when I’ve been to the toilet…
It’s a good idea to wash your hands beforehand as well when you've been chopping Chilies. Actually, so is this one...

Definition of car insurance: It’s a betting payment. I’m betting that I’m going to crash my car in the next twelve months. They’re betting that I’m not… and I’m hoping they win!

The three rings of marriage
The engagement ring
The wedding ring
The Suffering

The feeling you get when you find one chip in the box when you thought you had none, is not the same feeling you get when you think you have one left, but find none.

Let me know if i say anything that offends you ... I might want to offend you again later!!!

One of my nipples is a different colour to the other two. Is this normal?

Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a sandwich.

You know you're too drunk to drive when you swerve to miss a tree, and then realize it was just your air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror.


Saturday, July 24, 2010

Caught Out …Twice!

There are several different types of Geocaches, most are simply a camouflaged small container just large enough to hold a small notepad and a few trinkets. Obviously the container should be water and bug proof. But there are some that require following the given coordinates to get information to get to a second cache site, these are called Multi’s. Sometimes you have to take a pic of you at the point to claim the find, or get words or numbers from the cache site to claim the find.
So it was on a nice Saturday afternoon we found ourselves Salmon fishing quite close to a cache… or so my GPS claimed.
We four followed the GPS to a small hut close to the Lighthouse and began the usual hunt, firstly sneaking a look here and there to make sure you aren’t being watched. Then later as desperation sets in, searching every nook and cranny…twice, three, four times.
Over and again we searched the entire area better than a police forensic search party. After two separate searches and nearly an hour wasted I finally stopped looking down and started walking away.(kicking rocks) As I walked past a very small hut near ground zero I noticed a sign on it listing the areas history, as I read the sign it occurred to me there were a lot of dates on it, enough possibly to be used as a code. I took a snap of the sign just in case, and then went back to fishing.
Later at home I went to the web site, looked up the cache and discovered that indeed I had it right…or half right anyway. The numbers were a code which gave another set of co-ordinate numbers, these numbers will take me about six miles further down the coast to the next point and ultimately the cache site.
Its going to have to wait until I’m out that way fishing again but the lesson learned was that I really should have read the site notes before wasting all that time gardening.

Today I had a stack of missed calls and messages from my daughter who was out in the bush near town looking for a cache in which I’d put a trackable tag I’d bought and named for her. Of course she wanted to be first to move it but I’d put it halfway up the only mountain for many miles in a multi cache. She didn’t check the site information before going after it and spent a long hour thrashing the bush around a road sign that they only had to read to get the second site coordinates. They ended up out in the bush with their laptop, broadband dongle, mobiles and GPS just to find a small lunchbox.

I had a really good laugh remembering that I’d done just the same thing last weekend… we both learned a lesson from it. . . maybe!