On dads and driving

I use to be afraid to drive.

Not like: “Oh golly gosh that’s a wee bit daunting” type of afraid.

More the: “Jesus Christ I think I'm going to die” all the while shaking like a strung out junkie and wanting to vomit type of afraid.

It was quite the barrier and many reasons had been discussed as to why it existed.

My Mum had never driven, nor had her Mum; I had a naturally reclusive personality; and I had never been taught how to drive when I was young so always saw motor vehicles as foreign objects; some sort of unfathomable ‘other’.

But the most accurate reason as to why I strongly disliked driving was that I was afraid to piss other people off. 

Now in my household, as can be assumed from the above, my father did all the driving. During my formative years we lived in Napier, an average sized city in the province of Hawkes Bay, New Zealand. But for an average sized city it had a disproportionate amount of idiot drivers. You knew as soon as you got within the provincial borders that you were back in the area because indicators became optional as did even bothering to check if someone was there before pulling out onto a road.

And amongst this I was driven.

Now my father is, for the most part, a calm and patient man. Even once in the confines of a vehicle he keeps his cool and handles his four wheeled steed with ease (he used to be a ministerial driver for New Zealand politicians at one point in his career) but this did not mean that he remained silent behind his closed windows. In fact some of his most eloquent insults came forth while in traffic:

“How about you shift that dilapidated pile of shit off the road before I run right up your arse!”

“That’s right, you pull out there you bloody great ignoramus; it’s not like ANYONE ELSE IS USING THE ROAD!”

Or my personal favourite: “Are you going to turn that bloody corner or do you want a written God Damn invitation!”

Such was our amusing car trips. And this was all well and good...until I came to drive myself.

Living (in my early twenties) with a guy who was a complete prick didn't help overcome the phobia at all (I won’t elaborate as I am currently in a good mood and want it to stay that way) but I did manage to get a restricted licence. Then I met a calm sorta guy and he patiently let me drive his manual Nissan Navara with the clutch almost gone...this was a nervous experience at best.

And then we moved to Australia (where I couldn't drive), then Canada (where I also couldn't drive) then back to New Zealand (where, by then, I had totally lost any driving mojo) then back to Canada (where I couldn't drive) then back to New Zealand where it was also a no go due my phobia kicking back in with a vengeance.

When my marriage to said calm sorta guy ended, I felt a rising sense of panic. How could this have happened? Was I really that unlovable? Maybe if I drive he'll come back?

As it turns out, he wasn't the loss for me that I thought he was, but my grief at the time achieved miracles: I drove. He kept our Ford Falcon wagon and bought me a Mitzubishi Galant Viento, and I drove that thing all round town, in my own time, via my own routes. I chose to think of my car as an extension of me, like a protective coat, and this changed how I saw other drivers. You say what you like, I'm doing my best and you can all just deal with it.

I also made changes to my diet around this time that I also believe helped me control my anxiety. The gluten-free, dairy-free  diet (also known as the Asperger’s diet) has done wonderful things for not only my body but my over sensitive brain.....but that is a topic for a whole ‘nother blog.

Thus by the time I met the Kevman (I was sporting a 5 series BMW by then), I was very proficient at zapping around Feilding and Palmerston North (New Zealand).

Which was all but useless in preparing me for the highways and byways of Perth’s massive and constantly changing infrastructure.

“Oh good, someone else who can pick Kev up and drop him off at the airport and save us doing it” was one of the first things I heard from a few relatives upon my landing here.

Say what...

You know I'm from a pissant little Kiwi town that doesn't even have a set of traffic lights don't you?

But I did it. The trip to the airport at that time involved one major road, two highways (articulated trucks an un-optional extra), road works and what felt like 73 speed limit changes.

It took me three goes to get it right but I got there (Yes I have a NavMan....no I don’t use it....I cannot drive with things rabbiting in my ear...music: yes; news, ads, rambling DJs and questionable NavPeople....no)

I felt right proud of myself. And each month I've been trying somewhere new: The Spudshed, The Reptile Centre, a different shopping centre, things like that.

So right now, my parents are visiting and I am currently dazzling my father with my vehicular brilliance. I'm haring around the Perth bitumen like Danica Patrick, changing lanes like a champion and generally having a right old time.

I feel my Pappy’s pride as he is seated next to me.....and also his amusement as the following fell out of my mouth yesterday: “So are you gonna shift yo ass into the other God damned lane or do you need a written bloody invitation!”

Aaaaand Lil Blondie is getting driving lessons from age 10

Now off to Freo!! Should be interesting ;-)

See you next week! 

What I have...not what I am.

This is one those entries that kinda has to be written.

I am not particularly one for defining myself via medical conditions I have. This will never be a ‘Medical blog’, nor will any of my conditions make it into the description atop my wee corner of the Internet.

But I am a Tigress....born in the year of such stripy animals, and as such, I do not turn down opportunities in life and this I consider an opportunity. Not only to inform others of the reality of another’s oft physically painful life...but also to help them understand it from that other’s point of view.

What follows is a, probably rather disorganized, description of stuff my body has along with the effects thereof. I am tired today, dog tired....hence the inspiration to take the time to write this. I am tired but I am happy.

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Fibromyalgia is an insidious disease....or, more correctly, a ‘syndrome’: a collection of symptoms hanging out together that make up a ‘condition’. It involves, by definition, ‘pain of unknown origin’ (really helpful).

Ankylosing Spondylitis and Sacroilitis are part of a cluster of conditions know as seronegative spondyloarthropathies and can generally be referred to as a pain in the ass (as well as several other places).

Hypermobility is the ability to stretch your joints past what is considered normal. This can be responsible for irritating the nerves in said joints more often than usual and generally causing pain wherever the hell it feels like it.

I have all three of these conditions; though, at present, specialists are not sure of exactly which spondyloarthropathy I have, or which condition is responsible for most of the pain.

If you ask me on any particular day how I feel....’sore’ is the correct answer. But I can’t be arsed explaining why (not that anyone probably wants the full answer anyway lol) so you'll usually get a smile and ‘good’.

And that’s not a lie. I do feel good, because that is what I choose.

And I make that decision every day.

There is no other choice for me.

When I wake up in the morning, I put my feet on the floor...they hurt. I take Naproxen (an anti-inflammatory) twice a day, but still, every morning I wake up and my feet hurt when I stand on them....to the point that I cannot walk correctly for several minutes until much of the pain subsides. This process repeats every time I sit/rest during the day for any period longer than about 20-30 minutes. I stand up, they hurt...I walk funny, they loosen up, I do stuff, I sit......rinse and repeat.

All I can say is thank God for good sports shoes and inserts. I wear high heels only about once a year and under close supervision.

I have similar difficulties with my hands though they are seldom idle throughout the day. Pain most often occurs in my hands when I attempt to, say, grasp a thin string tightly or have been sitting still watching a movie and then try and grasp my drink.

I also have pain in my ankles, knees, wrists and elbows .This varies depending on level of previous activity, weather changes....or unknown factors in the universe that decide shit with no regard to anyone’s well-being whatsoever.

Now unfortunately, it’s not just the peripheral bits that hurt. Due to my sacroiliac joints (found at the back of one’s pelvic girdle) not being up to snuff....I have episodes of severe pain in that area as well as stiffness in my lower back in general. Walking is not fun at these times and pain killers are required en masse. But Naproxen largely avoids these flares now. This is a pleasing development.

That’s about it in the pain department....stuff hurts every day and I take pills to stop as much of it as I can. If I don’t take those pills, I don’t really feel inclined to move....for the most part because not only does all of the above hurt more severely, but I develop costochondritis, or inflammation of the cartilage at the bottom of the ribs that makes even turning over in bed a mission of epic proportions.

Needless to say I like Naproxen.

Other shenanigans that my body gets up to are as follows:

I am positive for the gene HLA B27, making me significantly more prone to the above mentioned spondyloarthropathy cluster of conditions. Other effects of this gene that I have experienced include regular bouts of iritis (inflammation of the iris of the eye) and possible reactive arthritis (should have gone to doctor but didn't, so just my self-diagnosis there): a temporary arthritis in reaction to an infection (particularly bladder or stomach). The former involves pain, inflammation and redness in the eye requiring steroids and dilating drops, the latter manifests as soreness (particularly in the weight bearing joints) as well as Achilles Tendonitis (making for one very sore tootsie for a long period of time).

Other eye issues include bouts of dry, irritated eyes that require drops.

The hypermobility means that basically I hurt myself more easily than most, coz things stretch further than they should. This makes gym time fun.

Then there’s the rest of the Fibro fun and games. Fibromyalgia not only causes pain, but also some major doses of fatigue. You develop quite sudden and overwhelming desires to lie down on frequent occasion and these tend to be non negotiable. Some days you will feel quite good and go hooning around like a mad thing doing a bunch of stuff only to feel like death warmed up the next day. Life is about balance with Fibromyalgia....a balance I am apparently yet to learn.

Fibromyalgia also means you sleep like shit...no other way to describe it really. I am lucky in that I have trained myself to fall asleep fine....but I often wake up at stupid times and cannot return to a deep sleep. This does not help one’s concentration and energy level issues the next day.

Fibromyalgia also makes your body sensitive to everything. And I mean everything.

Food: I am gluten, dairy, yeast, caffeine, aspartame and alcohol sensitive (significantly reducing or avoiding these has lead to a considerably better mental and physical state)

Noise: it irritates and stresses me, especially loud or incessant noise....I much prefer quiet, though I do tolerate most music very well. 

Temperature extremes and changes: My body strongly dislikes cold but also stops working in the heat....I have a functioning range of temperature that is not that wide....air-con is my best friend here in Perth.

Light: My eyes are hypersensitive to light.... (Though unrelated, I also have a photic sneeze reflex – I sneeze at the sun/bright light)....I have to wear sunglasses everywhere, even in winter on glary days, and I strongly dislike ‘white light’ indoors.

Skin: My skin can become sore for no reason...none at all...just becomes sensitive to the touch for no reason whatsoever....quite ridiculous. Getting poked in one of the 18 Fibromyalgia ‘tender points’ ain't exactly fun either. 

Everything else: Anxieties are common with people with Fibromyalgia. I strongly dislike telephones and am not all that impressed with crowds either. Am also prone to vertigo in some situations.

Another delightful wee facet of Fibromyalgia I sometimes experience is ‘Fibro-fog’. That is, I lose track of what I'm saying mid statement; I cannot recall the spelling of simple words or cannot recall the specific word I want; I have frequent periods of low concentration and attention span and I have difficulty remembering some recent events (though have crystal clear memory of others).

There are other random things that my body does but they are probably not related to these conditions and will be part of further investigations. These include heart rate abnormalities, reactions to local anaesthetic, aseptic cystitis (the symptoms of bladder infection without any actual infection present.....particularly clever I thought) and various stomach and bowel complaints that seem to be above and beyond the Irritable Bowel Syndrome I've also been diagnosed with. I'll just keep up the doc/specialist visits till we have the full story.

But enough of what’s wrong....what’s happening to fix these things? Well before we get too cutely optimistic let it be known that all three of these conditions are chronic (ongoing) and incurable. But stuff can be done to manage them.

Exercise is a good therapeutic aid and I am in the process of being prescribed a physical therapy routine to work within the bounds of my Fibromyalgia, around my sacroiliac issues and toward strengthening muscles to support my hypermobile joints. I am very much looking forward to this as when I am left unsupervised, I go all out and consequently write myself off for days.

I am currently trialling the drug ‘Lyrica’ for sleep issues and pain management. It seems to be helping a little with the sleep but not so much with the pain just yet. Doses can be increased, we'll see how it goes.

I have made many dietary modifications (as mentioned above) and believe this has significantly improved my Fibromyalgia symptoms, but there are still more I can investigate. Following the FODMAP diet and/or removing nightshades (potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant and capsicums) from my diet are the next step but I want specialist evaluation before I go changing anything else.

But probably the best way to fight these conditions is by simply not giving in to them or letting them define you. I am a global citizen, a Kiwi, a committed partner, a mother, a daughter, a humanitarian and a friend long before I will ever be a Fibromyalgia sufferer or cancer survivor. I get up each day, enjoy each day, be thankful for each day and put everything I can into each day. I surround myself (virtually and actually) with positive, caring people (my gratitude to my Kevman knows no bounds here), smile at strangers and genuinely appreciate everything I still have to offer this world.

I may be a broken-ass bitch but I’m still a damn lucky one. I get to wake up, stand up and step up each day...and that’s all I need to know.

Till next week! Be awesome ;-)

So in reality.....

          “Reality is wrong. Dreams are for real.” Tupac Shakur

Unless you've been under the proverbial social media rock lately, you've probably been inundated with images of a certain white/gold (or is black/blue?) dress.

For those who have missed the viral sensation, let me explain. Recently a photo of a blue and black dress was circulated on the Internet. The only problem was that to ¾ of the viewing population, the dress actually appeared gold and white, that is the blue parts appeared white and the black parts appeared gold.

Like actually

I thought the Kevman was going a tad soft in the melon when he held up a picture of an obviously white and gold dress, telling me in all honesty that it was blue and black. He had his little earnest face on...he wasn’t shitting me.

In short, we were seeing two completely different versions of the same picture.

But the story gets better. Later that day, after a lovely dinner and a cocktail or two we had another squizz at the bi-polar dress. I now saw it as blue and black while the Kevman now saw white and gold.

Words were spoken...some not for little ears (“What the f**k??” was popular).

So how could this be? How could we see the same picture so completely differently?

The science behind it is baffling and I can’t be arsed examining it now (that’s what Google is for my friends, go for it).

What I would like to examine is the backlash to the popularity of the picture.

It is not uncommon for various phenomena to go viral on the Internet. A recent episode that springs to mind is that of a certain socialite’s shiny posterior supposedly ‘breaking the Internet’. And quite rightly the backlash was profound. Why were we being inundated with this shit when much more important things where going on in the world? How had we become this shallow?

I agreed.

But this time, I don’t.

Yes there are indeed much more pressing issues in the world to be acknowledged, but this dress picture has proven a far more valuable point than naked pictures of Kim Kardashian’s ass ever will. While the Kimster’s pic serves only to reinforce the women as sexual meat paradigm, the dress picture emphasises something altogether different:

That two different people can perceive the exact same ‘reality’.... differently.

 Rather profound I thought.

Still not impressed? Well let’s extrapolate (and here I break my ‘no controversial issues’ rule to a certin extent)

Let’s take the conflict between Israel and Palestine.

There's a ‘reality’ here that changes with every person you talk to. Some see ‘evil Muslims’, some see ‘evil Jews’, some see ‘cunning Zionist oppressors’, some see ‘violent Hamas extremists’ while others see atrocities committed on both sides and write them all off as ‘religious idiots’.

So who is right?

Well we could ask the media, but do you really think they are able to give you a comprehensive story in a three minute newsbite? Doubtful. And in their desire to bring you the ‘two sides’ of what is actually a multi faceted issue they have a tendency to paint one side as good and the other as evil. This doesn't actually help us understand the actual situation a whole heap. These people would effectively try and tell you what colour the dress is when half of them are seeing it completely incorrectly.

When it comes to the picture it is merely a variance in perception, colour vision, and a little mental trickery. But when it comes to Israel and Palestine, variances in knowledge are the main culprits: Knowledge of the history of the occupation of Palestine by Israel, knowledge of the current situation, and knowledge of the full spectrum of religious thought within both the Jewish and Islamic religions.

If you asked an ISIS member, a Mossad employee, a moderate Imam, a Palestinian child, an Israeli university student, an American soldier, a frontline foreign doctor, a Gazan soccer player, an Al Jazeera reporter and French photographer their thoughts on the conflict, chances are you would get a different version from each of them.

A different personal and subjective version of ‘reality’ based on their own knowledge and life experience.

They would all see a slightly different coloured dress within the spectrum of vision of the ongoing conflict. And to each person those colours would be as real as the bullet casings at their feet.

So was this dress going viral such a bad thing? Really? When it so clearly illustrated how very different people’s perceptions of a ‘reality’ can be?

Some stated they would have preferred other pictures to have gone viral, such as that of a young girl being handed a folded American flag at the funeral of what one would assume is her military parent.

So what reality is to be seen in that picture? Do you see the bravery of American soldiers? The sadness of children deprived of a parent?...or does your mind extrapolate to the warmongering of political bodies and the senseless deaths of thousands of innocent people because some world leaders can't get their shit together and treat all their countrymen and women fairly and equally.

Does the picture of the little girl really teach us anything more than the picture of the dress? Probably not. 

What the dress picture effectively did was remove the context to show the simple truth. It took out the politics, the religion, the weapons, the opinions and the media slant and showed us what we needed to see.....that a complete stranger as much as someone we love and care about more than anything in the world can see something completely different to the way we do.

With the dress you don’t have a lot of hope of changing what you see.

But with everything else, there are steps of knowledge toward common ground.

So when you approach every disagreement from now on......just be thankful it’s not about that damn dress and get to steppin'

I'll leave you here with a quote from the legendary Bruce Lee. This is for all those fighting around the world for the most basic of human rights. More people stand with you than you know.

“Defeat is a state of mind; no one is ever defeated until defeat has been accepted as a reality.”

Take that whichever way you see it.

In defence of poxy weather

It’s a cloudy, windy, overcast day today. The clouds have rolled in over our first night here in Albany, Western Australia to coat the city in a grey pallor and bring the temperature down to the low 20s (Celsius). The Kevman is not impressed.

I bloody love it.

Do you know how hot it gets in this God forsaken country? Well do ya?

A few weeks back it reached 44.4°C in Perth (that’s 111.92°F for you American folk). Now what the Hell sort of temperature do you call that? And ‘Hell’ is the operative word there. In fact Satan called, he wants his weather back.

It’s just not natural.

Not only does Mother Nature suffer from PMS but she’s also menopausal (coz she’s Mother Nature and she can do both if she wants to) But just because she’s having hot flashes doesn't really mean that we need to join in the fun.

Now due to my location, Internet research is not gonna happen (I'll be having enough trouble just publishing anything today!) but I'm pretty damn sure that heat it another phenomenon that can do you an awful mischief over here if given half a chance.

I've come to the conclusion that this country is just a thug.

It wouldn't be quite so bad if I didn't have this Fibromyalgia business...and I'm a Kiwi with Fibromyalgia at that. Kiwis often struggle in the heat over here; we do a fabulous imitation of dying and are forced to develop the ability to sweat in places that we didn't even know we had. Then add to that a disease that makes you very sensitive to any temperature change or extreme and things get interesting.

This may at least start to explain my delight in an overcast day upon which you can wander outside and not walk into a wall of heat and humidity that makes you feel like you are wading through treacle. It’s just not my favourite part of Australian summer living eh.

I will give the Aussie climate credit for one thing though, at least it doesn't nuke you as fast as the New Zealand one. In Kiwiland at peak times of the summer days, you can burn in minutes...and not very many of 'em.

But overall I much prefer a cool breeze lapping at my clothing and a spot of rain hither and yon, than a sticky mass of air being draped over me like a drop sheet and any wind comparable to a hairdryer in my face on a day that is already feeling like a heat wave in Hades

.

The Kevman however is different kettle of lizard. Unless it’s over 30°C he gets his shiver on. If he has to wear anything other than shorts and a T-shirt, it is a chilly day and it can be off with itself. He spent half of his time in last year's New Zealand winter standing beside the nearest heat source and the rest of the time working out how to get to one. But the Kiwis understood. I just had to say: “He’s Australian, bless him” and we would get the knowing nod: “Ah, yes...that explains it.” i.e. why I am casually browsing the shelves as he is huddled by the fire appearing to demonstrate distinct signs of hypothermia.

Though it was 8°C at the time so I told him it was kinda understandable. It wasn't like I was busting out my bikini or anything either.

So as I write, I am listening to the delicate sprinkles of rain on a tin roof and smiling to myself; though if I'm honest, said rain is actually trying very hard to turn into a torrential downpour. Which would be lovely if I was working on a novel and didn't need to walk down to the rec room where the wifi is to publish this....

*Sigh*

Well at least on a positive note there isn't any lightning

Yet

Have a good one and I'll check in with you all next week!

From The Eagles to Kanye West...and back again.

Kanye West once said

"Man, I'm the No. 1 living and breathing rock star. I am Axl Rose; I am Jim Morrison: I am Jimi Hendrix."

Really?

See, I always thought the guy was a tool, but this quote really seals the deal.

Take a seat Kanye, you’re about to get schooled....

So last night I witnessed perfection. It came in the form of an Eagles concert; otherwise known as the timeless brilliance of seasoned artists singing and playing instruments in an entertaining fashion.

You know, what they used to do in the olden days.

There was no synchronized dancing, no rapping, no bling, no fireworks, no loop tracks and sure as hell no lip syncing.

There was simply music

And damn good music at that.

From the first strains of “Whatever happened to Saturday night” through to the iconic guitar riffs of “Hotel California”, Glenn Frey, Don Henley, Joe Walsh, Timothy B. Schmit, Bernie Leadon, and a slew of supporting musicians caressed the ears of the loyal with a trip down memory lane that was mesmerizing in a way only true artistry can be. With all members of the band able to sing and play multiple instruments, there was no denying the level of talent on the Perth Arena stage this night.

But a phenomenon such as ‘The History of The Eagles’ tour doesn't come easy, and as the diehards crooning along to hit after hit knew, this concert was 44 years in the making.

It was in the depths of 1971 that The Eagles formed, a band that would change the course of rock history, and if you’re thinking that’s a little over exuberant, here’s what our buds at Wikipedia have to say about the matter:

“The Eagles are one of the world’s best-selling bands of all time, having sold more than 150 million records^[3]—100 million in the U.S. alone—including 42 million copies of Their Greatest Hits (1971–1975) and 32 million copies of Hotel California. "Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975)" became the best selling album of the 20th century after it surpassed Michael Jackson's "Thriller".^[4] They are the fifth-highest-selling music act and highest-selling American band in U.S. history. No American band sold more records than the Eagles during the 1970s.”

Yes you read that correctly, they had the best selling album of the ENTIRE TWENTIETH CENTURY

Your argument is invalid.

Add to that their six Grammys, five American Music Awards, inductions into both the Vocal Group and Rock and Roll Halls of Fame and a rank of 37^th on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest albums of all time (for Hotel California) and you know you’re dealing with no riff raff here.

It naturally translates then, that witnessing this group performing is something akin to a religious experience for the devout. And last night’s show what no exception. While it cheered my soul to see a decent smattering of youthful faces in the audience, it was the oldies who had come out of the woodwork that truly made me smile. The packed Arena was filled for a second night running with men and women from all walks of life, but those with more wrinkles had the most wistful looks about them. Those who were similar in age to the men on stage; those who had cruised with the top down in their youth 'taking it easy'; those who had watched their kids cut their teeth to the wail of a Walsh Stratocaster; those who had seen musicians come and go but the Eagles rocking on.

At no point in history have these guys ever been a ‘boy band’. What started in the recesses of a Linda Ronstadt tour went on to become a singer/songwriter combination that easily sits with the best today. Though their career includes a fourteen year hiatus (1980 – 1994), the chemistry within the band is still obvious and last night, we, the lucky ones, got to feel it too.

Perth Arena is not small but it became the type of intimate environment that made you feel like Joe Walsh was gonna flick you a guitar pick at any moment. Even as they switched up the rocking through the night...you were always part of it, like they were truly grateful you were there, you were the reason why they do what they do.

And the music, of course, was exquisite; cruisy, but brilliant, renditions of “I Can’t Tell You Why”, “Witchy Woman”, “New Kid In Town” “ Lyin’ Eyes” and “Take It To The Limit” seamlessly gave way to the amped up vibe of “One of These Nights” “Heartache Tonight” and the quintessential Eagles track, "Hotel California". Fans sang, swayed, clapped, cheered, whistled and fist-pumped their way through a back catalogue that would make any modern artist cry. The masters of folk rock, pop rock, soft rock and classic rock had come to town...and they showed the disciples how it was done.

So was it worth $280 a ticket for 12 rows back from the stage (closer meant up to nearly $700/ticket)?

What a ridiculous question.

It would be worth sacrificing body parts....even your own if necessary.

Sell your firstborn.

Do whatever needs to be done.

Just be there.

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And yo Kanye, you might wanna take note that a bunch of guys in their sixties just pulled a much higher max ticket price than you probably ever will....and sold out to boot. And yet they are not arrogant enough to come out with anything close to the crap that you did.

I think it’s called maturity

You should try some. 

I Maximus!

It’s just not working.

The little furry freaks are still here.

‘Tis I, Maximus the Almighty again; the Infidels are outside...so I'm seizing my chance to, once again, express my extreme disenchantment at the household situation here. And I must say...I'm not impressed with the progress (or lack thereof); not at all. After weeks of glowering, ignoring, hissing and swatting the little vermin who have taken up occupation round here, they are, sadly, still blissfully content in MY home.

I mean, What The Furball man?!

And what‘s worse is that I've discovered the little thugs are actually the same species as me! They’re kittens God damn it!

Little miniature CATS!!

Oh the crushing reality.

And they’re running, bouncing, chasing, sliding, jumping, sneaking, wandering, sniffing and playing their way around this house like they own the joint. 

There’s no discipline. No firm hand from a higher authority to bring a halt to all this tomfoolery. I try to give them a good clip round the ear’ole, but all I get is: “Max! Be nice!”

What if I don’t wanna? Huh?

I'm too old for this shit.

I'm half tempted to fill their litter tray full of Pop Rocks just for entertainment.

I have tried everything. First I sulked outside and came in only for minimum food rations (so they started eating my biscuits), I went on a grooming strike (now my fur looks like my mother was camel), I've tried stealing their food (Now I look like a fat camel) and I've tried stealing back my sleeping locations (so they sleep elsewhere....damn it I can’t sleep in them all at once!)

They’re abominable little fiends!

They have names too apparently: “Merlot” and “Shiraz” (I had a sneaking suspicion the infidels were closet alcoholics).

But....*Facepaw*, what the hell sort of names are those! What about something badass like Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker Red? Ok, they’re girls, but whatever; try harder people!

Though, it must be said, names can be deceptive. Fluffy down the road, for example, can have your eye out in 2 second from 20 paces...though I suspect she is not your average Fluffy (nor batting for the same team as your average Fluffy...although that’s only a hunch and one mustn’t wax stereotypical about these things).

But I digress.

I think I’m at the point of giving up.

They’re 1/8 my age, unnaturally cute, and completely disregard my authority on anything.

I may just hav....

*From lounge* “Get out of there you little fur-lined feed bags!!”

Oooh, is this disharmony I sense?

“Argh!! What have you unplugged you little twits! I can’t get the TV to work and my show is going to start in 5 minutes!...OMG...yes, run, I strongly advise it!”

Well her show may not be starting, but mine sure is.

Gotta go!

*Rubs paws with glee* These mogs might not be such bad value after all!

What an absolute apostrophe!

I was perusing through the rental section of the Internet ‘tother day as my child is thinking of moving over within the next year. Whilst doing this, I was struck by several things: the average price of rental properties in various areas, how common it is to have a theatre room...and the atrocious grammatical standards of some of the letting agents.

And I don’t use the term atrocious lightly.

Now I'm no grammar legend, but at risk of turning Nazi here, let us peruse some examples.

Just humour me.

One agent wrote:

“This spacious home has all the essentials, and being so handy as it is close to shops and public transport.”

Did he re-read that at any point? Shall we try: “This spacious home has all the essentials with the added bonus of being close to shops and public transport.”, or something similar.

Another agent wrote:

“The location of this complex is absolutely perfect! The complex consists of 16 units. With a shopping centre right around the corner as well as (location removed) Road. There are wonderful schools in the area, with beautiful parks. This is such a family friendly area, while also one of the popular area.”

How about more concise and less full stops:

“With two shopping centres close by, this 16 unit complex is in the perfect location! Also with wonderful schools and parks nearby it is easy to see why this is such a popular, family friendly area.”

Then of course there’s this one:

“Colourfully decorated throughout this home features His Hers robes to the master bedroom and a generous size en-suite”

This is just one line from an all over terrible ad to be honest. This short sentence covers two largely unrelated topics, contains incorrect capitalisation and hyphenation (it’s either ensuite, or less commonly in Australia, en suite – refer http://australiandictionary.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/is-it-en-suite-or-ensuite.html for further info on this one), lacks a comma, and states the robes are ‘to’ the master bedroom rather than in.

And two people were responsible for that one.

But my favourite has got to be the following ad (repeated in its entirety because it’s just that bad) – corrections in brackets because I couldn't help myself:

“Featuring 4 HUGE Bedrooms, 2 MODERN Bathrooms and a LARGE study (comma please) this beautifully kept, near new family home is (has been) Exquisitely built with Meticulous attention to detail.

Offering (This home offers) Airconditioning (2 words!) throughout, open plan living, kitchen and dining for the West Australian Summer (and this means what?), flawless stainless steel kitchen appliances, well throughout (cannot even guess what is going on here) and a LARGE (comma for God's sake) low maintenance back yard (full stops are also handy, just sayin’)

Other features include double garage located (is the house located in the following or just the double garage?) on (in, damn it!) a VERY quiet (a VERY quiet what? Street? Prison? Bucket?) located only minutes from the local Community Centre (I repeat...full stops)

Located (third use of “located” within 14 words) only minutes from Local (if they’re only minutes away of course they’re bloody local) primary schools, shopping precincts, public transport and so much more, (just stop there, full stop I mean...poor abused comma) within the sough (I assume this should be “sought”) after suburb of (location removed) this will no (not *sigh*) last long!”

Random caps aside, this ad is just an all out mess...if ever there was a case for bullet points, this, my friends, is it.

I began to wonder after reading all this whether there was perhaps an affliction that rental agents acquired when they joined the fold. Sadly this is not the case. If you take the time to Google bad ads and poor grammatical signage, you'll be astounded (and probably highly dismayed) at the places misspellings, butchered sentences and absent/wayward apostrophes turn up. It’s not just back country classifieds and makeshift card board signs that demonstrate our dubious literary standards; churches, universities, billboards for major companies, and prominent newspapers have all fallen victim to the dumbing down disease.

And this has to be a downward spiralling phenomenon. As a parent, it concerns me that if young people see poor grammar and spelling in public places (by prominent organisations no less) how can we expect them to take their own grammar and spelling seriously? Mistakes such as ‘loose’ being used in place of ‘lose’ and ‘then’ and ‘than’ being frequently transposed are now so commonplace it makes me want to cane someone....possibly Mark Zuckerberg.

Though I'm not saying English is easy, in fact it has many ridiculous spellings and idiosyncrasies that make it the hardest language in the world to learn, but I am saying that there are some parts of it that are being so badly brutalised it’s bordering on criminal.

I have to at least try to stem the tide here.

Behold the humble apostrophe ” ’ ”

In the interests of brevity (and possibly my sanity) I shall focus on only this poor neglected and abused item of punctuation today. If apostrophes give you grief on regular occasion, you have come to the right place...grab a beverage and get comfy.

Apostrophes are simple people and live only to either denote ownership or show that something is missing. Let’s address the first one.

The girl has a book, thus it is the girl’s book. If you see “ girls’ ”anywhere, it means the book belongs to more than one girl. If the two girls share a bedroom, it is the girls’ bedroom. Get it? Great :) Now there is some confusion over what to do with words ending in ‘s’. In some writings you will see, for example, Bess’ book, in others you may see Bess’s book. Both are correct, the key is consistency; if you start with one style, stick with that style.

The only time an apostrophe doesn't appear where you would think it would is with the word “its”...even though ‘it’ owns or possesses something, no apostrophe is used. For example: “The cat licked its foot.” This happens because ‘its’ is lumped in with other such ownership words as my, our(s), your(s) and their(s).

We do, however use the apostrophe when it’s is short for ‘it is’ and every other time letters are missing and words are contracted. Continuing with condensed 'is' examples, consider "s/he's" (s/he is) "that's" (that is), "what's" (what is), "who's" (who is), "how's" (how is) and less commonly "why's" (why is) and  "when's" (when is). Further examples occur when someone does or is something, for example; "That girl's (girl is) going to do it." or " That girl's (girl is) pretty" 

Moving along, the basic ones that most people get correct are “can’t” (can not), “isn’t” (is not), “hadn’t” (had not), “haven’t” (have not) “c/w/shouldn’t” (c/w/should not) and “didn’t” (did not). Others that get a little hazy for some are “shan’t” (shall not), “aren’t” (are not) and “won’t” (will not... for the rest of the convoluted history behind this one, check out answer 26 on this thread http://english.stackexchange.com/questions/4521/what-is-wont-a-contraction-of).

Another word that gets contracted often is ‘will’ as in “that’ll”, “what’ll”, she’ll/ he’ll and I’ll. You don’t want to know what I've seen done to them.

Which reminds me, ‘have’ is another word that is frequently squished. Unfortunately it then all too often booted out all together in favour of ‘of’ c/w/should’ve becomes c/w/should of. Just stop this right now. Other ‘have’ contractions include “I’ve”, “we’ve” and “you’ve”....try not to murder them also please.

But the apostrophes that really seem to throw some people are the ones used to contract ‘are’ such as you’re (you are), they’re (they are), we’re (we are) and who’re (who are). These almost bring a tear to my eye. I sigh deep sighs when I see the wrong ‘You’re/Your” in a Facebook meme; not judging sighs....more...lamenting the loss of our education system sighs.

Just to help out, an easy way to remember these is a simple subbing out for the full term.  

You’re going to get it!

Now try subbing “You are”

You are going to get it!

Sentence still makes sense so “you’re” is correct

If the sentence was “Your dinner is ready”...

“You are dinner is ready” sounds stupid...so use “your”

This subbing technique also works for who's (who is) vs whose and, say, girl's (either belong to the girl or short for the 'girl is') vs girls (a simple plural).

Other stray apostrophes appear in such words as “that’d” (that would), what’d (what would/did) and I/she/he’d (I/she/he had/would)

Watch for these apostrophes, include them, make them feel special.

Now that we have discussed the finer points of where to place apostrophes....here’s one place you don’t stick ‘em: in plurals

Please stop this.

The ‘s’ has done nothing to you to deserve such segregation and I can assure you the apostrophe is probably highly unimpressed and all.

Just imagine....he steps out the door in the morning after kissing his wee twin commas goodbye and stroking the cheek of his gorgeous semi colon wife (she has a full stop in the oven you know) and sets off to make his family proud by assigning some clear and correct ownership, or standing tall (if a little curvy) to represent some poor deleted letters who have had their hopes dashed yet again.

And what do you do? 

Go plonk him in the middle of an average plural. Chuck him in there like he’s just one of the boys, nary a speck of concern for his mental and physical well-being. What if they’re thugs? Have you thought about that?? What do you think is going to happen to him once the other letters work out he doesn't belong there? Huh?

You should be ashamed of yourself. Poor apostrophe, he goes out just looking for a satisfying work environment and because of you he ends up getting leaned on by a blinged out ‘s’ muttering: “You’re not welcome here bruh...”

Have a heart. Let sleeping dogs lie...unless you’re talking about the dog’s bed or the dogs’ bone, keep the apostrophes away.

You could safe a life.

Till next week!

P.S. If you’re looking for a little practice in apostrophe protection, consult the following quiz.

http://www.grammarbook.com/grammar_quiz/apostrophes_1.asp