Fat Rat on a Honda

Back again after ignoring this bent distorted blog for many moons. Happens when life gets in the way. This sad little warped distorted tale from my long since gone youth isn't too long so you won't go to sleep from utter boredom. This happened in the early eighties.....

A certain person of which shall not be named had a crapped out piece of smoking two-wheeled trash called a Honda 250. Thing had insurance but it was costing a bomb to maintain and the cops were always on the eagle eye for the dude with the black helmet that used to hoon around a certain country town that is now a trendy place to live. Back then...yeah it was just a rural back water and cooler than it is now.

Many tickets later and more oil into the engine than OPEC could ever produce in a decade the piece of two wheeled crap just had to go. Problem was it wasn't worth cark not even the local Stormies would touch it despite it being left outside a country pub in the hope it would get swiped. Not a chance not cool enough. If it had been a Harley...yeah it would have vanished into thin air later to be reincarnated as some Stormies' growling cruising ride. Nah this thing sounded like a pile of old trash cans being kicked by an elephant. So a cunning plan had to be hatched...........

There one night after a talk over certain plants with spikey leaves and a few crates of beer Fat Rat the local hoon offered to take care of the two-wheeled liability once and for all time.Sso the plan came into being

Dead of night two wheeled piece of crap gets removed. Reported stolen two days later......

Just one teeny weeny not so slight problem.......Fat Rat was supposed to get rid of it as in utterly demolish it completely. NO Fat Rat was seen riding around on the liability as if nothing would happen..yeah right. threats were implied by the ahem - former owner as in telling the cops Fat Rat grew certain plants with spikey leaves done the back of his old man's farm.

Three days later Fat Rat pulled the piece of two wheeled crap apart and tossed all the bits and peices into a certain tidal river of which shall not be named. Insurance paid out a total of not much and that was the end of the liability..not quite some local kids found the pieces and put it together again. Lucky the rego plate wasn't on it. Musta had fun on it til one day the thing got found back in the river again and there it stayed.

I'm off to bop Marsupial Sods now night is coming..have fun I will be..heh heh heh......

Cookin' the Christmas Goose - literally

Yeah it's Christmas Day. This is one of those sneak drive by posts. I should be watching some kind of Christmas thingo. Nah had to come down briefly and sort out the Christmas emails to the family over in true blue Aussie. No I'm not an Aussie either. If I was I'd probably allow those rotten damned marsupial sods to breed like flies and take over the farm - not. Bopped off two more last night and the damned cat has been grave robbing again. So more reburials to do and two more sods to shove in a hole. I need a cartoon but I'm totalled and can't be bothered right now. so I'll tell you the story of a Christmas Goose. believe me you'll never want to eat goose after this one.........

Christmas 1990. It was one of those Christmas Days I knew was going to really suck. Same old routine. go to the in-laws for Christmas dinner. Oh yay..how....nice - not. That year it was down at the loud mouthed sister in-law's. Y'know the one I left hanging off the end off the phone that time when I went off and did the gardening that time? Yeah her wonder if she actually got to understand the strange cosmic wisdom of the mosquitos buzz....

Anyway me and the now thankfully very ex husband with the first born one headed on down to Auckland for the obligational Christmas Dinner with that lot of obnoxious pain in the rear family I wasn't related to. Oh yeah the fanfare over this damned Christmas Goose was such a big deal. Shot down in some obscure farm way down country where the marsupial sods are turned into pet food and the rabbits rule the land. Thing was put in a huge roasting dish sat in there cooking away with all the trimmings one would supposedly put with goose. So there everyone was gasbagging about boring relatives with water work poroblems, warts on noses, why the government should boost the economy and all the really mundane boring good housekeeping crap straight from out of the stone age. UGH! I went off and had a smoke......glad I did.......

Goose was supposedly meant to be cooked for three and a half hours or so the loudmouth reckoned that was. From my reckoning there she was dead wrong. By then I had gone through at least five smokes trying to keep well clear of the obnoxious mother in law and her crap. Dinner time came......do the usual good wife crap (not) and help bring out the plates and the other stuff. Obnoxious mother in law too busy picking holes in other unwanted daughter in law to hassle me..heh heh heh....Roast vegetables, chicken, etc etc etc all brought out..............

Christmas goose...............Remember what an egyptian mummy looks like after the bandages have been taken off? Yeah well what came out of the oven looked like it had spent the madatory 73 days in an ancient egyptian embalmers tent. All that was needed was the canopic jars, the priest with the Anubis jackel head on and we'd have a dead pharoah on our hands.........

But did the sight of a shrivelled mummified looking goose carcass deter? NO.............!!!!
This thing was carved up. By now I'm looking at the meat on the inside of the frakker....Ah did you guys chill this thing properly? Oh...yeah we did it a couple of hours after we go back from the back blocks of nowhere they say. Dorks............And when exactly did you freeze this thing? Answer three days later...........yuk. Yeah the meat was green. As in gone bad real bad. The stench was enough to kill a herd of elephants from one whiff. Great way to kill of all the competition I guess to the get the rich in-laws stash if they had any that is....

Anyway better get off this thing and make the desserts now. So don't ever trust the goose that didn't ever lay the golden egg. This one was Bad to the Bone - literally. No I didn't eat it either. They gave it to the cat............and the cat ended up with food poisoning. Dorks

Have a Merry darned Christmas and don't forget the Purple Death. Goes good with Christmas Hangovers...........

How to make a Kitset Graveyard at Midnight with the Neighbours watching

Yeah I'm back again. Took forever to get back here. Woke up this morning and found a half eaten marsupial sod out on the back lawn. Buried the damned thing only the night before. Cause..the cats. Damn. Enough to put anyone off their breakfasts so don't read this next warped distorted sick story if you're eating anything. Anyway buried the disgusting remains yet again and this time made sure there'd be no more grave robbing in the dead of the night. Bopped another marsupial sod last night. It's dangling dead in the ferns right now...yeah I'm gross happens when you stick your head on electric fences. Certifiable is only just around the corner. On the subject of grave robbing..no I don't rob graves but I had better tell this very sick story I'm serious this time for about three seconds a very warped sense of humour is required for this one believe me. Make sure you have a paper bag ready and look after your Bank Manager..you'll find out why.

Comes a time when the dear old beloved family pet gets old. Hopefully they die quietly and that's and end to it. Not for dear beloved mean hairy old Josh. He was a cool dog but he also had a mean habit of biting people. At nearly fourteen he was old, decrepid and meaner than normal. We didn't care if he bit the local burglars. Did that a few times but when it came to biting our Bank Manager who had come to see us about a mortgage...well that was a little too far.

Hard decision to have to take the old dog down to the vet that day. But it was just as well. Dear old Josh had kidney failure anyway and was literally on his last legs. So he was quietly put to sleep. It took three people to put his body into the back of the car he was a big dog having Irish Wolfhound in his veins. Dave said he'd be home by 6 pm and we'd bury the dog. Well 6 pm came...by then I had a dead body under the house..no Dave...frak. 10 pm..half a bottle of wine gone and some..never mind good stuff anyway. No Dave frak...now I had a stiff under the house and getting stiffer by the minute. Legs stuck straight out..it was dark..moonless...all I needed was a visit from a bunch of vampire groupies and the picture would have been complete. No I had the neighbour peering out the window trying to figure out why the wierdo next door was sitting under the house with a candle and a smoke next to something white, hairy and dead.

Midnight came...oh man I was shitting myself. It was really dark now and the candle was like slowly burning down....then strange lights appeared. Not aliens..Dave finally came home. So it was find the spades in the dark and become our own do-it- yourself gravediggers.

The hole we had to dig was big enough to fit a small elephant into. Three hours of swearing digging up duck skulls and heck knows what else the hole was ready. Ah just one slight problem. The stiff was now really stiff and a dead weight mega heavy. No way were we going to able to get the dead dog up the hill. Der.....a hill? Yeah well that was bright. Digging the hole at the top of a hill really intelligent that. IQ Level that night negative 180 and dropping. Must have been all that ... explained the strange visions of the aliens in the darkness..never mind that now.

Problem getting the stiff up the hill. Lightbulb came on...from the neighbours next door that is..oh no it was 3 am in the morning. Neighbour now watching.....hmmm wonder what those wierd people with bloodshot eyes are doing under that crappy house of theirs. Looks...suspicious..window now opens.....crap. Wheel barrow rusted to hell and with squeaking wheel to boot gets used as conveyancing device for one dead dog now really stiff tipped up back with all four legs sticking up in the air. Neighbour now sticking head out the window asking what the hell we were doing with a dead dog on a wheel barrow. Wheel barrow front wheel digs in dog falls off....this was getting really serious. Lots of swearing. The neighbour decides to wisely withdraw all enquiries - least until the next afternoon when half of our street and beyond had gotten to hear all about two ghouls and a dead dog on a rusty wheel barrow with a squeaking wheel were doing at 3 am in the morning. Yeah well we're not that sick. - wierd maybe but not..sick. I did watch the Texas Chainsaw Massacres once - the movie sucked.

Anyway we somehow managed to get the dog back on the wheelbarrow. Shoved the damned thing all the rest of the way up the hill and buried our best friend. We even put a tree on top of him aptly named Dream Boat. We got the loan only because we apologised to the bank manager and gave him a box of chocolates. Greasers. I miss Josh but I don't miss the kitset graveyard where I used to live. No instead I've started a new one up here on the farm....good thing is..no neighbours. Better go find me a rusty wheel barrow with a squeaky wheel now....

Six Foot High A-hem *Tomato Plants*

This sordid warped and very distorted story involves the following:

• 1 x Certain Blog Writer
• 1 X Certain Blog Writers now very ex-husband
• 1 x now very former and very obnoxious nosey interfering in-laws aka THEM
  
• 1 x fancy garden
• 1 x Plastic House
• 1 x Toilet
• Several different sized certain plants with spiky leaves 2 of them in the toilet in pots
  
• Beef Steak Tomato Plants with aphids on them
• 1 x very unexpected early Sunday morning visitation
• The now trademarked *CENSORED*

Yeah so I'm back. Poor unfortunates - have the Therapist's number close by you'll be needing it.

Sunday morning. Hangovers from drinking an entire crate of home brew beer in one night flat. Bright Sun..put on imitation Raybans scored from the side of K-road in Auckland for ten bucks. Time 9.30am. Lawnmowers can get lost. Pounding heads, and bloodshot eyes. mess made in kitchen from...the munchies of the night before. Screw it. Vegetation Therapy for the rest of the day with Yello" Lost Again" on low (I love Yello!!!). Coffee the cheap stuff of course demolished..nice relaxing vegetation............oh yeah.......

Dog starts barking (thats Josh by the way long since deceased). Dog now growling....that only means just one thing ...the in-laws. Dave says "Oh *CENSORED*. Its them!" Oh no not now....any other day just not today. But NO them had turned up unannounced to stick their sticky snouts into darling son and less than darling daughter in laws business. Excuse - Garden. They had come with some plants which all sucked anyway. I hate canna lillies they really suck because the damned things are straightout noxious weeds just like the people that brought them over. Dog told to shut up and removed before he rips their necks out. I'm not kidding. Dog did not like them and they in turn did not like dog. Neither did I like them. The first problem.
There were two certain plants with spiky leaves sitting in the toilet bowl - why I have no idea we must have been really gone the night before as in completely blotto and....well never mind. The munchies were really bad that's for sure. Mother in law goes into toilet comes out and asks why certain plants with spikey leaves were in the toilet bowl. Explaination - a complete fabrication. They fell in there. No someone put them in there - yuk. Least the toilet was clean I suppose. Asked what kind of plants the certain plants with spikey leaves were - of course *Tomato Plants* were the first choice. Liars.

Dave hastily removes certain plants with spikey leaves from the toilet. Sterilises both his hands and the certain plants - the dork. The certain plants with spiky leaves wilted and carked it a day later. The killer - disinfectant.

Then the formalites of the habitual cup of tea, the normal discussion about the relative with the water works problem and some other obscure relative with a wart on his nose (no I'm not kidding) that had to go and have it burnt off. Painful glad it wasn't me. Then the "Lets tour the garden" Oh no...........because growing so lush and green and well cared for were 6 ft high certain plants with spiky leaves. Bad people. Trouble was everyone in the street we lived in had...moving right along. Yeah I was watching the neighbour water his lot through the cheap shades.. Clear Eyes failed us miserably that morning. Father..formal title of course not my Dad no way. Asked Dave if he could go over and decided where those disgusting Canna things were going to go. Dumbo fell for it of course and the discussion was about....the bad missus sonny had chosen to marry. Yeah thanks Dave I get left with the obnoxious mother in law that promptly started in on the usual crap...that was until she saw the certain plants with spiky leaves that we over both our heads. Oh *CENSORED* what now. Bad enough she had seen the other ones in the toilet bowl explaining this lot was going to be an exercise in very colourful b.s. Man am I good. Oh yes new variety a friend of ours was trialling (liar). Should be very nice *Tomatoes* over the summer. Aphids noted on shrivelled looking neglected real tomato plants. What variety she asks? Ah.............make up name or just use the first thing that pops into really thumping head just then...Beef Steak??? Oh how lovely.......

If caught out by obnxoious unwanted visitors - use the old 'Beef Steak Tomato Plant' trick. Just make sure you've got some real ones around - without the aphids that is. And don't leave your plants in the toilet bowl. Bad idea they'll shrivel from all the disinfectant.

Coming up......Gardening with Tomato plants

Coming up next a sad story involving ...*Tomato plants*...... This time I'll finish it at the same time and do a cartoon. Be back a little later. Farm work not yet done for the day - this is a sneak post....

Dog Definitely Denied - finished under pain of laughter

This warped distorted story will require the following:

• 1 x Hot Summer Day in 1984 I got the year wrong in the previous post - (der brain)
• 1 x Very popular and trendy Auckland City Beach named Mission Bay
• 1 x one certain blog writer's now very ex-husband
• 1 x very hairy smelly half Irish Wolf Hound dog
• 1 x Break water
• 1 x can of cold yuppie beer
• 1 x Yuppie with Rayban sunglasses
• 1 x Official *CENSORED*TM brought to you by Mad Bush Corporation and a bunch of nutcases

Okay so it took me several days to get back here. Now the "List" is completed and somewhere the Therapists are counting their stash accounts up into the billions. After this one you'll be needing a therapist.

In 1984 my now ex-husband and I headed on down to Mission Bay with the Windrush 14 catameran and went out sailing. Real nice day blah blah. We beached the Windrush and there on the beach waiting for us was our very hairy very smelly (he had been rolling in rotten fish heads) gigantic half Irish Wolfhound Josh. Fine, okay, get away from the stinky hairy sod and go find myself a nice shady pozzy while Dave decided to pretend to be a yuppy and take the dog for a walk along the beach. Mission Bay is full of rich people, the kind that have several degrees after their names and take you to the cleaners when you dent their Mercedes, and insult their blonde girlfriends. So I'm sitting there watching the yuppies sitting out on the break water soaking up the sum and some how pretending they're Miami Vice look alikes? Josh by now had forgotten all about Dave, and had wandered on over to where the Miami Vice Pretenders were sitting with Steinlager beers acting as if they owned the place, and chatting to the blonde bimbo girlfriends that might have been mistaken for a matchstick or worse a broomstick. There was this one guy - just sat there. The Raybans on his head with the Sonny Crocket hairstyle, and the white shorts and polo shirt to go. Beer in hand just enjoying the sights, never realising that right at that moment he had been mistaken for a human lamp post or a car wheel (your choice there) by our dog. Josh had found his victim - cocked his leg and pissed all over the guys' back. Naturally there was the *CENSORED CENSORED BLEEP DOG* and the guy made such a scene half of Mission Bay ended up laughing at him. Meanwhile, the *offender* made off down the beach heading towards Dave who of course was saying "Not my dog". Well the yuppy guy was so upset he jumped in his Mercedes and drove off. Like I said - on that day Dog Definitely Denied.
No cartoon sorry haven't got around to drawing one. Hope you liked this sad little story - please call your therapist now they are rubbing their hands with contemplation............

Keep this little scene in your head

Keep this little scene in your head. Mission Bay Auckland New Zealand 1986 Summer's Day. Sitting out on the Breakwater enjoying a cold beer and the scenery.....just minding your own business when...*CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED* comes your way. Of course it bears the classic *CENSORED* it's my new Trademark. Very soon in the next 24 hours a very very sad distorted story is headed your way. Ring the men with the white coats for oh...the 20th time this week. Until then.....please remain insane

Hooning in Helensville and the In-law connection

WARNING!!!!If you are easily offended then please do not continue past this first sentence............And this time I am serious...not

This story involves the following:

1. One 1973 Model Mistubishi Galant 16l Colt GS with a rusted petrol tank
2. One certain blog writer
3. One certain plant with spiky leaves that causes the munchies -this variety from Taiwan
4. A work Christmas Party
5. 3 Bottles of Steinlager Green
   
6. One certain township once considered a rural back water that is now trendy to live in
7. Two now former in-laws one at the time a Presbyterian Minister

Because my blog will be deleted by google if I mention anything to do with...*censored* I will endeavour to tell this particular story in the best possible politically incorrect terms as I can.

Sometime in the early 90's I worked in a certain timber yard of which shall not be named. Each year as all work places do we had the usual Christmas Party and every one as normal ended up being completely blotto. Back then I was still rather bent - I'm not now. Still in my twenties and having troubles with the then in-laws. Anyway....it was the usual story. Me and some of others of whom shall not be named, because they're all straight now as well, decided to vanish into the truss factory and light up with a certain substance called *CENSORED* that one of my work mates had scored through a friend - the certain substance come from Taiwan. After a few puffs of the *CENSORED*and three bottles of Steinlager Green on top of the *CENSORED* the certain blogwriter was completely off her tree. Looked at the time and decided it was about time I headed home......in a Galant 16l GS Colt with a rusted out petrol tank and a car full of petrol fumes - bad idea to light up a smoke. Somehow the vehicle makes it home in one piece - being.....off my face completely by then I crossed up the Galant sideways onto the gravel driveway ...only find some gnome had parked their fancy new car in my space. I naturally started up with *CENSORED...CENSORED..!!!* before the certain blog writer went stomping up the her house to tell whoever it was to move their *CENSORED* car. Walked in..eyes totally blood shot with bad case of the munchies and ready to say the words that..never came out..because sitting on the old brown sofa were the last people this certain blog writer didn't want visiting - not that day. Sat there were the in-laws..damn. The now ex Father-in-law was still at the time an ordained Presbyterian Minister and was wearing his dog collar. Worse still was the obnoxious mother- in- law doing her usual gasbagging about some obscure relative that had trouble with their waterworks (I'm not kidding). Really hard to hide blood shot eyes and sound like you're actually....human rather then some sound alike from 10,000 BC going UUGH!. I pulled it off brilliantly..false smile on my mug (probably a crocs one looked straighter) and said a very polite "Oh Hello" then sat like a statue for around two hours listening to the in-laws discussion about the obscure relative and their waterwork woes. After they left - for some reason I decided to clean the oven....bad idea that. I passed out and spent the entire night sleeping with my head still stuck inside the oven. Lucky I never got around to using the oven cleaner....enough said about what effect that would have had. New poster child for the Victims Of Radiation Society?

Now showing..The Queen Street Flasher

Auckland City New Zealand is known as the City of Sails and in the early eighties summer time was the time to be out and being seen. Ah....yes and with having a harbour there comes wonderful sea breezes. This is where the story comes in. I was eighteen, living part time in a run down old building near Fort Street in between home and working at an Insurance Brokers in Emily place at the Four Seasons Plaza Building which has since been turned into upmarket city apartments. I had to go up Queen street one afternoon to visit Norwich Winterthur Insurance Company to drop off the commission sheets. Being into fashion at the time (stupid teenager) I had chosen to where one of those darned circular skirts that were still around at the time. As I crossed over Victoria Street there was a really nice Alpha Romeo Spider just pulled in to park. In it were a couple of young yuppies talking about whatever. On the corner were two Hari Kishnas jumping up and down singing something totally unintelligable then three more yuppies that had shown up to talk to their friends in the convertible. As I passed by with my folders and horrible red bag the wind suddenly picked up and the yuppies and the Hari Krishnas got a view of my skinny chicken legs and my 80's knickers. There was me dropping the folders desperately trying in vain to keep the stupid skirt from blowing over my head. The Hari Krishnas were cracking up with laughter while one of the yuppies yelled out "Nice legs!!" and whistled out real loudly. I was sooo embarassed. I think half of Queen Street got a really good look. And that is the last time I ever wore that darned skirt. Next day I gave it to one of my friends - same thing happened to her a week later. So that is the sad sordid story of the Queen Street Flasher. So if you're into replicating the Marilyn Monroe effect...(the famous picture from the move "The Seven Year Itch) just do what I did and wear one of those damned skirts. Yes I can hear the laughter from here....

Coming up....

What has Marilyn Monroe, an alpha romeo spider convertable, a crowd of yuppies and two Hari Krishnas got to do with this post - at this point nothing. Another distorted sad story is headed your poor unfortunate way. Please call the men in the white coats immediately. I'll be back......

Stripping the Clothes right off their backs

Reading the local rag yesterday I came across a small article about Government Asset Testing for long term elderly care. In other words if you're on the pension, have a house and a car plus clothes -then you get sick and end up in long term care, the damned government are going to take everything you own right down to the clothes on your back. That sucks. Doubt it just happens here in Kiwiland either. Heck we'll end up on the pension one day - will we end up like the poor old guy in the cartoon or what. Yeah and the cartoon government want his barrel too. Think I spelt it wrong on the caption too never mind. It says all it needs to. Think I'll go and hide my barrel before I get too old to do something about it. Least my kids will get a used barrel as an inheritance.

The One Red Devon Demolition Crew - Continued

So where was I then..Oh yeah the Tart. As I was saying this bovine had brains and the trouble making nature that usually results in the hacked off owner sending the thing off on the truck to the works. Not this one - too good for that. Started off as a yearling the old break out through the back fence trick and end up in the neighbours forestry block for three months. Took five motorbikes and the boys next door to get her out. Then there was the electric fence immunity. Same old story. Move the cattle - and the Tart would head straight out and under into the garden. We had her for a couple of years. She had a nice calf then my mother decided it was time the Tart and her sister had to be sold. Oh yeah she was trouble all right. Got the Tart yarded....and things went downhill rapidly from there. She must have known she was headed off for other pastures. There was me and the kids about to head on back down home now the cattle were yarded when we heard a loud cracking sound. Sure enough the Tart had smashed her fat red head through the railings and was in the process of attempting to do the jail break. No way was I going to let that happen. So there we were- me with a cattle stick and the kids with hunks of rubber pipe running around the outside of the yards trying to stop this nutcase red cow from getting out. Every gap possible the Tart tried to break through including a five wire fence. Talk about nuts! Finally the truck turned up and the guy wasn't too keen to take on a hacked off bovine nutcase with escape on her mind. Yeah I got the job and booted the Tart all the way up the loading ramp and into the truck. And like those rotten sheep we got rid of - I won't ever miss her. Take a lesson from me. If you end up with a nutcase cow with brains - eat it.

Headed for the Hills

I could just imagine this little scene. Some old dunny aka an out house being used as a rental office. Maybe the rental lady had had enough of the marsupial sods and the mice leaving their calling cards behind every night. I just had to laugh at myself. It's better than doing what you see in the movies and sit in bed all day with a dressing gown in an apartment somewhere. No I'll head for one of my hills and whack out some weeds instead..how can I truly get serious about doing the right thing. Nah I'll just go and do another crazy cartoon instead. Anyone interested in a used outhouse?

Today I quit

Yeah I quite my job today. Stressed out, tired and I have had enough..so I quit. I'll so one of those cartoons of mine sometime for this one. Am I sorry ....yes and no. I love the Company I work for but in the nature of the job I have something has to give...well my health has done that for me. Such is life..I'll go take my frustrations out on a marsupial sod with a baseball bat.

The One Red Devon Demolition Crew

This is the story of one Red Devon cow with the name of Ruth - but I renamed her the Tart. This cow was shock proof, fence proof and everything else proof. The Tart had brains. That's bad in a cow that means only one thing on a farm - trouble and lots of it. More coming I'll be back later with the rest of the story