I will now impress you all

Well I've done it again. Broke out the camera and tried to be coherent for more than one nano second.  Why do I do these things?  Given that fact that Eunice is out on indefinite stress leave, you'd think that my nearest and dearest would intercede on my behalf and remove the camera from my delusional hands.  But no.  I'm starting to think they find the whole thing rather amusing.  Our own familial form of the American Idol auditions where tone deaf fools get up and sing Celine Dion abominations, completely unaware of how truly crap they are. 

Through my filmic endeavours I have discovered that I have a fondness for the word 'crap', that I forget to brush my hair, and that my misbehaving eyes are now accompanied by misbehaving mouth.  I think my next craft project will be to create a dapper tin foil hat to complete the ensemble.  Though I will have to borrow some cats from my neighbours as two dogs don't really give the right vibe.

As my creative endeavours did leave me a little the worse from wear (ie, in excruciating back pain and unable to move from the horizontal) my delightful children brought me a glass of wine and a pink bendy straw.  I am raising them right people.

(love my kids)

Cheers
Michelle :)

For those who don't know the joy of Faith No More, have you been living under a rock?  Here is Falling to Pieces 1990.  Brings back memories of Year 12 parties in dodgy backyards, a bucket mix of miscellaneous alcohol, and a whole lot of teenage angst.  Good times.

Highlights.

This has been a week of highlights in Rustyville.    Here are but a few.


Have used Charlie Sheen as my new barometer of crazy, and have decided that on the newly devised Charlie Sheen Insanity Scale (CSIS) I am completely sane.

• Not to self:  using a man who states that he is not bipolar but "bi-winning" to gauge my own sanity may in and of itself suggest that I am well on my way to Loonyville.

Sang badly and loudly to Evanescence in the car. 

• Note to self: don't listen to dramatic emo music whilst already in the "I'm the worlds worst mum" state of mind.  The sight of my sobbing, snot-smeared face, belting out misheard lyrics may qualify as road hazard to other drivers.

Started, yet again (100th times the charm), to write a book (stop laughing Mr Grumpy).  First paragraph alluded to cousin loving in my pre-electricity familial tree, and a parental "lie back and think of England" sexual attitude, as potential causes for my ill health.   I'm sure my parents will be proud.

• Note to self : check if it's possible to add banjo music to a book?

Have repeatedly used the phrase "but um" in conversation when words and conscious thought have failed me.  Children think this hilarious, thanks to an episode of  How I met your mother, where one of the characters said "but um" so often on her TV show, it was turned into a drinking game by college students.
For example:
Me:  "Eldest Monkey Boy!!!" (screeched out loud enough for my deaf and confused elderly neighbour to hear).
EMB: "Yes mommy dearest" (must stop threatening children about using wire coat hangers).
Me: "I need you to.............but um".
EMB: "But um!" (snigger)
Me: "Stop that!  Now, but um.....  Damn it!"
EMB:  "But um!" (more sniggering)
Me: "That's not funny.  Now, but um..... Damn it!"
EMB: (rolls on floor, holding sides whilst laughing and shouting) "BUT UM, BUT UM, BUT UM".
Me:  "Fine.  You are now grounded forever.  Right. (deep breath) Now, but um......Arghhhhhhhhh", (storm off dramatically).

• Not to self:  purchase a DeLorean and flux capacitor, to enable current self to go back in time and slap younger self for thinking having children would be a wonderful idea.

Have only just remembered I have a Twitter account.  Am amazed that people have decided to follow me even though my last conscious tweet was on the 9th of January.  Thankfully, I had linked up my FB page to automatically tweet my frequent witticisms, so it looks like I am a social media savvy tweeter.  Rather than a sad old woman who keeps forgetting that she has a Twitter account.  Though I am just a little concerned that Twitter keeps suggesting I follow Justin Beiber and Kanye West and some strange woman who wants to show me her breasts.  Explain yourself Twitter.

• Not to self: must discover what else am I forgetting. Lets see.  Wearing underwear?  Check.  Used BO basher? Check.  Fed spawn of Satan/children? Must have, can't hear whinging. Check.

Have attempted to answer the multitude of emails, messages and comments that have been building up, thanks to the "Vacant" sign that has taken up residence inside my head.  I'm really not trying to be a rude cow by answering in such a tardy manner.  Just when you are down to one brain cell, who refuses to work overtime and insists on taking every last second of her allotted coffee breaks, it can be a slow process. Especially if you want a coherent response.  However, if a response composed completely of neologisms is okay, let me know and I'll send one off immediately. I'm sure at my current speedy pace of one response a day I will get there. 

• Note to self: must get around to hiring Eunice a PA.  Hot, shirtless, cabana boys are encouraged to apply.

Have alternated between staring at the ceiling for hours on end without the pleasant distraction of considering how I can get away with smothering Mr Grumpy in his blissful sleep (he was away for work), and coma sleep.  As usual the universe has delighted in making fun of my sleep challenged life by sending this link my way.  And yes it is in Finish, or Finishian, or whatever the correct term is.  Yes universe send me a link to artsy pictures of  Finlandites (it's my blog and I will make up words if I want) blissfully asleep, bastard.

• Note to self: must stop thinking that the universe is so obsessed with me that it would go out of it's way to mock me on a regular basis or I will end up at the 'bat shit crazy' end of the CSIS.   

 

• Extra Note to self:  stop watching any TV show, radio broadcast, newspaper column, blog, or internet site that makes reference to Charlie Sheen in any way.  Must make life a Charlie Sheen Free-Zone. Though I am kinda interested in how he cured himself with his "brain".  Maybe I should send Eunice round to his place for a few pointers.  On second thought, he's liable to make Eunice his next 'goddess' and I couldn't put the old gal through that.

So dear readers, what delights have been the highlights of your week?  I hope you too are livin la vida loca*.

Bring on the margaritas.
Michelle :)

* Should I add that my eldest loved Ricky Martin when he was little and knew all the words and dance steps to his early albums? I'm sure he wont  mind me sharing.  He also had a thing for Shania Twain's I feel Like A Woman, but that's really something I should probably keep for his 21st.

A small musical interlude in remembrance of my pre-children, pre-husband, pre-sick golden days. I give you Blister in the Sun by the Violent Femmes (1982).  Plus this particular film clip has John Cusack in Grosse Pointe Blank, and includes a cat puppet.  What more could you want?

Free The Rusty Billions!

We are now in day 950.5 of what has been dubbed, the Rusty Hostage Drama.  Whilst, the majority of Michelle's brain cells remain prisoners to the BLF (Bob Liberation Front), Eunice, the lone brain cell who remains free, carries on valiantly.  She may sob into her Weeties every morning before arriving at work, but she puts on her game face every time she clocks on.

Eunice does her best to keep Michelle functioning throughout the day.  Unfortunately, despite her best intentions it appears that Michelle is going to hell in a handbag, as evidenced by her pouring the milk into the sugar bowl as opposed to her coffee cup this morning. This is not the first instance of Eunice's dropping of the Michelle ball, and evidence is building to suggests that Eunice may be getting ready to retire:

Exhibit A: Michelle tried to put the keys in to start her car.  After 5 mins of frustration and swearing Michelle thought to glance down only to see her husband's keys already in the keyhole.

Exhibit B: Michelle keep yelling at her son to grab her a fork, getting more an more peeved as he stood there confused with a spoon in his hand, only to realise some time later that she had said spoon...repeatedly.

Exhibit C: Michelle went to put her large glass cookie jar in the sink to soak.  Unfortunately she managed to place the cookie jar on the edge of the sink with some force thus shattering the jar.

Exhibit D: Michelle has forgotten how to judge distance thus walking the left side of her body into the wall today and yesterday and the day before yesterday, and......

Exhibit E: Michelle was unable to recall how to spell her name when signing her credit card slip thus looking like a criminal and receiving some very suspicious looks from the dread-locked emo petrol station attendant.

Exhibit F: Michelle stood up to go to the loo only to forget that she had her lap top on her lap.  The lap top was deposited on a very unhappy geriatric cat who then bit her on the ankle with her one remaining tooth.

Exhibit G: Michelle spent a half hour looking for her car keys only to realise she already had them in her hand.

Things are not looking good for Eunice and I fear she may be heading to early retirement. Or at least a ban from sharp objects.

 (She may be a little tired, but Eunice can still rock a tiara)

Eunice is desperate for the return of her sisters, in the hope that they will be able to lighten her load.  If they fail to return home soon, Eunice has made the difficult decision to move to a part-time or casual work format.

Eunice has formed the 'Free the Rusty Billions' movement, in the hope that she will one day be reunited with her beloved sisters.  Unfortunately, Eunice is one busy braincell and only got as far as creating the catchy name for her campaign before passing out with exhaustion and requiring a week long holiday.

(Eunice and some of her sisters in happier days)

It is hoped that the BLF will soon be defeated and Eunice and her sisterly billions can get back to their job of making Michelle a fully functioning human being or at least as good as she was before the hostage drama began.

Cheers
Michelle :)