Laugh with best girlfriends
Verify your identity
Embrace single motherhood
Pay all the bills
Find all the thrills
Bring home the bacon
Find app to block people in real life not just social media
Eat fruity wine and fruity fruits
Rage against the pale stale males in government
Stand up for girls
Find someone to collect my emotional baggage
Dance like instagram is watching
Drink tap water
Pat the cat
Thank your knees
Eat all the cheese
Hunt and gather
Educate people on the difference between your and you’re and he is and his
Sing like I’ve got 45 million YouTube followers
Can we please have an inspiring prime minister like Jacinta Ardern or Justin Trudeau for Christmas?
All I want for Christmas is my dad, Stella Young, David Bowie, Prince, Alan Rickman, my friends Claire, Ant, Veljko and Marc to come back. I’ll swap you Trump, Barnaby Joyce, Tony Abbott, Rupert Murdoch, the cast of any of the Bachie shows, the Sunrise panel and that dolt Dutton.
And let’s close the gap, give indigenous kids back to their communities to heal, and also get kids out of detention ploise, they don’t belong there and neither do their parents
All I really want for Christmas is a cocker spaniel and a house to put him in
Today I’m thankful that I still have a mother, but if we’re going to have a day to celebrate mothers, please don’t ask me to:
Bake a cake for a fundraiser
Select a nanna scarf for me before I’m a grandmother
Volunteer for any initiative to improve the lives of already well-off people
Mend garments or
Clean up after babies
Also please don’t:
Buy me ugly socks
Make me a ceramic thingy that I’ll smash
Give me any more craft
Advise me to take vitamins, colonics, miracle cures or go for a run
Rescue another animal for me
Suggest helpful ways to brighten my floors
Today I don’t want to grow, inspire, achieve, strive or nurture, I’m cranky and I’m having a day off. Please quickly bring me a bottle of gin, tonic, lemons and an obedient bar man, then close the door on your way out. Your best present for Mumma is obedience and a big dose of shush.
I am officially an old bag. Today I turn 50 and I’m trying hard not to whinge. For it is a privilege to be 50. My friends who died of breast cancer in their 40s would love to be where I am. And so would the kids who were robbed of their mothers.
The beautiful sick kids I’ve met at the hospitals I work in who left way too soon didn’t get to be adults at all. And the families and friends of my darlings Veljko, Mark and Anthony who died in their 20s would love to know them in their 50s. Those guys would have aged like fine wine if they’d had the chance.
I don’t feel that different, but I look in the mirror and I see age creeping up on me. I was born on a Monday, “Monday’s child is fair of face,” but my face looks like it needs more sleep. And my knees creak from all the stilt walking, gymnastics and dancing drunk in stupid high heels over the past 35 years. I can still have fun with my kids, my best friends, the families I meet through my work and I share great love with a beautiful heart. But there are things I’m worried that I haven’t done yet. Maybe I won’t get to live in New York or drive across Africa. Maybe I won’t be brave enough to sail across the world. Maybe crazy life goals are in the past. Maybe I won’t sing with Kermit or be the next teen superstar.
I share my birthday with fabulous people like Twiggy, Jeremy Irons, Frances Farmer, Mama Cass, Daniel Lanois, Nile Rodgers, Jimmy Fallon and Alison Sweeney from Days of Our Lives, darling. Today is also International Talk Like a Pirate day.
At 50 I’ve realised that the cocker spaniels I’ve had in my life may be the only dogs I own in this lifetime as I can’t afford to buy a house.
But 50 brings great rewards. I can sing, dance, laugh and love, I have fabulous kids, and I’ve given up people who drain me of precious energy. I have no time for those who don’t contribute to improving our world. So hit the high seas for some hijinks you swashbuckling scoundrels. I’ll be wearing my new earrings that cost a bucaneer. 50 is swell.
Dear 11-year-old child,
I know you’re really busy saving the world by watching people playing Minecraft on Youtube all day, but I’d like to ask a favour. Could you please catch and keep the following Pokemon people/creature/alien/thingies/whateverthehelltheyare?
Cleandyourbedroom a saurus
Oddishwasher won’t empty itself
Clefairy liquid over the sink and wash the dishes
Remove the Vileplume from your sister’s walk on floor-drobe
Meowth and change the kitty litter while you’re at it
Machop up some veggies for dinner
Rapidash to the bathroom to hang up your sisters’ wet towels
Slowpoke the dunny brush around the toilet
Weedle your way out of whinging about housework no more
Thank you great light of my life
Once upon a time a lovely hairy mother lived with three not so little tweenage pigs.
You won $1.25M AUD in the ICC WORLD TWENTY20 PROMO 2016 with Reference [INDIA-RSA-PRT-279-30-2016]. Reply to; email@example.com or call 00447937349377 for details. T’s and C’s apply!
Can’t hardly believe it or not, I am a winner. My astrologer told me that 2016 was going to be tops for someone with a moon in Uranus and now I’ve won enough to put a deposit on a house only three hours from Sydney. Incredible.
I know I’m a catch, and I’d really like to go on an exciting lunch date with you to the hot hip new bar you’re proposing and I’m very keen to pay for your brilliant plan to boost my Instagram account with 10,000 new followers but,
My legs are hairy
The cat has to go to the vet
My pouting tween has left her school uniform on the bus
The Valium isn’t working
I need a long nap
Unless you organise a babysitter, come and pick me up and pay for everything our blooming romance is not going to happen
Please contact me at irresistiblematch.com so you can take a ticket and join the queue of eligible males pining for me
Thank you hot stuff
Deluded Parenting Syndrome also known as DPS, can strike males and females. DPS occurs when a parent believes they’ve done more parenting than they actually have.
DPS symptoms include:
Remote parenting via text message
Chatting up your teenage daughter’s friends
Borrowing your children’s clothes to wear
Bringing home every boyfriend or girlfriend for your kids to meet
Turning up for school events your child is involved in and staying for 5 minutes
Telling your child you’ll teach them how to play guitar, fly a kite or build a cubby but never actually getting around to it
Telling your child all about your sexual partners thinking you’re teaching them sex education. Eww.
DPS – keeping therapists in business since Jung was a boy