Bullshit

Yesterday I took delivery of a parcel addressed to Mr Woog.  It was an unusual shape and so I put this photo up on the WoogsWorld Facebook page, asking for suggestions as to what it might be.

Something with which to mock him forever more?

Body by Jake Ab Blaster 5000??

Is it mechanical?? If it is, I want an invite to the party!

a skateboard?

the start of a mid-life crisis?

Fallopian tubes and a uterus?

New sex toy?

Newcastle knights paraphernalia?!

Mr Woog is a funny man.  Not really "haha" funny but funny as in strange (and a bit haha). He can complain about how broke we are and then drop a wad of cash on things such as a fancy 5 Star Worm Farm Hotel,  a new designer man bag or bits of metal things for his motorbike.  Yet I purchase a pair of Sambag Ballet Flats and he questions my motives.

Perhaps the only thing we argue about, apart from whose turn it is to do reading with the kids, is money.  But from what I gather from speaking with my mates is that this is a universal trend that stems back to the time that Antony asked Cleopatra to stop dicking around on the StrawberryNet website and that she did not need all that makeup.

If you are a man and you are reading this,  listen up.

WE DO NEED THE MAKE UP AND THE BALLET FLATS.

But you sure as shit do not need a massive tin bull called Bruce.

So,  what is the last stupid thing YOUR partner bought?



Mr Woog has gone and he is not coming back.

For two weeks.
I have spent the day on the edge of a glorious panic attack.  If you are lucky enough to be a fellow anxiety sufferer,  you will know EXACTLY what I am talking about. Panic attacks are the same as the herpes virus.  You will always carry it and you are never sure of when an outbreak will occur.

Being from a long line of drama queens,  I can sometimes panic when I am alone about the following.

• Being murdered in my bed
• Being murdered in my bed and in the morning the kids do not notice and only come to check on me a day later when the Wii remote runs out of batteries.
• On discovering my body, I worry that the kids will go and raid the chocolate stash, and that is just for me!
• What if I go into labour? wait..............
• Ok so what if someone I know goes into labour and I have to go to the hospital in the middle of the night?
• What of one of the guinea pigs dies?
• What if Chuy is cat-napped?
• What if the ATM eats my card?
• What if the Mazda blows a tyre?
• What if the last two remaining light bulbs left in the house blow?
• What if I fall over and cannot get up?
• What is the kids get gastro, like the last time he went away?
• What if I am so desperate for adult conversation I am almost talked into joining a cult by a door to door cult salesman?
• What If I buy and Ab Circle Pro off the television at 11pm at night?
• What if I hear a noise?
• What if I have to take a DVD back and I cannot find the DVD and the lady yells at me again?
• What if the kids get into a class that they detest?
• Who is going to help me cover books in contact (like he ever did that anyway... but it is a two person job)
• What will happen to me and the kids if we eat toast every night. Or Pizza?
• What if I run out of wine?
• What if I run out of toilet paper. While I am sitting on the toilet?
• What if I get invited to a really cool event and I cannot find a babysitter? How will the kids cope being out until 2am?
• What if I cry when I take the kids to school on  their first day back? (although this is highly unlikely)
• Who am I going to watch the news with every night and pause during each story to have a 5 minute discussion about it with?
• What if George flies down the Chimney and Barry the Manly Man is not around?

I think the answer to all of the above lies with the blue bird.

So day one is down. I know I should not bitch about it as I know women who parent single full time and they do not bitch about it. They just get on and do it.  And the ones I know do it so well. My freaking hat, sunnies and all other garments go off the them. Which leaves me naked.

How do you survive being home alone?

Do you LOVE it or LOATHE it?

The Seven Habits of Highly Irritating Husbands

I love Mr Woog to bits. No doubting that for a second.  But unlike me,  he is not perfect, so I am taking this opportunity to point out his faults on the World Wide Web. Because I love him to bits.

DISHWASHER - Not a day goes by that I do not get up and find a plate on the bench above the dishwasher. Mere centimeters away from the door of the dishwasher.

DISASTER - Last night I told him that there was a bra under wire caught in the washing machine. I watched him walk into the laundry and peer in. "HOLY CRAP!" he screeched at the top of his voice. He is one for extreme over-reactions and saying "I have had a disaster......"

ADVICE - unwanted of course.  My favourite is when he gives me parenting advice. The problem is that he will often contradict himself within a few short sentences. Or when he says things like "The kids need to eat dinner at 5 or they will go feral....." when really it is HE who wants to eat at 5 because he is living on pensioner time.

OBSESSIVE - mainly showering, which can be up to 3 times a day. I am not sure if he is just purely filthy, a chronic masturbator or just likes having a shower.

BUDGET MEETINGS - He calls for a budget meeting about once a week,  where he will go through upcoming expenses and brainstorm ways to save cash. "We have nothing to insure, so why do we need insurance?" "What is wrong with doing your own nails?" "I really, really like grey hair on you...." It is the same each week. I nod, make agreeable noises and proceed to ignore everything.

EXCESSIVE WHIPPER SNIPPING AND MOWING AT 8AM ON A SATURDAY MORNING - no need for commenting on this one. You could set your watch by this.

ABSENTMINDEDLY TAKING ME FROM THE REAR - Sorry. You did read that right. I could be bent over unpacking the dishwasher, and he will dash over and dry hump me. Like some sort of horny dog on Viagra. Or I could be bending over picking clothes off the floor or tying my shoelaces. And there he is. Humping.

He did it on Christmas Day at a family gathering. Apparently my ass in the air is not dissimilar to Pavlov's bell.

He did this last night as I was stacking the dishwasher. I stopped, pushed him away and asked "Do you really think that that is a turn on?" He explained it was just a gut reaction. He then suggested I blog about it to see if it was just him who did this.

I suspect he is not the only one?

Does your partner have a Highly Irritating Habit?

Married to the Hyperactive Man

Look carefully. Can you spy the hyperactive man?

I am married to a hyperactive man. Some ways in which he is hyperactive include;

The Inability to sit still.

There is always something that needs to be done. Mind you none of these things are particularly useful to me, like unpacking the dishwasher or folding clothes. But he a great one for sweeping verandahs or tinkering in his Man Cave. If he does happen to sit still for a few moments, he falls asleep. It is like he has narcolepsy with strong mania rising.

The Inability to sleep in.

He gets up at a sparrows fart and is off. Gone surfing or riding or something. But when he comes home he often bares coffee, or yesterday he surprised me with these.

Which I then had to cut all the orangy bits off in case Chuy sniffs it and dies.

Once he has arrived home from his morning activity, he takes the Woogettes out to the bike park or the pool or to Bunnings, where he will pick up something to bring home and tinker with.

The inability to desist sex nagging.

I do not think I need to go into that one.

The inability to stop checking our bank balance online.

He has a slight heart attack when he logs in each morning because I have an inability to stop spending money.

Yesterday he did the following.

1. Went for a surf

2. Mowed the lawns

3. Took a car load of stuff to Vinnies

4. Baked a cake

5. Went to the Gym

6. Took the Woogettes to the park

7. Went to the hardware shop

8. Replumbed the washing machine into a different spot

9. Replaced a spark plug

10. Took stuff to the tip

11. Sex nagged unsuccessfully

12. Had a sleep

13. Pruned all of his roses

14. Swept all the verandahs in the manner of someone suffering from severe OCD

And that was all before lunchtime.

The man in a machine. Sometimes (all the time really) I wonder what we have in common. I am a great one for relaxing. I adore it. Next week we are going to go away for a week of relaxing and I am fairly sure Mr Woog might go insane. Hopefully there is a Bunnings on the Sunshine Coast that he can visit.

Are you married to a hyperactive man?