Husband texted from Abu Dhabi during the night, informing me he’d be late home and suggesting I check arrival times before coming to pick him up at the airport.
I didn’t realize I WAS picking him up from the airport. And if he’s running late there’s a real and terrifying risk I might miss the start of part 2 of Mag Wars while loitering around the arrivals area.
Deep breaths …
I’m quite looking forward to part 2 of Mag Wars.
OK, that might be a slight understatement.
I kicked off the week with a blog recapping the first episode of Mag Wars, called “My magazine war”, which got picked up by Mamamia. They called it “What it was really like to work at Woman’s Day”. I’d have taken a bit more care with it and possibly written it stone cold sober if I’d known that was going to happen.
People said lovely things in the comments. A former staffer referred to me as “a wonderful editor and mentor” who was “much too nice to be the editor of a magazine with such gossip in it” (I fooled her!) and a former work experience girl who said “You are such an amazing, inspiring, lovely woman and there is not an arrogant bone in your body!”
How’s that for a head swell? While I’m boasting, Nene King read the blog on HouseGoesHome and told a mutual friend I was “a star”. Ooo-er!
Then it was “Skullduggery and squat toilets” as Husband jetted off to Dublin – via Abu Dhabi – for a conference. He made me giggle with this email: “Abu Dhabi airport is a lot like an airport, but with Arabian food being offered and women with Hennaed hands and Burqas walking past. And squat toilets. The Etihad method of boarding a plane seems to favour the mad scramble/free-for-all approach with the troubled flight attendant shouting out ‘Business! Only business! Business!’ He has stopped now, presumably trampled by the herd of economy passengers completely ignoring him.”
I screamed and screamed and screamed at the children and felt AWFUL afterwards in blog called “Imagine Not Yelling At Your Children for a Year” which didn’t go over very well with readers, who must be squeamish about emotional abuse or something. Fortunately the kids forgave me by that afternoon and treated me to entertaining exchanges in the car such as this one:
Eldest: “Mum, you need to sign my medical form for music camp.”
Me: “Medical form?”
Eldest: “If I need medications or I’m allergic to something or I can’t eat something.”
Youngest: “Tell them if she doesn’t eat cake she’ll DIE!”
The photo is of the pub Husband has been reclining in while I’ve been yelling at his offspring.
Husband may be gone, but he’s not forgotten. I bitched about the argument we had the day he left in “I don’t want to go”. It detailed a year long argument we’ve had about his desire to take us en masse to Cambodia. People were very complimentary about Cambodia in the comments, so perhaps I should reconsider. Megz also gave me a reality check by saying: “Whats a holiday??? We went to foster for the weekend 3 yrs ago, does that count??? Lol”
And I revealed why I won’t let my kids become journalists in Drowning Sorrows.
On Facebook, I asked how to avoid “egg armageddon” in my microwave and got a lecture on how Gladwrap is carcinogenic when it melts.
And I shared this funny revenge letter …
And I got called a “hypocrite” for pondering: “OK, I may be an ex-Woman’s Day editor who paid stupid money for the pics of Sandra Bullock’s baby (mistake) … but it unsettles me that the magazine reportedly paid $350,000 for the exclusive photos of Jennifer Hawkins’ wedding. Do you think it’s a bit obscene?”
I charitably agreed I WAS a hypocrite. Sort of. I have a different perspective on it all now. Kinda like my “ethical” gossip, which relies on Twitter pics celebs take themselves and stills from movie studios and TV stations. Initially driven by not having the moola to buy pics, but I’ve ended up quite loving the gentler side of gossip driven by the celebs themselves.
(Meanwhile, Woman’s Day accidentally left the barcode off the Jennifer Hawkins special wedding issue that they rushed out. Ooooops. Oh dear.)
My favourite Facebook “sell” of the week was: “Naughty @ 9: Fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld has revealed what he’d do with his cat if it was legal… Details here >>” Tee-hee!
And my biggest fark me drunk story of the week was the woman who delivered her own twins and gave the one who wasn’t breathing CPR. Wow. Details here.
Although I was pretty devastated by the mum who found out she had breast cancer on the way to her kids swimming lessons.
And I cried laughing at this man’s review of a hair-removal product (thank you Megz).
How was your week?