Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Walk on by. Melbourne Cup.

So my injured toe still hurts, probably because I didn't actually do anything to help it heal like tape it to its larger neighbour as advised by that esteemed medical professional Dr Google.  So I haven't been running. Or even getting off the couch much, ha!  Look it's not all doom and gloom,  I did manage a couple of walks over the last week.  The other day I took myself off to tramp the picturesque avenues of our bogan suburb and made a brief foray into one of the streets with slightly older (ie more than 5 years old) and fairly unloved houses.  This is the kind of vignette I am confronted with around these here parts...

A high class beverage juxtaposed with...

Some high class undies.  The mind boggles.

As I was just getting into it, with a spring in my step and a twinkle in my eye, I was accosted by a small and shaggy mutt who came bounding along at full tilt and jumped upon my person.

"Oh good Lord," I thought as I tried to extricate myself from the eager beast, who was pawing me and wagging its tail and grinning, "Why does this sort of stuff always happen to me.  This is why I never exercise."  I tried to catch the eye of a man sporting a high vis jacket in his garage, to ascertain if this was his animal, but he assiduously ignored my pleading expression and promptly headed off in his utility vehicle at high speed. Coward.  Anyway, I gently kicked the beast off my legs and attempted to keep walking, pretending I wasn't being followed by a small and desperate dog.  Finally I grudgingly bent down to check its collar - of course there wasn't one.  So I did what any respectable citizen would do - I turned on my heel, and walked quickly the other way.  I cast one glance back over my shoulder to see the small animal standing staring mournfully at me.  I kept going until I was well round the corner.

"Yes!" I thought. "I've given it the slip!"

I continued on my merry way, waving neighbourly hellos, until all of a sudden I heard a thuddida, thuddida, pant, pant, pant!  And I was again barrelled into at full speed by the poor abandoned canine.

"Shit and bum," I muttered.
There was no escaping my civic duty now, no matter how hard I tried.  So I did what any actually properly good citizen should do.  I scooped the little creature up into my arms and kept walking.  There were a couple of slack-jawed yokels in their garage, so I asked them if they recognised the dog.  They answered in the negative.  There wasn't anyone else around so I made the hike all the way back home with the bloody dog in my arms.  Let me tell you it was no mean feat.  Thank goodness I am used to lugging a toddler around or I would have collapsed and would have been in need of rescuing myself.  I phoned ahead to warn M of what was about to arrive at home, lest he think I had finally gone totally mental.  When I got home, we put the dog out in the backyard so it didn't freak out our already fairly neurotic cat.  P was keen to come and see the dog, but we all went inside so we didn't frighten it.  I was just Googling the animal control number, when M went outside to check on it, and the ridiculous creature had vanished.  I ran out the front to see if it was on the street, and it was totally gone.  Ungrateful wretch.

I felt sad. I'd grown fond of it during the 15 minutes it had spent in my arms.  So I rang the council anyway, just to let them know in the hope they could find it and take it home.

I went for a walk again yesterday, and when I returned P said, "Did you find the little doggy Mummy?"
"No," I answered.
"Oh", she said, lip quivering.  I faffed on and told her it had gone back to its own people and its own house.  I hope it has, and that it isn't still wandering the streets or on death row at the pound.

In slightly more glamorous news, I had a couple of fellow llaaaadddiiieeessssssshhhhh round for a bit of lunchie poo for the Melbourne Cup, it was gggrrreeeeaaassshh.....

I asked M to print out some pictures so I could hang them up round the place to create ATMOSPHERE.  I think he did well in his selections.

Why, hello Megan Gale!

Looking good Miranda.

Oh, you know, just hanging out with Jen and Snoop.

I made a sign to stick out the front.

Doesn't it just make you feel like you are THERE?! Who needs the Emirates tent!

 After the guests went home I stuck the poster on our bedroom door, just to jazz shit up and add a bit of SPICE! That's how I roll.  M was suitably, er, bemused is probably the best word.

Me wearing my only racewear appropriate head thingie. From high class establishment Diva.  I get this baby out every year.  Next year I might lash out and treat myself to a new one from, I don't know, maybe Target?

Did everyone have a nice Cup?  Ever stolen a dog?  What's the latest?


  1. I've been looking at pictures of the Melbourne Cup in that esteemed organ The Daily Mail. They showed lots of lovely pix of classy and dignified drunken race goers rolling around on a mountain of empty tinnies and booze bottles! The only thing missing was me!

    1. Oh gawwd yes it is prime time for spotting unsuspecting drunken gals with their boobs out, poor loves. We were highly dignified at our small function xx

  2. Melbourne Cup day is a pain in the arse as far as I am concerned.

    Why isn't it on a MONDAY OMG!

    1. Good point! Although being in Qld means no holiday anyway so it makes no neverminds to me really.

  3. Say you planted those undies there yourself ! No ? Well, I never ....(she says with a quivering of that lower lip and a shivering of her second chin) !xx

    1. Fraid not Silver Bunny! I'm hoping they just fell out of someone's laundry basket.


Vent your spleen! You know you want to.

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