Warning – My best friend spews at the worst times

little girls - best friendsMy best friend has a weak stomach. She tends to vomit at the worst times imaginable – causing public humiliation for me – as well as for her {I should think}.

My first experience with her publically displaying the contents of her stomach was when we both worked in the city.  We were on a train during the peak hour rush; of all places!  She hadn’t been well and the doctor had prescribed her penicillin.  We were in the back corner of a very crowded carriage and there was no way we could get off the express train.  She didn’t look good and kept turning pale, and was whispering to me “I think I’m going to be sick!” She started emptying her plastic bag that held her lunch and whisper-yells “I can’t hold on, it’s coming!” As her concerned friend, I told the people around us to … “Stand back, she’s going to barf!!” She grabbed the handles of her plastic bag, opened it, leaned her head in, then projectile vomits her breakfast in one long fat stream.  And what did the stupid commuters do that were near us?  They all leaned forward to get a good look!  When they saw the multi-coloured rainbow spewing forth, they jumped back horrified.  Serves themselves right.  I hoped they enjoyed the accompanying smell.  It surely cleared the carriage when the train stopped.

Then there’s her moment of fame in front of thousands of people …

My husband and I, with her and her boyfriend, went to the horse races for a famous racing day. She apparently ate an off dim sim from a vendor.  It didn’t take long before it needed to make a reappearance.  We had no idea where the toilets were, so she ran to what looked like a sink in the middle of the spectator area, and emptied her guts.  Oh no … it was a public drinking fountain, on a hot day!  How is it that you eat some dim sims, and bring up vegetable soup? We needed to take her home, and fast!

As we walked to the car park, she clenched her stomach with her hands and looked for a safe place to … well, you know … go again. She saw a grill on the ground and made a bee-line for it.  She just leaned forward and let go, in the standing position.  Unfortunately, a lovely picnic blanket was on the ground not far away, and a group of well dressed ladies looked at her and made comments about “disgusting drunk women”!

Imagine my horror when I looked up – to see this all happened in front of the main grand-stand, in front of thousands of people. Many of them were pointing, laughing, and I’m sure I even heard a round of applause for her.  Actually, a group of bogans even gave her a standing ovation.

In the car on the way home, she opened the window, leaned out on a crowded highway, and off she goes again! Carrots, bile, yellow-looking soup rolled down the side of my car, and sprayingly greeted all those that were behind us.

I try to be a compassionate best friend, really I do. But I suck at it!

© 2015 CEW

Image courtest of <a href=’http://www.freepik.com/free-vector/best-friend-greeting-card_801192.htm’>Designed by Freepik</a>

What do Aussies really think of Halloween?

pumpkin with glowing eyesDo you really want to know what most Australians think of Halloween?  OK, you asked for it!  We think it’s … stupid!

Maybe it’s because we just do not understand it. Most of my Blog Followers are from the USA and Canada, so I apologise up front if I’ve offended you.  Here’s your opportunity to sock it to me – and educate me.

I am always prepared at home on Halloween night though. But not with candy.  Not with decorations.  Not with a skeleton sitting on my veranda in an old rickety rocking chair.  Not with fake cobwebs strewn over the front door.  Oh nooooo.

I prepare myself like this:-

I speed up the driveway and park in the garage, running to close the garage door in a weird running-crouchy position before any of the little witches and ghosts walking up the street see me.

In my home I shut all of my curtains and blinds. I turn the TV down so the house seems silent.  I tell the boys “If anyone knocks on the door, DON’T ANSWER IT! I’m pretending we’re not home.”

When Husband arrives home I usher him into the house and warn him with angry wife eyes “don’t make a sound!”

Are you getting the picture?  I’m like Ray Romano when his parents come to visit in “There’s something about Raymond”.  {Love that show!}

I don’t understand how …

We tell our kids never to speak to strangers or “accept lollies off strangers” – paedophile alert and all. So why is it ok for them to knock on strangers doors and get treats from them at Halloween?  I’d be terrified with terrorism that it’s a perfect way to attack Westerners – by handing out poisoned sweets.

Nope – not for me.

So last night was Halloween, and I ignored every knock at the door – the whole 3 of them! I guess it really was a “trick” to those trick and treaters.

So my answer to the little goblin’s question of “Trick or Treat” is this … “TRICK” … as I really was home!  Mwa  Mwa Mwaaaaaaaaaa {evil laugh}

*******************

© 2015 CEW

Image courtesy of <a href=”http://www.freepik.com/free-vector/vectors_753287.htm”>Designed by Freepik</a>

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

 

 

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

Image courtesy of <a href=’http://www.freepik.com/free-vector/i-love-lipstick_799058.htm’>Designed by Freepik</a>

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

Like on Facebook

What happens when you wear the wrong undies?

Dogs with surprised expressions on their faces

I should never have left the house without first checking that I had my good undies on.  Mum always said “make sure you’ve got good underwear on as you never know what could happen”.  I’ve heard that many older mothers say this in case we “get hit by a bus”.  As usual, I ignored my Mum.

I excitedly left home for my job interview at a major Bank and didn’t give any thought to my underwear.  I only cared about what I looked like on the outside.  {First impressions, you know!}

My interview went fantastic!  So much so, that I was immediately sent to a clinic to have a medical check.  I’d never had a medical examination for a job before so I had no idea what to expect.  Maybe an eye test, hearing test and blood pressure check?

I entered the doctors room.  After introductions were made the doctor stood up and said in his very thick foreign accent “I’m going outzide.  I vant you to get all yor clothez ov.  But leaf your panties and brazzz on, den get on di bed and pull de sheet up to here”  and he pointed to his chin.  {Translation in my head – strip off down to my knickers and bra, jump on the bed and pull the sheet up to my chin.}  Got it!  As soon as he left I hurried to get my clothes off, as I didn’t want him to walk in when I was bending over to get my socks off and be greeted by a um … horrid… sight.  But as I pulled my slacks off I noticed my undies.  I stared towards my own crotch in horror, mouth agape.

OH. MY. GOSH! They were not nice girly panties I was wearing. Oh No!  I would have stabbed myself in the temple with an ice pick if I had one handy just to get myself out of this predicament.  A few months ago I had bought my boyfriend some cheeky undies for Christmas but they were a bit small for him.  So instead of taking them back to the shop, I just put them in my own drawer.  And wore them on occasions.  Because I didn’t think anyone would ever know!!

But I reeeeally wanted this job.  So I quickly stripped down to my undies and “brazzz” and jumped onto the bed, pulling the crisp white sheet up to my chin. “At least he couldn’t see my undies” I thought.

The doctor walked in and approached the bed.  He pulled down the skin under my eyes and checked the sockets, felt the glands on my neck, felt the glands under my arms, and then attempted to raise the sheet.  I gripped on tightly.  He gave a little tug.  The sheet was lifted and he paused as he noticed my underwear.  He had very dark skin and his eyes widened to enormous white orbs which popped forward as he read the inscription on the front of my undies.

I closed my eyes, blocking out my utter humiliation and embarrassment.  But in my mind I could picture my very un-ladylike underwear.

On the front of my undies, now exposed to this doctor’s view, was a picture of a big brown rock.  Ok, it was really a massive boulder, with two enormous eyes on it.  And the words ….

            “Here lurks the big Whopper!”

I desperately hoped that a description of my underwear didn’t make it into the doctor’s notes or to my perspective employer.  At least I passed the medical exam and got the job!

Note to self (and others):  You should always wear nice underwear when you leave your house …. “just in case”.

© 2015 CEW
Originally posted on my old blog site