Rain on my Parade/ Stealth Bus

This week saw me back on the crossing, much to the chagrin of the stupidparkers who thought they'd manage to scare me off for good.  Suck it up, losers, I'm not that easy to get rid of.   Naturally it rained pianos for all four shifts, making for some hair raising driving manouvres and much low volume swearing from yours truly.  The highlight of the week involved a regular offender parking in the middle of the bus zone, and failing to notice the bus pulling up behind her.  I swear, I never knew council buses had cloaking devices or a stealth mode.....he was just SO quiet, inching up behind her and then leaning on the horn at the perfect moment. Sublime.  My ribs are still sore from excessive hee-hawing.  Sometimes, I love my job.

Dreamworld Bootcamp

Attention all masochists.....I have found the ultimate in carb cutting ultra-high-impact flab-shifting anti-gravity workouts. Cleverly marketed under the guise of a family day out, Dreamworld is set to replace The Biggest Loser and Survivor as the reality disaster epic of the new millenium.   Your quest begins when the combined moaning of your children forces you to put aside your plans for watching the Buffy marathon and agree to battle holiday traffic in search of Nirvana.  Or Coomera, whichever comes first.   Sensibly, you shanghai your other half, by promising him many non G rated things upon your safe return to civillisation.  You also rope in your best mate and her progeny, so that you have a selection of ages ranging from two to fifteen, guaranteeing that you will be forced to queue for everything from Wiggles World up to the Giant Drop.  Add a packed lunch, a collapsible stroller  and an extra large box of orange tic tacs and start your engines. 
As you enter through the hallowed portals, you realise that one of your children is walking round with his eyes shut.  After hitting several poles and one roving face painter, you drag him off to the Very Expensive Gift Shop to buy him some sunglasses to replace the ones he broke in the car on the way down.  This is followed by the opening chorus of "I'm hungry", which is repeated at three minute intervals throughout the day.  Can be temporarily muted by applying orange tic tacs to the affected area.   After application of tic tacs,  you'll need to don your referees jersey to break up the arguement over "where are we going first'. 
This is easily solved by sending "token Man' to take all the large male children into Alien Vs Predator while you visit Wiggles world for the first of many, many times.  Remeber to eat a Tangelo at some stage...they have clown repellant properties.  Repeat formula until insanity rears it's ungly head, or the sun goes down.  
Is is wine o' clock yet??

Kristian Unscrewed/ Captain Buszone and the Two Minute Warning.

Tomorrow is the last day of term one.  Thank GOD.  I dread to think what else Firstborn would have lost had school continued any longer.  Last week it was the trombone (left on the bus).  Today it's the laptop (left in the computer lab.  we hope. )  But the real killer is when he realises what he's forgotten. 
It goes something like this.....

Firstborn:  Hi mum.

Me : Hi sweetie.

FB:  How's things?

Me:  Fine thanks, how about you?

FB:  Oh, fine, fine......say, did I have my computer with me when I got off the bus??

We'll draw a premature curtain over the rest of this scene as I didn't post obscene language warnings at the beginning of this post.  SIGH.

Today also found me back on the crossing for the first time in 2 months after my Sebi-inspired sabatical.  I knew I'd been missed when a regular offender parked in the bus zone long enough to unload several children and yell  "Oh, bloody hell, you're back...thought they'd given you the sack!!"  Yes, I missed you too, asshole.  

Is it too early to unwrap my Easter eggs??

Lost and Found.

Firstborn left his trombone on the bus yesterday.  Again.   I swore a lot.  (quietly).  The bus depot people said they would ring if they found it.  They didn't. (ring, that is).  They had the wrong number.  They did find the trombone.  It's at Willawong, which is very not close to my house, so they're sending it to the city so I can pick it up from there.  So then it will be found.  In the meantime, I have lost my mind.  I'm hoping it's temporary.  The end.

I need sunshine on a cloudy day....

otherwise Second son is gonna be in it deep tomorrow.  His science experiments (of which I knew nothing, and you can tell the parent-of -the-year commitee that I don't care either, so there) are due tomorrow, and one of them requires placeing a jar of water in a sunny spot.  of which there are none because it's overcast and has been for two days.  If he'd done the work last week when he was supposed to, rabbit, mumble,etc.  So I am about to resort to placing said jar under my ultrabright magnifying headlice detecting lamp and hoping for the best.  I bet Einstein's mother never had to do this.

Dream a little dream......

Couldn't resist having a little play with one of the photos from last week's shoot.....

it still needs quite a bit of work, but you get the general idea, lol.

Sigh....to be 12 and in lurve with a sparkly dead guy.....

Chocolate Porn aka The Reason For My Existance

Eventually everyone works out why they're here.....

If you want to listen, you'll need to pause the music player on the sidebar.

PTI = PITA

and no it's not a mathematical formula, just a statement about my day.  This afternoon is PTI day at Cav....where the three parents with practically perfect children get to bask in their afterglow while the rest of us head for the assembly hall and ten minutes of ominous paper rustling and statements such as "I take it university is not playing a large role in your child's future".   Not that I'm expecting to hear that.....with firstborn the comments are more along the lines of  "I take it that your son wasn't expecting an interim report card which on arrival gave him a premature cardiac event, the result of which will be a marked increase in results by the end of the semester ".     He's one of those kids whose best efforts emerge under threat of death.    If only facebook was graded.