the end was just the beginning
I forgot to tell you about a post I wrote over at Village Voices last week. I've called it The Banana Dare to appeal to your dirty minds, but its actual name is "3 Ways With Manky Bananas" (I'm thinking that wouldn't have reeled you in quite as well, right?). For the blog, I've... Continue Reading →
Initial titles for this blog were Pissed Off and Deep Case of The Shits, but I decided my subscribers might not like receiving those message titles in their in-boxes. So I've downgraded it to Anger Management (after flirting with a piss-weak Really, Really Cross), which barely scratches the surface of how cranky I am. I... Continue Reading →
Occasionally I write a blog on Housegoeshome that gets picked up by a website such as Mamamia. It's complicated when this happens, because I tend to blithely rant/blather to my readers - many of whom are my friends and family - rather than carefully craft articles for publication in "foreign" settings. It means misunderstandings -... Continue Reading →
It's been more than a year since I earned an income, but I remain delusional about my financial status. I'm still spending money like it grows on trees. I now understand how people wake up one day with $30,000 on their credit cards and a terrified tightness in their chest. Not that I have $30,000... Continue Reading →
I was agonizing over how to make amends with the parents of Sprog 1's best friend when a text message arrived ... from the best friend's mother. My heart clenched. I opened the message and nervously read the first few words: "Sorry to tell you this ..." Sorry to tell me what? Without bothering to... Continue Reading →
I have a chequered history with my assorted neighbours. I've suspected them of breeding changelings. I've screamed at them for throwing wild parties. I've lost a week's worth of their mail that I was entrusted to collect. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson. But no. I am 44 years old and not one bit... Continue Reading →
Too embarrassed/hungover to blog today. My shame will have to subside first. So I'll leave you with a poem by Sprog 1 that sums up my mood ... As dead as a dodo As pale as a ghost As flat as a pancake As dumb as a post.
People often suggest I do some freelance writing for extra cash. Who has time for freelance writing when you spend hours baking and decorating cupcakes for the school band's fundraiser cake stall? I certainly bloody don't. Add to that a sick Sprog under foot, a house that looks like a mini-hurricane has swept through and... Continue Reading →
Yesterday I mused on infantile amnesia. Today it's a study that identifies the most annoying sound on earth. Psychologists from SUNY and Clark University asked trial participants to do maths problems while listening to a range of sounds, including a screeching saw on wood, machine noise, a baby crying, motherese and whining, for a whole minute... Continue Reading →
Last week, after I emotionally scarred Sprog 1 by forgetting her form for an art excursion, a school mum reassured me: "Don't worry, their brains reset at eight. She won't remember a thing." I've done a little research and the school mum was pretty close to the money - last year, a Canadian research team... Continue Reading →
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