"So, what have you done all day?"

This week I have handed over editorial content ideas to the wonderful WoogsWorld Facebook page. They really are the nicest bunch of chicks you could ever meet. And there are a few fellas as well. You can join the Facebook community here.

But let's get on with the show!

My personal experience with this was rather short lived. It was at a time where I had a baby, a toddler, had had no sleep for years, was lucky to shower twice a week and my idea of a good time was lying on the kitchen floor, sobbing gently while listening to talkback radio and yelling at all the fuckwits that called in to complain about muslims.

He only ever did it once, but Mr Woog sauntered in from work one day, as happy and as cheery as a clam and questioned me as to why I was still in my pyjamas, and why was the house such a pigsty.

I won't go into what happened next, but I will tell you that watching his dinner fly out onto the backed like a super frisbee, I questioned whether I should give up the stay at home mum gig and start training for the Olympics.

To compete in the discus.

It was enough for Mr Woog to never, ever question how I spent my time again.

Nowadays, things are a little easier of course, with the kids grown up and all. I work from home, so you think I would be on top of these things, but I like to prioritise watching Ellen over tending to everyone's filth, so it is still not ship shape around these parts.

If I have a particularly taxing day, I will just shoot my beloved a little text suggesting that I am at my fucking wits end and and if anyone would like dinner in the house then someone else better arrange it.

The scenario that Brooke suggests is played out every evening in thousands of houses all over the world. Recently I went away for 4 days and came home to find the house in a state so bad, I thought there must have been an earthquake. Mr. Woog met me at the door and held me long and tight, thanking me for coming home and telling that I was never to leave again.

The kids walked out of the kitchen eating cold hotdogs from the fridge in their underpants, and greeted me with the same enthusiasm.

Do I think prison food is worth it? No...

But I do think that is any types of these noises and eyebrow raising "what DID you do all day..." I prescribe a few days away, maybe in a hotel with a kick ass room service menu, and leave your phone at home.

How do you deal with "So, what have you done all day?"

Does the sisterhood really exist?

This week I have handed over editorial content ideas to the wonderful WoogsWorld Facebook page. They really are the nicest bunch of chicks you could ever meet. And there are a few fellas as well. You can join the Facebook community here.

But let's get on with the show!

This caught my eye as I have, from time to time, met women who declare that they prefer the company of men over women. This always puzzles me so much and I feel bad that they are missing out on one of the greatest gifts of all time.

Membership to the sisterhood.

Me? I am a chick's chick. Oh don't get me wrong, I love men, but there is something so comforting about belonging to a tribe of supportive, nurturing women that you just cannot beat.

My tribe includes my family, make up mainly of bolshy, smart chicks, my friends, some of whom I have known since Jesus played halfback for Nazareth, and the most extraordinarily amazing collection of women I have got to know online.

Doesn't that sound smug! Well it is the truth.

I also marvel at how my own personal sisterhood has grown, expanding over generations to include young whippersnappers and lovely ladies in their 70's.

Does the sisterhood really exist?

It does if you allow it. To be a part of the sisterhood, wherever you are, I prescribe a recipe of kindness, availability, laughter, silliness, openness and empathy.

Which brings us to the concept of being judgemental.

Oh, I know all about being judgemental. I spent a great deal of time in that orb of discontent. The thing about this "habit" (and believe me, it is a habit and you can break it) is that it does nobody any good at all. After all, you do not know the anybodies back story, why they do the things they do. And what qualifies you to cast dispersions anyway?

It is a total waste of energy and time. 

Judgement is the natural enemy of the sisterhood. As is envy, jealousy, grudge-holding and spite.

Women are not perfect, and the sisterhood is not perfect, but as the wise Ms Albright so famously put it....

“There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."

Do you believe in the Sisterhood?

How does your own Hood look like?

Fight or Flight.

This week I have handed over editorial content ideas to the wonderful WoogsWorld Facebook page. They really are the nicest bunch of chicks you could ever meet. And there are a few fellas as well. You can join the Facebook community here.

But let's get on with the show!

This is totally common. Just the other day I was mooshing up a kilo of mince to make hamburgers and a very similar thought crossed my mind. As my fingers plunged into that bowl of dead animal I thought to myself...

"Why can I do this and not throw up, but when Chuy presents me with his latest hunting conquest, I scream and run to the bathroom and lock myself in there and call Mr Woog at work to come home asap to deal with it..."

Because after all, it is all dead animal, no?

Mary Rose, what you have going on is the fight or flight mechanism which is a result of excess adrenaline flooding your body. You see an injustice in the street, and because you are obviously a very decent human being, your first response is to set it right.

HURRAH! WE NEED MORE PEOPLE LIKE YOU IN THE WORLD!

And as far as the mouse goes, well they are small, grotty and completely unpredictable. You think they are going to go one way, and they dart in the opposite direction, or even worse... disappear behind the fridge or under the couch.

This leaves you with a very uneasy feeling for the rest of your life.

The most obvious solution would be for me to send you Chuy for a couple of nights, and you will see that mouse NEVER AGAIN.

The alarming thing about mice is the ridiculous rate in which they pro-create. If you think that there is just one, you are having yourself on. Mummy mice can give birth every 90 days, if they are promiscuous, and can produce up to 100 babies in a year.

There is no way to measure how many injustices carried out in the streets, but if you live anywhere near my hood, well that would just be a lovely, comforting thought. Go forth and correct misdemeanours Mary Rose, and get yourself a cat.

Do you ever experience the FIGHT OR FLIGHT situation?

Tell us all about it.... *flicks kettle on*