As dictated to the Sisters of Mercy hovering by my bed

The nice thing about nuns these days is that they are so versatile. Even while they’re carrying out such a medieval task as a bedside vigil, they can still take on a dying request like posting a blog entry to a slightly off-colour website like ours.
Mind you, ever since the Pope declared Australia to be godless we’ve noticed these nuns drifting around the streets of Marrickville offering all sorts of services and I’m starting to think maybe there’s something in it for them. Has he put a bounty on soul conversions? Is there a Heavenly Rewards Points program where the nun with the most souls gets tickets to the opening of the Catholic World Youth Day in 2008?
I’d hate to impugn their motives, but the old fat one sorting my underwear over in the corner is looking shiftier by the minute and there is a certain amount of jostling to be closest to be bed each time I start hacking my lungs up in a coughing fit.

Enough of the nuns. I’ve had an epiphany. Our Rousing Routine needs a makeover.

To save you flicking around this link, the routine in brief was:
Monday: dirty laundry
Tuesday: nude news
Wednesday: weddings
Thursday: library
Friday: buried bones
Saturday: sports scandal
Sunday: philosophosopising…

It seems to me that we’ve made a reasonable fist of weddings and nude news, had a crack or two at library, philosophised very rarely and shown an entirely predictable lack of interest in sport (except for Shane, who only counts for nudity and marriage).

Now this is not the epiphany.

It seems also, to me, that as we’re about to be the tired cranky and retail-deprived mothers of six, rather than 5.5, kids, we need tocut our routine a little slack, turn our thoughts a little more to the home front and remember that other great part of our lives (here comes the epiphany) FOOD.

How could we have left FOOD out of the list? Half our posts (and I’m thinking here especially of you punishing your mother by depriving her of dessert) focus on FOOD and more than half our lives is devoted to the consideration, pursuit, preparation and consumption of FOOD.

I mean, where are the recipes? Where is the cookbook lust? What about the fact that I’ve had almost a week at liberty to do nothing but watch the Lifestyle Channel?

We need to refine, we need to revamp, and we need to re-focus on the three things that really matter to us: Food, Sex, and bitching about celebrities.

Gotta go. One of the nuns just found the Professor’s porn.



as Bec is laid up with some dreaded lurgy that befell me last week, as work consumes all my energy, as the incubus compels me to be horizontal at any opportunity, Glamorouse has suffered.

I have nothing particularly enlightening, humorous or deep to comment on as at this point in time, my state of mind is exhaustion.

But… if you want to know how to piss me off really easily, its writing, and then reproducing articles like this one. It seems appropriate the author’s name is Ablow, as he can ablow his thoughts up his own arse as far as I’m concerned.

That man…

whoever he may be, deserves every unfortunate, blood on his hands type incident, coming his way.

So wrong. So very very wrong.

What’s worse than getting your information from the peel-off strip on a sanitary pad?

Being told one of the strange-but-true facts you’ve read on the peel-off strip … by a man.

True story.

Freaked me out.

There’s a rule about not going through the bathroom bin, right?

By the way, NOT the Professor.


when a foodie goes bad…

rock bottom has arrived.

Heartburn has driven me to hurl too many times in the last week.

Tonight, for dinner, I ate two slices of Burgen rye with one slice of ham and… deep breath… Masterfoods Corn Relish.

What’s worse. It tasted so very very good.

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