Can’t sleep

am too nervy about tomorrow. So some random thoughts for you all.
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This whole deliciously deceptive thing with Jerry Seinfeld’s wife is shitting me. I saw her on Oprah very briefly the other day and my first thought was “who is this Charlotte impersonator on Oprah” then saw all these gloriously smooth purees of vegetables being hidden in other foods and it was all a revelation with all these stupid women in the audience clapping AT NOTHING.
Neck.still.itching.
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Sometimes if I catch a bit of Oprah I can’t actually hear anything that’s going on because I’m trying to work out what’s going on with her hair.
I.am.so.shallow.
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I know this isn’t my weightloss blog, but some decent anxiety attacks and (I think) a tummy bug means I’ve lost 5.8kgs.
My jeans might fit by 2010 at this rate.
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I made six cakes today for the school’s cake stall tomorrow. When I dropped them off this afternoon they were so appreciative. There was such a pathetic contribution from the school community that I’m trying to work out how I could whip up a few batches of brownies and even some lamingtons (for the first time ever) between now and 8am tomorrow.
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We’re going to Luna Park tomorrow. Oscar got an invite through some charity thing. Boys are so excited. Going over like a bucket of cold sick with me. Am trying to feign excitement but am just stoked it starts early and is over by 11. Can come home and shower hard to get rid of all those carnie germs.
Am such an ungrateful bitch.
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In dropping off cakes at school got to talk to special needs coordinator about Oscar and aide ‘issue’, which is only an issue because I’ve made it one IN.MY.HEAD. All is good. Well as good as it can be with a public education system continually falling back on theory and practice that is THIRTY GODDAMN YEARS out of date when it comes to kids with special needs.
One day will be in position to instigate change at a macro level for these kids. One day.
Maybe I’ll run for the Senate.
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Open letter to Australian commercial TV programmers,
Please explain to me why it seems logical to you to stream “LIVE! FROM THE US!” episodes of some dumb-arse hocus pocus series and some other CSI type show around numbers but not the latest America’s Next Top Model or Project Runway. WHY WHY WHY???
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Girls names I would have loved to have used:
Piper
Scout
Harriet
Sage

weird that Matilda and Eliza don’t make the cut and yet they were the ones topping our list for a DECADE of breeding that has now come to a close.

and some boys ones… because we all know if there had been one final try for a girl we would have ended up with twin boys:
Milo
Otis
Oliver
Sage

Yes, its on both lists.
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In the last three days Grover’s tasted yoghurt, mango, stewed apple and pears and pumpkin. Most of them because he’s dived on them and others because I keep kind of forgetting he doesn’t eat solids yet and just keep offering them to him. Today I gave him a toast finger as I was cutting it up for Jasper.
Must remember, baby doesn’t eat yet.
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Bec’s new niece was born this week and is missing a toe. It seems such a strange thing to be missing. But I keep getting visions of Uma Thurman in Even Cowgirls Get the Blues and somehow just get this feeling this girl is going to have some serious spunk.
Think of all the people you know with some quirky little physical quirk about them. They all rock. They have wicked senses of humour or an incredible aptitude for something. A friend of mine has a third nipple. And yes, it lactacted when she had her babies.
Now that is just plain weird.
But how we laughed and laughed about it together.
And talk about the best party trick EVAH.
Anyway, I want to scoop this new little girl up and whisper in her ear to take no prisoners as she takes on this world as only someone with nine toes can.
Feeling weirded out that I don’t even know them but feel connected to them.
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It’s 1am, I’m going to attempt sleep.

Like the night before Christmas but for grown-ups

In Australia tomorrow we have a national election. Apart from the fact this election has been a long time in the making (both parties have been in serious electioneering mode for the better part of 18 months… well it feels like that long at least) and if the polls are to be believed we’re about to get ourselves a Prime Minister called Kevin.

I’m excited and skittish like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. But with it comes a level of anxiety and apprehension. I am a Labor girl. Have been for a very long time. I remember discovering with some horror at a relatively young age (as in I was in primary school) that both my parents are dyed-in-the-wool blue ribbon Liberal voters and some of my teenage angst was how on earth I would survive being surrounded by such capitalistic snobbery. Ahhh, the teenage years. So delightful in their intensity.

Anyway… I may be a Labor supporter but that doesn’t necessarily mean I believe they make good government. Does that make sense. And before all your bloody Libs start carrying on about interest rates under Keating just sit back down and shut your collective trap. The NSW Labor Government is truly appalling. APPALLING. Inept, bureaucratic, bumbling and with no vision of just how to manage the day to day machinations of government let alone a vision. They simply don’t get ‘it’ on any level. I think Beattie’s team got it in Queensland and it will be interesting to see if that remains now he has gone. I’m not sure how people in the other States and Territories feel about their governing parties but I’m far from impressed by the Premier of Tasmania who seems to simply be channelling Bargearse (see below).

So you see, I am desperate to see sneaky John Howard gone and smarmy Peter Costello well and truly out of the picture to ever EVER be Prime Minister of this country (I would begin serious investigations to emigrate anywhere than live under his leadership) but I am so very very nervous that if IF Kev and the crew somehow manage to win the 16 (SIXTEEN) seats they’d need to take office they’ll fuck it up.

So Kevin, if you are one of my three male readers, please Please PLEASE don’t fuck it up.

OH the anticipation is making my neck itch.

It’s also compulsory to vote in this country and Hallelujah I say to that. Sure, there are some conscientious objectors who write things like “Bronwyn is a dragon” on the ballot paper instead of neatly numbering each of the boxes to render their vote null and void, but all in all, most Australians take their voting pretty seriously and pay it the respect it deserves. I know this because I’ve worked at a couple of election booths in my time, and certainly not as a party hack but as one of those marking your name off and counting the eleventy gagillion pieces of paper at the end of the day (it truly appeals to the obsessive compulsive lover or getting things in order in me) and for every donkey vote there are a hundred proper ones, if not more. It actually makes me a little bit proud.

Anyways, the best bit about an election is heading to your local school not only to cast your ballot, but to get a burnt sausage on a piece of white bread with some tomato sauce and something very home made from the cake stall. Talk about a sense of accomplishment on all levels.

For the first time ever, I am on high baker alert and several of my creations will be on sale at Oscar’s school tomorrow. I do hope someone takes them home and enjoys them with a restorative cup of strong tea. Recipes will be appearing over here in due course.

Behold, great Australian television, Bargearse:

It’s scary, it’s very very scary

It started with this:

And regardless of how you vote, this reply is pretty funny and on the mark: