Drop bears and Meatballs

Recently, I read about the Swedish national phone number. Basically, anyone in the world can ring this one number and talk to a Swedish person and ask them questions about living in Sweden. I don't know how many meatball and  coffee table related questions there are, but I would like to ask them.

Its an interesting concept, one that wouldn't translate to Australia. It just wouldn't. We can't be trusted. "Don't be so harsh" you say? I got two words for you...Drop bear.

Imagine, every poor trusting person from Kentucky to Iceland would hear all about our Kangaroo stables and emu pulled carriages and most importantly about the Drop bears. I have to admit that I gleefully participate in the upholding



of this Australian Myth. We have the Common Drop bear and the more deadly Mammoth Drop bear which can reach 5m in height and even the special reflective and protective helmets that all Australians wear.

Come to think of it, maybe Ikea is the Drop bear of Sweden???

Are they selling us these awkwardly shaped, boxed pieces of flat pack furniture and laughing and laughing, all the while sitting in their solid, hand crafted wooden armchairs and just shaking their heads in disbelief??? What if they don't even eat meatballs???

What a bunch of whacky f** weirdos we are

I can't leave the house without making the bed, have to take my phone to poop (I think 100% of my blog readership is all of you on the loo?), can only sit on the right side of the bus and I have to have my asthma inhaler by my bedside even though I don't actually think I have asthma. Oh and I never eat the bottom part of a banana, have to have some sort of cover on me (even in the arm pit of humid summer nights) and I have to turn the radio off if I am trying to parallel park or if I am lost.

My eldest daughter Leah has to straighten things on shelves, not at home of course, but in the super market. She spends a lot of time straightening and correctly stocking at Coles.

One of my friends has to make the "woosh" sound (the one Microsoft used to make in the 90's) when she sends an email. This ensures it arrives quickly apparently.

Another of you has to put your right shoe on first, every time.

There is the friend who can't sleep if there is ANY water in the kitchen sink and another friend who has to check the bed for spiders every night before they can set toe inside it.

And then there is this bunch of whacks:
gets physically sick at the sight of a raw egg and won't allow different foods to touch each other.

Always has to use the last stall in the public toilets (furthest from the door),

Has to sleep in complete darkness and even covers the crack under the door,

and my absolute favourite crazy quirk, that I am pretty sure would make you money on the internet... Only cleans the house in heels, can't do it in flats.

Please share your quirky traits and be a loud and proud weirdo!

It doesn't rain it hails a fiery shit storm

I am late for work, my cat does a massive chewed up mouse and fur spew on the carpet and I have no bread to make lunches so I fashion a sandwich like shape from mushed up rice bubbles.

It doesn't rain, it doesn't poor.... the shit hits the fan and the fan then falls on your head.

There is no coffee in the house, the toaster literally went up in flames and claimed the last hot cross bun as its sacrifice. The computer system at work fails and I am now officially in 1933 with a rubber stamp and that stupid purple paper stuff.

And Finally...

Work finished, my bus pulls up at my stop, 1st I drop my phone and my headphones are ripped from my ears and fling into my bra, promptly lodging themselves in my boobs with the force of bullets. While I am picking up my phone, I drop my smart rider and it flips down under the bus. While I am arse up trying to retrieve my smart rider, the shopping bag I am holding splits and the cans of instant icing I have just brought go rolling onto St Georges Tce.
The bus driver is holding back his laughter so hard I am pretty sure he tinkled. So now I have my hands full of icing tins and my smart rider is in my mouth, so I get on the bus, lean my face against the smart rider box thingy so it beeps and fall into the closest seat. In my head all I can hear is fucking applause.

This a true story, ok the toaster thing happened to a friend but the rest was all Caroline.


This blog is dedicated to a friend who is going through a much worse fiery shit storm. You are one of the strongest people I know. Keep on going x

Observations from the 72 Bus

Wear deodorant people! There was a guy with such a strong funk that I was seriously considering removing my earbuds and sticking them up my nose.

To the lady with the sensible shoes and white satin blouse, doing her eyeliner: How the. actual.Fuck. did you manage to not stab your eyeball on the end of that eyeliner pencil like a shish kebab? Its a talented lady who can apply perfect eyeliner and mascara in a moving bus....I salute you.

I think at bus driver school there is the following units "How to brake like the bus is on fire, EVERY SINGLE TIME or How to make all the passengers fall off their seats". I am surprised I don't have a permanent dent on my forehead from the seat in front.

Also catching the bus makes me feel old. The bus was packed this morning. I thought to myself :Oh, you had better stand up for an old person"........ I was the fucking oldest person on the bus.... the whole way!!!!

Dave hurry up and fix my scooter.... I am going bus crazy.

Shout Out to the Fellas

A shout out to the fellas on International Womans Day,

No I am not a doormat and no I haven't missed the point.

I read something the other day about Men and Woman and it resonated with me. 

I am paraphrasing but it went something like:

The quest for Woman to do everything a Man can is not only driving us nuts but eroding our uniqueness. We shouldn't be striving to do everything a man can, but to do everything a man can't.
 
A lot of the people I blog to are female, a lot of you have male significant others.

Sometimes they give you the shits, sometimes you give them the shits and sometimes you are a united front against others who give you both the shits (read kids)

I live with a bicycle in our bedroom, golf clubs and buggy in our living room, tools in the laundry, electronics in the fruit bowl and our most recent fight was about grain waves (yes the chips).

Dave has to live with me randomly throwing things out, messy cupboards, lots of books and candles and that cooking is not my forte.

I also get to live with a great dad, a funny guy, a strong man and a caring person.

I wouldn't have anyone else. We are a good case for the "opposites attract" rule. We stretch each other, we move each other from our "normal" into "new" on a regular basis just because we think differently.
 
Together, we are both our best and the result is more than 100%.

I want a Tattoo for Mothers Day

I have always loved tattoos.

The ultimate art form to me. If I stuff up a drawing or painting, I start again, not possible when skin is the canvas. I love the colour and skill.

If it was more socially acceptable and I wouldn't have to live off the dole because I couldn't find work, I would have a lot more.

You guys know I have my "courage" tattoo on my arm. I got it when I most felt that I needed to grow a pair. I think I succeeded for the most part and it is one of my favourite things.

I have another tattoo. A BAD tattoo. If I was willing to show you all, I would be the poster child for never ever being allowed to get a tattoo before the age of 30.

It was a lion paw print, It is in such a stupid place, that now, post kids it resembles a blobby smudge of ink.
Once, along time ago, when I was getting out of the shower my kids saw it and asked me why I have a tattoo of a "Blues clue" :) (mum joke).

This still hasn't been enough to put me off though. I am going to ask that instead of perfume or pjs this Mothers day, that the family will give me money for new ink.

Yes, it will be dedicated to my Mum, No, it won't be a love heart draped with the word MUM on a banner with a sword going through it.

I won't ruin the surprise, but I promise to show it off when I get it OK?

Know Your Neighbours?

I'm all for a quick "hello, hows it going?" with my neighbours, but I have to be honest. I don't really want to take it any further than that.

That makes me a shitty neighbour,  But I like my home time, quiet time, walking around in my crappy t'shirt and wine time. You guys know this. To do these crazy "me time" things requires a little privacy.

Im also pritty sure that they have heard me when I've lost my shit and yelled at the girls, so they may treat me like a wild bear and avoid me outright anywway.

They are a mixed bag. Our neighbourhood is a mixed bag.

One of our neighbours is a sweet old 90 year old lady, who I do like to chat with.

A few houses down we have the local druggie house. In the 7 years we have lived in our house, we have had about a dozen drunken incidents. One time a guy ran down the street brandishing a machete, another time a young woman jumped our fence to avoid her raging boyfriend. Another time we have had people swearing at us through our front door becuse we wouldnt call them a taxi. We know when they have gone to jail because it gets really peacefull.

One Christmas, a neighbour arrived on our doorstep. Swaying and slurring, she explained that she had made us cookies. I reluctantly let her in. While she was in the hallway, she tried to toungue kiss Dave, my husband. He no longer does yard work shirtless :)

Funnily enough, I think that neighbour
enjoys her crappy t'shirt and wine time too.

We avoid eye contact when taking out our bins.....

Pretty things in strange places

While we were travelling I documented all the "Street" or "Urban art" I could. I loved looking down a dirty alley way and finding a splash of colour and style. Looking back through the images, a lot of them have more meaning to me than the big touristy places and traditional "happy snaps".

This post is dedicated to the pretty things in strange places that I collected and would like to share with you all and to the everyday art makers, who strive to bring fun, beauty and quirky to our mundane minutes. xx

P.S Italy, New York, Paris, Montpellier, Joshua Tree NP, Los Angeles, Texas