All posts filed under: Humour

Hell hath no fury as an Aldi shopper scorned

Nothing creates quite the same feeding frenzy as an Aldi Special Buy. A decorator friend was after an exclusive stool. The product had been advertised for weeks, tantalisingly photographed in an array of stylish settings. It was not your average stool, but a curvaceous, natural wood, slightly African looking stool with a design nod to a bongo drum. My friend arrived at her local store early as all seasoned Aldi shoppers do. They know the drill. There are only so many said items in stock. There are none in reserve. No “rainchecks” or returning for another shipment. She wasn’t alone. Several other intrepid shoppers had braved the icy winter’s morning to claim their booty. Polite conversation masked the desire to cut to the chase and elbow everyone else out of the way to be first in line. One burly gentleman admitted his wife had raced off to work and left him with strict instructions to return with treasure. Or else. The doors opened. My friend entered the fray and was immediately trapped in trolley traffic …

A Selfie Made in Heaven

“Oh noooooo!’ groaned the sleekly bobbed woman in the shop aisle beside me. I turned in shock to see what was causing her immense pain. She was staring at her phone with a mixture of horror and disbelief and gave another pitiful groan. It was heartbreaking. Had someone died? Fallen gravely ill? Was it her electricity bill? I glanced at her with a half panicked, half sympathetic smile, ready to offer dodgy CPR should she need revival. She glanced up briefly, smiled wryly while gazing, transfixed at her iPhone screen. In a daze of post-unauthorised Facebook traumatic stress disorder, she uttered a distraught explanation: “It’s my birthday, and a friend has just published the most awful photograph of me drunk at 19 on Facebook. It’s been up for three hours, why didn’t I check my phone!” she wailed. I wanted to tell her she looked lovely and her hair was fabulous and really, who cared about Facebook anyway. It was so last year. But at a glance, I realised it was far too late for …

Mean Girls won’t trump Melania

If you believe mainstream media, embattled First Lady, Melania Trump is yet to put an elegant, designer-heeled foot right. The contrast from years gone by is stark. Pre First Lady status, the former model, Melania graced the covers of mags from Vogue to Vanity Fair. She was feted with flattering features and praised for her beauty and poise. With her striking Slovenian looks and beautiful, made-for-designer-clothing body, the fashion glitterati embraced her. And then she committed the unpardonable sin: She became First Lady. The Donald outrageously outsmarted a still raging, still explaining, Hillary. The glitterati flipped. And strangely, the very same media who once tripped over their Doc Martins to interview Melania or her famous husband, now bandied together in a collective holier than thou huddle. Their bitter hatred for her husband leaked pure poison into their pens. Even designers turned nasty. Tom Ford, Marc Jacobs, Christian Siriano and Sophie Theallet waspishly refused to dress her. The loss was all theirs. Former First Ladies have had a smooth ride. Huffing Hillary, for example, can rant …

For the love of Toyota

WE’RE ALL SET for our annual camping holiday and in the midst of it all, our trusty Toyota Prado circa 2000, perhaps in a covertly defiant act of consolidation with Toyota’s workers, has decided to give up the ghost. It hasn’t entirely broken down, but personally, the air-conditioning suddenly only working on number four-speed and sounding like a tractor is tantamount to giving up the ghost. We are in the midst of a Queensland summer, after all. We have a rich history with our workhorse. It has endured the craters of Fraser Island tracks, several camping trips to remote areas of Moreton Island and Stradbroke Islands, a few family road trips to Sydney and more. It has also pulled lantana out of our creek, bears the scars of my then three-year-old daughter’s artistic swirls with a disco ball on the tinted windows. It has been hailed upon, scratched by overhanging trees, dodged kangaroos … and all the while, its air-conditioning has soldiered on, giving us a reprieve on those long, hot trips. The good news …

Carpet Ride

I have never been one for shopping lists or planning weekly meal menus. And nor, it seems, warehouse furniture shopping.
I have proven that I approach warehouse shopping in exactly the same way I approach food shopping: with spontaneity and according to what is on special.
Of course I will buy the sensible basics, but it’s the other miscellaneous items that often become a little blurred and spur of the moment.

Middle-Aged Dread

IN MY MOTHER’S ERA, middle-aged mothers were content to be middle-aged mothers. They wore comfortable clothing and would not have dreamed of trying to fit into their teenage daughter’s jeans or befriending her friends on Facebook. There were a couple of ‘glamour pusses’ in the small town in which I grew up – perhaps the local boutique or beauty parlour owner – but on the whole, they were all of similar elk. I don’t remember anyone being particularly reed slim unless born that way, and I don’t recall anyone power walking with weights or hiring a personal trainer to work on their ‘abs’. There were no gym junkies because there were no gyms and a weekly game of tennis was the sociable ‘exercise’ of choice. The more adventurous souls took up yoga when the fad hit town and I recall my nicely rounded mum proudly showing us how she could stand on her head. They settled into middle age with an accepting sigh and laughed off a couple of gained kilos or a midriff that …

Paleo

A Bone to Pick with Paleo

BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA — The beleaguered Pete Evans of paleo persuasion might just have an ally on the far-flung side of the world. His name is Professor Tim Noakes and I truly believe he and Pete should chew the cud, so to speak. The renowned Cape Town based professor you see, is also under public scrutiny for his dietary views. He is a great protagonist of the Banting diet (very similar to Paleo but says yes to a little dairy). Sugar is pure evil. He’s also the author of The Real Meal Revolution. His original notoriety, however, was gained from a heavyweight book he once wrote, The Lore of Running. Noakes’ recent media scrutiny stems from his complete backflip when it comes to his former high carb teachings. He’s been pretty vocal about his new high fat, low carb diet. He, like Pete has been publicly bashed by dieticians and worse, fellow Cape Town University academics. The public is also fed up, judging by a reliable source of scandal, Facebook. Years ago, every running enthusiast I …

Oil Spills No Tonic

BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA—When a day starts off really badly, I sometimes feel the most sensible option is to go straight back to bed. I say this with conviction as this week, I had not one but two major mishaps before the day had even properly begun. First, I filled the steam iron with tonic water. Yes, tonic water. Should have drunk the gin and gone back to bed. The ironing board is permanently set up in the garage for easy access and ironing on demand. Tellingly, it is not a pastime I enjoy. The tonic water had been sitting there for some time, right next to the spare fridge that tends to freeze up. I only recalled later that I had removed the frozen bottle of tonic water some months earlier. Hurrying as usual, I grabbed a shirt and eyeing the tonic water bottle, proceeded to top up the steam iron. Seconds later, an aroma best described as burnt toffee, wafted through the room. The iron then began spewing caramel-coloured liquid all over my clean shirt. …

The Menace in Tennis

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA―The Australian Tennis Open is finally over and after weeks of serious television overload, this tennis tragic will not be going near the box for a while―well, at least not until the French Open. Together with the rest of Australia and the world, I’ve enjoyed every minute of this Grand Slam competition. However, one aspect of play has left a niggling bad taste―the sanctioned on court antics of certain players. Call me old fashioned, but smashing a racket on court and hurling expletives isn’t behaviour that should be applauded. Firstly, my practical mother side is thinking: That’s one expensive racket―perhaps it could have been donated to some poor up and coming player or even better, auctioned off for charity. And then, there’s the confused realization that not everyone seems to find this behaviour shocking. The tantrum player in question is one of Australia’s up-and-coming tennis stars, Nick Kyrgios. He’s a really likeable guy off-court but someone needs to tell him it’s not right to smash rackets and use vile swear words when things go …