If, like me, you’ve ever wondered what to do with your ex, one enterprising Brisbane business sells the perfect solution. At Olive Home, in Ashgrove, you can now buy and bake voodoo doll cookies with this lovely little cookie cutter set upon which my friend and fabulous food blogger Kerry Heaney (www.eatdrinkandbekerry.blogspot.com.au) stumbled today. And you wouldn’t even care if the cookies burned. Burn, baby, burn. (Sorry, I got carried away for a second).
Of course, there’s loads of other solutions as well. Just speak to my mother. You see, mum and dad sired four daughters, of which I am one (the nutty youngest if you really must know). And from those four daughters, there’s been five marriages. The interesting bit is, depending on your point of view, there’s also been four divorces. Now, if you’re a pessimist, you might say that’s a bad thing, but I like to think we’re a bunch of overachievers. I mean, the average divorce rate is at about 50%. Not in my family. No, we sit at 80%. Now, that’s what I call gifted. Although some days I can’t help but feel a little like a Kennedy. But I digress. After each divorce mum, who naturally blames every bloke for the failure of the marriages (she’s not far wrong), writes their name on a piece of paper, and puts it in the freezer. Yes, you heard right. She freezes them. Apparently, some old witch (could have been my grandmother), told her about this little tradition which is meant to somehow curse the blokes in question for all eternity. So mum’s freezer looks a little like this (but with far more food in it).
Mum, being married to a butcher and a grazier, has also threatened to chop off certain parts of their anatomy and put them on display like the one below. But we’ve all assured her there wasn’t enough worth chopping.
However, if you were insane enough to marry into our family, I’d say be afraid. Be very afraid. Mum scares the hell of out me most days, I can’t imagine what it would be like not being of her loins. So, what of that last 20% still married? My oldest sister has somehow managed to hang on to her husband, to the man affectionately known in our family as Last Man Standing. I sometimes see droplets of sweat appear on his brow when we refer to him like this.
Yes, should Last Man Standing ever do anything to warrant the final divorce – unless the sister who has married twice has a third crack at it – I can already imagine mum’s reaction.
I spent years recovering from my divorce and there were times when I agreed with mum, but I figured she’s got all the black magic covered. These days, I try to focus on what lays ahead. Yes, The Global Goddess is a lover, not a fighter. On that note, I leave you with this thought…
If you really do want to know all about food, rather than revenge, check out Eat Drink + Be Kerry, http://www.eatdrinkandbekerry.blogspot.com.au. This famous foodie is currently running a fantastic comp where you can win a year’s supply of hot chocolate. And for those who want a tour of my mother’s freezer, leave a comment below. I’m sure it can be arranged.
Month: February 2013
It’s raining men
WHERE in the world are all the men? As a travel writer I have trekked the globe looking for good stories and good blokes (usually in that order). Sure, I can always stumble across a decent yarn, but finding a fella is not so simple. Some people have even accused me of becoming a travel writer JUST so I could find a man. If that were the case, I’d be a spy. Far more glamourous. Then again, who am I kidding? I can’t keep a secret. So, in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, and spilling the beans, let me tell you where you CAN find a man. But first, here’s some places you might wish to avoid.
I stumbled across these two nice boys one late afternoon at Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Unfortunately, despite their snappy fashion sense, they advised me they were already in love. With Buddha. So I moved on.
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This one I found at Montreal at the Comedy Festival. Unfortunately, it was summer, and I like my blokes to be brave, so unless he can handle a bit of cold weather, he's not the one for me.
In Salem, I discovered there are actually more witches than lawyers. Still, that’s pretty handy if you are getting divorced and want to cast a spell on your ex. But I was unable to conjure up a boyfriend.
In Dubrovnik, this lovely old man looked like a prospect. Until he told me he was waiting for someone. Much younger than me.
In Brisbane, things are so dire, you’d think every man was dead.
So, where in the world are all the men?
NEW ZEALAND! According to a report released yesterday, a stack of hot tradies have been flocking to Christchurch to rebuild the city after its 2011 earthquake. Things are so good there for single women, there’s four men for every woman. That’s right, I’ve travelled the globe and they’ve been sitting right under my nose all along. So Happy Valentine’s Day. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a plane to catch.
Australia, we’ve got one almighty election
SEVERAL commentators have likened the recently-announced Australian federal election campaign to a seven-month pregnancy and I have to admit that was one of my first reactions as well. Actually, my first reaction was one of excitement, as I actually misheard the Prime Minister and thought she said Australia would be having a long erection. Could you imagine it? Your local member (pardon the pun) standing on the street corner, and instead of handing out how-to-vote cards, giving out free Viagra.
Alas, she did say election and it really is like the obstetrician has just told us we are having twins – a boy and a girl. For the sake of this story, let’s call them Julia and Tony. Now, apart from thinking I could make a handsome profit if I whipped up to China and got 22 million “Is there a 3rd option?” t-shirts made, I think I have solved the problem for the Australian electorate. My advice: vote exactly how you did in the last election, and keep a hung Parliament. Why? As the past few years have proven, the country actually trundles along quite nicely, some say the envy of the western superpower economies such as the US and Europe, while our two twins, Julia and Tony, bicker.
It’s a bit like being in the toy aisle at K-Mart and Julia and Tony have spotted a boat on the toy shelves horizon. Tony immediately grabs a toy gun and starts shooting at the boat, demanding that K-Mart send the boat back to where it was made. In this instance, Indonesia. Julia, seeing Tony’s reaction, runs into the doll aisle and grabs Burqa Barbie, plonks her on the boat, and a struggle ensues. What’s interesting about this scenario is not Julia and Tony’s reaction but that of you, the parent. You’ve already moved on to the outdoor camping section of K-Mart, because all you really want is a holiday and a happy life.
But bear with me. My hung Parliament theory has legs – unlike Burqa Barbie which Tony has ripped off in to the argument with Julia. But before I give you the third option to lead Australia, I’d like to canvas some other candidates. We could look at some of our Aussie exports who’ve clearly done well overseas. What about Kylie Minogue? Her campaign slogan: “I should be so lucky” would clearly be a catchy hit, and she’s a certainty with the pink vote. Olivia Newton John would be rather convincing with romantic Australian voters if her slogan was: “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” Hugh Jackman? All-round nice guy who everyone loves. Just as I’ve never met anyone who actually liked or voted for John Howard, I don’t know anyone who hates Hugh Jackman. And just imagine when the latest round of refugees arrived on our shore, Hugh would be standing there and clutching that same line he used on Nicole Kidman in the movie Australia he’d swagger: “Welcome to Australia.”
But my secret plan for the person to be next Prime Minister of Australia is Barack Obama. I’ve worked it out. He’s only got four more years left before he must stand down as President of the United States. Our election is almost another year away. Which means we’ve really only got to sit out another hung Parliament for three years before we elect Obama. I presume the Australian Prime Minister must have Aussie citizenship and I’ve sorted all that out too. I am prepared to marry Obama so that he can become Australian and save us from ourselves. Say what you will about me, but never let it be said I’m not prepared to take one for the country.
The Global Goddess 