I’ve got a mum and I am a mum. Which means I am going to be on the giving and receiving end during this Mother’s Day. During the week while I was at the mall (my favourite place on earth….KILL ME NOW) I was saddened at the lack of decent gifts available for purchase and kind…

I’ve been hooked since the first episode of this unbelievably magnificent TV show. I have loyally stood by while all my favourite characters got slaughtered and the fate of the ones left seems cruelly predictable. But I keep watching. A lot has been said about the plot lines and evil mind of the show’s creator. Not enough…

Bitching Hour. Not actually an hour, but roughly the time between 5-7pm when you’ve got kids to feed, bathe, dress and sedate so they will go the fuck to sleep. In my house this is when all the major league unpleasant shit goes down. Hair is pulled, limbs are bitten, food is thrown and toys are smashed. And that’s…

Ah, the humble brag. One of the most annoying things on Facebook and all social media come to think of it. Nothing gets my back up more than someone who is unable to own their own apparent majesty and just fucking BRAG.

One of the things I miss most about the Facebook mums groups I’ve been kicked out of is the plethora of humble brags. Especially where cakes are concerned.

I’m going to warn you now, there is nothing funny about this post. You might want to pass over this one if you are the skipping, clappy handy type (not that there is anything wrong with that, gimme some please). And I promise something much more fun than this is coming on Friday.
I’ve had some really interesting messages over the past few weeks. Everything from Trolls telling me I suck, “fan mail” *chortle* to Far Kew and heartfelt messages from friends and complete strangers thanking me for the laughs. I love it. Some of them have been quite personal ones, telling me my rants are the only light part of their week as they are suffering from depression. And those ones hit a bit of a nerve.

Far Kew is fine with life, she gets a bit ranty throughout the week, but stuff just rolls off her. Me? Not so much in tune with the rolling.

I was pretty shitty to receive my Telstra bill this month seeing as I wasn’t able to use the service for a good few days during the last billing period. I had issues with the Telstra network going down like millions of others, and I also had issues with my home internet connection going down for…

I often need to take a quick trip up to Sydney for work purposes and usually the cheapest flights are with Tiger Air. They are relatively new to the scene, but legit enough that I will fly them and not worry about plummeting out of the sky in a fiery wreck.

Until this week.

My alarm went off at the unwelcome but not obscene time of 6am and I had a quick splash and kissed my kids goodbye. I had a dream run to the airport, arriving 1.5 hours before my flight was due to leave, which is unheard of for me as I am nearly always scrambling in there looking like a not-so-hot mess right at the last minute.

So many people asked me what my opinion of this gut wrenchingly awful video was that I could no longer stay silent.

You will no doubt have seen or at least heard about the apology video that Johnny Depp and his wife Amber Heard were forced to give yesterday as part of the punishment for smuggling their dogs Pistol and Boo undeclared into Australia last year.

Y’all know I hate to go shopping. It’s where the most insufferable fools like to hang out, seemingly just to give me the fucking shits.

If I want to make a place in a fiery hell-like situation seem preferable to living, I take my kids to the local shopping center and combine two of my most hated tasks. Shopping. And shopping with my children.

My local hell-hole, I mean mall, is your typical run-of-the-mill centre with the usual suspects available like Coles, Woolies, Target, JB Hi-Fi and a food court. But you cannot enter this place without finding those fucking vending machines selling life-threatening confectionery, cheap plastic trinkets or choke hazard bouncing balls. Or it could be those machines with the claw which I am certain they wax up so you never fucking win.

If you can get past those without your kids having an epic meltdown and almost dislocating your arm from pulling, you will be met in about 5 steps by one of those merry-go-round kiddie rides. Cue another epic meltdown if you do not let them at least sit on it for a couple of minutes. They have flashing lights, friendly paint-jobs and are super fucking appealing to kids.

I’ve spat out the same sad old lines time and time again “Sorry, mummy has run out of money.” “This one is broken.” “No, we don’t put money in these it’s a waste.” My kids are usually happy to sit on it and pretend for a few minutes while I muster up the strength to keep going.

Once they get their fill of the Wiggles’ Big Red Car or the Thomas The Tank Engine ride, we press on. But little more than 8 fucking steps later and there’s another one! YIPPPEEEEE.

I want to choke myself.