When you eat chocolate, but it’s really poo …

Plate full of delicious chocolatesChocolate and poo are on opposite ends of the gourmet spectrum {even though one turns into the other … eventually!}  I know this is a topic that may turn your stomach, but some stories just must be told!  And I should thank my husband, at this point, for being the best “blog material” around.

He has been known to “steal” chocolate from our children; and they have grown up with the knowledge that if their Dad can see it, it’s fair game.  So, they now hide all chocolate from him.  He even sleep-walks to the fridge and eats chocolate when he’s unconscious.  Truly!  {My post “I married a scary sleepwalking zombiewill enlighten you about his night-time antics!}

But one Easter, Karma paid a visit to the big chocolate thief.

Our son was a toddler at the time and was walking around the house eating his nice tasty Easter Egg, dropping much of it and leaving chocolate bits across the floor.  A bit like “Hansel and Gretel” leaving a track of bread crumbs to follow.  Like a starved sniffer-dog his Daddy was following him eating the chocolate trail.  But son didn’t just drop chocolate bits.  Unbeknownst to his Dad, a little poo land-mine escaped from his pants and landed amongst the chocolate pebbles.

I watched as my husband’s eyes bulged and his salivating tongue lolled out when he honed in on the largest brown nugget yet.  Like a seagull on a hot chip he swooped in and threw the brown morsel into his mouth, moaning with desire as he began to munch it and swoosh it around his teeth.  He froze.  Silence.  His face turned to one of horror as he leapt towards the kitchen sink, bent forward and began barfing into the bowl.  I ran to him, eyes watering, as I smelt a puff of his poo-breath when he screamed “THAT’S NOT CHOCOLATE!”  Oh, how we reap the seeds we sow.

Lesson:  “Just because it looks like chocolate … doesn’t mean it is!”

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

Image courtesy of stockvault-chocolate138839

 

 

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Shocked by the call girl who rang me

Lips with bright red lipstickThere’s one thing a woman never wants to hear when she picks up the phone …

“Hello, I’m Jenny and I work for an escort agency. I’m sorry to ring you but I need to speak to you about a call I received from your phone number last week.”

I was speechless. I had no idea how to respond, so I just said really slowly “Okay.”

I withdrew into my bedroom and shut the door so my children wouldn’t hear the call. Then she told me the news.

She received a couple of calls from my phone the previous week asking the prices of certain services. She said she is a mother too, and when she realised it was a “little boy” on the phone, and there was another one in the background giggling, she decided to let me know. Lucky for me, our phone number was displayed on her system.

She finished by saying “I just thought you might like to know.” Bless her little cotton socks – I wanted to know alright! I’ve never met a call girl or escort or prostitute or brothel worker, and I was so very, very grateful that she cared enough to ring me. She sounded absolutely lovely on the phone. I couldn’t thank her enough.

Now it was time to deal with those two rascals of mine.

I called the boys together and sat them down, and told them about the call I’d just received from the nice lady on the phone. They both confessed and said they were just joking and promised they’d never do it again.

However, Son 2 tried to win some brownie points and show how intelligent they were and said:-

“Don’t worry Mum, we didn’t use our phone. We used your work phone!”

WHAT???? They used a Government phone! To ring an escort agency! And now there was a record of it!

I was shame-faced as I reported my boys’ actions to the CEO of the Government Department I was working for at the time. He couldn’t help but bellow with laughter – because he has sons – and knows all too well the antics they are capable of.

Disaster averted.

© 2015 CEW

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The evil prank that stopped my husband’s heart

Terrifying black deadly snakeYou DON’T want to hear from your child … “Mum, if we tell you something, will you promise not to get us into trouble?” Oh Lord, what had my 12 and 14 year olds done when I was out shopping? The boys and my husband were extremely quiet, and there was a tense atmosphere in our home. Something, not good, had definitely gone down.

I thought for a moment, looked at both boys, and slowly said “Okay. I’m sure if you’ve done something wrong Dad would have dealt with it. What have you boys done now?”. {When I came home from shopping I asked Husband what was wrong as he looked like a grizzly bear that had eaten vinegar. He put up his hand and shook his head. I knew he wasn’t able to speak. Ohhhh; it must be REALLY bad and I’d find out eventually. It looked like the time was now.}

Sons sat opposite me at our kitchen bench and told me what they had done to their Dad … this time!

We live opposite a lot of land that has cattle on it, and in the summer we must be careful of snakes coming into our residential estate. In Australia in summer, we can get days as hot as 40 degrees (which is 104 Fahrenheit), and a week of this weather can be very stressful. This extremely hot day, sons went for a ride on their scooters around the block and found a dead snake on the footpath. They explained to me that they used the front wheel of their scooter and “sawed” the snake’s head off so they wouldn’t get hurt with the dead snake’s fangs and venom, put the snake’s body on their scooter, then sneaked it home. Just so you know, Australia has some of the deadliest snakes in the world!

I started to break out in a sweat, because when their colluding little heads get together it usually means one thing only – trouble!

Son explained that when they got home, they put the snakes body around the paint tins in our garage, so that when their dad went outside he would think there was a snake in the garage. They thought it would be funny.

Our garage is a bit like their man-cave. When the garage door is up the view is incredible, looking over the green wedge; and as far as the eye can see, there are no houses to block the beautiful panoramic view of the mountains in the distance. It’s the perfect place to contemplate the day, or even just relax in a peaceful space.

Son continued to tell me the story: “So dad went into the garage and we followed him. He saw the snake and put his arms out so we wouldn’t get close and he yelled out “SNAKE!” We said “Don’t worry Dad, we’ll save you” and we ran past him into the garage.”

Apparently Big brother picked up the snake by the tail and swung it around like it was a lasso then let it go and flung it into the paddock across the road.

When they turned around, laughing their noggins off, their father looked like he was having a seizure! He couldn’t even speak to them as he was stuttering, and grasping his chest. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d just seen. Sons, still laughing, said “It’s alright Dad, it was dead! We cut it’s head off before we bought it home!” They burst out laughing before realising their Dad did not find it one bit funny. All he could think of was his boys put themselves in grave danger and he couldn’t fathom it was another one of their pranks.

They sat in front of me and finished their story. Both of them were shame-faced.

I looked from Son 1 to Son 2, and couldn’t speak. I kept my lips clamped together and the pressure build up caused my face to turn bright red. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and roared with laughter. How could I get them into trouble.

It was sheer brilliance!

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

 

How to kill a pesky mouse before it kills you

mouse peeking out of a hole

I awoke from a deep sleep in the early hours to loud banging and screaming in my home.  I groggily rushed into the kitchen to find Son’s girlfriend rocking in the foetal position on the bench, giggling.  Husband and Son were bent over pulling stock out of the bottom of our pantry trying to find the mouse that just terrorised them.

The screaming I heard – that was the men when the mouse scurried from the pantry, skipped through their legs squeaking “Catch me if you can!”, turned around, and ran back – with its little erect tail giving them the proverbial “bird”.  Well, that’s how I like to picture it!

The hunt was on.  The battle had begun.

Round 1:  Set mouse trap with cheese

Son bought home a mousetrap. On his knees, bum in the air, with his face close to the trap and his tongue lolling out in concentration, he studiously set the trap with a juicy morsel of cheese; then went to bed.

He yelled with rage in the morning “You’ve got to be kidding me!”  He couldn’t believe that when he checked the mousetrap it was still set, but the cheese was gone; and there was no mouse in sight!

I couldn’t help but smile.  A tiny wittle mousey outsmarted him.

Winner:  Mouse

Round 2:  Set 4 mouse traps with cheese

He bought 4 mousetraps the next day, set them all with cheese then rubbed his hands with glee, a winners twinkle in his eye and an evil “mwah mwah mwah” laugh.  He was determined the mouse would be minced by morning.

Son was outfoxedmoused again.  Little Jerry was fattened up this night with his very own cheese platter before settling in for the night.

I started to respect the intelligence of this tiny field mouse immensely.  And yes, I liked him so much I named him Jerry.

Winner:  Mouse

Round 3:  Peanut Butter

Son:    “Mum, I’ve done my research.  Mice can’t resist peanut butter.”

Me:      “I don’t want you to get him, I like Jerry!”

Son:    “Don’t name him Mum, it will just make it harder for you when I kill him!”

He baited the traps with peanut butter.  Jerry obviously did like peanut butter as he cautiously removed them from the traps, leaving them to be discovered mouse-less the next day.

Winner:  Jerry

Round 4

nooski mouse trapSon bought the big guns out.  The MOTHER of all mouse traps.  THE NOOSKI.

I was disgusted that my Son had resorted to this way of sending poor little Jerry to heaven.  I hoped he had the intelligence of Albert Einstein so he would elude the dreaded Nooski and live another day.

Jerry went to heaven that night, with a full tummy of cheese and peanut butter and hopefully a smile on his face, knowing that he was loved by me.

RIP Jerry.  You gave us so much entertainment that week.  You were one smart mouse.

Ps:  We do have a cat. We found her asleep in the spare room guarding a little field mouse who was also curled up and fast asleep.  She just wanted a friend….

© 2015 CEW

Why do they laugh at my cooking?

Shrek screamingI’m not ashamed to admit that I have the – occasional – cooking mishap.  I should just NOT cook food.  EVER.  End of story.

Son:     Mmmm.  Mum, you should taste Karen’s cup-cakes! Nom Nom Nom
Me:      God didn’t bless all Mum’s with the good cooking gene love. {I sound wise}
Son:     Oh… I know that!
Me:      What do you mean – you know that? {What the?}
Son:     Remember when we were little and you made us gingerbread men?
Me:      Yes.  {I slaved over the bleedin’ oven for hours making those.}
Son:     Well, every time you made them, we spat them over the back fence to the neighbour’s dog.
Me:      WHAT??  I thought you liked them so I kept making them.
Son:     We didn’t.  And we had to keep spitting them over the back fence!

Little shites.

Then there’s the saga of my infamous … Lemon Meringue Pie.

Square pastry in a round pie tinIf I really was wise, I would have given up at the beginning of my attempt when I tried putting square pastry into a round tin.  But clever me found a way!  See?

It went downhill from there though.  I made the yellow-lemony-filling bit but must have done something wrong.  The boys were hysterical after tasting it.  Where oh where have I gone wrong this time? I tasted it myself.  I tried to pretend it tasted nice but my face screwed up and one eye automatically squinted closed on its own like a stink-eye, the hair on the back of my neck quivered and my toes curled backwards. But wait!  I know this taste … but I can’t quite pick where I’ve tasted it before.  I pretend the lemony-filling tastes delicious to protect my pride.  Maybe I can convince my boys to give it a go.  “That’s actually REALLY delicious” I pronounce deceptively.  They laugh louder.

Me:       Who wants to lick the bowl?
Boys:   Bahahaha!

I have an epiphany … I recall where I’ve tasted this sour flavour before!  If you want to know what my lemon meringue pie tasted like, follow these instructions carefully {you can do this while you are reading this post, so stay seated}:
1.  Lift up your right hand
2.  Point your finger in the air
3.  Turn your hand so your finger is now pointing towards your head
4.  Push said finger deep into your ear canal up to the 1st knuckle
5.  Turn finger to the left and right and dig in deep, making sure you snag a warm and claggy globule of ear wax
6.  Wipe ear wax on your taste buds and enjoy!

Yep, that’s what my lemon meringue pie tasted like.

After a short investigation of my recipe and methods, I decided it must be my lemon tree!  I picked some lemons off the tree and went to the garden centre where I bought the damn tree.

I said to the customer service officer, handing her one of my lemons “Excuse me, what do you call this?”  She looked at me as if I was simple. “A lemon.”   “NO, it looks like a lemon, but it tastes like ear wax!”  She called over a few of the “experts”.  They got a knife, cut it in half, and inspected the alleged lemon.  They all said … “It’s a lemon”.

I demanded “It’s NOT a lemon. Taste it!”   To shut me up, the three of them cut a small wedge out and popped it into their mouths.  I wore an “I told you so face” as I watched all of their faces contort.  “What the hell is that?” one of them exclaimed.

“I’ll tell you what it is … it’s Shrek’s bloody ear wax!” I said.

We ripped the tree out of the ground and planted a new dwarf lemon tree the following week.

To read about my disastrous sausage casserole, go to The sausage casserole that was banned for life“.

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

INSPIRED BY GIBRAN

Some poetry is like beautiful music, and this is one. Simply beautiful.
I reblogged this post because …
https://catinthecactus.com/2015/09/22/how-to-pay-the-reblog-blessing-forward/

random rants ruminations ramblings

“If you reveal your secrets to the wind,
you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.”

I whispered my secret to the four winds

An eavesdropping cloud breezing past, picked it up and ascended heavenward

The wind carried it silently to the trees

Murmuring among themselves, the branches spread the word across the forest

View original post 88 more words

I lied in a job interview

Romantic vampire at beautys neckHave you even been interviewed for a position that you really, REALLY want? And they ask you a question that you know you CAN’T honestly answer or you may be judged – and not get the job? I have.

I was called in for a 2nd interview and this time it was with the CEO of a global company. We discussed my experience and we seemed to be getting along pretty well. I quite liked him and thought we would work great together. He then asked me …

“What do you like to do on weekends? Do you play any sports?”

Was the man blind? I looked down at my “robust” physique then stared him straight in the eye, trying to get the “cocked eyebrow” look but failed dismally, and said “Do I look like I play sports?” I’m not sure he knew what to say to that, so taking pity on him I said “I love to read.” {My body was made for reading more than sports.} I could almost see the relief on his face as he said “What sort of books do you read?”

OH. SHIVERS. I stayed silent for a moment, knowing I couldn’t possibly tell him the truth. What was I supposed to say? “Oh, I like vampire books where the wicked vampire sucks erotically on the poor damsel in distress’ throat, they fall in love, and live happy ever after … after he has his wicked way with her … on numerous occasions – of course.”

I replied slowly … “murder mysteries.” I imagine my voice slowed down and went high pitched at the end; so my response sounded more like a question … “mmmurder mysssteries???” He said “What are you reading at the moment?”   Oh crap, I couldn’t think of one single murder mystery – because I’d never read one in my life! I blabbed something about having a break from murder mysteries and remembered I’d downloaded a book months ago about the plight of the jews after the war, and I’d read the first chapter, so I mentioned this book.

I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I know that in itself it was probably not a huge deal, but at the end of the day, I evaded the truth. And I’m the sort of person that agonises over honesty, character and integrity.

I got the job but felt awful that I couldn’t answer that question and skirted the truth. I needed to make amends, so I did this …

I downloaded my first murder mystery … then I read it! I negated the lie, didn’t I?

Phew, close call.

Ok, ok.   So I will tell him the truth soon!! I promise.

© 2015 CEW

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