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And if I were a diligent parent committed to teaching my children well, I might have actually gone through with it. Instead I just pleaded with them not to do it again, and that I had spies EVERYWHERE and if I heard of them riding without their helmets once more time, they would be banned from their pushes until the Olympic Games commence in Tokyo in 2020.
In other news, I am paying dearly for my actions which were undertaken after my large Saturday night at the election party. I opened the door, crab walked down the wall and went to wash my face.
Numbed by alcohol and despondent by the outcome, I glared at a rather persistent Hermione the Hormonal Pimple and decided her days on my face must come to an end.
Nearly 3 days on after I did drunken surgery on myself, I am sporting what could only be described as a severe case of pash rash, but with out the benefits of the fun pashing bit. Self induced pash rash, if you will.
Oh internet, when will I learn to leave myself alone! Why does my body throw so many challenges at me. My sister once had an ingrown hair on her arm and she picked at it so much, we now call the scar "Picky".
So now I am off to the big smoke to get on with some commitments, including doing my annual David Jones Flower Show review, fighting and jostling with the small but vicious fan club. I am meeting Bev, who has got herself quite excited by the whole event.
(insert Prue and Trude joke here)
You can read last years review here. It was all very exciting. Miranda Kerr held a card.
And finally, I got an email from a friend, from her friend.
SO TA-DA!
Can you please let Mrs Woog know that My colleague Kate H***le has been following her for years. I get a running commentary every day. I am sure it would make her year if Mr Woog could mention her in her blog. Not sure if its at all possible but appreciate if you could pass onto Mrs Woog.
You know what would make my year?
No pash rash.
