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February 20, 2012 / fruitloopmum

And finally, after drink and drugs, Fruitloopmum is almost busted by the police!

It’s been a weird, wild, exhilarating, exciting Fruitloopy month so far…and we haven’t even finished it yet!

Honestly, I  don’t wish to bore the pants of you by spouting entries from my diary, so I’ll just give you some highlights so far and let my Fruitloopmum fans decide.

First we kicked off with the arrival of several mates and rellies arriving from the other side of the globe to help me celebrate turning ‘Noughty’. They hung around for most of the month, decorating sofas and floors with their sleeping bodies and my bathroom with their g-strings and nana knickers.

Before the Big Noughty Celebration began, we’d watched fireworks, snuck extra bodies into hotel rooms, gate-crashed the second half of an opera at the Sydney Opera House (don’t ask me what, cos it was in Italian…some fat woman waving her hands around  with a high pitched voice) and gotten completely wrecked on Mojitos …..think you get the general picture…oh and then I sent them all off on Harley Davidson’s so I could just have five minutes peace.

A few days later came the Noughty Celebration to mark my growing old disgracefully. By this time Fruitloopmum’s Mum was in da house…so you might have expected things to calm down just a little……?

WRONG!! WRONG!! WRONG!!

She arrived with Mad Cousin (the one who steals road cones) and I strongly suspect there had been some kind of symbiosis of their brains going down during the flight down under…..and I’ll get to THAT bit in a moment

My Noughty Celebration was without doubt the absolute best in history (and here I have to thank some special friends…you know who you are!)

…..and also the talk of the entire village by the next day.

(you know the sort of thing….”Did you go to THAT party where 23 litres of  pirate mojitos and two cases of champagne were consumed in the first half hour? Where the hostess’s speech was hijacked by two signers and a goat-herd wanted by immigration?”

Well, whilst winding down the party at stupid o’clock, I got a text message from my mother to say that she had successfully climbed into the house via my bedroom window…(think a 75-yr-old with a skinful of mojitos and her legs in the air!!!!)

Then, and please try to picture this….

We’re all in recovery mode the next day, brain-dead and sitting around the dinner table having consumed pizza and hair of the dog… mum can be heard snoring blissfully on the sofa behind us. Now, you would think a 75-year-old would be out-for-the-count having consumed that much alcohol and successfully achieved re-entry via a bedroom window the previous night…..wouldn’t you? But this is verbatim what happened…

Fruitloopmum: “Well, the last time I used sign language was in Bangkok when I was trying to buy herbal Viagra from a pharmacy….there were a lot of cocked fingers used”

Mad Cousin: ” WTF did you want THAT for?”

Fruitloopmum: ” Well, I think I’m too old for ecstacy….it might kill me…and someone suggested that this herbal stuff gives a similar buzz”

Mad Cousin: “You’d be better with genuine Viagra, I reckon”

MY BLOODY MOTHER: (from the sofa in a sleepy voice) ” I give it to my plants…..makes them nice and vigorous!”

……Well, you can imagine can’t you???

One of us snorted her champagne so hard it came back down her nose (and we’re talking a fairly substantial nose, the mess was disgusting) another started to giggle, dribble and finally spat out her wine, Mad Cousin went a funny colour cos the pizza had lodged in his throat…and Fruitloopmum, having regained a little composure splutters ‘Your plants? Your plants?? Where did you get Viagra for your plants? WHAT a waste! Do you have any left???”

MY MOTHER : “No…..used up the whole supply on my plants…oh and I traded some with the man in the pub….I heard he had a bit of a problem so I gave him a few. His wife is very grateful, and is sending him over in a few weeks to help with my garden!”

OH YEAH…..only in my family…drug dealing pensioners!

So, to bring us almost up to date, fast forward a week to my actual birthday where my mum and Mad Cousin take me on a birthday seaplane ride over the city and my mum snuggles up in the back of the seaplane with someone called Quoll who looks like a 35 yr old rock star and offers her acid and a trip to see Pink Floyd…I kid you not!

AND FINALLY…after the awesome plane ride and more champagne and oysters and stuff with my rellies, my phone bleeps and Mad Cousin looks at the message. It’s my birthday, and there appear to be at least a dozen messages from The Psycho….and we’re not talking “Happy Birthday” here. It was just ONE of several messages sent by someone who was obviously bored and wanted to join in the fun:

Mad Cousin laughing incredulously: He’s finally lost the plot…

Fruitloopmum: I really don’t give a shit……show me…..

MESSAGE READS: “You are to return my instrument to me on Sunday morning at 9am or it will be reported stolen to the police”

Mad Cousin: WTF ???? Is he referring to the Clarinet that you hired for the little Fruitloop yesterday when she joined the school band?

Fruitloopmum: “Obviously”

And then in a rather serious tone “People….we should expect the local woodwind police to be waiting for us by the time we get back”

….BTW, before we return to…..face the music, lol…….have either of you broken any laws this week?”

Post Script: Mad Cousin has been kissed goodbye by Australian Immigration Officials, but he’s threatening to come back for more fun soon. Mother dispatched to old friends in Melbourne where she is probably drinking them dry and sampling their pot! More next week.

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