Put it in mothballs

Autumn winds make me extra allergic to the online world of success coaches with glow in the dark teeth, perky personal fitspo gurus with Instagram famous bodies and shiny women with trout pout lips on an endless loop on Youtube. A generation of children are growing up with mothers who’ve had so much Botox put into their faces that these women cannot express the full gamut of human emotion on their dials. These zombie women scare me but I can’t stop staring, wondering when the fillers will stop working.

Then I get scratchy when I hear the words mastery, motivation, personal best, inspire, disrupt. Show me the leaders in lethargy, excellent examples of ennui, successful sloths, wonderful worriers. These are my people. To mangle Kerouac: the only ones for me are the crazies, the Bukowski drunks, the shabby, the borderline criminals, the drop outs, the dribblers, those grungy, suffering, unshaven cats who get thrown out of the best parties, the ones who always yawn out loud, the rambling, boisterous messes who convey every sloppy human emotion on their cracking apart faces. These are the people who make me feel good about myself, as I hide away at home reading, not wanting to face the world or climb any ladders.

Growing up into a cranky old cat lady, I’m pondering the autumn and winter of my life with a countenance that moves. As I slip under the radar with a face that loses its sheen every day, I think I like my mangy self best.

Beetroot stains

It’s been a bloody grouse week for those of us who speak fluent Strine. We’ve had ripper new words and phrases added to our lingo:

Rejoyce – lying to your constituents then getting re-elected

Beetrooter – older white male who preys on young female work mates

Beetrorter – doing dodgy deals to ensure a parliamentary pension

Fang a Canavan* – protecting your mates despite their ability to act like a dickhead

Go Full Barnaby – chucking a sickie when the top job awaits

Ucken Joyce mate – to flick your wife and kids with no wucken furries

Chuck a Vikki – to root someone whom even Stevie Wonder would find fuggly

*See also nepotism & cronyism


Machine Gun Fellatio – Pussytown


This week a friend who is not a fan of social media asked me: Why do cute pooches and pussy cats have more social media followers than most humans?

Why? Because we love them. Pooches believe in unconditional love. Aspirational humans do not. Cats have attitude and don’t give a shit. I love dogs of Instagram because dogs are pretty. Dogs on insta don’t have bad plastic surgery, fake boobs and plastic nails. They’re not going to take cheesy selfies with trout pouts at monasteries and mosques. Dogs don’t take photos of themselves doing cartwheels at sacred sites. Dogs don’t pretend to be social media experts, they’re not trying to improve our lives, help us reach unattainable goals, sell us products or help their owners train to be ultra fit marathon runners and brag about it. Dogs just are. I love dogs.

Cats aren’t trying to mary football players, flog baby clothes or inspire us to upgrade to a better lifestyle. Cats hiss and bite when they’re pissed off. Cats are cool.

But I do wish dog owners would post more photos of mutts with fleas, mange and weeping eyes. Cat owners could oblige by sharing their scratch and sniff cat pee in the corner of the living room snaps more often too.

I’ll keep this rant short, I must dash, my cat needs to meet up with her personal trainer.

Growing old disgracefully

My oldest childhood friend is about to turn 50 and realising I have elderly friends has made me think about what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Middle age can be about making time for personal growth and wondering what sort of human you want to become in the second half of your life. Once my kids have moved out of home, I want to inspire people, live well and have fun, so when I grow up, hopefully I’ll still be young enough to:

Care about my fellow humans like Sam Newman
Be open-hearted like Prune Macsween
Dance like Peter Garrett

Have the compassion of Miranda (Not Really) Devine
Pop pills like Ben Cousins
Manage my hair like Donald Trump

Tolerate people like Peter Dutton

Possess the humility of Malcolm Turnbull

Be open-minded like Andrew Blot

Be submissive like Eddie Maguire

Be as sexy as Bronwyn Bishop

What’s on your life goals bucket list?

I’m Too Sexy – Right Said Fred










Zombies on YouTube

Lazy school holiday afternoon. Single mother folding washing, fruit rotting in the bowl, flies buzzing around the child’s cooking/slime experiment, cat eating the last of the bread, children glued to their screens.

“Zen, what are you watching?”

“Some highlights from the IT movie.”

“I don’t want you watching that movie, you’re too young, it will give you nightmares.”

“The boy in it is a Virgo.”


“He’s a Virgo like you mum.”

“NO, you are not watching it.”

“Worth a try, mum.”



Duck off 2017

As I prepare to be disappointed by New Year’s Eve celebrations and charge my teen’s phone so I can nag her home at some ungodly hour, I say good riddance to 2017. What a bastard of a year.

There were many lowlights of the numpty kind:

Nivea white purity ad campaign
Orange moron in the White House
Spaghetti donuts
Potato Dutton spending billions on locking asylum seekers up on Manus & Nauru

Text messages auto-correcting to duck

Vegetable yoghurts

Abetz, Bernardi, Blot, Abbott, Kenny, Not Devine, Credlin

Ads featuring Kendall Jenner
Chicken flavoured prosecco

Fine artists Mary Tyler Moore, Sam Shepard, Malcolm Young, David Cassidy, Chuck Berry, John Hurt and Tom Petty left our world

More white male shooters became killers in the US

Too many beautiful souls died of brain cancer

But there were also many heroes of 2017:
Magda Szubanski

Jacinda Ardern
Father Bob
Father Rod

Larissa Waters breast fed her baby in parliament

Victorians elected the first-ever female indigenous MP, Lidia Thorpe

Kon from the ASRC
Mums 4 Refugees

A people-powered movement stopped Adani’s $1Billion loan

Same Sex marriage finally became law
War on Waste campaign

Women’s Marches across the world

The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse ended; brave souls who’ve endured so much can hopefully begin to heal and churches will be forced to offer compensation

J.K. Rowling

Angela Merkel

Penny Wong

Lee Lin Chin

I graduated from primary school after 15 years

#MeToo ladies

Weinstein and other predators were named and shamed

Political leaders of the resistance

2018 is the year of the Earth Dog. According to Chinese astrologers, dogs sniff out the truth, corruption is exposed and the underdog is championed. Happy joyous New Year, may the dogs of 2018 pee on the legs of mansplainers, bring us a break from the political insanity, and bless us with more women in power, especially needed by those of us with a vagina.

Single mother fruit cake

Christmas Dessert Ingredients:

Packaged, dried, past it’s best fruit from cheapo supermarket

Icing sugar


Lemons to taste

Eggs close to use by date

Flour sifted for weevils

Valium (quantity as required)

AC/DC on loud

5 kilos of family arguments regarding timing of food serving

7 phone calls from mother with dementia about how she will be forgotten at Xmas

Orphans popping in with their relatives who you can’t stand

Mix all ingredients, leave to rot and go to the nearest pub on Christmas Eve