Dear Readers Digest

You singled me out and tracked me down

And you’ve been harassing me ever since

With all your fancy, schmancy "LOOK AT ME" mail

Today you wrote to tell me that $10 million is on its way

Oh yeah, S-U-R-E it is RD, I can hardly wait

Except you're so, sooooooooo transparent

Telling me I'm special, a WINNER in your eyes

Taunting me to peel back the layers

Of your latest marketing must-have gem

Promising me this and that and so much more

BUT, and there's always a but where you're concerned
We both know where this is heading, right?

I've met your type plenty of times

While you’re whispering sweet nothings to me

You're promising countless others the exact same thing

So many promises, surrounded by so much small print

Resulting in so many bitter disappointments

So how about we call it for what it really is

You're a manipulative, deceitful stalker

Made worse because you hide behind that thin cloak of respectability.

So RD, now that you know

that I know what you are
and what kind of game you're playing

Why won’t you take NO for an answer and get the hell out of my mail box and leave me alone?
I'm begging you

Lilly

"I'm going to close my eyes and....

count to ten and if you're not out of here by then I'm going to rip you to shreds".
That's what he was thinking right?

Personally, I wasn't taking any chances.

I backed away quietly.

I'm crossing the South African Safari off this years' possible holiday destinations.

BLACK IS OVERDONE...CLEARLY

I love black, in anything. Well nearly everything.

There is one exception. I gave up owning black luggage the night I stood in front of the baggage carousel at JFK airport for what seemed like an eternity trying to work out which of the 345 pieces of black luggage swirling round and round was mine.

So, given this overabundance of black in our world, and my problems distinguishing between it, you might have assumed that I would have thought twice about buying a black car.

Apparently not.

Yesterday I stood outside my car in a busy shopping centre trying to unlock it. Much to my surprise it wouldn’t open. The reason for this was soon cleared up when a guy walked up behind me and said, “Excuse me but that’s not your car. I think yours might be a couple of cars that way”. He sighed audibly as he pointed to my black car in the same row.

Oh, ah..thanks...and yes it was doubly embarrassing when I realised the cars were not even the same make or model.

So it looks like black cars might be like black luggage where I am concerned. Impossible for me to distinguish between them. I might have to stick a coloured ribbon on my car or paint a stripe down its side for ease of reference in future. But not likely. Did I tell you I love my black car?

AUSSIE WHO HAS EVERYONE'S ATTENTION

It seems like the only "Aussie" being talked about everywhere is custody-battled Mel Gibson, currently being bagged by even Arnold Schwarzenegger. As an Aussie, I just want to point out that Mel was born in the US to American parents and came here when he was 11 and went back to live some 10 years later. He has always been a little unusual has Mad Max err... Mel. Accusations, from physical abuse to death threats, come from Gibson's former girlfriend Oksana Grigorieva. Meanwhile Gibson claims, between vile rants, that he's being extorted. If so, he has clearly been misled by his heart or some other organ. But, rather than mock, let's learn from his mistakes by remembering my grandmother's advice which dammit I never followed either: "Never have a child with someone till you've had gastro together," and "You'll never really know someone till you're leaving them."

FOOLS GOLD

Botox shmotox. In further evidence Sydney's rich folk have truly lost their marbles, a beauty salon in Paddington is offering ''gold facials''. Quoi? According to the beauty therapist, sheets of pure 24-carat gold leaf are applied to the face, which results in ''glowing, radiant skin'' after a series of high-tech procedures worthy of a Stealth bomber are applied, including something called the ''ultrasonic nano mist spray'', which produces ''negative irons'' to make the gold ''dissolve'' into the skin. The treatment takes 60 minutes and costs $550.

WHOSE ASS?

I took a drive this morning to a nearby country town called Yass. For some reason I’ve never noticed this sign before but are you seeing what I saw? Dear me..



Have a great week everyone. I will be spending it learning by new number plate by rote amongst other things!

Bucking Beef, Boris and Blackforrest

Hearing about my nephew Ethan’s first job bought a flood of memories back to me about my first job.

Ethan is working at a salubrious place by the name of Bucking Beef.
Apparently it's a “funky, aggressive retailer bringing real food to the fast food industry.”

In other words, it's a roast and grill carvery. A roast and grill carvery where they make the new staff wear a badge which says, “Sorry if I buck up, I’m new”.

You get the idea.

I don’t even think there were many fast food restaurants in the country town I lived when I first started working. I was a very naive 15 years old when my father got me a part-time job with Boris, a German wedding caterer.
His business was called Boris Backer Wedding Caterer (not to be confused with Boris Becker, Tennis Player).

Boris was also the Executive Chef. And the first alcoholic I had ever met.

He taught me a lot about food. And as it transpired, way too much about questionable food practices.
Boris used to drink a lot of wine while he cooked and he grew progressively drunker and louder over the course of the evening (I subsequently picked up the habit of having a glass of wine while cooking except I don’t drink straight out of the bottle and then pour the same wine into the food I am preparing).

I also learnt that waitressing is an art form all on its own and that you have to have the skills of both a contortionist and a diplomat to survive what's thrown at you by the kitchen and the public night after night. In my first week I found out that carrying 10 plates at a time was beyond my limits and is guaranteed to result in a pile of broken crockery and a very angry boss.
I also learnt that wedding celebrations weren't always the stuff of fairy tales and that when great quantities of alcohol are consumed you have to expect the unexpected from those you least expect it from. Usually, as it happened, the unexpected came from the parents of the Bride or Groom. And, in these circumstances, I learnt the importance of keeping my mouth shut and maintaining a fixed smile.

I did, however, gain a life long appreciation for anyone who works in the restaurant industry and I was also fortunate to gain the most fantastic recipe for Black Forest Cake which I have been making on the odd occasion, ever since. And funnily enough, I think of Boris each and every time I make it.

What about you, what was your first job and how old were you?

Cutting out the Middle Man

“I'll be the woman standing in the driveway with a bag over her head”, I said hurriedly to the roadside assistance operator, in what was my second phone call for the day.

My efforts to cut out the middle man clearly wasn’t getting off to such a great start.

You see I've just bought a new car and rather than trade in my old car for next to nothing I thought I would sell it privately.

As my car had been sitting in the garage for a while I rang roadside assistance to get the tyres checked (I didn’t trust that I wouldn’t get a flat if I drove it to the garage and I still don’t know how to change a tyre).

A smiling and eager Mr Roadside Assistance 2010 came within minutes and pumped up the tyres and checked the battery, oil and water. However, he hadn't driven out of the driveway for more than ten minutes when I realised I had somehow locked the keys in the car. Duh!! Hence my second rather embarrassed call was made in the space of half an hour. When he came back he didn’t even give me a 'for god sake you’re pathetic' look or ask if I was stalking him. He just smiled and rescued the keys.

With that debacle over, I put up a 'for sale' ad on a popular car website.

Within hours of putting up the ad I started to get calls. All from young guys.

The only problem was they weren’t interested in the things I could tell them, like colours, kilometres, style and sentimentality. They only wanted to know about engine specs and foreign sounding parts, all of which I didn’t know much about.

All I could tell them was that the car had just had a service; it had a roadworthy certificate and if they were interested they should come round and take it for a test drive.

What an eye opener.

Without any exaggeration I had three guys come one after the other who all did the same thing. They circled the car several times very slowly, staring at it intently as if they had x-ray vision. Looking for scratches, defects, rust and signs of damage. They then opened the bonnet and examined and prodded every part of the engine. They started it up; let it run for a while then.....finally..... took it for a test drive. A test drive which was SO LONG I thought I would have to phone the police and report a stolen car.

On their return, each of them asked, “So, it’s seems ok, what‘s the lowest price you will take?” To each of them I said, "I've researched this in detail, I’m not going any lower”. They each left saying they had other cars to look at and they would get back to me. And they all did - by text. With yet more questions about parts that meant nothing to me.

THEN it happened.

I got a call from a woman. What colour are the seats? Tell me about the interior? How much room is in the boot? Can I come and have a look?

Yes, yes, yes, I said. She came around straight away. First, she looked at the inside of the car. She took a look outside. She took it for a test drive. She checked the roadworthy certificate and service history. She bought it on the spot and we signed contracts. An hour later, she paid me cash without quibbling about the price and drove the car away. All done and dusted. Easy.

Ten minutes later I got a text from one of the guys asking about fuel consumption....

I've decided that the next time I sell a car I’m going to do more than just cut out the middle man. I’m going to cut out men altogether.
Well maybe not all men.

You see, my new car comes with five years free roadside assistance and ...there are some men I just can't do without.

Made me smile

I walked past a restaurant today and noticed a sign out the front which said,
Since I took over this restaurant I've been sleeping like a baby

Every few hours I wake up and cry my eyes out.

Made me laugh out loud and want to book a table.

Not before time

Do you ever wish you were living someone else’s life?

At the moment I am coveting certain aspects of the life of our new Prime Minister, Julia Gillard.

Our first female Prime Minister.
Our first unmarried Prime Minister.
Our first red headed Prime Minister.
Our first Welsh born Prime Minister.
And our first Agnostic Prime Minister.
(Can anyone imagine a Politician admitting that they don’t believe in God?)

Leaving all the history making to one side, what I'm really fixated about is that Julia has the ONE and ONLY THING that I’ve secretly craved for my entire adult life.

A LIVE-IN HAIRDRESSER.

Julia's boyfriend Tim is a former hairdresser.

He apparently blow drys her hair whenever she needs it and is well practiced at doing it at all times of day and night given her busy schedule. Not only that, but he does all the cooking as well (when they're not in official residence that is).

Tim is some First Bloke it seems (First Man doesn't sound quite right does it or is that just because we are so used to hearing about First Ladies?).
Anyway, it's a great appointment because she is a very talented person.

But, doesn't the world turn slowly in this part of the world?

When my daughter  was six she wrote a letter to the then Prime Minister, Bob Hawke and sent him a drawing of herself sitting on top of Parliament House. She told him she wanted to be the Prime Minister when she grew up.

Bob’s wife Hazel wrote her a personal note and told her that if she studied hard at school she may one day become Australia’s first female Prime Minister.

Well I really didn't think it would take all these years for someone to beat her to it.
Some mothers may dream of their children becoming world leaders. I never. This mother's only dream was that there be a hairdresser in the family.......(now you know I've never pretended to be anything other than shallow).
It just goes to show that girls really can have it all .....lead the country and still manage to have great hair 24/7 too.

Aahhhh....


Note: Surprisingly (to me anyway), there are currently 17 female Prime Ministers and Presidents in power in the world as of 24 June 2010. See here for details.