What's App-ening? - Review & Giveaway

Since joining the Apple bandwagon I've gone App crazy, which is obvious because I've titled this "What's App-ening?" and rather than groaning at my ridiculous pun I'm sitting back smugly thinking I'm pretty clever.

I'm App obsessed. Appsessed. I also thought I was pretty clever coming up with that word but a quick Google search shows me I'm most definitely not the first to think of it. But points for trying, right?

I've been playing with some new apps lately, well to be more specific, Tricky and I have been playing them together.

Peekaboo Barn is the cutest little app around and encourages animal recognition. Tricky loves copying the animal sounds and then opening the barn doors to see what animal is behind. What I like is that you can choose to have the name of the animal said in an adult's voice, a child's voice or you can record it yourself. I've recorded it myself because the adult voice was American and the child's voice, whilst being super cute (especially when he excitedly says chicken) had some pronunciation issues.

The other thing I like is that there are no other buttons to press on the screen once the game has started. Tricky is a button presser and will tap at everything to see what it does which is not the best when he can get through to language settings or to actually upgrade an app and rack up an iTunes bill. There is no risk of that happening in this game so I don't have to worry. Phew!

So cute!

Peekaboo Barn saved us the other day when Tricky's eczema was so severe that he was screaming and clawing at his own skin. I slathered him in soothing creams but the itch was so bad that everything I was doing to distract him was just met with more frustrated cries and such furious scratching that his legs started bleeding. I whipped out the iPad and started Peekaboo Barn... within a few seconds it had caught his attention enough for him to stop scratching and give the cream time to work and soothe the incessant itch. Win.

The other app we've played with has been Counting with the Very Hungry Caterpillar. I adore that colourful caterpillar and have so many gorgeous memories of the book so trying out the app was a bit exciting... and sadly a bit disappointing. I do realize it's not aimed for my age group but I wanted it to be a bit more fun than just "Please eat one apple/plum/orange". You have to tap the correct number of fruit then click done and it just increases by one each time with the same fruit... and that's level three! It just seemed really boring and predictable. I like what they were trying to do and that they've used the original illustrations but maybe if they could have varied it up a little bit more it would have been better.

Level Three

If you'd like to win either of these apps for your kiddies leave a comment below telling me in what situations iParenting has saved your sanity (or your child's skin as the case may be). Tweet/Facebook about it and let me know in another comment for an extra entry. If you can't wait, both are available from the App Store and Peekaboo Barn is also available in the Android Market.

Entry is open to everyone but it helps to have a device that can play the games. Entries close at 10pm AEDST on Monday 7th November 2011 at which time a winner will be chosen using a random number generator. Make sure you sign in to the comment platform with a valid email address/twitter handle or leave your details as part of your comment so you can be contacted. Winner has one week to reply to notification, failing that, the prize will be redrawn. The prize is provided by Night & Day Studios and is not transferable.You will receive a code to redeem in the App Store or Android Market.

*I was not paid for this post but I did receive a free version of each app for review purposes*

I Don't Heart My Body... So I Posed Naked On The Internet

Last year when the I {heart} My Body campaign was run by We {Heart} Life I put up a pregnant belly shot. I had a new found sense of love and respect for my body after it had grown Tricky, managed to birth him and was continuing to nourish him.

When considering linking up this year I starting freaking out. I felt ashamed of my body and wanted to run away and hide. Lots of old feelings came flooding back from when I was a lot heavier, followed by memories of when I was a lot lighter. The anxiety was suffocating. It's hard to love your body when it doesn't work, when it always hurts and lets you down.

I wonder what it would take for so many years of body issues and eating problems to be left behind? Weight loss? More therapy? A health scare perhaps? I need something to shock me in to taking it seriously, to stop cramming junk in to my mouth in an effort to squash down the anxiety and the only thing I can think of that I can do right at this moment is to pose naked on the internet.

So I did. 

With a strategically placed breastfeeding toddler.

Naked... on the internet... forever

I love my breasts. They are still nourishing and comforting Tricky as we near the 18 month mark. They are a lot closer to the ground and even more pendulous than ever as a 14 F (F for Faaaaar Out They're Huuuuge!). They most definitely fail the pencil test... hell, they'd fail the pencil case test... but they are amazing.

My little Koala holding on

I love my lips. They are big, pouty and good for kissing. Some people think they've been enhanced but it's actually scar tissue from splitting my lip open as six year old. Sometimes falling on your face can be good for you, you know?

Killer curves

I love my hair. I'm not sure if that counts as body but I'm going to go with it. It does what I want it to do most of the time and tends to look nice no matter what colour it is. It's incredibly thick to the point where hairdressers charge me extra because they have to use so much more product and blowdrying it takes forever.

So there it is. There I am. In all my naked Glowy glory. I'm half shit scared and half empowered... oh man what have I done?

Would you pose naked on the internet?

 

EDIT: There has been such wonderful feedback from this post and only one negative commenter via Facebook. So I feel the need to add that I didn't do this so men (or women) would leave me comments saying I'm hot... in fact the possibility that some immature person would happen upon this from a search and leave a snarky comment filled me with trepidation (it's happened on my youtube page before so I know it could happen here) and I considered turning comments off . I did this to embrace my body for what it is and to come to the realization that MY BODY IS AMAZING. Look at all it has done and continues to do. It may be broken, but the whole is greater than the sum of it's parts. I AM BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. Embrace it. Learn to love it, learn to heart it... just like I am.

EDIT2.0: Thank you to all the people who have supported me on the Mum's Lounge Facebook page where the original negative comments were posted. In particular Jolene from Mum's Lounge who promoted the post in the first place and was very quick to defend both the I Heart My Body movement and my participation in it. I am, as always, amazed at the support this online community shows its members.

FlogYoBlog Friday: The CHOGM Edition

Goooooood morning Floggers. Or should that be Choggers?

CHOGM has hit Perth and we are all in lock down. Well, close enough, anyway. But at least we get a public holiday - one they took off us earlier in the year and moved to today... so we have the day off and can't go anywhere or we'll be arrested. Or something like that. But we can get a free train ride to the locked down city where all the shops are closed for the public holiday... I'm thinking someone didn't think this through.

Now I'm a fan of cool acronyms, but CHOGM sounds like it should be something to do with trains, so with that in mind I've come up with some of my own:

Chuggington Has Only Gone Mental
Chocolate Houses Often Go Melty
Charming Hats On Ginormous Men
Cars Have Oily Grey Mufflers
Chickens Hatch On Grainy Mounds
Choke Hold On Great Mountains
Could Havianas Over Grills Melt?
Cookies Happen Outside Gourmet Mouths

Tell me your best CHOGM and then FLOGM.

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow?
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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100 Round the Bends: My V8 Hot Lap Experience

There's a Missy Higgins song (don't hate me) that says "we'll go 100 round the bends" and every time I hear her sing it I think "What? 100? Are you in a race car or just extremely irresponsible? Your car is going to get impounded young missy Missy and you're not doing a thing to bust the young stupid driver stereotype" at which point I realize it's just a song, no one cares and people are starting to look at the crazy lady having an animated conversation with herself at the traffic lights.

On the weekend I actually did go 100 round the bends (and it happened to be entirely legal) and I could not get that bloody song out of my head. I jumped in a V8 Supercar and did four hot laps, oooh yeah. My inner bogan rev head felt the need for speed and a sudden urge to smoke Winnie Blues and wear flannelette and thongs.

I bought Map Guy a double pass from one of those online voucher places and actually got around to using it before it lapsed like the last one I bought. He chose to take me and I was actually pretty surprised... I assumed (yes, ass:you:me, I know) that he'd take a mate or one of his car club buddies he's been around the track with before. But he chose me and I spent the morning saying "You choo choo choose me" because even though I was mixing up my modes of transportation I can't miss an opportunity to be annoying.

We rocked up at Barbagallo Raceway and suited up - in case you're wondering, it's really hard to pull on a firesuit when your back is so sunburned that you can't put your arms back. And so we're clear, firesuits are unattractive unless you're an actual V8 Supercar driver.

Needed a firesuit because I'm so hot

A non-action shot of Map Guy the scarecrow

Bogan couple in matching outfits

Last time I had a back seat bonus I didn't need a lanyard

There was a bit of waiting around for "photo's" because bogans can't spell

Then posing for "photo's" that they wanted to charge us $50 for when I could just take my own...

Then a bit more waiting at Stig School

Go for launch with my massive head in a tiny helmet

Jumping in for Step 8 "drive" - hard to see, but the brakes were on fire

We did four laps and reached over 220km/h down the back straight and did indeed do 100 round the bends. The heady smell of petrol and being subjected to massive G Forces (now called Glow Forces) meant that at the three and a half lap mark I was thinking less of Australian singer songwriters and more of the trajectory of my spew under Glow Forces.

Climbing out of the car all I wanted to do was get as far away from the fumes as possible, but I'd promised my shoes to some chick who had rocked up wearing thongs *coughbogancough* and wasn't allowed in the cars unless she found some closed in shoes. So we waited; me going slightly green and Map Guy thinking all his Christmases had come at once being in pitt lane for such a long time.

I felt sick for the remainder of the day but it was definitely worth it. Four hot laps for me, eight for my shoes. An awesome experience.

Are you a rev head? Would you do a hot lap? Would you lend your shoes to a bogan?

She Did What!? Wednesday - By Veggie Mama

Just Not That Into Her -By Veggie Mama

I was totally going to write something about my husband doing something eyeroll-worthy, but dammit, he never does anything wrong.

I could write about his single flaw, the over-use of Glad Wrap (oh my god, the leftovers were trapped!) But he's seen the error of his ways and stopped that. Now he uses waaaay too little (oh my god! Gross little hard bits on the cheese!). Literary goldmine.

Let me instead weave you a tale of mild horror that happened when I first started at a job I had a few years ago.

I was the on the lowest rung of a notoriously hierarchical industry, and therefore invisible. It was a tough nut to crack, and I was above nobody but the work experience kid. Had this been 1962, I'd be fetching the coffee.

After I'd been there a few weeks, and spoken to directly probably twice, I was invited to a night out.

It was funny - in our jobs we spoke to people all day long, but rarely spoke to each other at work. Nights out were a different story - hell, there was even singing. Let's see the work experience kid get invited to this!

A few hours and a few new friends later, I looked around. My inviter, the only person out of this bunch to have spoken to me during sober daylight hours (even if it was to tell me I had once gotten my its and it's mixed up) had abandoned me.

I had been told to expect black-belt drinking and it was assumed that I shouldn't try to keep up.

Where I come from, we stick to the code. If we're out drinking and you fall behind, you get left behind. I just made my way to the second location to continue the party. NBD.

This was my mistake. Ever see that episode of Oprah where she talks about people being abducted, and the advice is if you're ever abducted, you never let them take you to the second location? That's where you'll be killed. Bad things happen at the second location. It stops being fun and you realise you're hungry and you have to work the next day and the party has totally died.

I made myself comfy on a recliner and watched in semi-awe and semi-amusement at the exuberant small-unit-loungeroom-dancing. I was sober, tired, and more than a little weirded out at seeing my esteemed work colleagues in such a state.

That's when my inviter decided to climb on my lap, announce "I love you" and go in for a pash.

Before I knew it, her extra weight on the flimsy extended part of the recliner caused the whole thing to tip over and she went flying backwards into the coffee table.

I jumped up in horror - she did what?!

I almost did that thing that kids do, sticking out my tongue and frantically rubbing all the girls germs off it with both hands.

Now what's wrong with a little girl-on-girl action you ask? Well, nothing. Except I was married. And sober. And just not that into her.

Monday morning rolled around and I went back to being ignored and she went back to sending emails to everybody telling them their grammatical faults.

Never let them take you to a second location. It's good advice, children.

(If you watch the video, that's my husband in the blue singlet. You can say "he did what?! about his hair if you want...)

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

Stacey is The Veggie Mama and if you haven't checked out her blog yet you are missing some serious scrummy food. She's also made a recent foray in to the non food blogging world at The Ramblings of a Madman.

She's a journalist, a wife, a teacher, a vegetarian, political tragic, hip mama, hippie food fearer, travel junkie, and a lover of all things gorgeous including the ever adorable Veggie Baby.

Make sure to join the rest of her minions (like me) by following her on Twitter and Facebook.

Next Week: Time to get Sidetracked

Send your S/He Did What!? submission to Glowless@wheresmyglow.com

5 Reasons Shark Culls Are Bullshit

I promised my next Cranky Pants post would be Why I Don't Comment On Your Blog (after comments galore on Why I Don't Read Your Blog) but I've shoved it back in my drafts folder for a week because can't let this one go. So, with new Cranky Pants button, I give you my latest rant.

There has been an "unprecedented increase" in fatal shark attacks off the WA coast lately. Three in two months. With it has come an outcry for these "man hunters" to be killed because they pose a threat to human life, and today the Western Australian government, in all their infinite wisdom, has decided that yes, these sharks should be killed.

I have a few problems with this.

1. They are not "man hunters" they are hunters and people sometimes get in the way. Now I'm no marine biologist but I will hazard a guess that Mr Shark doesn't go along and think "hrmmm I feel like killing a human today" rather he swims along and sees a bit of a slow swimming seal-like creature and thinks it's  lunch time
2. If you go to someone else's home, you obey their rules. With humans it's more likely to cover things like not swearing in front of kids, taking your shoes off at the door or always bringing wine. The ocean is a shark's home, the same rules apply - you do as they wish which sometimes, sadly, includes being eaten
3. When entering the ocean you know the risks. Jelly fish, stone fish, blue ring octopi and sharks all pose a hazard... if you want to swim without the possibility of becoming an hors d'oeuvres then go to the local pool where you can dodge screaming children who really should be wearing swim nappies - they are just as scary as sharks but their bites are generally not fatal
4. How can you be sure the shark you're tracking down as a "man hunter" is the right one? Do you interview it? Do you have to read a shark it's rights before the interview? What if they lawyer up, what then? No, it's kill, check stomach, oops we got the wrong one... or maybe it's the right one but it's already digested it's meal so really there is no way of telling since, you know, grey with fins and lots of fucking teeth kinda describes them all
5. So lets assume for a second they do kill the shark that killed a human... do you think it's a deterrent to the other sharks? Do you think they sit there and go "Shit man, Billy killed that bloke and they shot him. I've told my kids to stick to krill because I don't even wanna chance that happening to them. You can never be too careful". No!! So what is the point?!

So you can probably tell I don't think the sharks should be killed. I'm also pretty damn sure I would think the exact same way were it one of my friends or family members who were tragically taken in what I can only imagine as one of the most terrifying and painful ways to die. It's still not the shark's fault, there is no malice, just a drive to survive.

And so we're clear, if a shark came in to my house, I would reserve the right to eat it, especially if he brought some chips with him and a couple of dim sims.

What do you think of the Western Australian government decision to kill the sharks?

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Loud Shirt Edition

HELLO FLOGGERS!

Why am I shouting? Well because it's LOUD Shirt Day, obviously! But you already knew that because Mrs Woog has been banging on about it for a while now.

Now what you might not know is that the crew at Loud Shirt Day actually had a few ideas and possible spokespeople before they settled on the loud shirt thing...

Loud Hair Day

Loud Police Tape Day

Loud Loose Weave Chainmail Headgear Day

Loud Mouth Day

 Sadly, none of those go the go ahead, yet strangely, this guy did.

So go and check out Loud Shirt Day's website, (or on Facebook and Twitter), donate some money and then Flog it LOUDLY!

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow?
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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Mars Bar Brownies - We Love Messy Meals

When I was recently asked if I'd be interested in entering a competition to find the messiest meal in Australia the first thing I thought of was the disastrous (yet delicious) Nutella mug cake I exploded made last week. I had to soak that mug for 24 hours before it downgraded from biological hazard to just 'messy'.

But not one to rest on my laurels I thought would try to out-do myself in the mess stakes and create a bit of a recipe containing something gooey and messy.

When I think gooey and messy, I think caramel!!! Ohh yeah!!!

Mars Bar Brownies

Ingredients:
80grams margarine
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 cup self raising flour
1/4 cup cocoa
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 cup caster sugar
1 egg
3 Mars Bars

Method:

Sift flour and cocoa together in to a mixing bowl containing both sugars
Melt margarine in a saucepan over a low heat
Add 2 chopped up Mars Bars to the margarine and stir through until completely melted
Combine the Mars Bar mix with your dry mix and stir
Add egg and oil (the batter will resemble a cookie dough)
Press in to a brownie tin and cover with chopped up remaining Mars Bar
Cook at 180C for 20-25 minutes (if you overcook them, they're more like gooey centred biscuits - which is still awesome)

As always, the clean up is rather less fun than the eating, especially with molten Mars Bars in my saucepan. But since I only ever buy things that are dishwasher safe, it wasn't so hard after all.

But it still doesn't beat the exploded mug cake. Exploding with awesome (aka Nutella).

If you think you've got a messy meal it could nab you $25,000 and the chance to be in the next Quantum Finish TV ad. Go to messymeals.com.au and upload your messy meal photo. Entries close this Saturday, 22nd October so you better get to it!

*I was not paid for this post however I did receive some vouchers to buy my Mars Bars with in order to create the messy meal!

She Did What!? Wednesday - By I'd Rather Be Running

She Did What When She Was Pregnant -By I'd Rather Be Running

In order to alleviate some of the man bashing *ahem* I mean change topic on the quaint stories that are being told about the stupid things are beloved men folk do, I thought I’d tell some of the Einstein-esque type moments I’ve had when I am pregnant. I usually pride myself on being a fairly together, none-klutz, none-stupid person. Pregnancy does away with that.

My pregnancy with Mini-Bear saw several highlights in addition to the general “Ah duh, does anyone know where my brain has gone” moments. The best one was standing at the front door of our house, pressing the remote central locking button on my car keys with one hand and turning the door handle unsuccessfully with my other hand. For FIVE WHOLE MINUTES.

I got lots of words mixed up when I was speaking, like at 6am on a Spring morning, “Honey, can you hear the Kangaroos laughing?”, clearly meaning Kookaburras. This led husband and I to decide that I probably wasn’t losing my smarts, the knowledge was all there, it was just the search engine that was stuffed. Native animal, check. Starts with K, check. Wrong name, check. Husband likened me to operating with Yahoo instead of Google.

Now with my second pregnancy, the stupid moments are continuing. I was cleaning the lid of an apple tea box over the kitchen sink when it came off and the dry leaves fell out. No problemo, I can fix that I thought. Just wash them on down. And then spend oodles on the call out fee to the plumber who unchocks the swollen leaves from the s-bend. Oops.

I’ve been told worse stories by my OB’s nurse. Like the lady who was 8 months pregnant and misplaced her very expensive pearl earrings given to her by her husband. She turned the house upside down but to no avail. And then found them, when the baby was 6 months old. IN THE FREEZER. Behind the corn cobs. With a pair of her shoes. She was blissfully unaware she’d put them there after a night out when she was getting ready for bed. Of course!

So I have another 5 months to survive the brain drain. Excellent. Then I’ll have the breast-feeding mush brain to deal with. Last time when Mini-Bear was one week old, I washed the milk expressing equipment in a sink of soapy dishwater, handheld electric pump and all. I’ll never forget the look on the community nurse’s face when I told her that one.

What silly things have you done when you were pregnant or breast-feeding?

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

The delightful, up-the-duff Emma is from I'd Rather Be Running where she blogs about life, motherhood and the fact that she'd rather be running.

You can find snippets on marathon running while pregnant (not her own), depression, medication wrangling, working in health research, looking after a super cute kid and how to juggle that with finishing a PhD. Ya huh, she's a smart one.

She also has a bunny, it's not listed in her profile, but it should be. It's extremely cute.

Next Week: Get steamy with Veggie Mama

Send your S/He Did What!? submission to Glowless@wheresmyglow.com
or next week will likely be the last one. Go out on a bang, shall we?

*Please note S/He Did What!? Wednesday has never been about "man bashing" and everyone has been encouraged to share stories that are eye roll worthy about people in their lives, be they male or female.

Protect a Bed (and Your Sanity) - giveaway

Aaaages ago I went to a Blogger’s Brunch in Melbourne. One of the products I picked up while I was there was a Protect-a-Bed mattress protector for a cot.

Now because I want a review to be a real review I got it out and washed it to be ready. But it was still a little strong smelling (possibly to do with my hippy detergent), so one more go through the machine with the next load and we were in business. Right, we'll have this show on the road now... or so I thought.

I put it on Tricky’s bed and waited. And waited. And waited some more. I wasn’t happy to just tell you how it had worked when I saw it demonstrated with a bag of liquid that looked like a breast implant because that doesn’t really tell you much (other than that bags of protective fabric with water in them make me think of boobs). We need real world examples or a review is pointless. So I kept waiting. I waited MONTHS such is my dedication to bringing you a genuine review. You're welcome.

I’m loathe to talk about my child’s bodily functions in detail. I don’t think it’s necessary. We all know what comes out of babies and toddlers – describing the minutiae of it (particularly on your Facebook page) is rather disturbing. So I’m going to do this in a rather round about way.

Tricky wasn’t well at the beginning of last week… in a Holy-Crap-I-Have-To-Strip-The-Bed-At-2am-And-Put-You-In-The-Sink-To-Change-Your-Clothes kinda way. This is normally quite closely followed by the Why-On-Earth-Did-I-Have-Children bang head against the wall maneuver. I’m sure you understand.

Middle of the night sanity saver

I’d been waiting to test out the bed protector with the leaks that sometimes occur with a cloth nappy and a lot of drinks before bed but woah, did I put this thing through it’s paces.

I stripped the bed and thanks to the protector, Tricky’s mattress was there, clean as the day it was bought and even smelling fresh much to my surprise!

So the waterproof and stain barrier function get gigantic rainbow ticks of approval from me - especially because in the move of sheets from bed to washing machine you don't have to worry about anything leaking or dripping down your leg on to your carpet. I'm shuddering at the thought.

The online brochure suggests it would be great against accidental spills too, like a knocked over cup of coffee... but I'm going to suggest you don't give your baby a cup and saucer of coffee at any time, let alone in their cots (a sippy cup, is fine though, obviously).

I’ve got one of these dustmite protecting, coffee repelling, waterproof, breathable, ultra comfy Quilted Cotton Fitted Cot Mattress Protectors to give away thanks to the generous folk at Protect-a-bed (read more details about the features here)! If your little one is still in a cot or you have a friend up the duff and would like to win a pressie for her, tell me below if there was one thing you would never give your child to eat because of the “result” what would it be. DO NOT TELL ME THE RESULT!

For an extra entry you can tweet about it then come back here and leave another comment saying you did (it goes by numbers, each comment is an entry!). If you can't comment email me.

You can also follow Protect-a-Bed on Facebook on Twitter


Entry is open to Australian residents only. Entries close at 10pm AEDST on Monday 24th October 2011 at which time a winner will be chosen using a random number generator. Make sure you sign in to the comment platform with a valid email address/twitter handle or leave your details as part of your comment so you can be contacted. Winner has one week to reply to notification, failing that, the prize will be redrawn. The prize is provided by Protect-a-Bed and is not transferable.  

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Woe Is Me Edition

Hey Floggers!

So another week, another Flog.

This week finds me sick sick sick. I have equal parts self pity and woe is me with a liberal dollop of Whiney McWhinerson.

I've had about eight hours sleep over the past two days and I'm starting to see double (and no, I don't need new glasses). Add to that, that my internet is dropping out every two seconds due to faulty wiring (hence the early posting in a rare amount of uptime).

Basically, I'm in urgent need of a Wambulance. Waaaahhhhh. Please send one quickly, after you've Flogged, of course.

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow?
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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10 Reasons Why I Don't Read Your Blog

I had a really nice post to go out today. It involved cheesecake and was so lovely you would have been drooling on your keyboards. But last night as I lay in bed hacking up my left lung and throwing up I got cranky I had to write so I whipped out the iPad and stabbed away at the screen and this is the result.

This is the first in a series of "why I don't" posts. I'm about to get my snark on so sit back and relax and enjoy the ranty pants.

 

10 Reasons Why I Don't Read Your Blog

1. You have no idea how to use spell check. Sure we're all guilty of a few your/you're slip ups but come on. In most cases it's an automatic feature - how can you put up with squiggly red lines everywhere? And don't say it's part of your charm, it's not at all charming. Charming things are cute little graphics, lovely posts that make you go all gooey and anything in relation to George Clooney.

2. You have no idea of the basic rules of grammar. Use a full stop and a capital letter for once, for the love of Google! Even a lowly comma would be appreciated. For more information see point #1.

3. Your return key appears to be broken. They say the eye likes space so once in a while, how about starting a new paragraph. If your return key truly is broken use the HTML code for breaks.

4. You have almost zero original content. I read a LOT of blogs, my reader is an unforgiving mistress who must be obeyed. Chances are I read the blog you're stealing from. It's OK to be inspired by someone and link them, and sometimes we are all talking about the same thing... But when it happens over and over again? Nup, no thanks. I just get cranky.

5. You rehash press releases word for word. Every PR's dream is for their press release to appear "in the wild" verbatim... and you're doing it for free. I know it's a copy/paste job because I got the same press release and all of a sudden you're not breaking rules 1-4. I want to know what you think, I want a review and regurgitating someone else's work is not a review, that's an ad. If I wanted to see an ad I'd look in your side bar.

6. Your RSS feed is knackered. I do the majority of my reading at night in bed in an effort to keep my chronic insomniac brain somewhat entertained. If I can't see your full post (none of this partial feed crap) then I won't know you have a new post up.

7. You're not on Twitter. If I don't read through my Flipboard I click through from Twitter. If the thought of joining the addictive Twittersphere sends shivers up your spine, then at least add social media buttons to each post so other people can easily tweet it.

8. You tell me about your day like it's a shopping list. Tell me a story!!! Tell me your feelings, invite me in to your world. "We went to the park. There was a big dog there. So we left." If it seems like a kid's book that would have Tricky's eyes glazing over then I'll click away.

9. Your side bar is really messy. I'm a simple girl and I like clean lines. Learn the HTML code for centering so when you grab someone's button you can line them up neatly. This plays havoc with my OCD and if your side bar is super messy I will never click on it. Never clicking = no cash for you.

10. Your words are written straight on to a background image that means I can barely see them save for one tiny little bit at the top of the screen. Now I'm sure your background image of your child is lovely but if I have to scroll for every three lines then I'm going to click away.

There you have it. Stay tuned for 'Why I don't follow you on Twitter' and 'Why I don't comment on your blog' in which I let out my inner bitch.

Why don't you read a blog?

He Did What!? Wednesday - By Chickens and Bees

D'oh! -By Chickens and Bees

When I first met Chyken he was living in a share house with two other guys. He had a breadmaker and used it often. Sometimes the bread was perfect and delicious but other times it was hard and sometimes really doughy and revolting. Because I was in the new stages of love, I didn’t say anything and ate it anyway.

After a while, the guys moved out and I moved in with him, obviously bringing some of my own things with me, one of which was a large jar of cornflour. One day I came home from work to find Chyken had made soup and bread. I noticed the cornflour jar on the bench. It was empty. I had used it a couple of days earlier and it was full.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: What flour did you use to make the bread?

Him: Just flour.

Me: Yes, but what sort of flour?

Him: The one in that big jar.

Me: Um… That’s cornflour.

Him: Yeah, whatever, it’s flour.

Me: Can’t you tell the difference between flours?

Him: They’re all white, they’re all the same.

Me: It’s not going to make bread.

Him: Yes it will, flour is flour.

Me: No, it won’t.

Him: Of course it will… Look!

He opened up the breadmaker to find a congealed, hardly mixed together, blob of non-bread.

I just smiled and got my keys and headed to the shops to buy some real bread to have with the soup. At least I had figured out why the bread had been so hit-and-miss in the beginning.

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

Chickens and Bees is written by the oh-so-fabulous Jo. The Chicken is Chyken and she is the Bee... though she happens to be allergic to bees. We share a mutual love of bacon and chocolate (but not together) and it helps me overlook her love of cats.

She lives in a Castle and writes about her not so perfect life with her perfect man who cannot bake bread. She believes firmly that drinking Sprite Zero makes up for inhaling Jaffas by the handful.

As a PTSD survivor, Jo is an amazing woman who is always fun to chat to on Twitter and on her Facebook fan page.

Next Week: Time to go running with newbie WA blogger Emma

Send your S/He Did What!? submission to Glowless@wheresmyglow.com
(You don't have to be a blogger, or even to ask first, just send it in!)

Moustaches: Not just for porn stars

Last night I went to the grand opening of moustache season aka the Movember Launch Party at The Ellington Jazz Club (read: dimly lit ultra funky bar with a John Butler wannabe on sax) after a ticket was thrown my way by the fabulous Lynda at Nuffnang.

In a time honoured tradition I rocked up at Georgia's house to find her waiting out the front avoiding her children. We go to these events together to avoid that I-don't-know-anyone-here-loserdom that we both exude like the smell of cheap perfume. Usually it's Map Guy dropping us off but he stayed home to feed Tricky so my Dad had the honour. It was just like being back in highschool except that back then I wasn't cool enough to be invited to any of the fancy pants parties. LOOK AT ME NOW, BITCHES! *ahem*

As if it was choreographed, the fag to my hag Kim from The Armory rocked up at the very moment we pulled in and the threesome of awesome was ready to go. We had successfully avoided all awkwardness to this point but I was soon to lose any semblance of street cred when I tried to go in only to find the front door locked... now that is in itself not a major fail until you consider that everyone on the inside could see through and watched me do it. I wasn't clever enough to realize that the entrance is around the back (not a euphemism, Shae).

During the evening I learned some very important things:

1. Money raised from Movember supports prostate cancer and depression initiatives
2. You should "respect ducks, respect your mo' and respect your fellow countrymen" (don't ask me)
3. You should leave a gate as you found it (it's a country thing, ask Map Guy)
4. Georgia really likes my hair and tells me so at inappropriate times
5. Without a sign around my neck saying Blogger I just look rude when I'm tweeting mid-speech
6. There would be swag bags with Call of Duty soldier shaped USB drives and other goodies
   
   

   

   The swag of Mo'

7. The Adonis of a waiter is named Trevor, he's from LA and has been in Australia two weeks
8. Heckling the saxophone player by shouting "You'll never be Butler!!! Surrender the fantasy!!!" is frowned upon

After speeches and a few more drinks I had a bit of a chin wag with some very interesting people *cue name-drop* including Keith Mortimer, the business and finance manager at Beyond Blue, Tim Marney, the Under Treasurer of WA and the deputy chairman of Beyond Blue, legend cricketer Dennis Lillee (who both Georgia and Kim accosted), a super cute on-again-off-again couple Tim & Emily, and a guy called Doug who wouldn't let me use his surname or company after he told me some fantastically lurid stories of having to pre-warn the girls you're going on dates with that it's Movember and you're not actually a porn star.

Kim didn't get the no porn star memo

Dodgy photo with Dennis Lillee thanks to Georgia's camera

"To MapGuy. Trae rules the world. Dennis Lillee" Best. Autograph. Ever!

Basically I spent the whole time making myself out to be way more important than I actually am, being a bit of a wanker while using phrases like "I'm here in a social media context", drinking too much and posing for photos for the Sunday Times. Brilliant night.

To participate in Movember head over to the website and check it out. Be a Mo' Bro or a Mo' Sister... I dare you.

Go the Mo'

Stick on Mo' FTW!

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Nipple Edition

Hiya Floggers!

Now I'm no fashion blogger but when I saw this intricately detailed dress (if you can call a breast plate and a garter belt a dress?) by British designer Rachel Freire this week I thought it looked rather pretty.

Gorgeous little rosettes made from... nipples. Cow and yak nipples to be exact.

There is quite a bit of controversy around it and the whole debacle got me thinking about, well, nipples. So I've created a list of some of the most memorable nip slips for your viewing pleasure, hot on the heels of the shitstorm on Twitter about extended breastfeeding last night because heaven forbid anyone get a flash of nipple outside the bedroom.

Jessica Alba feeling the cold

Tara Reid quite obviously not feeling anything

Serial offender Lindsay Lohan

Fembot. Machine gun jubblies, baby

Nipplegater extraordinaire Janet Jackson

Alexandra Kerry proving that sheer isn't always a good choice

Nancy Grace should have been Dancing with the Bras

So there you have it. Nipples. Not so scary are they? I say we embrace the nipple, metaphorically speaking, and get over it.

So grab your nips and let's Flog!

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow? (yep, I like seeing the numbers go up, sue me)
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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