Moose Has Birthday, Populace Rejoices

[capn_n_pye]

This term, Moose turned 18. Nothing else important happened.
Instead of a cake he had some chocolate mousse, which he made us set on fire.

He always gets pretty demanding on his birthday, becoming frankly obnoxious if he doesn’t get enough attention. Thanks to the internet, at least a lot of that attention can come via the computer. He especially loved what Chuckles put together for him…

He does feel pretty important, especially when he gets to hang out with the batik squad at Stinky’s work…

In completely unrelated news, this term one of our friends had to have some work done to her lady parts. Because we are caring and thoughtful friends, we put together a care package to say ‘we’re thinking of you, get well soon.’ There were a couple of boxes, decorated with beavers…

… one of which was filled with the best $2 shops could offer, like comforting little pussy cats, cat stickers, heart shaped cushions and doll hair, as well as a specialty spa item we had found in Bali…

The two boxes were put inside a bigger box with some junk paper around them to keep them still, and we went for Mighty Soft Muffins instead of fruity-spicy ones (hurr hurr). The other box housed a red velvet dainty cake which seemed on theme, and a chocolate mud cake which at least is in the general vicinity (hurr hurr hurr hurr).

It seemed like that might be the height of excitement for a while, because we certainly didn’t notice this happening 300 metres down the road in the wee small hours of the morning…

The Scots Presbyterian Church down the corner of our street which once amused us with its vicar’s name…

… had been torched by an arsonist, which we discovered when we emerged the next morning to go to work.

Amazingly they managed to stop it from spreading to adjoining businesses, although they melted the crap out of the dumpsters. They cleaned up the site in record time, which may or may not have had anything to do with the presence of asbestos and a primary school across the road.

In less combustible news, thanks to the generosity of Andru and Robyn, one night we joined them in St Kilda to see ‘Of Monsters and Men’ play at the Palais. The Icelandic band rocked it (or more accurately, indie folk-popped it), and we enjoyed a school night that was fun for a change.

We also got to hear about the latest vow from the Cabin Girl. One day, she turned to her parents and said, "Mama, when I’m a teenager, I'm going to be like you and dad, I'm never going to drink alcohol!"

Her parents glanced at the beer in their hands in puzzlement at her lack of observation skills, and explained that as she gets older, she may change her mind and if she does, that will be okay. The Cabin Girl thought about that for a bit and then conceded, "Okay, well, I'm never going to do Ice, though!"

They will probably hold her to that one!

Anyway, she will never need to turn to drugs, since she has all the fun she could ever need being thrown into great piles of seaweed during the Queen’s Birthday long weekend.

I don’t know, they seem to like it…

The weather was pretty foul, but we weren’t inclined to swim, anyway. We did use it as an opportunity to take in a movie (with Grandmama, too!) – ‘Hunt for the Wilderpeople’ has got to be 2016’s film of the year (we’re calling it now).

We had to leave and come home so that Stinky could do reports (ooh yeah, fun times!) and Pye could make the washing machine accessible. Those with exceptional memories may recall when we moved in and Pye had to go smashy-smashy on the laundry just to get the machine to fit. As soon as it became apparent that it was having issues we realised that anyone coming to fix it would expect to be able to move it out, so Pye had to get busy again with saw and chisel and mallet. It took her most of the day (what with having quite limited skills), but ended up a tidier job than could have been. When the bloke came to fix it, he was nowhere near impressed enough – it’s almost like it should be taken for granted that a laundry have an appropriate space for a washing machine!

Now, we had eleven weeks of Term Two to get through, and thanks to our social secretary, Robyn, a highlight was Comma Sutra, language-nerd Louisa Fitzhardinge's cabaret show about the abuses of language and what it means to her (all she really wants is someone who'll snuggle up with her on the couch and seductively whisper puns into her ear. In multiple languages. Is that too much to ask?). We joined language-loving Lou as she explored the 'bien' and the 'mal' of how we communicate, from sign language gone wrong to Germany's penchant for weird words, and figures out why she's so smitten with the written.

As advertised, it was nerdy, it was pun filled, the songs were fun, and it pretty much spoke to all our interests. Stinky didn’t immediately realise that the section on Dad Jokes did not require audience-members to shout the answers (Why did the scarecrow get a promotion? Because he was out standing in his field!), and Pye could have got in a fight with another audience member about the use of the Oxford comma if there’d been time. It’s just a shame we can’t use Louise’s resources in the classroom…

Speaking of work, one Saturday we found ourselves at Melbourne Uni, helping with assessment for this year’s Sayembara Lisan (Indonesian speaking competition). We had students competing (who did quite well in the end – one of Stinky’s students got a ‘Highly Commended’, which was particularly impressive, since she hadn’t shown up on the day), so it was good PR to help (and we got to go shopping afterwards to make up for the virtuous part of the day). Before we left, we ran into Michael Ewing, one of our old Indonesian lecturers, who claimed to remember us! It must be a twin thing, because we would have thought more than enough time would have passed by now to be entirely forgotten! Stinky wanted to apologise for being drunk and lazy a lot at uni, but resisted the urge to remind anyone that education may be wasted on the young.

To give us something else to look forward to, the dentist sent us a reminder to come in for a check-up. Someone should have checked their publications first!

Let’s make it a new game! What are they adding a special touch to? Pye says ‘Buck’s Party or Hen’s Night’, but Stinky thinks ‘Vasectomy’ makes more sense…

It might seem that the holidays came up really quickly after all that, but that 11 week term was a real drag. Camel celebrated the holidays with having a bunch of teeth pulled out of his head. He didn't get to keep them, but the tooth fairy still came through on her side of the deal. We came through with giving him an egg with a couple of shark teeth embedded it - once he carved them out, he was able to replace the shark teeth the surgeon stole!

We were only at Somers for a few days, which were the coldest and wettest days of the whole winter. We compensated with inside fun. Chuckles and the Cabin Girl invented a new game. It didn't catch on.

The kids had their first go in a photo-booth and, as you can see, we respected the process and left them to it.

One of the compensations of the holidays ending is that it heralds the Bendigo Sheep and Wool Show. We fanged it up the highway after work on Friday, kidnapped Grandma and took her for dinner with Marilyn (lurking in the background).

We stayed in a hotel and Stinky noticed something interesting about the fire orders.

In Number 1, we have a chap helping someone to safety. Number 2 has a guy being safe and closing the door. Number 5 has people calmly evacuating. And Number 6, we have the assembly area - and none of the people from 1-5 have made it. A story that is elegantly simple in its tragedy.

We were expecting the wool show to be cold and wet, but we got the exact opposite, woo! The first thing we saw when we got in was the most appropriate number plate in the world.

We rampaged through the pavilions, trying to be good and failing. Pye was spectacularly bad, buying herself a very-Pye coat...and wearing it straight away.

Joined by a Belrog, we set out on our seasonal quest for giant woolly sheep balls. We did okay.

Stinky appreciates how they don't sit on them, so we get to see them even while they're sitting down.

These sheep asked us to explain what we were doing, so we got embarrassed and ran away.

We particularly like this series of posters we came across. Here is the big context:

However, when taken out of of context, these girls have weirdly specific priorities.

Back at school, Norma made the mistake of turning 60. Norma has worked with Chuckles, Stinky and Pye, so it was only right that we hang a huge amount of shit on her. So we assembled a seniors' pack for her now she's entered into a new stage of life. Packed into a wheelie-bag thingy, we and a team of little shits got her:

• magnifying sheet, for failing eyes


• glasses cleaner


• wool


• crochet hook


• knitting patterns


• a claw thing so she doesn't have to bend


• crossword book


• slippers and hankies


• boiled lollies


• granny slippers


• lavender pack (soap, candle, air freshener)


• cool hat


• giant undies


• granny glasses


• suport pants


• incontinence pads


• 60th anniversary commemorative plate


• hand-crocheted Cats knee blanket


• pimped-out walker


• ...and other stuff that we can't remember now.

Norma was sat in the school's wheelchair and unpacked the bag. She's still talking to us, so that's a bonus!

It's probably all downhill for all of us from here, but at least we went out with style, in a natty twin-set! It should be noted that Norma is still talking to us and genuinely enjoyed her present. She wore her stylish new skirt and blouse twinset and snazzy new hat to class (tags still on) - and the students were so polite they didn't comment on it at all! We, on the other had, shall clutch the happy memories of the birthday-based bullying to our hearts in order see us through this winter term.

Comments

[eyebrowofdoom.livejournal.com]

Excuse me, I am pretty sure Moose only became a teenager about three days ago. I must protest.

[capn-n-pye.livejournal.com]

Moose said something like FIGHT ME MEAT PERSON and we had to put him in the cupboard. Please forward your protest in writing (he won't read it but he can at least fight the paper).