it’s all fun and games until someone…

It was Macaroni’s turn for her birthday rollerskating party today
And after the bruise-fest that was Magoo’s party earlier this month, I was a little apprehensive
Diamond was banned for skating all together. The broken ribs PLUS his arm in a sling from rotator cuff surgery last week, made it pretty easy to win that argument.
The day started off awesome by me showing up an hour earlier than the rink even opened,  thanks to my watch (that I haven’t worn in a while) still being on Las Vegas time.
That’s right, I was standing outside the rink, holding balloons and cookie cakes, calling the owner to tear him a new one…..when he politely told me it was 11am.
NOT 12pm
Jesus Talia.
But the party went off without a hitch. All the kids had a great time.
If you don’t count the one little girl who had an anxiety attack because she hadn’t taken her anti-eplilepsy drugs and the flashing disco lights were making her nervous and dizzy. So yeah, there was THAT.

(My fab foray into flash-less birthday party photography continues)

But….in a week that’s seen me attacked by a goat at a children’s farm, almost ruin the tooth fairy myth, see my not-quite-nine-year-old daughter being tall enought to look me in the eye, *lose my car, endure the fuckery that is bra shopping, AND put on ANOTHER 5 pounds…. you know….things are looking up.

On Wednesday…. the UK / Ireland tour starts
Huzzah motherfuckers!

*technically it was where I parked it the whole time….but bra shopping wears me the fuck out y’all and my eyes were TI-YERD!


in case of emergency…

I am currently in the middle of day 2, alternating between the couch and my bed


You may well call it the flu, but being the boss of the drama queens won’t allow me to refer to it as anything other than a probably fatal disease contracted from the germy kindergarteners at Magoo’s school computer class that I help with every week

I should say, USED to help with. I’m currently on strike, on account of the horny red headed 6 year old mini-dude that keeps calling me over to his desk to ask me a question and then ‘accidentally’ touching my boobs when I lean over to see his monitor. Turd.

The girls have been home from school yesterday and today as well

They’re better today than yesterday, and should be good-to-go back to school tomorrow

Plus, I’m pretty sure they just have COLDS

And no idea of what it is to be truly, TRULY-RULY suffering

My husband has made soup for me, brought his girls blankets & books and cooked dinner

He’s been completely sympathetic if you don’t count not taking me to the hospital or helping me draft a will, when I’m obviously on my death bed

Anyhoo, even in my darkest hour, my mind thinks of you guys – and what I can do to help YOU despite not one get well / sympathy card from you fuckers

So, in the invent of you finding yourself in my woeful situation, I have compiled a list of MUST HAVE tools for you to not only survive

But possibly thrive…..leading you to be cured, and me to be known throughout the world as the Magic Midget Madam of Miracles!


Firstly, headphones. Preferably noise canceling ones. Not because you want to be able to ignore the outside world and the cries of your starving children. You NEED be able to hear the voice inside your head. The one that tells you that yes, you can eat the last of your husband’s Tim Tams. Even Jesus and death row inmates get to have a last supper.

This lap desk thingy is actually kind of annoying and uncomfortable. But when your husband believes he really outdid himself getting you this as a Christmas gift – you should humor him. It will get you more soup.

Ask your friends on Facebook for book recommendations. Then completely ignore all their advice and download this one. It’s long. Really fucking long. 4 chapters in you will be out like a light. The moral of this story is that a $10 book is cheaper and better for your liver than flu drugs and sleeping tablets. Plus, you can use it every night, it’s not like you’re ever going to finish the fucker

Oh Netflix, what did I ever do before you came into my life? besides sit on my arse WAY less This genius creation allows you to watch years and YEARS of crap old TV shows that you loved as a kid. Movies that you would had NEVER paid a cent to go and see in the theatre. And fall in love with series that you may have otherwise gone through life oblivious too. Tanked, Aryan Brotherhood anyone..??….huh?? Yeah, go get you some of that shit, you know you wanna

Now these, THESE are a must have. Any other time, these tissues with lotion leave a slimy residue on your face – like an invisible snot trail. But in the throws of a mucus-fest, these things are necessary to prevent a red, raw schnoz. And more needless suffering.

Lastly, you’ll need some kind of bubbly soft drink. My Mum says that flat Sprite (or lemonade as we call it in Australia) will always make an upset tummy feel better. I have since since learnt that this old wive’s tale is true. Especially for old wives that like to have a tipple of vodka without the family thinking they’re a drunk catching on. It’ll cure what ails ya. Or, along with the aforementioned book, will render you comatosed

I suggest having all of the above at the ready in case you are ever faced with the flu your own emergency health crisis

Or just call an ambulance


PS – I know I give him shit, but my husband really is the best. Yes, he DID just sit down next to me





new york minute

After arriving back in Chicago from Melbourne on Monday night

Not much more than 24 hours later, I did what any insane biatch would do

I got up at 2:30am and headed back to the airport

And got on another plane

And flew to New York

See that dot in the middle?

That’s the Statue Of Liberty right tharr!

I had a meeting-slash-appointment that was kinda important

That I couldn’t get out of

Believe me, I tried


I chose to make lemon-vodka-shots out of lemons

And planned to make the most of having a day in New York

The work stuff was over way faster than expected

And not because I fell asleep *ahem*

So that left me with a few hours before my flight home

I walked around seeing a few of the sights

I believe they call it sight-seeing?

I was getting the hang of it

Even when my legs got the occasional jetlag sway, and my eyes wouldn’t stay open

I made it to Rockefeller Plaza

Trump Tower

Saw a tourist bus that I couldn’t find the place to buy tickets for

Then I found this bad boy

New York GOLD

And the line to get some of this tucker made my decision to eat here easy

Verdict – awesome

Even with the sauce stained scarf and onion breath it left me

Took lots of pics

Wished I had a ‘big girl’ camera, so I could’ve looked all professional ‘n’ shit

And maybe ended up with better pics

Especially of Central Park (above)

And Times Square

But I came to the conclusion that it would have been a bastard to carry

And I would have either dropped it or lost it

Even tried to be like the cool kids and put me IN a pic

By taking it myself

You know you’re a shitty photographer when you can’t even get YOURSELF to look at the camera

Cool background though

Of fuck-knows what

So my New York minute

Actually it was 480 minutes

Was quick

Productive, hopefully

And wore me the fuck out

The upside?

A second lot of WECOME HOME hugs in as many days, from my babies