October 2010

The One Where Karma Bites Me

by Lori Dwyer on October 30, 2010 · 20 comments


I have been known to yell at my husband.

Bad ass, I know. And not entirely the Man’s fault.

Although a large portion of it is his car’s responsibility.

I’ve talked before about my Man’s other woman, Tin Lizzie. An ’84 Holden tonner that currently has no wheels, no engines, no seats… not much of anything, really.

But oh, how he loves her. And he has a tendency to disappear into his shed to stroke and rub her just on the 5pm hour of Absolute Feralness; when the kids, dog and cat are all hungry, the adult dinner is overflowing on the stove, and the washing needs to be bought in before it becomes irreversibly damp (Have I mentioned before that my clothes line is so damp and totally crap that it actually grows mold? No? Remind me to post about that soon.)

Hence the yelling.

Whatever. Karma definitely came back and bit me for all that cranky-pantsing the other day.

It’s 5:12pm. One child is screaming for something undetermined, the other is screaming for PlaySchool. I’ve been attempting to peel the same potato for the last twenty minutes.

Baby on my hip, potato dirt wiped on my trackies, boogers (probably not my own) on my shirt. I traipse out to our back shed, which opens onto the lane way behind our house. From the doorway, I spot the Man at the open roller door. With a beer in his hand.

“MAN!! Any chance you could come give me a hand when you’re finished, huh? Or is that too bleeping difficult?”

“Uh, yeah, darl, I’m just finishing up out here”

*This is where Lori rolls her eyes* “Oh, it really looks like you’re working hard.”

“Ahem. Just having a beer with the new neighbor”.

Ahhh. The new neighbor. Who somewhat sheepishly- but not quite sheepishly enough- steps into view.

Why, hello there. I mutter an excuse about needing to go inside and peel potatoes. Look for a big hole to crawl into. Or a natural disaster to distract everyone.

I will never be nasty to my husband again*.

*And I kept that promise for at least the next 36 12 3 hours.

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A scary, creepy FlogYoBlog Friday!!

by Lori Dwyer on October 29, 2010 · 17 comments


Happy Halloween everyone. Yes, I know, it’s a totally Americanised tradition, yadda, yadda, yadda, don’t care. i love trick or treaters,and I always have something here for them, just in case we actually get some. It’s happened once in four years. Dressing up and eating spewfuls of lollies, what is there to complain about? Commercialisation, corporatisation, bad themes for children. Shush now, common sense. You’re ruining all my fun.


Anyboo. In honor of all things creepy, I thought I’d bring you some very scary Lori’s.

I know. Terrifying, right?

Do you think Edward will dig this look…?
Bite me.

OK. Enough of that. On with the flogging!! If you want the technical lowdown, check out this post here. But totally ignore what it says about WordPress blogs, that no longer applies- the regular code should work just fine. Oh, and just because the title says “Creepy FlogYoBlog” doesn’t mean you have to have a theme- link up whatever you like! FlogYoBlog Friday is never themed, no matter what trash I waffle on about here.

Get set, get linky… flog!!

The Rules.
  1. Follow my blog, the Random Ramblings of a SAHM. I never seem to get to reading all the links here. But believe me, I try. Not that any of this is my idea anyway- FYBF is MummyTime’s brainbaby, I’m just minding it for a bit.
  2. Grab B’s bubbly button and post it on your sidebar.
  3. Link your First Name and/or Blog Name and URL of your linked post (not your homepage) below. 
  4. Add a short description (max of 125 chars). It could be a description of yourself, your blog or a teaser to your latest post. .
  5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger (Be nice and spread the love).
  6. The list will be open for linkyers on Fridays (and for the foreigners Friday as well).
  7. A new and fresh link list will open  every Friday. And you will have to link up AGAIN. The previous link list  does not carry over to the following week.
  8. And lastly, have lotsa fun. I mean it. If I detect anyone not totally loving the awesomeness, I will bump you off the linky list. (Joking) (Kinda).
  9. rrsahm

Annnnnd… in case anyone reads the fine print- it may just be my birthday this weekend!! Happy birthday to me!!
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The Return of Mrs Winterpepper.

by Lori Dwyer on October 27, 2010 · 15 comments

The bitch is back!! A special guest post by my *ahem* good friend, Mrs Winterpepper…


Well. It’s Mrs Winterpepper here again. I’m back by popular demand, or so Lori *sniff* tells me. I’m not surprised, really. It’s unavoidable, given the filth you lot immerse yourself in here on the Internet, that once you come into contact with a lady of my standing and stature you are just instantly drawn to me.

Let me tell you, it happens a lot.


It seems I have created somewhat of a kerfuffle amongst you “blog people”. As I said, I am in no way surprised. So, please, sit down and pour yourself a cup of tea. Splenda’s in the top cupboard, next to the tea laves. And grab the Weight Watchers jam tartlets while you’re there, why don’t you. What’s that, dear? Why, no, I am not on a diet. Thery’e not for me. I just imagined you lot could stand to lose a few stone. *Sniff*. Most people could, these days. Except for that strumpet Lori, of course.I’m forever telling she needs to put on some weight, she is just skin and bone.

Righto, then. First things first. I really must get this out of the way before we go any further. *Sniff*. One Emma K- you may remember I’ve had a run in with the likes of her before, over that atrocious book she helped to pen- asked for my views on *sniff* genital piercing.

Well. Emma, dear, please don’t take this the wrong way- actually, maybe you should take this the wrong way, young lady- the only thing I have to say about genital piercings is this- No. *Sniff* Never mind. I’m a lady and ladies don’t use those kind of words. Lets just say it starts with an “s” and rhymes with “smut”, and leave it at that, shall we? Really. Unless we happen to be discussing piercing of the male genitalia, in which case one does not like to speak ill of a dead royal. But the male appendage is a horridly grotesque thing, and no amount of *sniff* jewelery will change that. Lights out, ladies. Light out.


Moving on. A lovely lady by the name of Dannie asked me, sometime during the media frenzy that surrounded my last post, if I was a schoolteacher. And why, yes, Dannie, dear, I was a school teacher, once. For a good 30 years I taught Year One at Grifington Public School. I was just six months off retiring when the Unfortunate Incident occurred. Allow me to say, here and now, that I was well within my rights to give that child a good spanking. It’s exactly what he should have gotten from his *sniff* parents in the first place.

May I say, Dannie, you come across as a lovely young woman and I do believe we would get on like lemonade on a Sunday afternoon. Feel free to drop in for a chat anytime, dear, but do make sure you call first, I most despise uninvited guests.

Now, the last question for today, I must say, is the work of a most disturbed individual. I actually attended the local police station to make a complaint against this particular gentlemen, but the policewoman was most unhelpful, as she usually is when I approach them with these sort of things *sniff*.

In the comment ledger following my last inscription on this blog, a man by the name of Glen- if that is his real name, most unlikely, given the circumstances- took it upon himself to describe me as a “bit horny *sniff*. Now I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I’m assuming it has something to with Glen wanting to *sniff* procreate with me. Quite understandable, but really, Glen, I am most disgusted. I have had a thorough inspection of your “blog-whatever” and have found it to be the work of a person who one can only assume is a free-loving, wacky tobakky smoking hippy.

Glen, you should be very, very ashamed of yourself.

*sniff* Well. That’s quite enough from me for one day. There is only so much culture you people can handle in a small frame of time, given the disgustingly short attention spans of young people today, with your ADD’s and you BookFace and whatnot.

But if there is anything further you would like to know, comments you wish to make, or advice on life or children you are in need of- and surely there’s plenty of you who are in need of that- do let Lori know and she’ll pass your issues on to me during our weekly phone chats where I inquire about the health of her children, how many teeth the baby has and whether she is walking yet and maybe they should take her to a specialist? *sniff* 13 months is awfully late to be walking, after all. My children all walked at 6 months.

Righto then. *Sniff*. Off you go. Don’t bother trying to pop the Royal Doulton into your handbag, I will be counting the cups once you leave.

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