Friday, October 12, 2007

For my birthday

It is nearly my birthday I want something from you blog readers, especially those who have known a long time.

Included are prolific posters or those I feel I know pretty well because their blog is quite personal. (Does that cover everyone who I may offend by not including). My previous pleas for a satellite navigation unit fell on deaf ears with only $10 promised, thanks Jo and Robyn. This gift will cost you nothing but a bit of your time. Make it a post on your blog or perhaps better in the comments here so that I have something to reflect on in my senior years. In your own time and a one liner is fine but get it done by Sunday night. I hate late birthday cards.

the time you had such a bad experience on public transport that you rang the minister or one of his minions, or similar.

the time you were really, really nice to an old person, excepting one who you may inherit from.

the time you thought being single is not such a bad thing.

the last nice thing you said to your ex husband.

Jo and Robyn,
the time you two got majorly drunk together or chatted online when you were both p***ed.

the recent time when your parents embarrassed you in public

the time you thought Australia was pretty ugly.

Daisy Jo,
your first or major disagreement with the Freshman or how you felt when you first signed to buy your house.

the time you could have murdered one of your kids...or a patient.

please just repeat the story of when you sneezed in the middle of a crucial moment. It was you wasn't it?


  1. Happy birthday, my friend. I hope you get something pretty from R.

    I'll do both; the story of my first disagreement with the Freshman here, and a post on my house-buying. A little backstory first: When I met the Freshman, he was self-employed. During the first six months that we dated, he had his utilities disconnected twice for nonpayment. I loaned him the money to get them reconnected and he never paid me back.

    In February of this year, he brought up the subject of moving in with me. I have a really hard time with confrontation, but I knew that I couldn't financially afford to take care of two people; I have a hard enough time taking care of myself. I told him I'd never let him move in with me in his unstable financial situation. A condition of him moving in would be that he have a job that would give him a regular income. I needed for him to prove that he was financially responsible for himself. He didn't take it so well. He understood that I was calling him irresponsible, and we came close to breaking up.

    After tears on both our parts, he agreed that he needed to look for another job, and I agreed that I couldn't compare him to my ex-husband, who was never responsible for everything. He got a job in August (a year after we met.)

    Maybe I was wrong to put finances before love, but my logical side is in constant battle with my emotional one. I'm too damn old to think that "Love conquers all."

    It all worked out in the end anyway.

    This is a pretty sad birthday present. Email me your address, and I'll send you some cookies.

  2. "You'd better hurry, the clock's stopped and the pub's been open for 30 minutes."

  3. Ah, a very happy birthday to one of my favourite bloggers!

    The stories I could tell of embarrasment in public. I shall post one tonight, in fact. Just for you, in the hope it might make you chuckle at my expense.

  4. WOW Andrew by Sunday night ? Im sure we can do something before then... In betweeen drinks hehehehe Only cos its U :) HEHEHE

  5. Thank christ I didn't make it to your list. *LOL*

  6. Were you here with me at the Trentham Cliffs winery when I was hissing at my kids to get away from the river banks? Ohm who could blame them hey? There was this massive leisure/pleasure houseboat fit for a King or Queen to sail along the Murray river. It has a hot tub, a gymnasium and countless other featueres aboard.
    Enough....I hope you have a great Birthday, make sure R treats you justly on your day of birth :)

  7. Happy birthday Andrew!

  8. Over a fortnight again, my cousin Georgiana rang me. Come to the family barbeque, she says. Please come, she practically begs. And, being the nice, lovely sort of person I am - I agree. And I go.

    I'd been out getting merry the night before and thus didn't feel quite like a family barbeque - but my cousin asked so nicely, and considering we're both first year uni students, I thought it'd be a nice way to catch up and eat cake.

    I arrive at beautiful Studley Park after a particular heinous morning of trying to make myself not look like I'd been hit by a bus, in order to not worry my great-aunt Gwendolyn, whose 80th birthday it was.

    And so my mother and I waltz into a room full of family members (which in itself is a traumatic moment - though I can hardly see anyone for looking, due to the relative darkness of my please-hide-my-hangover sunglasses). Notably, Georgiana was missing.

    Where's Georgiana? I demand. Old Aunt Mette informs me she is not feeling well - which is essentially the worst excuse for a hang over I have ever heard.

    And that's okay, I think, while silently making a pact to kill her the next time I see her.

    And so mum and I take our place at the table, surrounded by various elderly relatives who still insist that I am twelve years old and couldn't possibly understand what they are saying. In order to make me understand, they simply raise their voices when they speak to me, as though perhaps I'm a idiot.

    By the time we finished lunch, my mum is so bored she's ready to hurl herself out the nearest window - and she turns to me with a glittering smile, which can only ever really mean one thing.

    She is going to embarras me.

    Then she turns to my great aunt Gwendolyn, an 80 year old conservative who thinks John Howard is God and Tony Blair is the best thing that ever happened to England, and my mum says, Did you know Rosanna has adopted a small child? in the sort of tone that implies she could be speaking of the weather.

    Clearly, she was refering to the baby girl I nanny - but Gwendolyn has no way of knowing this was the case and immediately began preaching to me about the nature of safe sex and responsibility and, shock horror, condoms.

    By this time, the entire table has stopped talking at the word 'condom' and I have turned an elegant shade of beetroot.

    All the while, my mother smiles pleasantly - looking utterly thrilled with herself, while I retreat into my chair and suffer in my embarrasment.

    Thanks, mum.

    And happy birthday, Andrew.

  9. The time when the gyno was elbow deep in my flange you mean? :P

    Trust you to remember that! You know you want me, admit it!!!!

    Happy Birthday gorgeous man. If ever you need a beard, I'm your girl.

    ((big hugs and inappropriate groping))


  10. Gee Daisy Jo. I am sure you did the right thing. It is fine when you are twenty and have years before you. You can afford to be a bit irresponsible. But I reckon you have worked hard for your financial security and you ought not jeopardise it.

    A classic Jahteh. So much said in so few words.

    And you did Robyn. Thank you.

    You were touch and go Ren. I should have really because you can tell a good story.

    Their children in danger tends take make parents angry Cazzie, and grandparents too I seem to recall.

    Thanks Daniel. I very clearly recall your video in the train. It was pretty well the beginning of the train overcrowding complaints. You clearly gave it some fire.

    Ah Rosanna. You sure did not disappoint. What a ripper of a story. Your mother sounds to be quite as I imagine her to be. Great effort.

    Actually Steph, I had forgotten that one. Thank you so much for reminding me. You are first in line when I am bored and want to explore interesting alternatives.