Christmas Slips Catch with Jimbo and Davo

Christmas Day after a bottle of Champagne already!
Walpole, South West WA

Seven Legged Spider

This made me laugh so hard that I forgot I was at work and needed to maintain a certain level of sobriety!

If only life was this simple.


...and then after the debacle the drawing managed to sell on ebay for thousands of dollars. What a genius!

Advert Posted On The Student Board At Dave's University

"Free to Good Home

Castrated two year old German Shepard Cross male.
Good with children. Affectionate nature.
Unable to breed from due to skin condition."



....?

Um, there may be a slightly more relevant reason why you wouldn't be able to breed from this hound...

Plums, anyone?



NB: Please bear in mind that Dave's students are mostly in training to become Vets! There is no hope. Hide your pets now people.

My New Favouritest Thing

Things I have learnt in the short time (ie: since Tuesday) we have had a spa:

• The neighbours now think we're making porn movies due to the psychedelic lights emanating from the corner of our garden along side the sounds of giggling and the frothy tones of bubbles.
  
• Poppy thinks that chlorinated water is a viable alternative to tap water
• Anyone who is under 5'6" will be drowned in our spa. Terribly sorry Joe and Shaz!
  
• That a 35 degree water temperature is too hot during the daytime but at 35 degrees, when the sun drops you can't help but shiver. After dark, anything less than body temperature is "freezing". That's why I stayed in for nearly an hour on Sunday! Honest.
  
• We would never have been able to have a spa in Aberdeen. We would have ended up with frost bite even in the height of the summer. Just the act of hopping across the garden decked out in your finest spangly bikini would have been enough cold to lose a toe.
• Our garden looks lovely in the evening when immersed in bubbles, holding a glass of sauvignon in your hand and watching the waxing moon lighting up the lemon tree.
• You can still get sunburned even whilst huddled well under the water line. Still, it's funny how my legs seem to repel sunlight while my shoulders seem to scream "let me at 'em"!
  
• It's fun debuting three new bikinis and being able to tell Dave (truthfully) that each one was made by a starving sweatshop child in some Indonesian country. I bloody LOVE Primark. I mean FOUR pounds! How can they afford to sell them at that fee? I miss the homeland sometimes. Especially when on buying the aforementioned bargains, the woman on the counter jokingly enquired why I wasn't buying welly boots with my bikinis. I had immense pleasure in replying "because I live in Australia. We have summer there!" Cruel, moi? A small price to pay for being away from the ones who matter.
  

An Unexpected Conversation

My beau. My better half. The mature and sensible side to this partnership. I give you my 41 year old boyfriend.

Friday evening. Better Homes and Gardens on the television. The 'Creative' comes onto the telly to show you how to make manky old flip flops into 'art'. The boy clears his throat...

Him: 'Do you think my nose is a bit weird?'

Me: 'Wha?'

Him *prodding at the side of his nose*: 'Do you think it's a bit skinny?'

Him: '...and lumpy?'

Me: '...'

Him: 'It's just that Poppy mentioned something to me earlier'

Me: 'Poppy? Our German Shepard Mutt who is currently paying far too much time to her doggy girlie bits for it to be entirely normal? Or hygienic?'

Him: 'Yes. Princess Poppy. The P. Dog. Popstar.'

Me: '....'

Him: 'Well?'

Me: 'I'm going for wine. I may be a while...'

Letter To Reknowned Australian Chocolate Company...

Dear Sir/Madam

I am writing to inform you of a very concerning incident that occurred today. I am a nurse working on a busy Oncology ward in Western Australia. One of our elderly patients very kindly bought the members of staff a box of your ‘After Dinner Indulgence’ chocolates. This was a very kind gesture from a patient who not only is a pensioner with a low income but a person with a terminal illness who has many other things to think about than poor quality chocolates.

Our patient took great delight in presenting us with this box of chocolates, so much so that he insisted that we open them there and then so he could take pleasure from seeing us enjoying them.

Imagine our shock when on removing the cellophane and opening the box, a moth flew out. On further inspection, a large yellow maggot was found, wrapped delicately around the coconut torte. So surprised was one of our nurses that she collapsed, launching the box in the air.

As you can imagine, much madness ensued.

The resus team was called and the nurse was resuscitated on the floor to an audience of patients, relatives and the old ladies that sell sweets from a roving trolley. The doctors worked valiantly using shots of adrenaline and atropine mixed with cries of "you WILL NOT die, God Damn you". Fortunately only one round with the defib machine was required before we managed to find a pulse and the nurse woozily came round.

Meanwhile the maggot escaped his chocolaty hideout undulating towards the nearest patient who happened to have a very nasty wound on his foot. There he found solace hidden amongst the rotting flesh.

We searched high and low for the beast whilst evacuating the patients into the unit next door. The pest control team were called and arrived adorned with fluorescent over-alls and WW2 gas masks. They commando rolled into the unit lobbing gas bombs to all corners of the ward.

Through the fog I detected the patient sobbing uncontrollably.

This is when I thought 'enough is enough. No-one makes my patients cry' (unless it's me with an ill aimed needle). Mr Big Chocolate Manufacturer Man, you have made me very cross. Patients do not need to worry themselves about the quality of the chocolate that they offer to the angels working within our health care system.

I ask you, how would you feel? All I request is an affirmation that this has been a disservice towards the hard working health professionals and patients Australia wide.

....a small holiday in Bali might cover the angst felt during this stressful time

Yours sincerely

Natalie *******

PS If you were wondering, the patients wound came up lovely after the maggots feast. Thank god for small mercies!

The coconut torte....

The very caramello caramel. No chocolate was spared!

NB: I do realise that the above creature is not actually a maggot but a weevil. I know this as it was diagnosed by a Vet... yes, so horrific was this case, a vet was consulted!

The Best Photo Opportunity Ever

My new job is as a palliative care nurse. This involves me dealing with dying people quite a lot. Luckily for me I love my new job. Moi, a little odd? Why of course!

My boss, and fortunately my friend, John and I were involved in a photo shoot to promote out area.

Picture the scene. We were standing there in the corridor sprightly dressed with empathic demeanour's on our faces with the photographer snapping away as if we were celebrities.

Then all of a sudden like something out of a horror movie, the 'dead trolley'* glides by as if on wheels** prompting John and I to chant "Take the picture now! Now! Now!"

The photographer, who has an irrational fear of sick people (she's a medical photographer?!) turned a hospital shade of grey and had to sit down to get over the trauma of 'nearly seeing someone dead but wrapped in a plastic sheet and encased in a metal box so I couldn't see'!

Except it was actually empty at the time. It would never glide if it was full. It has a stereotypically zombie-esque squeaky wheel!



* The trolley used to transport the 'diseased'
** ...because it was actually, hmm, on wheels!

Question..

... When a good friend says that they are sending me 'a little package' from Bolivia, should I worry?

The Sights You see When You Don't Have A Gun (And You're Queueing For Another Visa To Let You Stay In The Country )

In my spare time I like to do charity work. Helping the needy. Caring for those who cannot fathom the daily banalities of life. That sort of unsung hero type of work.

Recently I escorted Joe to have her mandatory X-Ray for her Aussie visa. Saying that she was a little worried about it was like saying that Hitler was a little bit naughty! I had to literally frogmarch her into the building and sit on her handbag so she wouldn't run away.

Luckily we met a complete idiot in the queue which took her mind off things for a while.

The man in the queue in front of us didn't speak much English. We were perplexed when he started looking Joe up and down while tapping with his pointy finger at the sign stating that "if this is your first visit, you will be required to provide a urine sample. Drinking water is available around the corner next to the toilets".

...?

Joe obviously found him extremely offensive and proceeded to make derogatory remarks loud enough for me to become worried about immigratory violence. If it had come down to it though, my money would have been on Joe. Even though this chap had a mean looking moustache and an ability to spit whilst talking, you should never underestimate the ferocity of a girl forced to have an X-Ray against her will.

When he eventually got to the woman behind the desk (after much complaining and questioning Joe personally why there was a delay to his appointment to which she replied with cute and imaginative swear words!) he had to have his photograph taken. Joe and I could not hide our glee when all we could hear was...

Her: *click* I'm sorry sir, you blinked in that one, I'll have to take it again.

Him: ...

Her: *click* Oh, Sir, you blinked again

Him: ...

Her: *click* ...and again

Him: ...

Her: *click* Sir, could you please stop screwing your face up. I really need your picture

Him: ....

Her: *click* Really Sir, Do you actually WANT your next visa?


If only it was that easy to keep the fuckwits out of this country!

My Uncle Michael

Back home. Dem'shire spek.



Pangs of homesickness!

Plunge? No Thank You, I Prefer The Balcony!

So I'm supposed to jump out of a perfectly good plane at 14,000 feet?

Why? It's not going to crash is it?

The only down side of this plane is that it's slightly dry.

NO GIN. NO CHENIN BLANC.

....Well of course I shan't jump.

Ridiculous really. You can't jump unless you have a little jumping juice in your tummy?!


Expecting my face to look like.....


When really it's like....

Case closed!

The Story Of Uncle Len

About five years ago when Dave and I were living in deepest darkest 'king Aberdeen we were chatting wistfully about puppies one night.



Dave: I've always wanted a dog.

Me: What would you call it?

Dave (without hesitation): Uncle Len.

Me: .....?



We were pissed (obviously) and so we promised each other that one day we would have a dog and name it Uncle Len.

So that's how this weekend we found ourselves the proud owners of Uncle Len....






...and then five minutes later we came to our senses and realised that she was far too beautiful (with not a comb over in sight unlike her namesake) and so had to spend a frantic weekend thinking of girls names.


Everyone, please say hello to Poppy.




You didn't really think we'd call her Uncle Len did you?

Thirty One Celebrations

My birthday.

It started well. Fresh faced and sober....



but it led to this.....


this...



this....




this.....


and finally to this?


Surely they will never allow me to sit the 'grown up exam' at this rate?

Sneaky Celebrations

Natalie on Friday, 24th August. Too much blood in her alcohol stream to do a jot of work!

So as this Friday 24th August approaches I just wanted everyone to know that I am in fact not wanting everyone to know that it's my 31st birthday.

I like keeping a low profile for these things don't you know.

However, if, perchance you find out that it is indeed my 31st birthday on this coming Friday the 24th August, I will (reluctantly) allow you to leave notes of adoration and birthday wishes here!

....but sshh. I don't want the whole world to know!

The Flaming Turd

The scene: It's nine thirty on a Saturday night. Dave and I are watching telly and consuming copious amounts of vino. The doorbell rings.

As we open the door we are faced with a paper bag burning with vigour. The thing to do would be to stamp on it and put the flames out.

We're too pissed to care and so watch it, fascinated, as the flames die down.

The flaming turd trick completely wasted on us.

I like to think that the little buggers were watching and were suitably disappointed!

The Slow Drag

me this week....

I'm not freakishly tall by any means. I think 5'8" is ok for a woman. I mean, of course I still get a little self conscious when I'm out in heels (taking me to well over 6') and all of my friends appear thousands of feet below the cloud line! I do seem to stoop a bit more but that's only because I can't possibly hear the conversation from my lofty position. I remain grateful that I can claw my way to the front of the crowd at a gig and be able to mosh in the front few lines without missing any of the hot band action.

This week though, I have had to re-assess my situation and have wished for the first time that I was just a little smaller....maybe 8 inches or so!

Swing dancing is to blame.

I had attended another class with a genius named Shane (my inappropriate crush for the winter, resplendent with tattoos and wearing trousers befitting any grandfather! Swoon.... but I digress) and we were to learn the slow drag. This is a swing dance for those times when the music slows and you're trying to woo the lady of your dreams. The man approaches, takes your hand and then thrusts his body into yours achieving contact from the chesticles to the hips. From there he swings you round and you endeavour to look a little like Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing but with the man less shining torso a la Patrick Swayze-the delish and more flannelette shirt a la Doug-the idiot.

Here within, the problem lies.

What happens when a perfectly skilled Asian of less than average stature tries to swing you into one of these slow swing moves?

The old joke of the Doctor examining a woman's breasts, comes to mind.

"Madam, before I examine your breasts I shall have to numb the area...

....numb numb numb numb, num... yum..."

Snakes. Why'd It Have To Be Snakes?

My hero, the perfect man, is back!

Indy, how I have missed you...


...I hope he rips his shirt in this one too!

A Horrid Realisation

The thought had been creeping up on me for a while. However, as always, I talked over the little voice in my head with something far more entertaining... the thought of beer!

Now, though, I cannot ignore the small whimperings any longer.

I. Am. FAT.

Fat, I tell you.

As porky as an overfed pig.

It ain't pretty. The saddlesacks have sagged nearly to my knees and my undulating bum resembles cottage cheese so much that I fear arrest each time I step into a supermarket.

Once again, it is time to take action against my unruly wobbly bits.

My bike which had lain so forlornly for months with a busted inner tube was fixed by my indolent self. With a quick dust of the handlebars and water bottle located from somewhere deep within the caverns of the kitchen cupboard I swung my leg over the seat and hopped on.

Someone has obviously been at my saddle though. I don't remember it being so pointy and so damned uncomfortable last time.

I pushed on, encouraged by the memories of when I would cycle to work before we lived in our present house. As I peddled faster I thought of all the gorgeous places I would cycle past by the river.

Places like this....



and this....




This ride was different. I was not expecting to be scared shitless at the imposing derelict power station.




It looks so eerie that you could be forgiven for thinking that nothing good could ever happen there. Like a building dementor



You also wouldn't have thought to cycle down stretches of road with massive pylons where creepy looking men drive ever so slowly past you and then park up fifty metres away. (I pegged it so fast past him that he wouldn't have stood a chance!)




Or part way round the coastal path, you wouldn't expect to cycle past a cattle station where in days gone by the cattle ships would offload their animals onto the beach.



Or to realise the reason CY O'Connor Beach is named as such is because this was the place that the infamous engineer decided to blow his brains out while out riding his horse.

Or that there is a statue erected and partially submerged in honour of his brilliance?!



But as I cycled into Fremantle I realised that it would be worth the eerieness and general decay of the surroundings as I would be fit once more. This body that belongs, so obviously to someone else and not to me will be banished for once and all.



Plus the view when you get there is a bit nice!

Only In Australia... Part 357.

Builders....

.....

Builders working to hospital guidelines.....

.....

We didn't stand a chance!


Our unit has been undergoing renovations which were to have taken "....*draws air through teeth*.... about twelve weeks, gov."

FIVE months later, said unit was presented to managers with the equivalent flourish of jazz hands and a welsh coal-miners choir of "da-daaahhh"

The manager walked around complementing the guys on their handiwork until she came to the isolation room specifically designed for sick/immuno-compromised/infectious patients (delete as appropriate).

The door was too small...

Hmm...

The door was too small to fit a bed through!

?

Thus rendering it useless to patients unless during an emergency resuscitation on them (in the extreme event of them arresting) we could call upon them in between chest compressions and injections of adrenaline, to get out of bed and walk through the door way and climb into a bed outwith the 'special room' that would be able to be wheeled to the ICU!

Needless to say, the move back into our unit has been delayed again for another couple of weeks whilst some seventeen year old bashes a bigger hole in the wall!

Ooh I Do Love A Good Wedding...

Anything to get the monkey walk recorded in history!



Confetti chucking...


Chuz and Rhona. The next ones to get married. I've told them. They have to you see, I introduced them too. I think he really loves her. You can tell by his face eh?



Ali and I. My saviour and bed chamber mate. Cups of tea back at ours at two in the morning.