An enormous homegrown zucchini, excess quantities of cherry tomato and a chance bocconcini acquisition have collided in pancake excellence.
Today I unwittingly took both glass and alcohol to a glass– and alcohol-free event.
Singing ‘Poulet poulet poulet pour moi’ to the tune of ‘Lady Marmalade’. In my defence I am actually preparing chicken for dinner.
To some questions there are no easy answers. For instance, I have no idea why an octopus — let’s call him Henry — would need to wear a hat.
Spent the morning bodysurfing (or attempting to), and this afternoon I caught a 40cm bream.
Having a slight crisis of identity.
Apparently the optimum number of times for a melody-playing child’s potty to repeat the tune ‘It’s A Small World’ is forty-nine.
Can’t help feeling my life would be richer and fuller if I wasn’t so dismayed by the sight of dirty dishes.
Or if we had a dishwasher.
I’m not sure The Wiggles have much to offer from an educational perspective if they still haven’t figured out how to wake up Jeff.
I just broke a deckchair. And, I suspect, my arse.
Mother and daughter in the doctors waiting room are having an animated debate concerning the outcome of a fight between a dog and a snake.
Microsoft Office autoupdates always make me nervous.
Logging into Google Wave, still doesn’t make any more sense since I first looked at it this time last month.
Gonna start a new genre. It’s called punkpunk.
I’ll figure out the rest later.
Measuring my progress as a dad by my increasing willingness (nay, enthusiasm) to venture outside wearing only my underpants.
I swear I vacuumed this floor mere days ago, now it looks like a dandruffing mammoth has slept on it.
If the measure of ironing excellence was “add more creases”, I would be considered excellent at ironing.
Always a bit sceptical when I hear The Wiggles claim that Dorothy is their favourite dinosaur.
What basis for comparison do they have?
The delivery label for my IKEA goods had them addressed to “chris miks”. Which I guess is appropriately minimalist and Scandinavian.
Opened bin to find wasp in there. Put bag of incredibly soiled nappies on top of wasp.
Humans: 1
Vespidae: nil
Managed to flick a vibrant yellow stripe of poo onto myself. Not my own, if that makes it any better.
If you need to come to my house to convince me of the benefits of your product, I suspect it’s because there are none.
Melbourne’s weather is like the Jeckyll and Hyde of, um, weather.
Yeah, I was up pretty early this morning.
Nothing like glorious spring sunshine to put you in the mood to draft your will. Thinking of leaving everything to the Elves of Rainbowland.
Confirmed! Robot dancing to an incorrectly-sung version of Gary Numan’s ‘Cars’ is not amusing to child who is, at that moment, defecating.
What sort of dinosaur is Dorothy, exactly?
How did she survive the KT event?
Should she really be flaunting her non-extinctedness?
My daughter just asked me to “run like an emo”. I had already slipped over on my own tears when I realised she meant “emu”.
It’s just gone 8.00am and I’ve already picked up one piece of human poo with my fingers.
Saw a woman at the playground, alone, dressed in black, pushing an empty swing.
When delivery men bring me parcels I am invariably in my dressing gown. I can’t help feeling bad about that.
I feel the presenters on Play School may be overstating somewhat the purview and import of the ‘Hokey-Pokey’
Dreamt I was asked to play bass for Sonic Youth. They wanted to go in a doom rock direction, and Kim Gordon wanted to go shopping.
Comments I’d rephrase for clarity if I had my time again (#14): “Daddy’s just going to wipe his bottom and make you a sandwich.”
Coroners must occasionally see things which test their professionalism and make them feel ill.
Changing nappies is like that sometimes.
Two things I forgot today: removal of underpants from bathroom, and the fact that we had a house inspection.
My daughter vomited beef ravioli all over Igglepiggle and Upsy Daisy.
Narrate that, Sir Derek Jacobi.
Great moments in parenting: just had to use the phrase “That’s not what socks are for.”
The rate at which my daughter is acquiring new words is exceeded only by the rate at which my vocabulary is diminishing.
Enormously clever of me, moments after the house had finally cooled down, to do the vacuuming and heat it back up again
Watching Labyrinth on DVD. Scary to think the court of the Goblin King is less freaky than David Bowie’s actual living room.
P. E. Warburton’s culinary tip #1: It can take as long as 36 hours to boil a camel to the point at which it can be devoured in its entirety.
Totally unsurprised to learn that the first attempt to walk across the Nullarbor Plain was met with a certain amount of difficulty.
Wishing Apple would hurry up and refresh the Mac Mini, the hole where the money used to be in my wallet is burning a hole in my wallet
Best thing about the iPhone is that it helps me get around the “no laptop in the toilet” rule my partner instituted
Connex shortlisted for new Melbourne train tender. Which is like drafting an epileptic marmoset as a contestant in an egg and spoon race.
