Me: Did you know that on Sunday it’s forecasted to reach 47°C somewhere out in the west of New South Wales, and that will be the hottest place on the planet?
HL: Whereabouts will that be?
Me: I dunno, just somewhere out west, they didn’t mention the place…
HL (masking his American accent with a very broad, ‘put-on’ Aussie accent): Chilaroo? Bullamaridgie? Wubba Wubba?
Me: *silence* None of those are actual places… *silence* But I am glad that you at least know how to make fun of Australian place names…
Me, to HL, after he had just woken up and wandered into the living room: I can tell you’re still very sleepy, you only seem to be able to open one of your eyes at a time.
HL, after looking in the bag of food we just bought at Red Rooster: Oh crap…
HL, 3 minutes later, back at Red Rooster, to the girl at the register: Look, I ordered AND PAID FOR a chicken roll, but when I got home and checked in the bag it wasn’t there. Can I have a chicken roll, please?
Register Girl: Ummm…sorry sir, how can I know you’re not just coming back to get another one?
HL: Are you kidding me? Why would I drive all the way back, with the rest of my food getting cold?
Register Girl: Well, can I see your receipt?
HL: You didn’t give me one…
Register Girl, to manager she has just called over: Uh, this gentleman says we didn’t put the chicken roll that he ordered in his bag, and he doesn’t have a receipt.
Manager, to HL: Sir, it’s our policy to give receipts.
HL, to manager: Well, I’m sure it’s also your policy to give the customer all of the food that they ordered and paid for…
Manager, to Register Girl: Give the gentleman a chicken roll.
Me: This Australian processed cheese in our Thanksgiving celery sticks is pretty good, almost tastes just like Easy Cheese. (This isn’t exactly what I said, more like the gist of the comment, with extra details to put it in context.)
HL, taking a big bite: Yeah, pretty close.
HL, 2 seconds later as he pulls a cat hair out of his mouth: Only with more hair…
HL, wandering into the computer room with a breakfast sandwich he picked up while out this morning: Mmmm, this sandwich is really good…fresh-made, sausage egg muffin…yum!
Me: Harumph. I had a bowl of Weet-Bix, and you bring your yummy, hot breakfast sandwich in here and make the room smell tasty.
HL, snickering: Oops, sorry. *grin*
Me: Out. Get out. You and your yummy sandwich, get out.
When I was a child, my family owned an LP of Stanley Holloway (I think) reading Hilaire Belloc’s Cautionary Tales For Children. It would send a delicious shiver through me every time I listened to it, as it didn’t feel like the normal watered-down namby-pambiness that is designed for children’s consumption. It felt as though I shouldn’t be listening to it – too much bluntness about death and naughtiness. It was obvious, even to a child, though, that they were designed by an adult to keep kids under control
I had a couple of ‘tales’ that were particular favourites, and this was one of them:
Rebecca
(Who Slammed Doors For Fun And Perished Miserably) A trick that everyone abhors
In little girls is slamming doors.
A wealthy banker’s little daughter
Who lived in Palace Green, Bayswater
(By name Rebecca Offendort),
Was given to this furious sport.
She would deliberately go
And slam the door like billy-o!
To make her uncle Jacob start.
She was not really bad at heart,
But only rather rude and wild;
She was an aggravating child…
It happened that a marble bust
Of Abraham was standing just
Above the door this little lamb
Had carefully prepared to slam,
And down it came! It knocked her flat!
It laid her out! She looked like that.
Her funeral sermon (which was long
And followed by a sacred song)
Mentioned her virtues, it is true,
But dwelt upon her vices too,
And showed the deadful end of one
Who goes and slams the door for fun.
The children who were brought to hear
The awful tale from far and near
Were much impressed, and inly swore
They never more would slam the door,
– As often they had done before.
Was browsing youtube and had to giggle when I saw this ad. When it first aired I was about 13, and, even though I didn’t really like Crunchies at the time, the ‘coolness’ of the older kids, whose lives were so obviously transformed by their Crunchie-consuming experience, always made me long for one.
HL: Did I ever tell you about my head-swapping dream?
Me: Uh…no
HL: Well, I dreamed that I could slice – very carefully – around the base of heads and attach them to my neck – ‘click’ – and they would slot perfectly into place, and I could walk around with my body and someone else’s head attached. And then I thought – ‘Oh crap! I’ve been wearing other people’s heads for the last hour and I left my own head hanging on a peg on the floor…maybe it’s dead…’ And then I looked in the mirror…
