I love the night life. I got to boogie.

So I went out on the town on Saturday night. Talk about out of character! We stayed in Brisbane at my cousin’s place. We were all meant to head out to a party at our friends K and P’s house, but the various husbands (including M) all opted for the safe option instead. As in, they stayed home and had a civilised evening of chatting and red wine drinking and went to bed early. This meant the ladies were footloose and fancy free.

 My cousin B, despite being a mother of two, has maintained a far greater commitment to getting out and about during the night time hours than I ever could, and was actually backing up from a series of late nights in Melbourne. Impressive to say the least. As you can imagine, I was not backing up from anything like this at all. Because I generally opt for an evening of Gardening Australia and folding washing. Usually the concept of having to wake up at 5am to two small children is enough to prevent me from getting my booze on, but I threw caution to the wind and decided to PARTY LIKE IT WAS 1999! Eat your heart out Prince/Love Symbol.

 So before the party, B and my honorary cousin KLF dragged me out to the Valley to see a friend’s band. It was at The Zoo. For non Brisbane types, this is a small grungy GIG VENUE. I had a bit of a freak out about what to wear. I mean The Zoo was a regular HANG OUT for me in my YOUTH but TIMES HAVE CHANGED PEOPLE! I opted for a long sucky in black dress with floaty voluminous metalicus esque layers and tan wedges. You know, quite nice, I guess, but STILL a bit on the MATRONLY side.

When we got there the bouncer was checking ID. We all got the GIGGLES and I said to him “Do I really have to show you I AM LIKE ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD!” He smirked and answered “Not QUITE one hundred.” I wasn’t sure whether this was a compliment or a veiled insult but I chose to view it in a positive light, such was my commitment to HAVING A GOOD NIGHT!

We clip clopped upstairs with all the YOUTH and had a confusing exchange with the barman about buying drinks;

Me [shouting over the music]: Can we get a bottle of white wine and three glasses please? 
Barman: Oh I’m sorry we don’t sell it by the bottle. 
Me [shouting]: Oh OK then. Um…just three glasses then. 
B [shouting]: What about a bottle? Can we get a bottle to share? 
Me [shouting]: No they don’t sell it by the bottle. 
KLF [shouting]: How about a bottle to share? 
Barman: We don’t SELL it by the bottle, we’ve had a few PROBLEMS in the PAST! 
B [shouting]: OH! OK what about a bottle of bubbles then, to share? 
Barman [rolling eyes]: UGH we don’t SELL ANYTHING BY THE BOTTLE

 Anyway once we settled down with our glasses I scanned the crowd. There were a lot of very polite HIPSTER types around causing me to feel dead set uncool. I was tempted to shout out “Hey you kids guess what?! I AM WEARING A BEIGE MATERNITY BRA, how hipster is THAT!?” or “Back in my day we didn’t consider it a good concert unless we got BLIND, lost our friends in the crowd in the first 30 seconds and then finish the evening soaked in beer and other people’s sweat !”

But I didn’t, which is probably just as well really, what with my matronly appearance and all.

We headed by cab to the party after the band had finished, and I would say for myself that I cut some interesting moves on the dancefloor whilst shout-singing along to a variety of happening tunes. Cathartic. It left me wondering why people don’t have house parties so much any more? How crazy are we? They are SO FUN OMG! And then I realised it’s because we all have children who would wake up and cry and RUIN EVERYTHING WAAAH! The little killjoys.

We stayed out til the wee small hours. Props, big ups and respect to our spouses because they removed the children from the house in the morning so we could sleep in.

All in all an excellent evening. I give it 9/10. And I never give full marks. Thank you everyone who was involved.

The blurrier the photo, the better the night!

Party Planning.

Went for a walk this morning, and you know what it made me think of? Why, it was just like hiking around the Swiss alps! So INVIGORATING and BRISK! I felt so energised and full of vim and vigour after that, just like I was in a Norsca ad! I simply love to get my alpine on at any given opportunity.*

Summer in Queensland. You are a cruel mistress. I think I hate you. Come back winter, I'm sorry I was nasty. I'll never complain about being cold ever again.**

P dressed herself in a corduroy skirt and cardigan this morning. I know, I think I started schvitzing like a shmendrek just looking at her.  Whatever that means.

In other ACTUAL news, I hear that our glorious leader Julia's called a federal election for September. Interesting times.

I love a good election. Lots of people are speculating as to why old Joolz has given us all such a huge lead in time.  Well, it's obvious you dummies! This unusually extended campaigning period will give us all plenty of time to plan associated election parties, a la Don's Party. Frankly the last election (which was a state one anyway) was a fizzer socially and I for one am determined to improve things this year.  It was damned considerate of the PM to think about the most important part of the whole voting caper, the booze up afterwards.  Good work Julia.

The election party to end all election parties was undoubtedly the one we attended for the federal election in 2007. Without declaring my hand, politically speaking,  we were all very excited that year for some reason. Anyway, it was at my friend J's house. She was the hostess with the mostess. 

We all dressed in electorally themed costumes. There was a Pork Barrel, an Aspirational Voter, a Blue Ribbon Liberal, a Trade Unionist, a Blue Collar Worker and Kevin Rudd, Julia Gillard and Peter Garrett even put in appearances!

We played an amusing drinking game with colour coordinated shots. Blue for Libs, Red for Labor, Green for, well, the Greens.

There may have been a mullet wig that did the rounds as well.

It was so much fun.

I don't know if it can be topped but we should try. Although it might be more of a wake than a celebration. Just saying.

Save the date dudes.

EDITED TO ADD: Tune in every Friday for my Slapdash Election 2013 Recap.  Can't be bothered reading the paper? Too depressed by the news?  Disengaged, confused, bored, indifferent, downright APATHETIC?  Fear not my Slapdash Army.  Let me tell you what to think.

TRUST ME!


*Am using that old faithful literary technique IRONY again. As is my wont.

**We all know I'm lying here. Don't tell Old Man Winter though, I need to get into his good books.

Hair. The kids of today.

I am working under highly unconducive conditions people, the wireless has gone belly up so I am forced to blog from my phone. But does this stop me? No it does not. I am committed, I'll say that much. Lucky you. Ahahaha! Got me hair done today. My hairdresser du jour comes to the house and does a semi permanent colour and style cut for $50 and even holds the baby while I shower the dye out.

Bargain-tastic!

And I think it always looks ok but today I aksed for a slightly lighter colour, which naturally meant she suggested foils, and naturally I said yes, and so naturally I have ended up with my MOST LOATHED hair look which is the be-striped, far too blonde foils over very dark hair look.

Like a tiger. Rrawr.

I look like a middle aged suburban housewife who has DONE SOMETHING A LITTLE CRA CRA with her hair.

OMG. You guys. Hang on a minute.

I just realised! I AM a middle aged suburban housewife who has done something a little ZANY with the ole hair.

OMG. I need to lie down to recover from this discovery.

Until now I thought I was a 21 year old Media Studies student living it up Gen Y style with a trendy sort of flapper style bob and tattoos of Amy Winehouse on my arms and an IPad with a case that OMG looks like WOOD but OMG is actually plastic, how RETRO!!!

The disappointment is crushing.

Ha! Kidding!

As if! Who wants to be 21 in this day and age, eh? It was bad enough back in the day when getting dressed up to go out on the town meant putting your GOOD Doc Martens on, combing your armpit hair and getting sweated on by strangers at a Regurgitator concert, but today!!?? Today it would mean I would have to do the following things.....

1) Wear high heels all the time

2) Tweet

3) Get a tattoo

4) Keep up with popular culture and remain on top of the movements of current artists such as Lady Gagadonna, Kanye Kardashian, and New Kids on the One Direction or whatever they are. Probably by following them on Twitter.

5) Enjoy things on an ironic level.

All. Too. Hard. Thank goodness those days are behind me. Last time I went out in the Valley, I was at least 15 years over the median age and frankly it felt good.
Suffer in your jocks all youse kids, 32 is the new 80. And proud of it.

Word.

Ringing in the New Year. Getting back my BloJo. Also, f****n magnets! How does that work??

Sounds rude doesn't it? But yes, you heard right,  I've gone and coined another term. I'm sure the Oxford Dictionary boffins will be on the phone to me any minute.

So "BloJo" ain't what you think it is. BloJo is the term used to describe the enthusiasm or feeling of motivation needed to write crap on your blog. That is, your Blog Mojo. See what I've done there? I've just shoved two words together to make a new one, in the manner of, say, " Boho" or "Bennifer" or "Brangelina", or even "sangry".

Anyway my BloJo had gone walkabout over the festive season, but I'm trying to get it back. I've been so sangry and loserish for the last month but the New Year is here and with it the psychological boost I need to pull myself together and get ENERGETIC! I'm feeling positively, er, positive! Woo! Come owwwwnnn 2013 hit me with your best shot!

P wearing her New Year outfit and contemplating the future.

How did youse ring in the New Year? We went and stayed at my SIL and BIL's place. The whole evening was a great success because...

a) The kids only stayed up til 8pm.  They had a sort of miniature discotheque that involved them giving a small performance of Queen's "Another one bites the dust" which P very amusingly calls "Buster Dust". Hee hee. They were then treated to a sparkler each and promptly wrangled, without too much drama, into bed. Amazeballs.

Aaaaaaaaaaah...Freak out!!!

b) The grown ups were then able to eat a nice meal, have a few drinkies including some bubbly, and proceed to usher in the new year huddled round the computer sniggering at You Tube clips such as this one....



Tee hee hee.

And this one.. .
It's a MEEEERRACLE! Fucken magnets?! How does that work??!

(There's also a very amusing SNL takeoff of this clip but it is mega hard to find.)


...followed by indulging in a Steve Coogan Live DVD, until lo and behold midnight was upon us! We all had another glass of fancy plonk and then hit the hay. And the kids slept all night long including Baby B. And then everyone let me sleep in til like 8.30am. I'm a lucky one.

I know how this looks, but we were actually having a lovely time.  And the plastic cups were for the kids I swear.  We used the posh glasses an' all. Innit.

But it didn't stop there people. We drove home and pottered about a bit before packing up AGAIN and driving to Kirra beach which is practically in another state, to meet up with some dear friends J and F and their sprogs, and other dear friends M and T. If you haven't been to Kirra for a while (like I hadn't) then OMG you are in for a surprise, the SAND! There is so MUCH. It was like undertaking a trek over the Sahara desert just to get to the water.  Anyway we did finally reach the sea even without a camel to assist us, and we all (yes, even me!) had a bracing dip in the rather wild ocean. Apparently someone drowned there today! Gah. How brave am I!!!?? Super brave, thank you very much.

Then we ate fish and chips.

Best. New Year. EVER!!

We are, however paying the price tonight for such an eventful few days, having just had the most hardcore bedtime battle times 2. Urghggf.

Cheerio chaps.

Call and response. Mother's ruin. Party time.

By way of answering yesterday's questions on notice I provide the following responses from the Minister for Minutiae and the Daily Grind. 

1. I chose this brooch to wear.

Nana's brooch. And my yucky old sun damaged chest.

2. To cut a long story short, I basically went for a pretty thorough depelting. Not too bad. Unfortunately I also got the eyelash tint and eyebrow wax, AND I was coerced into buying PRODUCT. Gah. The expense. I can't believe how much it all cost, I am deeply ashamed. I feel soiled and vacuous and wasteful. But also smooth. Very veerryy smooth. Baby's bottom smooth. Oh yeah. You know it.
Swings and roundabouts, people, swings and roundabouts.

3. My undie situation was getting a bit dire so I decided to treat myself. Considering that:
      a) I've had most of my knickers since P was born and
      b) they are all low rise resulting in maximum muffin top visibility, the purchase came not   a moment too soon.

Behold the new high rise pants in all their glory.

Out with the old, in with the new. Does this make you feel hot under the collar? You should see my control top pantyhose!  Phew! 

When P saw me wearing a pair this morning she said "Mummy why are you wearing pants on your tummy?". They are eminently comfortable.

Mum's still here. Had this convo with her after I spoke to M on the phone at one point.

Mum - Sounds like M has had a bad day should I go down and get some booze?
Me - Yes
Mum - Gin?
Me - Yes
Mum - And tonic?
Me - Yes
Mum - Then you'll have it there for, you know...
Me - What?
Mum - For breakfast.

If only she knew how close that is to reality. I kid, I kid.

On another note, I've noticed that everyone everywhere is frocking up for glam Xmas parties but not me. P and I had a mummy and gal date at the shops and there was sparkling gorgeousness everywhere ripe for the purchasing and I've certainly got nowhere to wear it.

Blurry pic of P devouring a patty cake while I watched on, drooling onto my bib. I am many things, but a photographer is not one of them. In case you hadn't already noticed.

I've fallen off the work radar and M's party was last Friday starting at 5pm and stir crazy wives weren't invited. What a fizzer!! Pfft. No plans for New Year either. What to do, what to do. Are any of my friends reading this? Are you having a party I don't know about? Can I come too? Don't be shy. Speak up now and we can organize something pronto. I don't even know where we will be on the night, geographically speaking. I'll have a think and get back to you all.

 Smell you later dudes.

Fox in flats Darecember was boots today.  As if!  Too hot I say.  Substituted this photo of Boots the monkey from Dora the Annoyer.

Weather. Flab. Travels with Dad. Tolerance

The weather is doing my head in.  Yesterday - boiling, hot.  Roasting the living daylights out of our already dry and crackly garden.  Definitely bushfire weather.  I was so sure a storm was brewing. But nothing, nada.  Not a drop.  Rain, damn you!

This morning, cool, crisp, blowing a gale, blue, blue sky.  Gorgeous, but no rain.

As I write, it looks like this.  Fingers crossed it pours! 

Yesterday, I wore one of the dresses I got from my recent op shop visit, in this post.  It was the one that Mum suggested would benefit from some sucky-in undies, Bridget Jones style.  Well, my other resident fashion critic (ie. P) told me "Mummy, you've got a big tummy.  I think there's another BABY in that big tummy!".  I thought about pulling some giant pants on underneath, but frankly it was too damn hot.  What's the point of a cotton summer dress if you layer it up with sweaty old synthetic bloomers.  So I decided to embrace my mummy tummy.  I mean, really.  I know if I exercised every day and ate less ice cream it would be reduced, it's not brain surgery, but at the moment I don't do either of those things so I still have postnatal flab.  If you've got nothing better to do than feast your eyes on my jubbly bits then go ahead, I can't be bothered caring any more.

Spoke to Dad (Grandpa G) on the phone last night.  When he was here last week I showed him my blog.  Dad's first reaction was fairly predictable.  He looked the blog over silently, eventually remarking suspiciously, "It seems like an enormous amount of WORK, Sarah."  I tried explaining it was just like having a hotmail account or making a word document, and that it was quite fun and easy but he remained skeptical.

Last night on the phone I asked if he'd been reading it.  He paused, and said, "Yes, I've looked it over.  It just seems like you are putting so much WORK into it", naturally inferring that I should probably be putting more work into, say, raising my children or finding a new job.  If you are reading this Dad, don't worry, I've got it sorted, P's at kindy and I've just propped the baby in front of the TV with a bottle full of juice and "In the night garden" on repeat*.

While Dad was here we also reminisced a bit about the odyssey to the Old Country (ie. Ireland) that he and I made when I was about 20.

Dad (aka Grandpa G) representing in his navy Driza-Bone.

The trip was noteworthy for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the obvious incongruity of a 20 year old girl trailing moodily around Ireland and the UK with her 50-something father while her contemporaries were arguably "living it up" backpacker-style.

It led to such amusing anecdotes as "That time Dad and I accidentally went to a gay bar together" and "The Fiat Punto was a bad choice", whilst simultaneously giving rise to such inciteful geo-political commentary as "Celtic Tiger My Arse!".

The "gay bar" visit showed me up for the gormless and graceless youth that I was.  Clutching our Guinness factory souvenir bags in my hands, I followed sulkily after him as he strode down a Dublin road in search of a pub where he could get a pint and a toasted sandwich.  Spotting one ahead, he made a beeline for it and disappeared through the doors.  As I entered and peered into the somewhat dimly lit establishment I could see that he had made himself comfortable in a corner booth, so I sort of flounced over and slumped down across the table from him.  Dad went up to the bar to order our lunch, and when he returned to our seats we both sat in silence watching one of the bar's employees putting up Christmas decorations.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I began to notice the other two or three patrons.  They were all dressed in variations on this theme...

http://www.hollywood.uk.com/

I began to notice some pictures on the walls that looked a bit like this...

http://www.jollyswagman.com.au/mardi-gras/ 

"Daaaaaad, I think it's a GAY BAR!!!"  I hissed at him, what little grace and poise I had going out the window at what I saw as the most embarrassing place to be with your uncool middle aged father.

"So what?" he said, utterly unfazed, finishing off his sandwich. I sank further down into my seat, counting the seconds until we could escape.  As we left, I looked up at the sign above the door.  The bar was called "Out on the Liffey", which is a cute pun, and after consulting my trusty Lonely Planet it was revealed to be the trendiest and most happening gay friendly joint in Dublin.

I reminded him of this story when he visited last week.  He said earnestly, "I remember! They did an excellent toasted sandwich, the beer was cold and they weren't too busy."

Good on you Grandpa G, you are a paragon of tolerance and you don't even know it.  Shame you had to be there with your red-faced and spluttering daughter because she totally brought the tone down.


*Not really.  I was just using a dramatic device known as "giving cheek to your sainted parents". I wasn't voted "Most Sarcastic" at high school for nothing.

Friday. Fashion. Family.

I've been feeling a lot of feelings the last few days.

We're back at Slapdash HQ now after a visit to the Slapdash Ancestral Compound.   After a very sad year, Mum has recently returned to live in the house I shared with her when I was a teenager.

Which is next door to my Dad's house.  Her ex-husband.  Grandpa G.

I know.  Sorry to get all Big Love Family Compound on your arses, that's just how we roll.

So I inflicted myself, the baby and the 3 year old on my grief-stricken and exhausted mother for a couple of nights, you know, to HELP and be USEFUL and just  GET SHIT DONE!  Said emotionally fragile mother then proceeded to throw her back out.  And the baby proceeded to get a cold.  And the 3 year old, you know, whinged and carried on.  And the dog got jealous and started ripping up his bed.

I know, I'm just so HELPFUL!  Who wouldn't want me around as you worked through your grief whilst simultaneously transporting yourself back through the space-time-continuum to a house you lived in ten years ago??!

Thank God some actually useful members of the family had already done everything before I even got there.  And luckily the nature of the Family Compound version 2.0 meant that Grandpa G was on hand to ply said 3 year old with the requisite quantity of babycinos to render her docile.

A barrel of laughs it wasn't.

Sartorially speaking, however, it was quite positive.  I shopped the pain away at some really good op-shops.

Here's my loot...

$9.  Looks boring but it covers a multitude of sins.

These shoes were $18.  I'm belatedly embracing the nude shoe.  I need all the help I can get in the leg lengthening department.  Well, I'll do almost anything but probably wouldn't do this

$5 I think.  Who doesn't love a wrap dress?  

$6 or something.  Less sure about this one.  When I tried it on, Mum said "Oh it's LOVELY darling but maybe you'll need some of those high-waisted pants on underneath".  Hmm.

Shorts for the little boy.

As soon as I came home I realised I had committed the ultimate parental faux pas of buying something for one child and not the other.  I thought it might escape P's notice. Ha!  She has a mind like a steel trap.  Wailing ensued.  This mother-of-two caper is not to be sneezed at.

How cold is it!?  I have had to get these babies out again.

Noice.

I'm off to calm the screaming baby and hopefully then watch "New Tricks".  Crazy times.

Hope everyone else is drinking mojitos and dancing to trance music and then going to a gallery opening where there's free champagne.  That's totally what I would be doing if I had the chance.  Have a drink for me folks.