BLACK & BLUE

So, I’ve had a few people ask me what’s going on, so I thought I would explain it in a little more detail.

Bonus of having a blog.

So, Iris has a black eye.

The other morning, whilst tucked away nice and warm in her bed, she was awoken by the stupid cat being sick. Stupid cat is long haired, and every now and then hacks up a fur ball. 

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard cats do that, but the sound is loud and revolting, and it succeeded in pulling Iris from her comfortable slumber.

Mum panicked.  Two thoughts crossed her mind.  One: I don’t want the cat being sick on my cream carpet.  Two: if she’s sick on the tiles in the bathroom, when I walk through to the toilet in the middle of the night, I could slip on it and fall. 

Both valid fears, but certainly avoidable.

I’ve said to Mum a million times, if you hear the cat spew, crap, break something or fall, it can wait until the morning.  Unless the cat starts crying, which is a sign the stupid fleabag has hurt itself, then turn over and go back to sleep. 

I’ve expressed that, in her anxiety to attention to the stupid cat, I’m frightened she’ll hurt herself if she get’s up in a hurry in the middle of the night, and that’s exactly what she did.

So, she’s heard the stupid cat, flown out of bed, raced through her bedroom door and BANG! Slammed into the doorframe.

Thankfully, she had her head down slightly, like she was looking at the floor, because she hit her brow first, and not the eye itself.  She split her brown, and knocked herself back a little bit with the shock of it all.

I have visions of the poor darling sitting on the edge of her bed, head in hands, bleeding and crying at four in the morning, alone and scared, with the stupid cat at her feet watching her, wondering what the hell was wrong.

Stupid cat. 

When I saw her the next day, it took everything not to burst into tears.  Her eye was purple and puffy, and she had a cut on her brow.  She also said that she had a bruise on her boob and on her knee.  Clearly, she’d hit the doorframe mid-stride with her entire body, not just her head.

Thankfully, she’s had no headaches or soreness in her eye.  It wasn’t even bloodshot. 

The next night, when we were having dinner, she said that she was a little embarrassed to go out with her eye like this.  I suggested a little bit of make up, and her glasses hid it a little, too.

I also suggested that if anyone queries it, to tell them Charlie did it.  She laughed.  Charlie’s so the favourite.

So, Captain Smart Arse (Charlie) pipes up and says ‘What do you call a woman with two black eyes?  A slow learner’.

Mum found that hysterical.

I didn’t.  Fucken clown.

So, Iris is on the mend now.  The bruise has nearly faded, which is fantastic, and now she has a little night light in her bathroom to help her see.

AND, hopefully she won’t worry about that stupid cat through the night anymore.

Peace out.

MASTERCHEF SEASON FOUR

So, we back on the treadmill again.

As The Biggest Loser bows out for another season, Masterchef; one of Channel 10’s biggest ratings pullers, slips comfortably into the fray.

I normally don’t watch this stage of the show, because I don’t give two craps about the top fifty numpties.  I’m only interested in the battle between the top twenty-four.

However, following the annoying fucken promotional ads with this ridiculous Russian sounding music and fantasy, magical back drop with the annoying Lucy (I know her name now), that cannot cook fish and likes to crack eggs from the top of a cliff into a massive, magical cooking bowl, I thought it may be interesting.

Shame the rest of the country didn’t agree.

Would appear that for the first time in God knows how long, that the Masterchef ratings have dropped below one million viewers for an episode.  Usually, they’re well over the million mark. 

So, it’s either the fact that people like myself, don’t give two craps about the top fifty numpties, or they’re busy watching The Block and The Voice.  Apparently, these two shows have smashed Masterchef out of the water.

The one thing I have learnt about watching the intro episodes is that not only can these people cook, but they’re cooking stuff that I can cook.

Like, I’ve had friends tell me for years ‘you should go on Masterchef!’ ‘You should totes go on that show!’

No fucken way.

Not only can I not cook like a Masterchef cooks (thank you Curtis Stone), but I could not handle the circus.  The invasion of privacy, the constant camera’s in your face, the pressure and the edited version of ‘you’ that’s presented to the Masterchef viewing world.

No way.

Plus, I figure I can always go to TAFE to gain some cooking qualifications, and either find a job or do my own thing.  I don’t need Masterchef to make my dreams come true.

Watching the top fifty numpties, makes me wonder why they are so desperate.  One of them said the other night ‘who’s going to give a 42 year old an apprenticeship?’ I understand that, but fucken go to TAFE or something.  Volunteer on weekends at restaurants for experience in a commercial kitchen.  Take the step toward following your dreams, and make it happen.

I don’t know why they don’t just say ‘I don’t want to open a restaurant; I don’t want to follow my culinary dream.  I just want to win the title, the book deal and the $100,000.’  Thank you very much.

What’s funny though, is watching these people that think they are awesome cooks, completely crumble under the pressure.

Sure, if we’re cooking things we are familiar with, we will (or should) nail it every time.  At this stage of the competition, that’s exactly what these people should be doing.  There’s no pressure yet.

For fucks sake: they’re given a whole chicken, and hour and a half, and told to cook whatever you like.  How fucken hard is that?  I expect perfection, and so do the judges.  That’s why they set these seemingly simplistic challenges; to sort the quality from the crap. 

Sometimes, the most basic challenge can be the most demanding. They get lost in all the fancy shit and the need to impress the judges, and forget the basic foundations of cooking.

Like filleting a fish.  Some of these contestants should be arrested for vandalism.  Seriously. 

However, watching them run around like headless chickens, totally out of their comfort zones, panicking because they’re dropping their dishes, have no eggs to make their tart, haven’t cooked their chook all the way through, haven’t worked out the hotplates, and clearly can’t cook a risotto, is hilarious.

How hard is a risotto to cook?  I can bang one out in thirty minutes that you would find most digestible.  Wtf?

Apparently, we are watching the fifty best amateur cooks in the country. 

No; we’re not. 

Let’s be under no illusions here.  Out of the people that turned up to the auditions, they’re the best fifty.

The best amateur cooks are possibly at home either too scared or too realistic to enter a show like Masterchef.

So already, we’re already starting to see some interesting personalities.  The youth worker with red hair; could you get any more stereotypical?  The cool American dude that won the first apron with his maple chicken (I so want that recipe *runs off to check out the Masterchef website*), the Asian chick that cooked the eggless tart, and Jules, who apparently cooks a smashing pork belly. 

Then there’s my man to watch: Filipo.  He’s hard core, man; hard core.  He’s clearly passionate about his cooking, to the point where he knows what the resting temperature of a chicken should be, to indicate that it’s cooked.

I wouldn’t have a clue what the resting temperature should be (apparently, 72 degrees).  I just know that it’s cooked if the juices run clear when I fucken stab it.

Here’s a tip: I would have checked my chicken the old school (stabbing) way before handing it to the judges, because clearly, your thermometer was wrong!

I get uncomfortable watching Filipo, because he’s so hard core and so earnest.  He’s my tip for the win, because I think he will have a serious heart attack if he doesn’t.

Of course, that’s if he doesn’t annoy the crap out of everyone first.

So, I’m waiting for my token Asian gay, contestants with funky glasses, hot chicks, hot boys, someone really young (not the risotto boy), someone with quirky flavour combinations that produce winners all the time, and the homely ‘mum’. 

Throw in an old dude, and Indian and a yuppy, and you got yourself a competition.

Peace out.

THE BIGGEST LOSER FINALE

You know what’s crushing to hear?

Your fifteen year old step-daughter say ‘I’m not being mean when I say this, Lee, but have you thought of entering The Biggest Loser?’

Are you fucking kidding me?  How big do you think I am?

Excuse me a moment whilst I rip the knife out of my chest, you fucken knucklehead!

Of course, Jade didn’t mean anything by this comment.  She knows that I’ve been exercising, dieting and losing weight.  She understands that I’m trying to change my life for the better.

That’s what these people on The Biggest Loser are there for, aren’t they?  To change their lives for the better?

I get where she sees the similarities, but she clearly has no idea how much I weigh (and never fucking will after that comment).

So I calmly explain that applying for The Biggest Loser is not high on my list of priorities at the moment.  In fact, it would be a cold day in hell before I signed up for any shit like that.

Jesus…

So another big ratings monster for Channel 10 came to a close last night, much to the entertainment of Jade and my fatty self.

I picked it weeks ago that Margie would win; her drive, her determination and her game playing were going to pay off for her.

Would have been nice for Alex to win, though.  The old bloke takes them all out!  Would have been awesome.  My God he’s lost some weight… and so has my favourite, Graham.  78 kilos or something!  That’s like an entire person! Incredible effort.

And what transformations!  Even that lazy-arsed Selena has lost about 32 kilos.  That was an incredible effort! 

James, Bek, Kasey, Lydia and Brenda were almost unrecognisable.

However, I would like to know when The Biggest Loser suddenly switched to Australian Idol?  Did they really need Michelle to sing ‘Born To Try’?  Sure; beautiful voice.  But… really?

You know what’s amazing though?  She’s such a pretty girl.  Such a beautiful voice.  The whole package. What a wonderful platform for her… and having a great ‘friendship’ with Hamish didn’t draw her any extra attention at all, did it?

Oh sorry.  I’m being sarcastic again, aren’t I?  *rolls eyes* 

Well, I hope her singing career takes off, and she enjoys performing for large groups of retirees on the Sea Princess for weeks on end, with James along for the ride, playing the piano and smiling with those ridiculously white teeth.  Eeek.

This is why I would not be entering The Biggest Loser.  Bitches like me that pick the shit out of the screamingly obvious, because what I’m watching has been manufactured by some fat-cat in an office somewhere, who’s playing God for ratings, and catering to my superficial expectations.

This shit ain’t real.

Though, in saying that; every single person that was on that show has won.  Yes, I know it’s very cliché, but they’ve got their lives back. 

They’re healthy, fitter and look really good.  The biggest fella, who’s name escapes me, that topped the scales at a whopping 241 kilos, has done well to get down to 186.  That’s still a frightening figure, but much better than what he was.  Seems to be on the right track now.

And how hot did the trainers look?  Of course they would scrub up pretty, but wow!  I did fear Michelle Bridges was going to fall out of the top of her white dress though, but in saying that, you would possibly have to have something to fall out...

And of course, The Commando.  Mmmm… mmmm….mmmm… I could break me off a piece of that…. nom nom nom… I’ll be happy to ‘hug’ him…

The thing I love about this show, however, is that it brings to light the fact that it’s not just ‘overeating’ that causes people’s lives to derail like this.  Over eating or poor diet is just a symptom of something much deeper. 

Some people drink or take drugs to cope with some of the stresses or traumas in their lives.  Other people eat. 

I once read a statistic somewhere that suggested that 75% of overweight women are victims of some kind of abuse, whether sexual, emotional or physical.  15% have a metabolic problem, and the remaining 10% actually have a poor diet.

It’s sad that when we look at an obese person, we automatically think that it’s directly caused by food.  In more cases than often, it’s not entirely the problem.

Carrying extra weight is about protection.  These people are protecting themselves from past hurts, and the food helps them do that.

It’s like when you get a cold.  Sneezing and coughing is just a symptom of a virus in your system.  So, you take medication to fix the virus, and the symptoms go away.

Once you find the cause of these peoples hurts; once you find the ‘key’, they can unlock their fears and pain, and let them go.  Then, they can finally start to heal.

That’s what’s happened to the people on The Biggest Loser.  They found their keys, and now their lives are transformed.

There are no ‘losers’ on this show.  None at all.

Peace out.

$70 MILLION SECRETS

So, this week sees OZ Lotto jackpot to a whopping seventy million dollars.

Seventy million.  What the fuck would you do with all that money?  I can’t even think in numbers that big… what would you do with it?

Seventy million.

Would you blow it?  Would you invest it?  Would you discreetly change your life?  Would you rub it in everyone’s face and scream it from the highest building?

Would you tell anyone?

Now that’s the question.  Would you tell anyone you had just won seventy million dollars?

I wouldn’t.  Well… I would naturally tell Charlie, Iris and my bosses, because I’d be instantly retiring, but anyone else?  Possibly not.

Why?

Well, Charlie and I were having a chat about this very thing the other week when the OZ Lotto was only like thirteen million (only!).  What would we do?

You see, the first thing that some people would do if they got wind of your good fortune, is ask you for money.  I know you’re laughing reading that statement, because you know it’s true.  All of the friends and family that you haven’t seen for fucken years, and some you didn’t even know you had, would come crawling out of the woodwork with their fucken hands out.

Then of course, there are the friends that would withdraw from you, because they are jealous of your good fortune.  Jealous is a harsh word, but you know what I mean.

They could be battlers, doing it hard to make ends meet, and here you are; the extreme opposite of them, and set for the rest of your life. It would be a hard pill to swallow, and some people would find it difficult to not throw that back in your face.  The odd quip or crack about ‘not having to struggle’, or ‘being out of touch with real people’, would test a friendship as envy takes hold.

I know myself, that I’m envious of some family and friends that do exceptionally well for themselves.  Like, I’m really happy for them, because I would hate to see people I love struggling, but part of me wishes I was in their shoes.  It doesn’t impact or affect our friendships/relationships at all, but it’s there.  Unspoken.

I tell you this; you would find out who your true friends are. Very quickly.  Those that asked for a hand-out would hate you if you refused, and those that have to sit back and watch your life change, could withdraw through jealousy.

A windfall like this could tear relationships apart. 

A windfall like this could be a curse.

But not if you didn’t tell anyone.

I wouldn’t. 

What I would do, though, is quietly go about my business.  I’d pay off my house.  I would buy a new car, but not an obvious, ridiculously flashy one that would attract unnecessary attention.  I would possibly do some things around the house like new furniture, renovate the bathroom, finish the paving, and such.  I would hire a gardener and a house keeper. 

I would take care of Iris so she never had to want for anything for the rest of her life.

I would plan out how I could help Charlie achieve and live his dreams.

I would donate some money to charity… maybe set up an educational scholarship for local smart kids that can’t afford a quality education.

Then I would sit back and think about what I’m going to do with this vast fortune and the rest of my life. 

I doubt I would even tell Jade.  Apart from the fact that she’s possibly not mature enough to keep a secret like that, and apart from the fact that her mother would be after Charlie for money if she found out, I actually think it would be too much for her to handle.

Pressure from her mother, her mother’s family and her friends would really test Jade’s need to please.  I could see her being placed into some difficult positions; positions where she could be taken advantage of.  Sometimes ignorance is the best protection.

Seventy million dollars.  Seventy million secrets. 

All of your problems would be solved, wouldn’t they?  Well, most of them. 

However, one wonders if there is a karmic price to pay for something like this. 

Everything comes with a price, doesn’t it? 

Sure.  But I’d have seventy million reasons to have fun with it in the meantime! 

Peace out.