It’s not the first time the similarities between Fruitloopmum, her Bestie and the AbFab girls have been observed. Here’s the scene at dawn in Sydney on New Years Day 2013….
Patsy wakes because her bladder is fit to burst. A comatose Ed sleeps adjacent beneath a white sheet, making the back of the black station wagon look even more like a bleedin hearse. Pats rips the sheet from Eds slumbering form to cover her arse as the street-sweeping truck passes….
So began 2013.
See? This is what happens when you put a couple of very cute, incredibly sexy, freshly-single women together with a bucket of Mojitos on New Years Eve….and they very sensibly decide not to drive but sleep in the car.
So, we clamber into the front, find the keys,our underwear and purses and drive to the nearest McDonalds….on the basis that we can’t possibly knock on the front door of the lady whose driveway we were blocking and demand to use her toilet….
Ed puts her underwear back on in Macca’s car park and we saunter into the restaurant which is surprisingly busy with young teenagers at 6.30am.
“Act nonchalant Pats, cos they wont much like us coming in just to use their bathroom”
” OK sweetie, how’s my hair?”
” Like a friggin rats nest after a cyclone, but if we’re quick, no one will notice us”
The look on diners faces as we slinked between tables towards the bathroom at the back resembled a stunned audience at their first ever crap-your-pants horror movie. Burgers stopped before they reached lips, coffee was spilled down fronts and I swear, one poor startled girl’s mouth was open in a silent scream. I gave her my best reassuring grin but it didn’t improve things.
Anyways, after the living dead’s visit to McDonalds, we hit the road in quiet contemplation. Or maybe it was the hangovers and the realisation that we are so bleeding old and life is so bloody short.
“So, what’s your new year’s resolution then Pats?”
” Well, after broken hearts, toxic relationships and shovelling so much crap in 2012, I think we should make a pact that unless something enriches or enhances our lives, we should LET IT GO!”
“Oooooooh yeah, we’ll ONLY do positive empowering stuff….and cut down on the ciggies….and the alcohol”
“Well, maybe the ciggies, but NOT the Bolly sweetie….we’re far too old for cold turkey”
“OK, it’s a deal. 2013 will be all about ME (well us)
…….pass a ciggie”
So after careful deliberation I can announce that the Aussie equivalent of Patsy and Eddie are taking no prisoners in 2013.
Now THAT is enough to scare the crap outta anyone.
Well until we become enlightened and focus on world peace and free love courtesy of Pats taking up meditation!
HAPPY NEW YEAR FRUITLOOPMUM FANS XXX
Christmas Champagne Cake
Seasons greetings Fruitloopmum fans! This cake is an absolute must for Christmas…..
Ingredients: 1 cup sugar, half pound butter, 1 tsp baking powder, 1 cup water, 1 tsp salt , 1 cup brown sugar, lemon juice, 4 large eggs, nuts, 2 bottles good quality champagne , 2 cups dried fruit, 4 cups self-raising flour. Method: Sample a glass of champagne to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the champagne again to be sure it is of the highest quality then repeat. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add 1 teaspoon of sugar, measure it very, very accurately but use a big teaspoon, not one of them tiny bastards. Beat again. At this point, it is best to make sure the Champagne is still ok. Try another glass just in case.Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 eggs and add to the bowl and chuck in a shit-load of the dried fruit. Pick the fruit up off the floor, wash it and put it in the bowl a piece at a time trying to count it. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a drewscriver, Sample the champagne to test for tonsisticity.Next, sift 2 cups of salt, or some other white powdery crap, dussnt matter. Check the champagne. Now shit shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don’t forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the fekkin window.Finish of the champagne and wipe the counter with the fekin dog .Much love to my gorgeous girlfriend who has tested and perfected this recipe and Merry Frikkin Christmas to you one and all!
Where’ve I been? What about writing entertaining blogs? Writing about Sex? Finishing that damn novel?
Well, I could regale you with tales of more friggin house moves and witness boxes, but you’d probably all just glaze over and die of boredom. So I’ve decided to do something mad and EXPOSE MYSELF!!
Nope, you’re not gonna get Fruitloopmum in the raw I’m afraid because quite frankly, I don’t think you could stand that kind of excitement and horror. But just this once I thought I’d expose the ongoing undercurrent of my life because it’s topical. It’s in the media AND to my mind the whole domestic violence/children’s rights issue needs exposing!!!
You see, my head and my time have been elsewhere for the past few months trying to fathom out whether I really am quite, quite mad in believing that I can make a difference. And here’s the scenario….I have two little fruitloops in total distress over spending time with their father. It’s heartbreaking to see; to hear the pleading and to know that my ability to do anything to help them is limited. The legal system here in Australia, and certainly their father will say that I’m making this up. That I am in fact MAD as a hatter, LOOPY even and trying to alienate my children from their dad.
I believe that all children deserve to have the love, care and protection of both parents wherever possible. But sometimes life doesn’t work out that way. Something is VERY wrong when my children are so distressed. As a mum, I’d be totally mad if I didn’t try to do something. I’m a FruitloopMUM for chrissakes!!!
Soooo, rather than write blogs or novels I’ve been spending countless hours going over old diaries, opening old wounds and producing distressing affidavits and evidence. And then I’ve had to take everything to court and fought hard to get permission for the little fruitloops to have counselling and ascertain the source of their distress.
Why cant their GP just send them to a counsellor?
Because as any good psycho will tell you…….No-one must know the truth about the havoc they wreck on the lives of others and they will do ANYTHING to ensure that their behaviour is never exposed. This obviously includes blocking (in the name of parental rights) any psychological help for their own children FFS…..
But this particular psycho has chosen the wrong Fruitloopmum to tangle with.
I’m one resilient and stubborn biatch…..although some might call it madness, I prefer to think of it as mad bravery.
AND when it comes to the wellbeing of my children you’d better NOT MESS WITH ME.
Anyway, it’s not over yet, and, while I’ve been bobbing up and down in a witness-box whilst being interrogated by a self-represented psycho…. stuff about children’s rights and Family Law has hit the media here in Australia and Italy. Today I was sent this email from the National Child Protection Alliance NO WAY OUT BUT ONE which just happens to cover a high-profile case where I’ve been on the receiving end of the same bloody judge!!
And, this link to a new, award-wining documentary trailer bares frightening similarity to the situation I’ve been quietly living for the last few years. Give it a click if you want 2 mins of unbelievable, scary, this could happen to you, shit. I kid you not, because I’m living it.
When faced with life’s harder lessons, this Fruitloop gravitates towards wild optimism while those around her shake their heads and call me mad. Even my closest friends who know my story, shake their heads incredulously and exclaim “But you must be able to do something surely!?” They have no idea that now, in many countries including this one, the “rights of the father” under family law often supersede the voices of children. And often with disastrous results.
My kids look to me to care for and protect them. So, you tell me….
Am I MAD to have wild optimism and believe in truth and justice and the voices of children?
Or just plain Freakin Mad to be doggedly fighting a Family Law System that has swung too far away from the children it is supposed to be caring for?
Hit the comments box, share the links and re-post because there are lots of us silently battling what appears to be a very unjust and biased Family Law System where the voices of children are not heard.
THIS MADNESS NEEDS MORE MAINSTREAM MEDIA EXPOSURE!
It would be nice to think that your comments, shares or re-posts might give some hope and much-needed courage to others who are too scared or intimidated to speak out.
Think beauty masks laden with extract of sheep’s umbilical cord….. sent by a girlfriend who was concerned that I looked a bit peaky, a blow-torch from the boyfriend…..cos I admitted to being a bit of a pyromaniac, a granny-style slanket (blanket with armholes….dont ask) and even a handy, dandy mini vibrator as a housewarming gift……all from people who love me and KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I NEED!!!
But yesterday I was the recipient of…..
A BUNCH OF ANGELS!!
A gorgeous girlfriend sent them to me. They arrived last night at 10.30 apparently, although I didn’t actually see them arrive.
But, I did open the door and let them in and bid them welcome as instructed….along with lighting a candle and some other weird rituals that I wont go into. Well, other than to say that I’m glad no one was actually around to witness me standing on one leg and chanting whilst holding fruit…
Anyway, apparently a bunch of angels is exactly what I need.
See, my friends reckon that I need to be surrounded by goodness and light to counteract and protect me from the evil crap that is “essence of psycho” Funny that, cos sometimes I actually do envisage a sort of putrid cloud that sneaks up and follows me around, usually I blame it on the dog. Speaking of which…slight tangent here….
The last time my quirky friends talked me into banishing negative energy and cleansing my space of all things evil, I managed to set light to the dog. Well, actually it was the burning white sage embers that fell on his tail as he wandered around the room behind me whilst I waved and wafted smoking herbs in the air……I didn’t inhale tho promise !! (the smell of burning sage and dog hair cleared the room nicely for about two days too cos no one dared enter for fear of asphyxiation)
Anyway, back to the point.
I have an open mind about such things (angels, not smouldering dogs) and this latest gift is very gratefully received. I mean, it’s quite a nice comforting thought to envisage angels bringing peace and protection to my home and family. Actually, right now I’m envisaging a bloody great avenging angel with a six-pack swinging a sword in my lounge…….Oh Yeah!! …..probably not the sort of angel she meant tho.
So, THANKS Gorgeous Girlfriend!
I pretty sure I need a lot more practice at this “new age” stuff tho, cos it’s obvious that a little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing (especially in the hands of a Fruitloop)
Oh yes, and I need to ask……
WTF am I supposed to do with the fruit NOW?
OK, since the Strippers, Teachers, Pirates and Judges post, you’re probably all aware that Fruitloopmum friends are what could only be described as an eclectic bunch of weirdos, bless them. But this week, I’m gonna spill the beans on my weirdo accountant friend.
You see, I’ve been threatening to expose him for far too long. In fact I’ve been making threats ever since he termed the word GILF to describe me to his mates. I mean, GILF???? if your brain even goes there you can’t be quite right upstairs can you?? And this one’s definitely not quite right.
The man has a wicked sense of humour and just loves to bait people. But just for once, Fruitloopmum is gonna give some back on behalf of his long-suffering wife and friends. You see for starters, this is the guy who took his dog to the vet late one night because the dog was walking in a peculiar fashion. The vets prognosis was….. that his dog had an enormous stiffy and charged the guy $80 for that prognosis. I mean, come on Mr P…..you do know what a stiffy looks like don’t you???? Apparently, the whole embarrassing, expensive episode was his wife’s fault!!! ……don’t ask… However, I have advised that in future, should her husband come anywhere near the marital bed with an unwanted stiffy, she should call the vet immediately.
Anyways, back to the point of the story. I recently decided that it was probably time for me to consider something horribly normal and prepare a tax return. So, over dinner last week whilst laughing and discussing the dubious sanity of running 100kms in the pitch dark through the bush to save an extinct species ( yep he did it) And why he thinks that only gay guys drive small cars (yep he said it to someone who’d just bought a small car), I asked how much he’d charge me to prepare my tax return………
And the weirdo’s response???
“Just bring around your paperwork…….and a GIMP MASK!”
OH YES!!! HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT TOO.
His wife and I choked on our food….and I suddenly envisaged entire offices of grey suited men sitting at their desks, lol…..slaving over their computers and wearing bloody gimp masks with a female boss cracking the proverbial whip. Yep, it would seem that there are a whole bunch of accountants out there who like that kinda stuff! Isn’t it always the quiet, nerdy ones??
I’ll confess, I used to have a soft spot for Batman….but noooooo, this gimp stuff really doesn’t do it for me. Needless to say, after this little admission over dinner, the next time this guy comes home and complains to my girlfriend of a tough day at work he’ll get absolutely no sympathy….in fact I think she should whip his damn arse!
Anyways, the deed is now done. And after this little tip, I can advise anyone wanting a good rate on accountant fees to investigate the BDSM shop first for cost-effective incentives.
Love ya Mr P……keep up the good work.
I was stuck, suffering from writer’s block….and looking for inspiration for my next post. Then it came to me! You see, it would appear that there’s a Fruitloopmum fan somewhere out there going by the name of…. Mr Hairyballs.
Or not, kinda depending on your viewpoint .And really, how MUCH hair are we talking about here mate??
Anyways, Mr Hairyballs, whether you resemble Chewbacca down there, or whether it’s just the macho name thing that you’re into, your amusing comments on my posts reminded me of some product reviews that I came across on the net last week.
You see, it would appear that the last 10 years has seen a rise in the number of guys removing hair. And we’re not talking shaving their legs here. Oh no!
We’re talking about guys discovering what girls have known for some time. Namely that having smooth, hair-free bits not only makes you look and smell better, but that there’s a certain…urm… pleasure to be derived by the exposure of naked skin around the nether regions!
So, those clever, clever marketeers have been marketing hair removal cream for guys. It’s the same suff as women use, different packaging. However the manufacturers have apparently missed one vital point. You see, we all know that not only are guys incapable of asking for directions…..it seems that they can’t follow directions either!
I was to be found crying with laughter at a whole bunch of product reviews written by guys who have decided to try this hair removal cream but ignore the friggin directions!!!!!
Here’s just a small selection of the comments from the product reviews:
“I am giving this product a 5 because despite the fact that I think my bollocks might fall off, they are now completely hairless”
“.…my once proud Biggles looks more like the lone equine survivor of a fire at a donkey sanctuary”
And a favourite one that had me wanting to nominate the poor guy for an award in creative writing:
“I decided to get up off the landing carpet, go shower and inspect the results… balanced on one leg in the shower holding a shaving mirror between my legs, and pushing my throbbing nads to one side with the toilet brush, I could see what I can only describe as a Gollum’s head tortured and battered by a Taliban interrogation unit, peering up at me through a single screwed up puffy eye, looking pretty sorry for itself. On closer inspection my two previously furry love-eggs had absconded deep into my body for protection leaving my somewhat forlorn looking scrotum hanging there, like a pelican’s over-filled neck pouch which had been flogged with a barbed wire paddle”
Yep, it seems there’s a whole bunch of men out there who now have wizzened purple balls, rings of fire, and worse. These product reviews contain hilarious descriptions of what happens when you DONT read the directions….currently 31 whole pages of entertainment. So, Fruitloopmum fans…click here and settle down for several hours of entertainment courtesy of men who no longer have hairyballs.
Oh, and my advice to the manufacturers is to take notice of your target market’s profile and communicate accordingly….the instructions should simply read, as one review suggested
“ DO NOT PUT ON KNOB AND BOLLOCKS!“
So, enjoy the reviews, and Dear Mr Hairyballs, thank you for your support and for providing me with some inadvertent inspiration this week!