Our morning started earlier than usual.

A mix of a certain boy losing his motherfucking shit waiting to cover his entire body in real dairy filled chocolate for the VERY FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE and daylight savings finishing so 6am became 5am and I don’t freaking care if I didn’t lose an hours sleep IT DAMN WELL FELT LIKE IT.

After managing to hog tie him to his bed to gain a few more minutes of precious peace convince him to lay with us for a while, we let him loose to wake The Damn Emos.

At 7am.

It wasn’t pretty.

Sustaining elixir of the Gods in hand, we ventured out into the crisp morning air for the Annual Easter Egg Hunt.

And subsequent Annual Empty All The Eggs On The Trampoline And Then Jump On Them Until Someone Cries event.

Followed by Eat Chocolate For Breakfast Till The Sugar Rush Hits.  My kids are total lightweights with their modest couple of eggs and a cup of tea.  The Golden Child and I were totally hardcore with our CocoPops drowned in chocolate milk with choc-chips.

Kids these days… fucking wimpy with their delayed gratification.

And their mocking of my Easter Decorating Awesomeness:

Easter Tree

iEgg

Harry Pot-Egg

Strong Bad-Egg

While my family – and various Ring In Emos and The Grandparental Units sat around clutching their bellies and making Mr Potato Head chocolate spud:

I went all 50’s housewife and made lemon scrolls.

OhMyFuckingZombieJesus they were awesome.

Of course.

The rest of the day was spent in various stages of sugar crash, peppered with Boo wandering around moaning ‘Brains, brains, brrrrrraaaaaaaaiiiiiiins’ while The Damn Emos and MPS played Plants verses Zombies.

My house is now littered with comatose Emos, bright shiny paper and I am hoping like fuck it is chocolate smeared all over the walls and furniture.

Ahh, Zombie Jesus Day.

Fucking awesome.

Whatever you are celebrating today, I hope you all had a day as wondrous as ours.

So when we left our heroine, she was sweating buckets glistening in the kitchen icing a fuck load of cupcakes and the feral hordes invited guests were descending on the Magneto Bold Too abode.

The invitation instructed the invitees to wear ‘play clothes’ because they were to get wet and dirty.

No fucking prissy princesses at this party biatches, that honour is reserved for the Damn Emos attending the evening shenanigans.

And in case they forgot {like they could, the kids were having fucking full blown freak outs all week with the excitement.  Boo’s parties are legen… wait for it… dary} the Damn Emos put a sign on the door.

Yes, I am well aware of teh internetz disdain for the word ‘moist’.  And panties.

Which doubled as a drunken snigger fest later that evening.

We all congregated in the lounge while the kids threw presents and money in Boos direction and I literally sat on the airconditioner.  Insert the words moist and panties here… *snigger*

For the next half hour I tried to placate the kids with hot dogs

Notice the Hebrew, dude be Israeli.  Also the background music of the party on the tv in the background – wii music.

popcorn and fairy floss

as a big arse aside – we had a popcorn and fairy floss machines hired but the fucking bitch that runs the company we were hiring it from was all ‘I am too fucking lazy to fill your order so you can have like 13 bags of fairy floss and make your own popcorn…’ and I was all ‘fuck you bitch and you will NEVER WORK IN THIS TOWN AGAIN!’ and got premade stuff that was still awesome and made sure that everyone knows never to deal with the stupid fucking mole again, cause no one disses me like that.

my WORLD FAMOUS MERINGUES and other confections

But all they wanted to do was pelt one another with wet sponges, water balloons, buckets of water and the hose.

I gave up and was all ‘have at it’…

And they did.  And it was epic.

Boo spent the majority of the party in his room watching Power Ranger DVD’s and eating the chips that the kids were banned from {see party of awesome part 1}, the house was full of adults nomming on the World Famous Meringues, Emo’s were pelting random kids that either pissed them off or stood still for too long.

When the parents arrived to pick up their little darlings they were sopping wet and hyped up on a metric ton of sugar.

A sign of a successful party if you ask me.

Within minutes of the party finishing the skies exploded and it rained for a full hour.

Stopping just in time to set up for Moo’s party.  A Halloween dress as slutty as possible up party.

Moo went as the Mad Hatter.  In this:

Obviously that is NOT Moo.  She has green hair.  Derrr…

I have TONS of photos from that party, but none I can share here.  Cause this is not fucking MYSPACE.  Fuck me dead, when these kids adults kids get married they will be all scissor fingers and pouty faces in the church.  Boob thrusting and fingers in mouths as they are pushing out the next generation in the maternity ward.

Seriously guys, surely there is a different pose you can strike.  Take some lessons from Madonna, you know you can do it…

We set up MPS’s doof doof gear {MPS is a DJ} in the yard and they got their groove on while sucking down lolly water and squealing OMG I LOVE THIS SONG TAKE MY PICTURE!!!! *scissor fingers*

And there was cake.  Hello Kitty Princess Castle cake in the shade of Moo’s hair.  Of course…

As the party wound down bodies were strewn everywhere watching ‘Lesbian Vampire Killers’ and they all fell asleep.

Fucking amateurs.

Because I am a bitch I am gunna make you peeps sit through a series of posts about the parties from the weekend.

Because:

1. There is a shit load to tell
2. They cost me the gross national income of a small African country
3. They were awesome and your computer would explode from the amount of pics and awesomeness
4. I wanted an excuse to try out this numbering thing
5. Just because, dammit!  It is my blog.

OR there may just be the one cause I get distracted and then some time in February go OMG I forgot to post the rest of the party pics and then it will be too late and you will be all ’sigh, she did it again’… So just giving you the heads up.

First of all I want to say I LOVE YOUS GUYS! And you have wicked mad weather changing skillz and I am now going to come to you for all my weather related requests (and perhaps lottery winning vibes, cause if you wish really really hard for me to win millions of dollars I will totally come to each and every one of your houses and kiss you straight on the mouth and then take you out for drinks. And mouthwash probably) because the weather was PERFECT!

It was stinking hot.  Best weather ever for a party of epic water fights.  We will not be able to shower for the next month cause I think we used our quota.

Another reason for you to all wish really really REALLY hard for me to win the lottery.  Hard to be awesome when you smell like old unwashed lady.

So the day dawned warm and humid, with extra bodies lying all over the place after a sugar crash of epic proportions.  Note to self: DO NOT get a depression of Emos to bag Fairy Floss unsupervised.  More goes into their gaping maws than the bags and then they get all giggly and silly and start making blatant sexual jokes that make your head explode.

And then they fall asleep in awkward positions that make you go ‘owww.  How can that possibly be comfortable?’

I took my usual position in the kitchen, wielding fondant and royal icing and various colours of food dye, the airconditioner on full so the damn cakes wouldn’t melt…

While the Damn Emos, and their pet rangas* built this:

Fucking awesome.

And cleaned up:

Nike – Employing socially awkward persons since about today.

*snort*

And decorated:

And filled up 250 water balloons.  I made those biatches work for consuming their body weight in sugary confection.

While madness ensued, Boo busied himself redecorating the inside snack table:

And it stayed that way, the chips unopened, for the majority of the party…

The kids know Boo’s handwriting.  And know better…  Bwaaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaaaa!

Just as the last table was set up, the doorbell rang.

Stay tuned {or not} for part II – Boo’s party of awesomeness.

* my daughters collect friends with red hair.  It is like a sport.

So you have all been waiting with baited breath (OMG that is so funny! It is like a play on words that only I will get cause only I knew where I was, oh and my family, and my credit card provider.  Those bastards knew EXACTLY where I was) to find out where on earth my awesomeness was.

I was going to be all ‘Only Aussie entrants biatches’ but I hate it when you US chicks pull that shit and get me all excited about winning something and then I have to pull the disappointment face that goes with the disappointment noise that is kinda like ‘pwoar’ and MPS is all ‘oh shit, what have I done NOW?’

Even when he is not home.

He has dog hearing.

But not when it comes to babies crying or the washing machine finishing or Boo covering the walls in toothpaste at 2am.

Bastard.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, where was I!

Some of you may remember our little foray into the world of ‘family holidays’, well we upped the anti and went somewhere HOURS away from our home.

TO THE BEACH BIATCHES!

Lakes Entrance to be exact.  (not Summer Bay as I told BoxBoy and got him all in a lather.  I am such a bitch.  And he is so damn gullible)  We stayed HERE

For two whole nights.

Awesome.

It was a little cold to go to the actual beach, but we were in the general vicinity.

We did family things, and had family dinners, and fought like a sonofabitch had incredible bonding time…

and next time I am totally going on my own.

I kid.  I kid.  A little.

The highlight of the trip for Too was going out for breakfast.  She lost her fucking MIND over a full breakfast of sausage, egg, bacon, tomato, mushroom and thick toast.  Poor deprived child has never been out for breakfast before.  Probably because she is a lazy biatch and won’t get out of bed in time to go something we should do more often.

Moo loved going to a fancy schmantzy restaurant on a boat that was on water that was from the ocean and had to cross a fucking BRIDGE over the fucking water that was from the fucking ocean and there were fucking BOATS mooring at the side of the fucking restaurant, boats that have been on the fucking ocean and people stepping off said boats that had been on the OCEAN, the OCEAN people… breathe breathe.

Come to think of it, I think Moo enjoyed freaking her mother out more than anything.  The mother that is terrified of the OCEAN and bridges across the OCEAN and BOATS and restaurants that are on boats on the ocean that serve fucking BUGS and PRAWNS with their heads still on and are looking at you all ‘why Kelley why?  Why must I be murdered?’

See those trees in the distance – don’t look at the ocean, OMG the OCEAN PEOPLE!! Full of sharks and fucking house sized octopuses and Crocodile Hunter murdering bastards with SPEARS – Lakes Entrance has a little kinda river thing, but don’t be fooled it is fucking DEEP and full of sharks and fish with murderous intentions, and then over that sand barry tree filled thing is Ninety Mile Beach.  So called cause it is like Ninety Miles long.  Apparently.  But we don’t do that old fashioned American measurement shit so it could be like 4 kilometres for all I know.

Anyway, I told Boo that it was Rumania.  And he was all ‘I don’t wanna go to Rumania!’ and I was all ‘well eat your lunch and we won’t send you to live with the Rumanian’s… Hey look!  There is a Rumanian!  Hello Rumanian person, would you like to eat a little boy?’

And that shut him up and I could drink the only half decent latte in the whole of Lakes Entrance

WHAT THE FUCK PEOPLE? This is supposed to be a resort town and they cannot make a fucking latte to save themselves, seriously before this the best coffee I had was at McDonalds drive thru. *shudder*

but it came back to bite me in the arse cause then we couldn’t go to the actual beach cause Boo was terrified of the Rumanians salting him up and chucking him on the BBQ.

I have no idea where he gets these ideas from.

*snigger*

The highlight for Boo was feeding the seagulls.  The kid nearly took off with his flapping of excitement and his squeals of rapture could be heard from space.  I hope there are no Rumanians on the International Space Station.  Cause it would suck being in the middle of space and get a hankering for BBQ.

My heart almost exploded out of my chest with the cuteness.

My favouritist part was the broadband internet.

I kid, I kid.  A little.

This is probably why MPS and I vowed to next time get a fucking babysitter and go by ourselves.   To somewhere where we don’t have to share a bed with a sleepless child with a penchant for watching Futurama over and over again and pushing his nappy clad arse up my left nostril.  Oh and Damn Emos Damn Emoing all over the place.

So that is where we were.  I tried to add a poll thing but it didn’t work and I went to the poll thing forums and they were all ‘you need to unplug all your thingies and change your theme and then try again’ and I was all ‘day-um I don’t have time for shit like that can’t I just say I had a stroke and someone will do it for me?  Oh, that doesn’t work on the internetz cause I am talking to a dude with no arms or legs who is moving the mouse with his mind, has dyslexia and a nut allergy?  Never mind…’  and I backed out quietly.

Good thing I told them that my blog was Dooce.com.  I am so clever.

So anyway, I couldn’t choose a winner.  Cause some of you were right, some were living in fantasy land like BoxBoy and thought I was in Summer Bay and some were just fucking funny.  I managed to whittle it down to these eight for you to vote on.

No darts were involved.  Or bribing (no bribing! Bitches should know that I can be bought)

A.       Purgatory.  ~  Mellissa D

B.       Nuthouse? … hm no white walls, eh. Well, random guess is the beach.  ~  Estelle (first right answer!)

C.       Oh no, wait a mo, you aren’t sitting behind a window looking out onto Amsterdam’s fine red light district are you?  ~     Womb for improvement (Holy Shit this cracked me up!)

D.     Church?   Haaaaahahahaha. I dunno why I find that so funny. But I do. ~  Karly (because I would be like that movie Dogma, everything would cease to exist)

E.     You have moved in with MOTY!  I win, admit it! ~  Goaldeebug (this made me LOL and then get a cold scared feeling all over…)

F.     You know we belong together…  ~  XBox4NappyRash (only because it creeped me out until I realised it was a Summer Bay reference and then I was all bwaaaaaaa haaaaaa haaaaaaa sucka!)

G.     …Where did we find Pinocchio?  According to the experts at Shrek 3, he was last seen far far away.  No. Far too obvious…  He did appear earlier in Shrek – in the swamp….  ~  JodieOdie (cause day-um that was a freaky long comment and we ate pizza from a restaurant called Pinocchio’s!  And that is AWESOME!)

H.   Summer Bay?  or Cadburys!  Wherever you are I hope it’s awesome ~  Myst (had to give Myst this one…)

So my lovelies, in the comments vote for your favourite answer.  One vote per person.

Unicorns and puppies can vote multiple times.

No cats.

You know what confuses the living fuck out of me?

When I get like 4 hits on my blog from a post from another blogger that is like, oooooold (the post not the blogger, and by old I mean not in the last month or so), and when I go over to see WHY someone would be visiting my blog from a post from another blogger that is like, ooooooold,  I can see NO GOOD REASON for it.

Like, I HAVEN’T EVEN COMMENTED on that post, or perhaps I did, but it was a lame arsed comment that I lay awake cringing about thinking ‘damn woman that comment sucked.  You suck at this internet commenting caper’.

Anyway.  It confuses me.  And confounds me.  And confabulates me.

Like the feedburner fuckups, up and down up and down, losing HUNDREDS of THOUSANDS of readers, stoopid head feedburner confabulates me too.

If I knew what confabulates me meant.

And I don’t do dictionary type things where I am.

But I do knock up a fucking AWESOME header for Easter in five minutes that I had spare.

So, my lovelies.  WHERE AM I?

A prize for the best/most creative/make me pee AND spurt latte out my nose answer.  Or even the correct one.

And Boxboy, you are not allowed to enter cause you already know where I am.  Fucking cheater.

Go.

UPDATED TO ADD: There have been aspursions cast about the validity of the the saviour/savior and what is the correct spellage in the header of Easter Awesome.  Moo and I discussed this at length, her being a freaking grammar Nazi and English Literature nerd and me having had a stroke and therefore I win at LIFE and we both decided that saviour looked too much like savour and that would be totally creepy.  Especially when getting those little bunneh hairs caught between your teeth.

Saw this today.  Shamelessly stolen from somewhere that stole it from here.

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn’t seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

Cracked my shit up.  Even though the only things I remember from the whole trilogy is my brother getting all pissed if anyone spoke while he was watching it.  For the eleventy billionth time.  While he was wearing his Jedi Robes.

And Han Solo making me feel all warm in my pants.

Rawr.

So who was your favourite Star Wars character?  Come on.  You know you have one.

The party was awesome.

The party fucking ROCKED.

Almost as hard as my freaking awesome cupcakes that blew my tiny little mind with their awesomeness.

Boo scored big time in the gift stakes.  Fantastic presents that the kids thought long and hard about, parents all ‘What the fuck?  You want to give him WHAT?’ Boo’s peeps know what he likes.  And if not cold hard cash baby.

Boo was a gracious host.  Greeting everyone and exclaiming ‘WOW’ with every gift.  Unlike last year when he was all ‘Meh’ and ‘I don’t want THIS!’  He was a freaking rock star.

And I totally had something in my eye.

Repeatedly.

And the weather?  GLORIOUS!  Sunny and warm (almost hot) no wind.  Absolutely freaking perfect for a day outdoors with a elevently billion kids, 500 water balloons, 5 water pistols, 6 freshly scrubbed buckets, 2 plastic toy boxes, 10 oversized sponges and a toilet.

I thank every single one of you for the awesome weather.  You really came through. Smootch yourselves from me.

And a very very special thankyou to my biatch Robin at Around the Island, she rocks big time.  She saved my sanity by translating words into Hebrew for me, for Boo’s vision of Carnival sign nirvana.  Going well above even my lofty expectations to ensure that I had the correct spelling.

So despite the preceding weeks including excretions from every orifice – flu, ear infections, gastroenteritis and a fucking ANT PLAGUE – it all came together.  A fantastic day.

Kids running in and out of the house dripping wet and covered with mud.  Kids fouling up my toilet,  Boo’s wet nappy festering under my bed and finding him sitting in there chatting to his aide and teacher – yes, my kid is that freaking awesome that his teacher comes to his party – the stench burning their eyes along with the totally trashed room (thanks Boo, you little bastard), the neighbour choosing the 2 hour period of the party to pressure clean his fucking roof, the smell of bird shit and acid rain floating through my freshly-cleaned-and-now-streaked-with-crap windows, drowning out the heavenly scent of the buttery popcorn and hot diggity dogs.  Hence the toilet reference in the title.

I am still cleaning up after 50+ people in and around my home.  But that is just fine with me.

The party fucking rocked baby.

And now I will stop.  I wont bore you all with the minutiae of the party preparations, I will take it over to the party blog.  And cause I suck at being consistent and keeping my bloggy promises I suggest you subscribe.  You won’t be disappointed cause DAY-UM did that kid want some weird shit.

I have no idea where he gets his warped mind from.

So how do you ensure the Best Birthday Ever?

• Some mad scientists doing some freaking AWESOME experiment that has the tiniest chance of blowing up (or blowing in, yeah whatevz, I never said I was no intellectual) the world or causing a black hole to form or things to go boom.

• Make your mother take you shopping for something like a billion hours and STILL not know what you want and have said mother go waaaaaaaay over budget to try and find something to make you happy.

• Accidentally on purpose forget to give your mother your school report – from a WEEK ago – until your birthday morning when she can’t rip you a new arse and has to suck up the feelings of rage so you can feel all smug like.  But learn your lesson to NOT let you mother stew with rage for a day or she will make you PAY big time the following day…

• Ask for a special breakfast of croissants.  And then get a French lesson from your brother with the American accent, cause apparently he is a French Israeli.

• Get a kick arse new phone, with a butt load of credit AND a Hulk costume including Hulk Hands.  Cause the Hulk fucking rocks.

• Your mother spends all freaking day making handmade truffles and a birthday cake.

• Request Chinese takeaway for dinner whilst in the midst of frustrating your parents with ‘I dunno’ as a fucking present and they will do ANYTHING to make your birthday happy.  Even though your Awesome Mummy hates it and your brother can’t eat it and it costs an arm and a leg (cause I sold my kidneys earlier to by fuel and send something to Tanis, wish those fuckers grew back like fingernails or something) and your best friend invites himself over for dinner and then goes ahead and orders the most expensive shit on the menu…

$110 worth of Chinese Takeaway.  Not pictured Awesome Mummy’s Palak Paneer from the Indian takeaway and Boo’s chicken nuggets and chips.

• Instead of getting off key Happy Birthday sung before cake cutting, get an impromptu serenade from your brother of New York New York – rap style and then ‘Are you gunna be my girl’ by Jet while he lays on his funky dance moves.

• And then disappear to your room and fall asleep full of Chinese food and chocolate cake.

Pretty awesome birthday if you ask me.

~~~~~~~~

I am in the midst of preparing for a birthday party so I have been a bit scarce, sorry about that.  I will be resurrecting the old Party Blog, or even create a new one, to post the preparations and recipes so watch the sidebar for updates.

Happy Fathers Day to all the Daddies of the world!

Apparently it isn’t Fathers Day everywhere.

Awwwww.

Suck it up.

So the day dawned early with the arrival of the tiny terrorist.  Completely oblivious to the fact it was Fathers Day, but day-um did that kid perk up when he found out!  Probably because of this:

Yes, my lovelies.  THAT was breakfast.  Made by the loving hand of the Damn Emos.  Not dressed as Ninja though.  Only mummy gets that sort of treatment.

So when I finally surfaced and shouted to MPS to make me a damn coffee NOW – what?  He ain’t my freaking father -  I was presented with a plate of this, half as much thankfully.  Icecream and M&M’s for breakfast ain’t my idea of bliss.

Suitably caffienated it was time for presents.  That damn husband of mine was all ‘I dunno’, ‘whatever’ and shit when I asked him what he wanted for fathers day so I went the cliche safe option.

Socks and undies.  And slippers.  So he will stop wearing Moo’s fluffy purple ones.

And one final gift from his wife.

A hovercraft.

Full of eels.

Cause I love me some python.

Um.  That is supposed to be a capital P when talking about the Monty variety, right?  *snigger*

We are freaky people.

But you knew that.

Do you know what this is?

It is a mosh pit.

As is our kitchen.

We have a galley kitchen.  You get 5 people in one space.  One mother in a silly mood.  One call of MOSH!  And you have teh awesome all over the kitchen.

Arms and legs and squeals of delight.

And one delusional woman thinking she can crowd surf by jumping off the top of the freezer…

Here is a tip.  Four people and a bunneh do not make a big enough crowd to surf on.  Cause they are all ‘oww’ and ‘muuuuum’ and ‘um, honey do you think that is a good idea?’ ‘don’t mosh me mummy!’

Freaking wimps.

I am all ‘What you complaining about?  That freakshow muscle kid was lifting more than his body weight at half your age so suck it up and hoist me over your head you pussies!’

I need to get me some hard-arse kids, not these weak Damn Emos.  I swear I heard Amy (the bunneh) listening to Escape the Fate the other day…

Or as we like to call them es-carp-eh teh fart-eh – Thankyou Dory.

Meh.

Wanna mosh with me?  Just let me load the dishwasher first.