Monday, 19 March 2018

Fighting Weight

It's official. Australia is one of the fattest countries in the world.

Cool! When do they give us a trophy and more importantly, is it coated in chocolate?

I guess someone should make an acceptance speech. Maybe it should be along the lines of "I'd like to thank Sam's fish and chips without which none of this could be possible. And of course, not forgetting our inspiration Ronnie McD and the Colonel?"

Yes ladies and gentlemen, we used to be girt by sea and now we're girth by sea. Speaking of the sea, maybe the ocean levels are not rising at all. Maybe Australia is sinking because if all the fatty boombahs.

If you haven't caught up with the news, according to a survey, Australians could challenge for the heavyweight champions of the world. They would give us a belt, but it wouldn't fit.

Remember when Thorpie won all that gold at the Olympics? We were all so quick to say "go Australia, we're number one. Champions at swimming".  My point being, as much as we liked claiming it as a victory, we had bugger all to do with it, whereas now we've been named as one of the fattest countries in the world, each one of us can look down at our beer gut, man boobs, love handles, and think "I helped".

Now before we try to complain that we're all just big boned, retaining water in case there's another drought, or hoping we'll be super contestants if "The Biggest Loser" returns, we should look at the facts.

Obesity is becoming a bigger problem down under than drugs. Forget crack addicts, we have Big Mac addicts. Maybe we need sniffer dogs at airports, not to check on people bringing in drugs but people bringing in Krispy Kremes.

All jokes aside, with the rising cost of fuel forcing airlines to charge higher luggage fees, there have been calls for them to weigh passengers rather than luggage. While I understand the logic, this seems a bit cruel.  Can't imagine standing at the counter and hearing "I'm sorry sir. You already have your excess baggage with you."

Something else ......

I'll turn 30 something in May. And here's to a few more years. Why, then, does it feel like the extended warrantee on my body ran out years ago?  Lately it seems that everything has started to all apart.

I first started to notice it when something like moving my body came with it's own soundtrack. Five years ago, when I got out of bed, it was done silently. These days it's accompanied by a groan similar to a Hungarian weightlifter competing in the clean and jerk crossed with the type of phone call that costs $5.95 per minute. (Are they still available?)

  I'm getting old. Till next time folk.

Friday, 2 March 2018

Taxi Drivers - Love 'em

Clearly my mouth and brain, which usually work reasonably well together, have had irreconcilable differences and decided to part company.

The final straw came during a recent blackout when I popped next door to find out if my neighbour's power, gas or water were working.  Well that was the intention.. But when they opened the door, the first words I said were "do you have gas?"

Going right off the point.

I catch cabs often. That's what happens when you drink with breakfast. (Steady on, I'm joking.) So I've compiled a list of my worst worst taxi offences.

First the taxi driver who doesn't know where he's going. I'm not suggesting that they should know where everything is. Even God misplaces Guam occasionally. But there's nothing worse than getting into a cab at the airport and being asked the best way to get to where I'm going. Look I have absolutely no problem with the cabbie having to look up the address, but I'd rather he did so before starting the meter rather than halfway into the trip and then hand me the street directory and look it up for him.

"Dude, I'm not your navigator and this is not The Amazing Race.  Would it be easier if I drive so you can have a snooze? Although I expect you to sling me a couple of bucks for the trip and no, I don't have change for fifty."

Then there's the driver who knows the most direct route, but chooses not to take it.  "Hey mate, I'm no Miss Melways (street directory) but I'm pretty sure the most direct route to the MCG is not via the Sydney Opera House. But here's an idea. How about you ask whoever you've been taking on the phone to if they know the most direct route?"

In their defence, taxi drivers do have to put up with incredible crap from the public. If cabbies he a dollar for every time someone asked "been busy tonight, mate?" , I might be able to get change for my fifty.

And then there are the drunks. From the footy players who've mistaken the taxi for a clown car and are trying to cram fifteen people into 4 seats to the clown who open the door and asks the driver "Do you have room for 4 slabs, 2 pizzas and half a dozen souvlaki?

That's why it's great when you get a cabbie occasionally who restores your faith in the entire profession. It happened to me recently when a taxi cane to pick me up and he was, ready for this?, towing a caravan.

It was the most Australian thing I've ever seen. Turns out he was going on holidays and figured he may as well make some money on the way. His family were in the caravan and he was taking fares but only if they were heading in the direction of Queensland.

What a guy. Right attitude.

More next month.

Sunday, 29 October 2017

A repair person I'm not!

When it came to fixing things around the house, it's safe to say I was never a handy woman.

When we were growing up, my brother and I were never really good at building stuff. In fact the only time I rubbed shoulders with someone in overalls, was when our parents took us to a K.D. Lang concert, the only carpenters I knew were in my parents record collection and the only time I'd used Selley's Liquid Nails was when I found some under the sink once and tried to bake a cake with it.

For most of my life, I was the sort of person who was less DIY and more DIYTCAETRD (Do It Yourself Then Call An Expert To Repair Damage) type of person. Even Jesus had more luck around wood and nails than I did.

In the past, the only thing I was good at was picking up the phone to call 'hire-a-hubby'.  Shouldn't use the line 'is great doing odd-jobs around the house' and my name in the same sentence. I once got a flat tyre on my Holden Barina (hello young ladies), and when the RACV couldn't come for over an hour, I called my mum and she talked me through it. Yes as far as doing 'blokey' things I think I'm slightly behind Julie Bishop but way ahead of  Malcolm Turnbull.

I had to call a plumber because of a leaking tap.  As it's not my place I called a couple and the first one to arrive was getting the job. As it happens, they both arrived at the same time, or thereabouts. So I was stuck with one tap and two plumbers.

As somebody who chose air travel as a job because it's sort of indoors, and no heavy lifting (usually), I greatly admire people who actually work for a living. Plus, with plumbers, I feel we're kind of in the same line of work. It's just that I talk it, and they make sure it get's flushed away,

Anyway, at the end of a long day with them working in the rain and me lingering awkwardly, I decided to try to bond with the bonza blokes (Aussie lingo) by getting them a bloody beer. (Sorry. Again I learnt this Aussie bloke talk from watching Alf in Hone and Away).

So I went to the fridge looking for a good blokes beer like VB or Fosters, only to be greeted by a range of designer ales with names so complex they sounded like they were named after Angelina Jolie's kids.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, they didn't want to charge me because 'you're a visiting Aussie. I love Aussues.'

Yes, I'm Aussie. I love Australia. I couldn't be more Aussie if I was riding a kangaroo down the Main Street, eating a vegemite sandwich, drinking a VB and staring at a picture of Warnie.

I reckon most Aussies would say that in certain areas, we've always seen ourselves as superior to the Brits. Weather immediately spring to mind. Oh, and sport! Sometimes I suspect we'd be happy to come second last in the Olypics, as long as Great Britain came last. Well actually third last, as we have to beat New Zealand too

Remember when Britain beat us at the Olympics? It basically knocked  all other news off the front page. Suddenly no-one cared about terrorism. Forget the bombs, we were beaten by the Poms!

And beaten we were. Every mathematician in the country was pulled off important research to prove that we won more medals 'per capita' than Great Britain.

I'm depressed now. Back next month.

Sunday, 10 September 2017

Ho hum ... Another cold

One of the most embarrassing things in life is when you become the thing you used to hate. That's why it absolutely pains me to admit that I drive a 4 wheel drive.

Yep folks, I am one of those road-hugging, petrol guzzling, enviroment destroying, talk on the mobile while driving, complete and utter tossers who drive a 4WD in the city.

Hi, my name is Katelyn and I'm a tool.  For some reason I can't remember, when I went and got ths car, I decided I needed a 'truck' to go off road in. I've had it for a bit of time now, and the only time I've come close to going off road, is when I stuffed up a reverse park and ended on the nature strip.

Let's be honest here, the only bush bashing I've ever done involved an ex US president and the closest I have ever gotten to driving through creeks or busting through sand dunes, is when I occasionally forget to slow down for a speed hump.  I feel increasingly stupid driving a 4WD, when I never take it into the country.

Do you know, you can even buy spray-on dirt now so that you can give your 4WD that off-road look, even if you've never been anywhere near th back country?

I live in the city. Why do I need a 4WD anyway? So I can get to the next set of traffic lights faster???


I'm going off the topic again. I wasn't going to talk 4WDs.

What I was going to mention, I've got a damn cold!  I was going to the chemist to buy something for it.

Have you ever noticed, when you get a cold, it's never really just a cold?  It seems like I'm convinced for some reason or other, that I have bird flu.  It's amazing how a cold can turn us into complete babies.

I also noticed I've become really rude to people.  "Oh, you've got a cold! Don't give it to me." Yeah, that's what I was going to do. I feel so great, I want to share it!

What really makes me grumpy is that I can't believe, in this day and age, we still don't have a cure for th common cold. Surely our brainy boffins should spend a little less time trying to fit a camera, MP3 player and microwave into our mobile phones and a little more time trying to cure our colds. It's a screwed up world that offers more nasal sprays to give guys an erection than there are to unblock our noses.

Of course, there being no cure didn't stop my friends suddenly thinkng they all had medical degrees.
'You've got to eat more garlic' they advised. Oh, you bloody think so!  I had garlic tablets and ate garlic mushrooms and garlic bread, but they didn't prevent my cold. However on the up side, I became totally immune to vampires. On the downside, males kept away from me.

"Have you taken some echinacea?" What?  It sounds like somewhere I would go for holidays.

So finally after a few days of feeling sorry for myself, I dragged myself off to the doctor who took one look at me and said "Oh you've got a cold. Go back to bed."

Well thank God I got a medical opinion!  I'm going back to bed!

Sunday, 27 August 2017

Natural Selection

Is it just me, or are today's shopping malls so confusing, you have to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to find your way out once you've finished with your shopping?

I suspect the reason you see so many pensioners sitting on benches isn't because they need a break from shopping, it's because they came in when they were young, got lost and now live in Bras 'n Things.

In fact, I think I smell a TV show here - Survivor:Westfield. You're challenge today is to avoid being stopped by mobile phone salespeople. Winner to get free mini muffin at Muffin Break!

The problem with my local shopping centre is that I can never find my car.  I swear they rotate the entire centre around the minute I walk through the automatic doors. I'm convinced that the carpark levels whirl on some sort of rotisserie.

Anyway, going right off the point.

What I was going to mention before being side tracked are all the warnings on packaging. I began reading them and honestly, couldn't stop.

I was looking for some sleeping pills for an overseas flight - "warning may cause drowsiness". Really? Phew, glad you told me. It's like Asprin having a warning "may relieve the symptoms of a headache". Or on a Viagra packet "may cause grandpa to chase grandma around the kitchen table'..

Then there was the electric power drill that comes with the warning - "not to be used as a dental drill".  Who is that warning for?

Or the hair colouring that comes with the warning - "do not use as ice-cream topping". Huh? Who is that for?

Hair dryers used to come with the warning - "do not use while taking a shower".  Again I feel like this one falls under the heading of 'moron'. At the very least, because using it while in the shower must limit its effectivness. 'I have it on high, but for some reason my hair is still wet'.

This s right up there with the toilet brush that tells us - "do not use orally". I'm not going to go there.

One of my favourites is the dishwasher with the instructions -  "do not let children play in the dishwasher". For heaven's sake, they'll get wet. I guess you could always dry them off in the dryer. Or use the microwave it's much quicker.

But without doubt my absolute favourite was the mattress that cane with the warning - "do not attempt to swallow".  Now this warning both  amuses and disturbs me for a couple of reasons - someone has tried this and how stoned would you have to be to try eat a mattress?

I give up! Incidentally did you know that 31 Australians died while watering Xmas trees while the lights were on? Natural selection?

Monday, 28 November 2016

Thank you

Hi all

You probably know by now, the medical problems I've been going through. I'd like to say a few thank yous, if you'll allow me.

I had my stroke while I was writing on Twitter, and I'd like to thank the person I was writing to for all he did. His quick thinking helped me a lot. Thank you. You know who you are.

To the doctors and nurses at the hospital, thank you. You had 4 months of my life. You were wonderful. Thanks you again.

To my brother thank you. Mum and dad would have been so proud. Thank you David, thank you Sue and also the kids.

To my wonderful friends, Keith, Rebecca, Bella, Paul, Terry, Anna, Desi, Nikki, Carly, Katrina and all the others. Thank you for being there.

To Qantas, thank you for all you did.

Lastly to all my Twitter friends, a massive thank you for still being there. I missed you all.

Thank you all, again, and I'll be back next month.


Chain Letter are great, right?

I got some great news recently.  It seems the wife of a former Nigerian President had heard that I am “honest and reliable”.  Pretty impressive, huh?  It was all there in her email.  I don’t know how she got my address, but it was perfect timing.
You see I was about to apply for a load and I really needed some decent references.  I was certain I’d get the cash because I had the tick of approval from someone as impressive as the wife of the former Nigerian President.

OK, right.  And I have a bridge in Sydney I can sell you!

Another thing that irks me, aside from these spam emails, are chain letters.
OK, I have to ask, does anyone actually fall for this crap?  Is there any mental giant out there who really thinks Bill Gates built his fortune by sending $1,000 to anyone who forwards an email?
Surely if it were that easy to make money on the net, financial advisors would be doing it:  “Well, Kate, we’re going to put half your money into blue-ribbon stocks like BHP Billiton and the other half in internet chain letters.  You should be living in a gold house by the end of the month”.
Personally, I think there is a special corner in hell reserved for people who pass chain letters on, especially the ones that promise bad luck if you don’t forward them.
I mean, what sort of friend sends you something that is basically a threat, saying “If you don’t do what I say bad things are going to happen to you”?  Well, unless your friend’s email is –
And it’s always the weirdest threats, like “Mr. John Smith of Made-Upville refused to pass on this letter, and for the rest of his life, he suffered from really bad hat hair.  And a man from  Darwin refused to send on his letter and he still lives in Darwin.”  Tremble at the power of the letter!
“Another man decided to throw the letter in the bin.  Soon after he was forced to listen to Cliff Richards over and over again.  He was then stabbed in his sleep, which he actually saw as a stroke of good luck because it meant that he didn’t have to listen to Cliff Richards any more.
What I love about these stories, though, is how quickly someone’s fortune can turn around.  “An oil tycoon named George received this email and didn’t pass it on.  He immediately lost his fortune and was then captured by aliens who probed him and then feasted on his brains until they dropped him back on earth as a brainless zombie.  Having been completely removed of anything resembling intelligence, he decided to forward the email to all his friends, and in two days he was elected President of the United States of America.” 
Well, actually, now that I think about it, that one could be true.
Of course the question has to be asked by anyone with half a brain:  if a person didn’t pass on the letter and then died tragically – as many of these letters claim – how would anyone know?
I’ve never seen that episode of CSI:  “Well we’ve ruled out murder, accidental death and suicide, it can only be one thing.  He didn’t respond to a chain letter”.
They are complete crapola, and I don’t care how many dollar signs, capital letters or exclamation marks you put in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, and whatever the letter is about, it was always started by monks.
And you know what?  I don’t give a toss if it has been around the world five times.  So has Paris Hilton and come to think about it – so have I, and I’m not about to send myself to 5 of my friends.

Anyway, if you enjoyed reading this, please email it to 50 of your closed friends in the next 50 seconds or you will DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, maybe not even next month, but sometime – in the next 100 years, almost definitely.  Seriously, trust me!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I mean would I lie to you???????????  The wife of the Nigerian President says I’m honest and reliable$$$$$$$!!!!!!