Hairy Daughters: Her Name is Lola

 I have two very very hairy daughters.

Hair bag number one is Lola, a snobby, precious, princessy, comfort junky.
Full name: Lola Golganzola

Hair bag number two is Daisy, a stinky, farty, licky, dog-bed shagger.
Full name: Daisy Google Lickinears.

 I would like to think that we have control over our hairy children, the reality is, these bitches own us!!

LOLA

Five years ago when I put on a baby voice and said I wanted a dog, Lord Daa Doo said "Sure, but it will sleep outside". *grumble grumble blah blah.

He rummaged in the backyard and found use for an old timber pallet he had horded. After lots of annoying hammering I was called outside and proudly shown a dog kennel complete with a doggy verandah. It looked like a timber log hut found in rural areas of the US. You know, the ones that look like they are about to fall down, and have a rocking chair on the verandah (or porch).

He finished it off by carelessly throwing an old blanket inside the kennel and saying  "There, it can sleep in that".

I was so excited! I have always had dogs and consider myself a bit of a dog-whisperer. Lord Daa Doo was indifferent.

The first day Lola came home, she could fit in one of Lord Daa Doo's hands. She was so tiny.  As it was my dog, I had the crap job of going to the shops to buy all the things we needed such as, dog beds, toys, food etc, I asked Lord Daa Doo to mind her while I was gone.

When I came back, immediately I could sense that something wasn't right. Something just felt wrong.

I walked into the house and found Lord Daa Doo lying on the ground with Lola wriggling on top of him. He was giggling!! Yes !!! GIGGLING!!

"Whats going on here!" I demanded. As soon as I saw the look in his eyes, I wished I'd never left them. He didn't need to speak. I knew what had happened.

They'd fallen in love!!!

My heart broke. I felt uncomfortable and out of place. I was the odd person out, or the third person that lives with a couple. They had 'in' jokes, and I was on the outside. Lonely, cold, abandoned, alone.

That night a terrible storm hit, and we got ready for bed. Lord Daa Doo looked at me, looked at Lola and said. "She's too little to sleep outside in a storm, she'd better stay here with us". He swiftly picked her up and put her in our bed. She looked at him with her big eyes and made an itzy bitzy puppy whimper.

He said "nawwwww", turned his back on me and proceeded to spoon her.

From that day on, she has always plotted against me. I know she sees herself as the girlfriend and I am the bitch. I know she is thinking of ways to get rid of me. I keep finding things like sharp bones left on the ground so I tread on them with bare feet, and suspiciously placed dog toys that trip me over.

I can tell she's plotting because I am a dog whisperer.

She's a bitch, but a darn it, I can see why he's fallen for her. She's a cute bitch!

I'm Not Drunk

Lord Daa Doo slept on the lounge last night.

Yes. All wasn't well at Daa Doo Manor.

Lord Daa Doo went out for "a beer" last night, and came back six hours later smelling like a rotting kebab that's been marinating in a keg of beer since 1925.


I do know that in manspeak, "a beer" doesn't literally mean a singular glass of beer. I know that when menfolk say "a beer" they refer to vast quantities equivalent to 'a swimming pool of beer'.

I found being woken up by a stumbling human kebab all rather annoying, and it was enough of a reason to deprive Lord Daa Doo of any form of spooning.

Why was I so annoyed? Well here are the reasons why.

1. I'd been woken up before I'd had adequate time to digest my prey. Earlier I had consumed a large take home bucket of Cold Rock ice-cream complete with  mix-ins. I must've been overcome by the creamy sugary yumminess because I passed out on top of the covers with the light on.

2.  I thought I was being attacked by a human sized kebab.I woke up to the most horrendous thumping sound.  Lord Daa Doo was hopping, stumbling and falling around the bedroom, with one leg caught in his jeans, slurring "hello darlin".

3. He wouldn't admit he was drunk. I don't know why this happens, but when Lord Daa Doo is shitfaced he cannot admit it. I feel it is my role to tell him. He feels it's his role to deny it.

The conversation goes like this:

Me: "You're drunk!"
Him: "I'm not dwrunk"
Me: "Yes you are, look at you!!"
Him: "I'm not dwrunk"
Me: "You are!! You can't even stand straight"
Him: "I'm not dwrunk"
Me: "Just admit it!! You are!"
Him: "I'm not dwrunk"
Me: "For fuck sake!! Why can't you admit it!!
Him: "I'm not dwrunk"
Me: "GET OUT, that's it!! It's over!! The wedding's off!!!"

I know, I know. It's all a bit dramatic. I mean the poor guy just went out for a beer; he comes home a bit pissed;  and gets dumped by a crazy lady who has just overdosed on ice cream! But in my defence, no lady should ever have to tolerate being spooned by a human sized kebab.


Today all has been forgotten and forgiven. The wedding is back on, and peace has been restored at Daa Doo Manor.

Saying I Doo: Statement Wedding Shoes

When getting married it's a perfect opportunity to have fabulous feet.

Who cares if the wedding dress covers them!!! Who cares if your feet burn like someone has decided to butt out a 40 pack of cigarettes all at once on your feet!!! I certainly don't.

What's important is:

• your feet look fabulous,
• you can stomp on bridesmaids feet when they are being bitches,
• and you can do the Nutbush or Time Warp without a shoe flying off your foot and taking out Auntie Jane's eye

Remember love hurts, so if you love your shoes, expect them to hurt. Its a reality, so deal with it.

There is no such thing as a fabulously sexy, blingy shoe that also feels comfortable. If that's what you are after, go shop for shoes at the chemist.



When choosing my statement wedding shoes, I found many possibilities.

All of these shoes are divine and went straight on the wish list! It was difficult to decide on colour or bling!

PeepToe Shoes

Christian Louboutin

The Winner

Well I decided on bling bling, and found these shoes by chance! I am very happy, and can quite confidently stomp, kick, moonwalk, Time Warp, and Nutbush.

Florsheim

I love love love them and decided to marry them instead....so sorry Lord Daa Doo, you're dropped!!

hmmm.....how to consummate the marriage without puncturing an ovary?

Daa Doo Manor : Shabby Chic Wall Art

In addition to solving the problems of the world, I thought I would solve some interior design problems and show you the creative ways I have decorated Daa Doo Manor. These will be included with some step by step instructions so you can replicate the same look in your homestead.

Today I will show you how to create your very own shabby chic piece of wall art.


Step One.
Obtain an old timber window frame. I found this one at a building recycling centre for $50. As usual I wanted something big, so the size I chose was 1.6 metres by 1.2 metres.

Step Two.
Ask (or order) the household-help to screw some heavy duty hooks into the back of the window so that it can be hung on the wall. You will need to ensure your hooks can support the weight.

You can see Lord Daa Doo, in this picture busy screwing. I am supervising the screwing.

Step Four.
The flakey paint will need to be removed. Now don't remove all the paint from the frame, remember we are after that shabby look. You just need to remove the flakey paint. I used a dry scrubbing brush and rubbed it over window. Once the flakey paint is removed, clean the window frame with some soapy hot water, and then clean the glass with glass cleaner.

Note: This window frame was old,and in ye olden days, paint was lead-based. So for your health, please wear a mask and some leopard print rubber gloves.

Step Five
Now you can get creative!! Source some interesting pictures or family photographs you would like to display. The type of pictures you choose depends on the theme you are going for. I love collecting cards, and I had in my collection some cards that had a colour theme of black, red and white. These were pefect!!
The window frame had 12 available places for pictures, I chose to make it look random rather than ordered. I placed 8 pictures in the frames and left 4 spaces vacant. You can choose to put 12 pictures in, its really up to you. My preferance was to spread the pictures out.

I fastened the pictures by using a little dob of glue, so they could stick to the glass.

  
Step Six
Once you are happy with your arrangement, order the household-help to hang it for you. You might need to stand a short distance away and bark orders such as:
"Its too low"
"Lift it higher!!"
"It's slightly down on the left!!"
"No!! you idiot, the left!!"
"THE LEFT!!"

Here is Lord Daa Doo hanging the frame and being barked at. If you have dogs, (as you can see I have one on the lounge), and you are being accussed of barking, you can simply blame them.

Step Seven
Once the frame is hung, sit back, admire the finished product, and relax with a big fat kick arse glass of wine cup-of-tea.

No Going Back

I was living in England when the dreams started.

I dreamt she was lying in a gutter, cold. I was kneeling beside her crying hysterically, shaking her. She was not moving, She was so cold.

When I called Australia I was told by mutual loved ones that there'd been lots of screaming and fighting in her house. When I called her on the phone, she told me she loved me and that she was fine. She said she was not with him anymore.

I kept dreaming about her. Horrible dreams of loss, screaming and death. I knew she wasn't fine. I had to go home.

When I saw her she was so skinny and frail, she seemed distant, she seemed sad. She said they were not togther, but she loves him and still see's him.
I stayed at her house for some time. When he came over he was nice and charming. I knew they were still fighting. I could see bruises on her arms, and the scratches on her chest.
When I questioned her, she got angry, she told me she loved him, she said she was lonely and that no-one else loved her like him.

I glared at him and hated him.

They kept fighting, she kept leaving, she kept going back.
He pushed her; he told her she was fat and ugly; he told her he was sorry; she kept going back.
He told her she was useless; he took her money; they kept screaming; he said he loved her and was sorry; she went back. 
She had no food; no heating; he punched her; he said he would change; she kept going back,
He smashed the car window, they screamed at each other, he said he loved her and would get help.

He never got help.

She kept going back........... she kept going back.............. she kept going back.

I glared at him and hated him. I was angry with her. I hated seeing her like this, I held her in my arms while she screamed and cried. I held her as she screamed and pulled out her own hair. I held her to stop herself hitting her own face. I felt like her mother and I rocked her like she was my child. I washed her face and her tears. I was frustated and could not understand. Just fucking leave him!!

When he smashed down the door and kicked the teeth out of her face, he was finally charged by the police.

He was not allowed to contact her. He contacted her. He was not allowed to see her. He saw her. He was not allowed to hit her. He hit her.


He went to court.

I was so proud of her. She was shaking but she stood and held her head high. She found an inner strength and spirit.

He moved away and she was finally able to heal.

It's been years and I know as she reads this she is thinking about that life and wonders how she ever lived through it. She may feel ashamed, because she put up with it for so long. She may even cry because it still hurts and there will always be a wound. I know she's thinking, it will never ever happen again.

I want to tell her how beautiful she is with her new smile.
I want to tell her how strong I think she is.
I want to tell her how proud I am.
I want to tell her I love her.
I want to tell her I am always here.

Today I Speak Out out against domestic violence. If you need help start here

Half-Lady Half-Bogan!

Bitch!

In a previous life I was half-lady, half-bogan.

This was due to my upbringing in Lithgow where bogan-like activities were encouraged, nurtured and celebrated.

One bogan activity I excelled at was 'lapping'. This activity involved the skill of squeezing multitudes of friends in a car, driving up and down Main Street one-handed, chain smoking durries, and yelling out to as many people as we could see. It was today's version of networking, and in a time before Twitter and Facebook, it was the social life. It was how we found out who was 'rooting' who!


'Lapping' was a versatile activity and could be conducted any time of the year, rain, hail or shine. Winter provided the perfect opportunity to impress friends and onlookers with fishtailing around corners on icy roads. It could be done any night of the week. When you're on the dole there was never any rush to get home early. I usually slept in until 1pm, and had to set the alarm so I could get up and watch Days of Our Lives.

Now I know you are trying to imagine what a half-lady half-bogan looks like. Let me start with the hair. I guess you have visions of a mullet. No way! That was for full-blown bogans. Excuse me! I was still half-lady after all!!
My  hair was beautifully permed by my mother in a frizzy style, which was meticulously scrunched with curling mousse, and dried so it set crispy.

I wore denim up top and denim down below. It was often difficult to find the perfect match of stonewash colours as the local fashion house, Eve's Boutique, rarely stocked a matching ensemble (no doubt any matching ensembles were snapped up quickly by the local fashionistas). Often Lithgow bogans could be found going to the metropolis of Bathurst to hunt down high-end stonewash fashion.

My life as a half-lady half-bogan was a simple life, with rarely any problems. My biggest problem was working out how I could stretch my dole money so I could fund my binge drinking at the local nightclub on a Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. I solved this problem by getting drunk on $2.50 Passion Pop before I went out and preferably on an empty stomach. (It provided me with an optimum opportunity to vomit in Queen Elizabeth Park at 1am).

Aaaah the simple life.

I often wonder what happened to that half-lady half-bogan. If anyone finds her, please ask her to return my snap-crotch bodysuit! Pronto!!!!

Lord Daa Doo's Inventions - Part One

I share a house with a mad inventor.

The love of my life, Lord Daa Doo always comes up with inventive ways to do everyday things. These ideas are generally conceived after I have bossed him to do something he doesn't really want to do.

One of the first inventions I inspired him to create came about six months after moving into our first flat together:

Me: "I am frigging sick and tired of being the only bastard in the house that scrubs the bathroom!"

Lord Daa Doo: "I've scrubbed it too!!"

Me "When?..... Name a day or date that you have scrubbed the bathroom!!" (I can always catch him out by asking him to provide factual evidence of specific days or dates).

Lord Daa Doo: "I can't remember which date."

Me: (Happy after catching him out for not knowing the day or date) "hah! See!! You can't even remember !! It proves you never do it!!"

Lord Daa Doo: Says nothing as he knows he can't win this argument.

Me: "Your job is to scrub the bathroom! I'm going over to visit my sister" (Translation - "Your job is to the scrub the bathroom! I'm going to Westfields")

Fast forward to four hours later.

After coming back from visiting my sister's house (wink), I arrived home to hear the most horrid sound  coming from the bathroom. It sounded like a dentist was grinding down gigantic rotting elephant teeth!
I dropped the bags of clothes and shoes I had picked up from my sister (they were miraculously in original packaging and still had tags attached. I always get lots of clothes from my sister, she always buys things she doesn't need and they are coincidentally in my size).

I stomped to the bathroom, my hands were on my hips, I kicked open the door (OK. bit of exaggeration, I probably just pushed it open).
I discovered Lord Daa Doo hunched over the bath. He was using a drill with one hand. The drill had a damn scrubbing brush attached!!

He looked at me with a stupid smart arse grin, sprayed some cleaning product, and continued to drill with one hand.

Me: "What the fuck are you doing?!" 

Lord Daa Doo looked rather proud of himself. "I'm cleaning".


Lord Daa Doo had invented a great lazy way to clean the bathroom. Here's how it works.

                                                      

Take one of these

Saw one of these in half and attach a bolt that can be inserted into a drill.

The result is a whiz bang super dooper speedy spinning cleaning contraption that sounds like a peewee 50.

If you are in to cleaning with one hand, and prefer to do so with a smart arse look on your face, than this is one one for you!!

Sadly, this idea never had a name, and five years later, the scrubby-drill has never been used again.  I don't know why. Perhaps it was because you had to wear industrial safety gear such as ear muffs and eye protectors. It could have been the residual feeling of vibrating that stayed in your arm and back for a week after drill-cleaning.  For a lady, I imagine it is similar to how a jack-hammer operator would feel.
 

The scrubby-drill is just one of Lord Daa Doo's inventions. There are many more that I will disclose in due time.

What chore or task do you wish could be made easier with an invention?