Reasons you will hate me

Friday q and a #86.

ABODIGINIES? RITE ON!!!







Well I don't know about you, but I'm certainly buying it.




*changes vote*



Anyhow.






It's only just out of reach, down the block, on a beach, under a tree...


Does any other musical theatre tragic aside from me know where those lyrics originate? They seem so pertinent today; as our Friday gateway creaks upon and unlocks the secrets of the weekend and all the delights that are soon to follow. Let's impatiently tap toes together and count down seconds as we distract ourselves with a few random questions, shall we?

EC said...
Hey there Ms Fits,

I'm wondering if you have any friends/know people who don't drink alcohol?

I can't drink alcohol, no I'm not an alcoholic it's a medical thing, long and boring and complicated. Suffice to say lots of blood tests to check my liver function and reading many a That's Life! in the doctor's waiting room.

What's prompted my wondering is an article in today's Daily Terror expressing outrage over the "


In case the URL doesn't work-

"RACEGOERS were last night venting their fury at a controversial "one case" of alcohol limit at the Bathurst 1000 as police began an unprecedented security operation ahead of the famous race."

& this guy-

"Victorian resident Wayne Houston had beer confiscated yesterday at a checkpoint in front of the Max Cameron camping ground.

"One box of beer per adult for four days is ridiculous," Mr Houston said.

Now my maths is bad, but one box of beer per adult for four days is six beers per day. The guy is carrying on like they're taking away his FOOD.

Please don't misunderstand I don't mind people drinking. Marmalade's Saturday night report was a hoot. Boxman!

My questions, including the first one-

Do regular people (as opposed to health problem weirdos like me) have fun without alcohol?

Is the world completely awash in grog or does it just seem that way to me sometimes?

You seem to have unlocked quite a topic of discussion for this week's q and a, EC. Interestingly enough I've been mostly on the wagon myself of late, having essentially drifted through Europe in a mildly liquor-soaked haze (you try being in Paris and not having a glass of wine with your croque monsieur) and requiring a full and thorough oil and water change upon returning home to planet earth. I certainly know how to knock back a few sly sherries, though am more than able to paint the town clear gloss with only a strong espresso coffee and a rush of giddy hormones under my belt. Whether I count as a regular person or a 'health problem weirdo' is a matter for debate, but yes - lowbrow and devilish fun is certainly possible without the demon drink.


I see your point about the world being awash with grog...I live very close to a beautifully demonic rock n roll pub, and often spend my mornings delicately tiptoeing around lakes of vomit and smashed beer bottles. It's one thing to be in the midst of a crowd makin' whoopee wearing your bra as a hat, quite another to be the only sober patsy amongst folk who keep repeating themselves and insisting that you join them for a hearty rendition or twelve of Fergalicious (a capella).


In answer to your first question, I do have friends that don't drink - or barely do.



In answer to everything else, let's open up the forum:

Fenz said...
EC, I too have a condition that requires I do not imbibe alcohol, so I empathise. I do however partake very occasionally and pay health wise for days. So yes, I can and do have fun without alcohol.

You people and your mysterious 'conditions'. What are you all, pregnant?

Langie said...
Yesh, well je Mangy Daiquiris ave bin goin down real well- free pints so far, but me semen count ish in revurse proporsun to de level of me nose to de floor, an dere's a-bangin at de door wot mush be Pammie Handerson cum to give me a hand, so ter speak.
Furvermore Throbbing Gristle has now become Mr Wobbly, so I fink I better stay quiet an pretend I'm not here, coz he ain't really here eiver, poor lil bugger, eh?
Awright seamen, back in yer hammocks, hits goin ter be a stormy nite ahead...

You've written that comment in phonetics, haven't you? I see what you're doing there. You're suggesting that you've perhaps imbibed too many mango daiquiris (see: last week's q and a), and that it has somehow impaired your ability to type.


Full points for the term 'throbbing gristle' while we're here, young man.

Ben said...
EC, I refrain from drinking alcohol out of choice, with no medical reason, and although I in no way begrudge anyone their own chosen method of revel, I too confess to the occasional moment of befuddlement at the status of alcohol in the community. Apparently Cameron Mooney celebrated the grand final win by drinking non-stop for a week. I don't know why that represents celebration, but then I wouldn't, would I.

Non-stop for a week? Blimey. Did he not take time out for sleeps and toilet breaks? I 'celebrated' quite significantly over the Grand Final weekend after a week of not drinking at all, and awoke Sunday morning feeling as though a team of tiny elves had spent the night booting me unceremoniously in the kidneys, which was in no way pleasant or to be recommended.


Still. It was very nice wine.

Exordium said...
I have been creating left wing propaganda on comunity radio. I listen back and think jeeesus thats as fundamentalist as the right to life groups. But I don't think Ruddy is to be considered too left anymore, as much as I admire the Rudd Gillard tattoo styled polichicks hoodie..
So can vent extremism while mantaining my position as left leaning due to the much of a muchness state of the two major parties?
Also. I want Bob Brown's babies. No question. Word.

No question indeed, but it's my guess that BB might take some convincing about impregnating you, no matter how worthy the reasoning. You know, with the whole in a relationship/in-built homo/earth first thing.


Give it a shot though; it'll make a good blog post at the very least.

Anonymous said...
Can you braid your own hair with your hands behind your head?

You mean french braid? I doubt it. I can plait my hair into two plaits, but for most other hair-related things I'm relatively retarded as my dusty ol' do would attest.



I don't know, that kind of girlish hair business seemed to pass me by as a snapper. While other young ladies were contorting themselves to achieve the perfect top-knot pony I was in our tiny square of a backyard practicing being Bernie Quinlan with a Sherrin autographed by the Fitzroy Football Club. That's right, I have gender 'issues'.

Dylan said...
if mothra were to team up with gamera, would tokyo even stand a chance?

In a word no, though I hope they hold off on demolishing the joint until my beloved makes his way safely home from Nishi-shinjuku. I can't imagine how awkward the phone call would be if I had to ring his parents to tell them their son had been killed by a gargantuan bloodthirsty moth and an oversized ninja turtle with PMS.

Marmalade said...
@ Witty Pseudonym
(who said: "You and me and a night in Melbourne. My treat, I am very wealthy and decadent.")
Why, when I think of you, do I have an image of George Hamilton? At some point on this 'night', about halfway through my eighth Drambuie*, will I be fielding questions about my last girlfriend while an orange hand inches along my kneecap?

* At which point I'll slur, "Two more and I'm yours, big boy."

@ bop-girl
(who intriguingly said: "You and me and a night in, in Melbourne. My treat, I neither very wealthy nor decadent, but i am willing.")
Beware, Bop. I am rebounding. BEWARRRrrrrrrrr - also I am rarely as funny without half an hour to think ahead and injury time to do an OCD spellcheck on tricky words like 'eighth'.

I'm in for a Dan Kelly tat if the Libs win, Fits. You, me, Bob Ellis, Boxman, the whole Reasons crew - let's lead a march to wherever the YLs are 'partying down' (I tried to look it up...their website is broken, the ninnies, but I'm thinking Trader Bar) and strike down with furious anger on their canapes and fizzy drinks.

Do Young Libs really 'party down' these days, Marmalade? Aren't they too busy kicking coloured children and setting fire to unmarried mothers? To be honest if they get across the line I'm not sure I should be anywhere near them, particularly if liquor and sharp objects are involved. I'm too young and vital to spend the next fifteen years of my life in the 'joint'. My face will be slashed by Big Sue for giving lip in the washroom, you see.

djali said...
*Raises glass of Champagne to Ms Fits and winks in most unsutble way*

Fuck, I love this place.

Specially with you in it Marmalade.

And Boxman!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

*Falls off chair*

So what I'm picking up from this week's questions is that half of us are a sombre team of straight-edge non-drinkers (some with mystifying 'medical conditions'), and the other half will most likely one day require the sort of intervention that involves three family members, a priest, and every ex-partner you've ever had insisting you never lay eyes on a Drambuie again or may god have mercy etc. Am I correct?










Am I allowed to keep a foot in both camps?

Anonymous said...
Dearest Fits

I'd like to raise a glass of non-alcoholic goodness to the fellow medical non drinkers. I haven't been able to drink in about a year because of boring health reasons.

While it is completely necessary and good for me (blah blah blah), I do miss the occaisonal tipple. So a question. What would you suggest I drink instead? It makes me feel rather like a kid to ask a dishy bartender for a glass of lemonade.

Have you tried lemon, lime and bitters, Anon? Or lime and soda? Both rather sophisticated and lightly tart numbers I've found and if you swirl them around your glass with a glamorously bored expression and a world-weary sexuality most passer-by wouldn't be able to tell the difference.


That said, there's a definite case for knocking back a tall glass of raspberry lemonade and waking up three days later in East Keilor with a pounding headache and new husband named Fong.

D said...
Sigh.

So I've recently gone back to working at the national monolith of low income based worship that we know as Centrelink, and by christ I'm starting to wonder what the hell i've done to myself.

I enjoy being able to give some assistance to those in need, and I like having a 'real' job, but i think i'm starting to crack. If it's not the useless "Customer Relations Manager" dumping faxed work on my desk, it's the queue that never ends eyeballing me at my front-of-office position wondering what I'm up to, and if it isn't that it's some irate bastard whingeing about how he shouldn't have to prove his identity in order to receive his payments. And that's before we factor in the genuine, rolled-gold mentally fluctuating.

Do you have any suggestions to help escape the feeling that I've committed myself to drone-like existance? My social life appears to have committed suicide in addition to my new found work habits. Feeling a bit raw, and being stuck at home all saturday with naught to do doesn't help...

Oh, you poor bugger. You sound like you're very stuck in a rut. At the very least you have someone who can relate to your blues:

Anon from months back with a question about photos of children and poos on mobiles said...
Oh D,

I really feel for you, having spent way too long at the 'Link myself.

I think it's possible, if you really keep it uppermost in your mind, to do good work that benefits people and to ensure they're treated with respect and dignity. You also get better than average pay and conditions.

So, all in all, you should GET THE FUCK OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!!!!!! IT IS SHIT, IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN SHIT, AND IT WILL ALWAYS BE SHIT. AND DON'T THINK A CHANGE OF GOVERNMENT WILL MAKE ANY REAL DIFFERENCE EITHER, I'VE CHECKED THE ALP POLICY. YOU WORK FOR CUNTERLINK FOR FUCKS, NO WONDER NOBODY WANTS ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU!!!!

Also, here's the/a Centrelink joke:
Q) What's black and white and gets you pissed?

A) a SU19.

What a marvellous joke, AFMBWAQAPOCAPOM. I don't pretend to understand it for a moment, but I like that you people have your own private language and codewords and paperwork-based wink system.


Although I've never worked for Centrelink I'd have to say I'm with AFMBWAQAPOCAPOM on this one (but with less shouting and exclamation marks, obviously). If it's making you so deeply miserable you should probably move on. There are plenty of other ways you can help people out whilst having a 'real' job, and if your heart and head are in a healthier place you'll probably be doing a whole world more of good. And a vague semblance of a social life - no matter how tepid, or substance-free - is important for balance.


*whistles Life Be In It themesong*

D said...
No one knew who Kevin Andrews was until he opened his ignorant gob spouting ill informed and ill considered garbage. That's why he's doing it... I mean, who's going to be vice if Big Johnny ups and leaves?

Thanks for all the Centrelink advice. I'll think on it if i get time between clients. As for the social life, that's going to take more work i'm afraid...

How so, D? Are you not working hard enough as it is without adding 'must cut loose and jive wildly (Fri.)' into your calendar? Socialising should be a relaxed event for you rather than something you need to rigidly set time aside for. Go see some music and let your hair(s) down, for goodness' sake.



Also:

richard_watts said...
D said:

"Do you have any suggestions to help escape the feeling that I've committed myself to drone-like existance? My social life appears to have committed suicide in addition to my new found work habits. Feeling a bit raw, and being stuck at home all saturday with naught to do doesn't help..."

My suggestion would be to get thee to the Melbourne Fringe Festival, D - so much to see that sitting home alone on a Saturday need not be a problem again: at least til the festival ends on Sunday. This Saturday is a huge fuck-off party and awards night at the Festival Club at North Melbourne Town Hall - come one, come all, it will be wonderful.

Fits, my question is: in light of my sitting grumpily with my hands in my lap while all around leapt to their feat and applauded the over-produced shit-fest which is Priscilla the Musical at its opening night last Saturday, am I just some kind of wanky art snob, or are half the people in the world hopeless lacking in taste? (Given Howard being re-elected so often it could well be the latter, but I just thought I'd ask).?

I'd go with the latter, although I privately didn't mind the all-out spectacle of Priscilla that much. Loathed the film with a passion, but drank champagne with Nadstown and eventually sighed for mercy when I saw the musical in Sydlee. It's incredibly tacky and I do know the feeling of wanting to stab theatre-goers, having sat through the heinous We Will Rock You wishing violent and instant Ebola on everyone in the room.

Additionally:

djali said...
Ms Marmalade,

Are you in my cinema studies class? A very lovely lady from my class gave me her email address today and marmalade was mentioned. Of course I couldn't just ask the girl at the time if she ever comes here, that would spoil the fun.

Also, I'm sorry, not really a Friday question but I feel I need to stand up and say, in response to Richard Watts, I think Priscilla Queen of the Desert is a sexist and racist piece of crap. It's the most embarrassing thing the Australian film industry ever allowed to happen and I'm trying to pretend their isn't a stage show. That is why I am drunk so often these days.

Wait, your drinking problem is entirely due to the existence of Priscilla? Dang. I wish I'd thought of that. For years I've been blaming mine on endless repeats of The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air.





p.s. MARMALADE IS A LADY??? As I live and breathe. I can't figure you folk out at all.




p.p.s. Back to our pressing Centrelink problem:

fla said...
Hey D,

I also work for Centrelink. My advice is get out of customer service and into middle management. Check out EOIs in NSO. You may have to move to Canberra but the work is much more interesting. See yourself in the nation's capital etc.

Anyway, work is only a means to an end, namely affording to travel, buy toys and consume the best chocolate and cheese our country produces. Mmmm, marinated chevre from Udder Delights and dark chocolate truffles from Haigh's.

Put that in your lunchbox and eat it. You should be able to afford to - now that you have sold your soul to Beezelbub that is.

Look at you and your lovely dairy product endorsement, fla. You've made me eleven interesting varieties of hungry and I've only just eaten. Also, your reasons for grindstonery are above-par. Well done.




While I'm at it, exactly how many people reading this blog work for Centrelink? Today has been a bit of a revelation.

Rustique said...
Sad vuss hod votch*?

Seeing as though my friends are all politically apathetic and I rarely get a chance to discuss the fucked upiditiness of Australia's current political situation can I do so here?

Re Kevin Rudd toeing the same line as the government - IMO it is simply him not giving them anything to attack him on. He has an election winning lead in the polls - why would he come out and condemn things like the recent African immigration decision when he knows that will lose him the majority of the redneck vote and any chance of ousting the desicated coconut?

My hope is that once he wins the election he will be able to say "It's Gough Time Motherfuckers!!" and plead the "core promise" excuse for violating any conservative pledges he made pre-election - very hopeful I know, but after 11+ years of the morally bankrupt fucks we have had in office I need to cling to something.

Also, should Bob Brown be worried about the plan revealed a few questions prior to kidnap his babies?

* apparently that's "hello how are you" in Hungarian, if I just told you to fuck off I do apologise.

You're roughly the third person to suggest - with an optimism bordering on delightful, I must say - that on election night Kev's going to make some kind of EAT MY SHORTS CONSERVATIVE VOTERS OF THE NATION gesture and give everyone the finger whilst inviting some burly union blokes onstage for a rumba. It's not entirely outside the realms of possibility, though I'm wagering the words 'It's Gough Time, Motherfuckers' will fall from his lips the day hell freezes over (or if Terese requests them specifically during a private mother/father moment). As ever, I stick to my plan of getting Fucko McSweatbox out and then focussing on - in the immortal words of Don Chipp - keeping the bastards honest.



p.s. Bob Brown worries constantly. About everything. That's why he rarely smiles. The sperm-thief is just another thing to add to the long list.

Rustique said...
One more thing: does anyone else miss the verificatoin babies game?
tgfkle:

I know what you mean, Rustique - sadly our little army of word verification children perished during the move across to the corporate dot com world. Presumably they're in a 'better place'* now. Ad maiorem dei gloriam.



*raises eyes heavenwards*



*takes a moment*




*genuflects*












* Google cache.

Scal said...
Does anyone else think that Witty Psuedonym is actually that guy ... you know, the creepy one who had the other blog with all the cartoons? He has a similar style of writing and a similar fixation on Fits, and although he's tried to take a different approach this time, there is some of that old nastiness/misogyny creeping in.

You know, the thought did actually cross my mind. Who can tell? We seem to be mysteriously WP-lite this week, so perhaps he or she has disappeared into the crazy-person ether to cut off all their body hair and sellotape it to a skink or whatever it is nutjobs do in their spare time.

scarlet said...
good morrow, divine ms fits. since the move from Blogger is there a new RSS feed? i do so hate to miss updates due to my sieve-like memory.

Thanks to the ever-lovely and reliably smart Joseph:

'Yep, it should be detected by the browser (for IE7, Safari, Mozilla
and Opera, at least) and be shown as a little icon in the address bar.

If not, this link should do the job: http://reasonsyouwillhateme.com/feed.xml'





He's very clever, isn't he? Sorry ladies, look elsewhere, etc.

Crackbook anon said...
Seeing Miranda Airey-Branson's comment reminded me to search for her on facebook. I was delighted to see her profile pic features a hat (of course, being close to racing season n' all) and a cat.

http://www.facebook.com/s.php?q=Miranda+Airey-Branson&init=q

Did you poke her, Anon? She's stopped jabbing her virtual finger into my ribs of late and may require a wake-up call.





Please note: this is not an invitation for everyone and their dog to rush off and start prodding at the poor old thing. HAS SHE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH FOR HER POLITICAL BELIEFS? She's like Nelson Mandela but, you know, a bit of a twit.





*******************************








SUNDAY Q AND A UPDATE:

Anonymous said...
dear Fits

I have a dilemma
A long-time friend of mine is about to celebrate a milestone birthday, and i have just found out she is having a relatively decent sized celebration at a nice venue, and has not invited me. While we haven't been super-close recently, I am sure that there will be people there who have less history or affection.

My problem is this: before i found out i invited her out to give her a gift; she accepted, and is now meeting me for a quick drink. What should I give her? I had her bought some very nice perfume, but i am not sure if that is appropriate given that I am on the very outer circle. Should I say at the end "oh, and I hope you have fun at your party"? I dont want to come across as pathetic, because I am more shocked than feeling vindictive.

love,
hurt

Oh, that's a slightly rotten thing to experience. I'm sorry for you that your friend has convinced herself that 'limiting numbers' is the best thing for her at this present time and to hell with the emotional consequences. To be honest though, I don't think this knowledge should affect the type of present you were going to bestow upon her - however high or low someone has ranked you on their BFF list (do these things still exist outside of 90210?), your feelings for them should be free of outside influence. Obviously you're shocked and hurt, but do try to set aside the Badness for the sake of your own heart. If what you're witnessing is a slow and gentle fadeout of a friendship then there's no point pushing it. Buy her something small - I reckon the notebooks and albums at Rebound strike a perfect balance with regard to your mixed feelings - and do your best not to mention the party. At worst it will send her into a frantic display of pretending she's forgotten to invite you and could you please make it if you've got the time between other social engagements etc, which would only serve to make everyone feel even more uncomfortable.



There are no real winners in this one. I really am sorry.

Pellucid said...
Oh dear. Is Kevin fucking it up? He really appears to be fucking it up . ...

HE IS NOT FUCKING IT UP.








*hides*

Mercurius said...
Dear Ms. Fits

I am typing this question because I am yet to regain the power of speech after learning in last week's Q&A about the game of Freckles.

Witty Pseudonym intimated that Freckles may have first been practised on the verdant and luscious lawns of Geelong Grammar and, if so, I was wondering whether Freckles represents the "values" that our PM laments are missing from public schools, and whether the lack of Freckles in the state system explains the urgent desire of many parents to send their children to private schools?

Yes, it was a bit grubby wasn't it? I'm not sure where exactly the game of Freckles originated, though it does seem like something a mindlessly bored private schoolboy might get up to if left alone with an esky, a garden variety house brick and a small amount of faeces. Additionally I'd wager it's not entirely what most parents dream of when sending their wee offspring out into the world to better their knowledge of the planet/soak up learnings, though who on earth knows what really goes on in the minds of familial authority figures these days.

Ben said...
Mind you, it was only one of many thoughts, and not a very good one.

Fatty Finn was indeed the boy who wanted to buy a radio so he could listen to Bradman spiflicate the Poms. He raised funds, I believe, through skilful goat-racing. Ginger Meggs was all about getting a part in the school play, winning Minnie Peters from Eddie Coogan, and rescuing his monkey from the evil circus pirate.

Now, having completed a small semi-triumph at the Drunken Poet, allow me to pose some questions what I have thought of.

1. I had to miss Micallef's little-publicised new show last night. Did you see it, and if so, was it any good? A workmate tells me it was rubbish, but then, he doesn't like Will Ferrell either, so I'm not prepared to accept his opinion without corroboration.

2. Do you know what it means when the ASX gives a 'speeding ticket' to a company? It would be helpful in my work if I knew this, but buggered if I have any idea.

3. At the risk of seeming direct, what, after all, are the reasons I will hate you? And come to that, what are the reasons I will love you? Let us have some balanced commentary here.

4. Does it make me a bad person if I dislike "emo", but like some of the music that has apparently been dubbed "emo" by the people who are employed to dub things?

5. Why is it that some days I feel I look quite attractive and the very next day I am utterly repulsed by my own visage? It gets me down, it really does.

Anyone cruising St Kilda next Tuesday night (16th) could see me if they popped into the St Kilda Library around 6:30ish, partaking in another Poetry Idol event. It's a poetical thing, and only a handful of us in all likelihood will be bringing the chuckles, but entertainment may be had nevertheless, and I think there's going to be free wine. There was last time.

Till we meet again.

Always so many questions, Ben...and so late in the day. You're lucky I've the patience of a saint and looks to match.



Anyhow.


1. I didn't see Newstopia, I'm afraid. Apparently you can hunt it down online if you want your mate to put his money where his mouth is. Micallef is bound to 'come good' no matter what as he is innately a genius.


2. What's an ASX?


3. I can't say exactly why you'll hate me as I don't know you in real life and am thusly ill-informed of your peccadilloes and personal irks. From what I can gather so far you'd probably hate me when I'm shickered and mouthy, though you'd be softened by my vocabulary and eventually forgive me my foul language and inanely brash nature. Also I tend to hide out in my apartment for days at a time, which occasionally infuriates folk wanting to hit the town for hijinks.




4. Oh gracious, not at all. I'm long past being ashamed of my complicated musical tastes. I'm rather keen on the new Maroon 5 single even though it's utterly vacuous and shit. We each have our moments, you see.



5. Get a new mirror. You'll never look back, I swear.

Dave said...
Dear Ms Fits,

Long time reader, first time commenter, etc. (You see how I've adopted your propensity to use 'etc')

Anyway, I have one important question that's been on my mind lately, particularly the last couple of days:

Why is Kevin Andrews such a cunt?

Thank you and kind regards,

Dave

Hello Dave, and welcome.


To answer your question, Kevin Andrews is a cunt because he was continuously beaten as a child by a team of bloodthirsty Vikings who would stand around him chanting LEGO HAIR LEGO HAIR before using his anus as a mini-golf hole .













That's just what I heard, anyway. I'm not saying it's true.

randall said...
further to my question last week ("what are you going to do if Howard gets in again"), can I propose that if Howard does indeed get back in again, then.... EVERY SINGLE POLLING ORGANIZATION IN THE COUNTRY SHOULD BE COMPLETELY DISBANDED AND DESTROYED LIKE THE USELESS MONGERS OF FALSE HOPE THAT THEY SO PATENTLY ARE...

ahem, sorry...

... seriously though, if he wins after this, more than a year and a half's consistent polling from every major organization in the country will be proven dead wrong, wrong, wrong. Is it not reasonable in such circumstances to ask what, then, is the use of them?

Finally, in your last reply to me you said "I don't know, I guess I'll do a little of what I did last time - curl up naked under a blanket and drink gin for two days - and then figure out why exactly I want to live amongst people so small-minded they think Kevin Andrews' slicing down the African refugee intake will lessen 'crime' (avoid the Herald Sun letters page today if you're feeling a little sensitive) before gathering up my gent and dog, buying a one-way ticket to Spain, and taking some much-needed time away from political heartbreak."

My only other question is, can I come please?

1. That's an utterly reasonable question and one I support completely. If Kevin loses this one I say we take the AC Nielsen office by storm. No holds barred. Those fuckers have laughed behind our backs and shattered our dreams ONE TOO MANY TIMES.




2. Of course. It's a big blanket, there's plenty of room.

An Anonymous Coward said...
Dearest Ms Fits,
I hope that Friday’s Q&A finds you well.

My question relates to my Mother's upcoming 70th birthday and the fact that I am a rather bad son at times and feel that this year's indiscretions require amending in the form of gift giving to be remembered. As for the gift I have no clue as to what to give her, this is where you come in with sagely advice.

I was wondering what a son should give his mother that is both thoughtful and lasting in a vain attempt at sucking up, please bear in mind that I am still a humble student but I'd consider selling a kidney to make up for things...

On a completely different and totally unrelated note, guilt goes away in time correct?

I am forever buying my mother lavish and exotic gifts solely to make up for the years 1990 - 1995 (it's going to take a lot more than what I've mustered so far to even put a dent in it, but give me a chance), so I do understand your predicament. In my experience mothers tend to like presents with a deal of thought thrown behind them rather than a super expensive shiny trinket. Have you thought about arranging a day for her where you take her out and about on a series of surprises? Breakfast at the European, a few happy hours browsing artworks at the NGV, massage at the Sofitel, high tea at the Windsor, a movie...I like to share that sort of time with my ma on special occasions as we inevitably end up moving past the 'I do wish you'd do more vacuuming' conversations and into effortless, blessed moments together.


For my dad's 60th I gathered together various writings of mine and had them bound and dedicated to him, which he seemed to enjoy very much. Photo albums never fail to be appreciated, and there's always the setting up and cooking of a meal by a personal chef, or the rather lovely naming of a star.


I hope that's helped in some way. Do continue being nice to your mother, she's the only one you've got.




Oh god, I'm turning into Rove.



**************************



That's seriously it now. Be off with ye, I have a thousand and one things to do before heading to the airport tomorrow to scoop up the Fantapants and whisk him to safety. Leave your queries for next week in the comments below




As always, a pleasure.




*bows*

43 comments.