Things To Do At Easter When You're Bored

Well my Easter weekend sucked, how about yours?

You see we’re renovating. I say ‘we’ but really it’s the missus who does all the work, I’m just on clean up duty and here’s one of the things they don’t tell you about redecorating; it’s fucken messy, amongst other things.

It’s actually a shit of a job and personally I can’t understand why anyone would even start but then they don’t tell you that in all the TV shows and ads that make it look so appealing. It’s all so easy when it’s someone else money, time and labour.

It’s not our first foray into the DIY. We’ve done a few rooms now and yep, every single one sucked just as much as the other and yes, it might very well be one of those things where you’re supposed to sit back once it’s all done and enjoy it but I don’t; I just recall how bloody back breaking it was and wonder just what the fuck we were thinking to start all this?

Because once you’ve done room you have to do them all. Because now they don’t match, or in the often seen worst case scenario, you’ve stuffed the first one up so bad you have to fuck ‘em all up to match.

This past weekend was the turn of the open plan lounge kitchen ensemble. Not the kitchen refit mind you, because that particular bonding experience is still to come, no this was just walls and ceilings. Which meant sanding. By the shitload.

Of course I know a thing or two about being caked in fine sand. The five weeks we spent in Khe Sanh back in the summer of ’69 (piss off Bryan Adams) left us with more sand in our crack than a fattie on the beach. Of course it was hot too so we literally sweated our tattoos off so it didn’t take long for the sand to harden and in some cases, seal the buttocks right up but that was a mixed blessing cause it meant you avoided having to take a dump (cause Charlie could smell a dump a mile away, especially if you had had the rat for dinner) and the accidental games of stand up sodomy that happened in the officers mess.

To her credit Mrs ClubDes did tell me to piss off for the weekend but I did what most fellas do whenever the other half offers any advice, I considered it, briefly and assumed I knew better and didn’t. Thus the long, wet weekend was spent with the family camped into two rooms, only one of which had a TV. It was like a hotel, only without the exotic locale outside.

Now I love the fam more than life itself but in that enclosed environment things started to get very David Bain I don’t mind telling you.

Of course it meant passing through the dust storm that was the main living area anytime we wanted to eat or drink but that’s okay, I like my tea like I like my cheeks; sandy. Speaking of which, have you seen there’s a new flavour of tea called ‘New Zealand Breakfast’? So now you can sit and have your breakfast, in New Zealand and drink a tea that supposedly tastes like you’re drinking...tea...in...New Zealand.

So feeling slightly emasculated but yet relieved that this type of thing is one of the only times I can honestly play the sick note and not have to do the graft, I was reduced to the clean up, which is not the smartest move for someone with respiratory issues. Who would’ve thunk it aye?

Thus Easter weekend finished with one almost completed living area (we still have to paint the fucker) and me on oxygen. The lesson to be learned here class is if you’re contemplating home improvement, don’t. Ever.

Besides, there has to be a better way of having a 48 hour running argument with a lot less effort.

Man Love Moment #32

Lionel Messi slaloms through the Madridistas this morning to make it 2 - 0 in a perfect example of how not to run in a straight line, just like I'm always telling my girls. Lush.

And not for the first time I have feelings for the 5 foot 7 Argentinian that can best be captured in one word; moist.

Itty Bitty Girl Guide....Bikkies

The Girl Guides were out a few weeks ago, selling their wares like they do at this time of every year.

I love the chocolate minis, me. Of course like most snacks that are now ‘mini’ it is all too easy to eat an abnormally large amount of them without realising that you’ve consumed more than you would have were they full size. You probably paid more for them too. See what they did there?

It was a bit of a shrewd marketing move that, to cover the bikkies in chocolate. Just how shrewd was something I only realised today when I cracked open a pack of the stock standard variety and had some with my afternoon cuppa. Now usually I like to dunk Big Gay Ray’s ginger nuts but he’d gone for the day so the Girl Guides were all I had.

And bloody terrible they were too. It occurred to me as early as one bite in that I had already had a mouthful of something similar the other day actually; plaster from the ceiling that the missus had just sanded down (more on that later). To say that they were as dry as Akela was no understatement, but then mine was a 55 year old woman who spent her evenings with young boys so no real surprise there.

Needless to say I probably won’t finish the rest and they’ll stay in my draw, forgotten about, for years to come at which point they’ll be found, still edible and as a living testament to how biscuits used to be made, before the advent of ‘minis’.

So long may the Girl Guides continue to flog their itty bitty bikkies. Even the shit ones.

The girls and their....mini's.

One Day Royal Wedding Tat

There was a box on the doorstep again today. There’s always a box on the doorstep at our place.

Mrs ClubDes is addicted to one of those websites that offer great deals for just one day. You know the ones, how could you not, they’re fucken everywhere. Why even Trade me have started one now too, because having you buy a garage load of second hand tat just isn’t enough for them it would seem.

These sites tap into a distinctly Kiwi bit of our subconscious; that we’re getting a bargain and on that particular day and that particular item, we are. Because we love the bargain, the mate’s rate, the cashie and hey, if it’s fallen off the back of the truck then it probably wasn’t meant to be there in the first place.

Me misses loves a two for one bargain too, especially at the supermarket. Now I do my fair share of the grocery shopping and not just because I’m a metro sexual man, but because I hate the thought of spending more than we really need to. When I go shopping we get everything we need and under budget. When she indoors does it we get double what we need and we’re over budget. Her theory being that we’ll save money next week. We never do.

Now I was quite shit at Economics at school because let’s be honest, it’s a shit subject. Coops and I did it because it sounded like manly subject, did Economics, but it was a waste of a year in terms of learning anything. In terms of a laugh it was epic because we had a teacher who was well worth a wind up just to get a reaction.

He was a small man so that straight away meant the duster went to the top of the board at the start of class, every time. The hilarity of him having to jump to reach it with his finger tips never got old. He was the kind of guy who I always suspected would be quite the fella to know out of class, but a stickler for shattering dreams in it.

He did have our respect on one hand though; he was reportedly playing economies of scale with the good looking economics teacher who was well high on our list of teachers we’d let take advantage of us if they were so inclined. It was a short list.

So how I came to be good with money is a mystery. I suspect my mother has something to do it because she spent it like nobody’s business. Had there been a One Day Sale or Trade Me back in the day she would have kept both sites running. She would buy bulk everything, even if we didn’t need it simply because it was bulk, so it had to be cheaper. Right?

Wrong motherfucker, as I said to my mother several times. Well, not really, but I was thinking it. The one day sales and two for ones work because they entice you to buy something you wouldn’t have. Yes it might be a bargain but you weren’t really looking for it so the sneaky buggers have taken your money without even really trying.

Still, at least it’s not Royal Wedding rubbish which has really cranked up production with the big day only a week away. Are you sick of it yet? I wonder if when they get to that bit in the service when the dude calls for anyone who sees any reason for them not wed some bugger stands up and shouts “Yes, ‘cause we’re fucken over it already!”

Kate Middleton is a good looking girl though and in terms of the Monarchy she is definitely bring sexy back. She looks great on a pizza too which is not something you can say about every girl. There’s even the Kate and Wills teabags which is great for those who have ever wanted to be tea bagged by a couple and not forgetting the Princess Kate doll too, of course, which must have the sexual deviants whipping out their ten quid and willy all in one swift movement.

Actually, I wonder if I can get one of those on One Day Sale...?

Pay Before You Pump

Now we all know that porn stores differ than petrol stations in that you have to pay before you pump, but maybe there should be rules about lighting up around them too...

Man 'Engulfed In Flames' Runs Out Of Porn Store

A man remains in the hospital with third-degree burns after somehow catching fire inside a SoMa porn booth.

The fire occurred at an adult arcade at Sixth and Mission streets a little after 6 p.m. Police aren't sure exactly how the patron caught fire, but saw him run out of the Sixth and Mission store "engulfed in flames."

Firefighters put out the blaze. The critically injured man was transported to St. Francis Hospital's burn center, police said. More than 90 percent of his body was burned, with the burns varying from first-degree to third-degree, fire spokeswoman Lt. Mindy Talmadge said.

Witness Steve Rintoul, who manages the adult shop, said Thursday that the customer, who is reportedly not a regular patron of the shop, had been watching a movie at the back of the store when he ran out of the viewing booth screaming and on fire.

The store experienced "zero damage" from the fire, said Rintoul, who suspected the man may have lit himself on fire while doing drugs. "I would describe it as a Richard Pryor sort of incident," he said.

The victim was described as an ordinary, "working class, blue-collar type of guy" far different from the rickety Sixth and Mission crowd.

Witnesses who saw the victim ablaze reportedly "sat there and did nothing."

Girls Interrupted

If coaching girls football has taught me anything of late it’s just how fragile our beautiful young women are in a world that seems determined to mess them right up.

Like the episode of Glee I watched the other day which was supposed to highlight the downside of underage teenage drinking but actually did the reverse on account that a) it actually looked pretty cool and b) nobody got hurt. Oh sure they played some spin the bottle and the gay guy pashed the straight girl but that was about as hard core as it got.

Nope, no power chucks out the back door the consistency of which looked remarkably similar to the take ways you had before you arrived to line the stomach. No fist fights between alpha males, or a girl getting themselves the unfortunate nickname of 'BJ' on account of what they were doing with a guy on the front lawn and there was certainly no one having their heart broken after drunkenly declaring their love for the object of their affection who has never, ever known they’ve existed. Or ever will.

Maybe the parties they have in the States are different to the ones we went to?

Sometimes I take heart that not everybody in showbiz is out to get our girls. Even though music videos like Snoop Doggy Doggs latest try their best, they are occasionally offset by the likes of Pink and her songs 'Fucken Perfect', the uncut video to which is both shocking and inspiring.

Pink is awesome by the way. The singer that is, not the colour which was invented by Tom Cruise. True story.

Ironically Pink's video gets edited for general consumption whereas Snoop and his gyrating, invisible, greasy pole dancing lady friend’s effort are broadcast in all its soft porn glory. How awesome a person do you have to be to star in a video like that? I wonder if her son will love it the day his teenage mates admit they’ve all rubbed one out over it. More than once.

Pink is not alone in doing it for her sisters of course, Katy Perry sings about releasing the inner firework - which is great - but it only really balances the ledger after her lying naked in candyfloss for an earlier video which incidentally starred, wait for it, Snoop Doggy Dogg.

Likewise Selena Gomez, one of the many Disney Channel starlets, has a song out soon (and haven’t they all) which too talks of young girls realising the beauty within. Scratch another one up for the positive role model score board. Fingers crossed then that she doesn’t stuff it all up by following in the footsteps of her fellow Disney alumni and pose in some risqué cell phone pics like Miley, or completely nude, like Ashley.

Meanwhile, over in the medium of film, that great educator of just how to conduct yourself as a young lady, we have the recent efforts from the likes of Anne Hathaway and Natalie Portman, both potential role models for our teenage girls, where they play characters who find love not through a mutually beneficial relationship, but a casual sexual one.

Yeah. Not since Olivia Newton John dressed as a slut to get the guy in Grease has there been such a misguided message sent to young ladies everywhere.

And I know it’s everywhere these days, this sexploitation of attractive youth, but that doesn’t make it right and it really gets on my tits. The one positive is that it makes me want to give my girls the very best in support, encouragement and confidence through my coaching.

I hope I'm achieving that. I really do.

Father Issues? Not Me.

I had myself quite the cathartic moment this week.

It came to me with the news that T-Bag is off to Canada to be with his good looking missus which is a far better excuse than the one he tried to use in ’68 when trying to dodge the draft for Nam. Back then he wanted to be a Mountie, now he’s just off for some mounting.

It reminded me that my long last father is in Canada somewhere and that I’ve hardly ever mentioned him to you lot. My mother on the other hand, she of the nut bar variety, gets load of mentions on account of her being a silly bitch and because I just couldn’t make up some of the shit she’s come up with.

Like the time she painted the kitchen of our house GREEN. Not just green mind you, but that bright almost fluorescent shade which is always used to demonstrate nuclear waste green. She also renovated the place. It was a state house. Years later my Grandfather bought her a house and to prove the green kitchen was no fluke, she painted the entire concrete floor battleship grey. Now Granddad had been in the Navy but even he struggled to figure that one out.

My father skipped the country when I was about 10 for reasons I’m not exactly sure. I’d like to think that it was because he tried and failed to get custody of me but it’s probably something much less romantic i.e. he’s a douche.

I still remember with some clarity the actual custody hearing itself. It took place in some relic of a town hall time building where the floors were so shiny I could see right up the dress shorts my mother had made me wear. Dress shorts. Now there’s an oxymoron if ever there was one. No one wearing shorts is doing so to dress up.

Both paternal and maternal sides of the family were there that day and I was ushered between the two of them as they met with those making the decision. It was quite the intimidating process for a boy my age and I was fair bricking it the whole time. I was asked twice who I wanted to live with and when in the room with my mother I said her and when with my father I said him. Let’s be honest, had Adolf Hitler been there I would’ve given him my vote too.

And speaking of which – have you heard of Godwins Law? It’s brilliant. He theorises that every chat stream / online discussion / forum will eventually lead to someone making a comparison, usually quite outrageously and incorrectly, to Nazi Germany. He’s fucken right too. I do it all the time.

Anyhoo, Father didn’t get custody of me, obviously and did a runner not long after. He was a runner actually, well into his marathons and shit and it’s that which has enabled me to track him across the years over a little thing called the Internet.

All connection to my father pretty much died when my Grandfather on his side of the family did about 15 years ago. Unfortunately he ended up with Alzheimer’s and the end, like so often for sufferers, was a blessing. Before that he had remarried a strictly Christian lady who disliked cursing and burping. Something I found out the hard way.

But then he’d never been the same since my grandmother and his childhood sweetheart had died some 10 years before that. I remember the day because of the way my step father, a man of extraordinary tact broke the news to me after getting of the phone: “That was your dick of a father. Your grandmother is dead. Don’t cry about it”.

The final chapter in this story of happy families starts with Facebook which my my uncle used to contact me and eventually fill me in on my father’s actual story. Turns out he married some world famous psychologist who has forbidden him all contact with NZ and his family. Ha. 25 years ago he shot the gap to escape an over bearing control freak (my mother) only to run into the arms of another. Fate it would seem is not without a sense of irony.

Oh and he’s not actually in Canada anymore, so don’t bother asking after him Timmo.

My Father and his dress shorts, last seen in Hawaii (true story).