my own little slice of the McFuckin-excited burger

Well I am hell excited!! I have been blogging for 20 days now, and when I started I never thought I would see that number 1,000 on here.  I know it's small fish, but I'm going to drink to that regardless. Here's what has happened in the last 20 days blog-wise:

• My Facebook page has hit 113 likers (even though it is still very plain).. I like to use this to inform likers of my new posts. So if you don't follow on Blogspot, pop over there and like my page to stay updated.
• I have a tame version of myself in a guest post on an awesome website, Stay At Home Mum 
• I have hit 1,000 page views right here on my blog. 
• I have blogged 14 posts

As you can probably imagine I'm super excited, I'm loving this new venture and it sure as hell is keeping me busy! I have worked out gadgets and links, and some of the technical stuff, helped others set up blogs, and driven my husband crazy with the late nights. Now, if only I could find a job that paid money! Thank for your support.. those that have commented, those that have dropped off cakes to me, and those that have listened to me blabber utter bullshit for the last 20 days


written exclusively by Briohazard 31st January 2012

ten tips to getting your sexy on

That phone call comes.. you've agreed to a date with the girls, tonight, and you look like a mess. You have your dressing gown on still, and your hair is a birds nest. Everything is on the floor and your makeup is nowhere to be found. Shit! You can't miss this.. you know your girlfriends are going to look amazing. You just want to rock up not looking like a bogan. Here's how:

1. Shave those legs! We all know that it looks like a forest under those pants.. don't deny it. It would take a whipper snipper and lawnmower just to get through it ready for shaving. You were gonna do it last week, right, but the kids interrupted you? Don't fret, all women do it.. and if they say they don't they're full of shit. Nicely shaved legs can make you feel ready to face the world.. or the girls, at least. Trust me, you leave one hair on there and they'll know about it. Especially if you decide to wear a dress.. that shit looks plain nasty! Map out your course, shave anything that you come across from your waist down. Don't beat around the bush
2. Wax your eyebrows. Remember high school, where an eyebrow wax should have been mandatory, but we didn't know they existed? Don't go with the mono brow look. Some people find this look sexy, but you will usually find them in Wal-Mart... not on the dance floor. Get that caterpillar and turn it into a butterfly, or risk being singled out.. literally
3. Find an outfit & iron it. By ironing it I mean getting the iron out, not shaking it hoping the wrinkles will come out. I don't know about you, but the only time my iron ever sees the light of day is when my mother in law visits, and I pop on my apron and pretend to do all thing motherly. If you can remember where your iron lives, get it out and please don't burn yourself like I did last time, on my neck. Don't ask- irons fucking hate me.
4. Sexy shoes! They make all the difference, don't they. Fuck them being comfortable, you will probably end up taking them off anyway. May as well look good. Sexy shoes do not include the following: Clogs. Slippers. Thongs. Flats. Crocs. Gumboots.. or, my ultimate, ugh boots. I can't work out why people think these look hot. You don't look hot, you look cold and I cant fucking work out why, if you're cold, you have a skimpy little top on. You look like a ho.. a cold, cold ho, trying to pass as a playboy bunny. News flash girlfriend- you look like a retard.
5. Don't experiment! I am deathly guilty of this one... all of the time. I wished I would take my own advice. I went out one night recently after buy new green eyeliner, and proceeded to try to be "different", and failed. Miserably. I looked like a dead peacock was spread over my eyes- the colour was beyond horrible on my near albino face. Facebook proved to be invaluable in this case, the very next day there I was, all peacock eyed for all the world to see. Fail.
6. Nice underwear.. this can make a huge difference. I don't know about you, but a pair of skin tight white shorts over a black Gee looks rank.  So does your apron skin hanging over your 3 sizes too small knickers. I'm not knocking any ones size, I'm hardly a size 10 myself, I'm saying this to everybody, even you skinny freaks. If you think you are too funky for your chicken then go right ahead and look like you don't know how to either shop or dress yourself. Same goes for bras.. If your tits are 10A, honey, don't try and get away with a DD cup... this shit just doesn't work. I may or may not have ever done that to learn the lesson from it.
7. Do something with your hair. Straighten it, curl it, flick it, mess it.. it's up to you. Just take that fucking scrunchy out and make sure your hair is clean, please. If you are in desperate need of a colour do a loose up style... nothing is worse than seeing a chick with greasy roots and 3 inch regrowth on the dance floor.. if you're gonna do that then you may as well be in the pokie room with the grannies rubbing up their machines for luck...
8. Choose a super sexy outfit.. and one that fits, please. You can be as skinny as a ruler for all I care, doesn't mean go shorter and tighter like some girls I know. Skinny isn't an instant ticket to short & tight. sure, if you want to wrap yourself around a pole, go for it. Or if you want to stand on a corner. Working with your body is what you want to do. If you have great tits Hun, dress them up and make them a feature! If you have a great ass wear some hot jeans and heels. If you are straight up and down add some texture to give you some shape.. if all else fails throw a paper bag over your head and exclaim you thought it as a dress up...
9. Watch the bronzer. Its all great and well to have a good 'glow', but when that look turns oompa loompa you're getting it wrong. We all have that friend, don't we, with white as white hair flowing down their back and orange skin. Great for a facebook laugh..not great for the one getting laughed at.. don't let it be you! And please, please, don't fucking put it as your damned profile picture when you're standing next to a porcelain skinned mate!! Or do. I love laughing.
10. Wear your attitude. Your attitude can account for 50% of your overall look. If you go out looking like a gift of god, but have a cuntox persona, you're gonna slip on the sexy scale faster than you can say "look at me". Be confident, yes, but don't be the one who looks like their friends are an embarrassment to them. The perfect description of this type of mole is the one who photoshops only themselves in an awesome picture, and including their friend who is looking messy in the picture and not touching even a blemish control to their face. Cunts. I know who you are. Nobody likes you to tell you the truth... we just enjoy laughing at your fakeness behind your derriere

And guys, this is precisely why we take so damn long in the bathroom.... what's your excuse?

written exclusively by Briohazard 31st January 2012

oh welcome back, darling sanity!

School is officially back. Well, in eight hours to be precise, but still.. I'm excited! I wonder how other families get through the Christmas holidays. Are they like me.. silently wishing the plague onto the government for coming up with the preposterous idea that kids should be home for 6 weeks in the middle of summer? Or do they jump for joy at the glorious sleep ins? Wouldn't life be bliss if school and holidays worked with us and not against us?

1. School should start at 11am, not 8.30am. This would allow for a delicious sleep in, well rested kids and a happy mother. They could still have their seven hours of education, we would just have to change pickup time to 6pm. I could work with that very easily. 
2. Ditch the homework. Nobody told us when we got pregnant that we would have to spend a minimum of 5 nights a week, 40 weeks a year, over twelve years per child to fight about homework. At the very least we parents should have an alcohol allowance of, say, a bottle of wine per week. Homework should be done at school and should be called schoolwork.
3. Cut back the holidays. I know teachers have a hard job.. but they kinda chose that profession themselves, it's nothing I would put my hand up for! Hell, I don't even put my hand up for any type of job that involves the supervision of kids. I'm not that nuts. If I wanted 20 kids I would have had 20 kids. They get enough perks with their jobs.. 2 weeks off every 2.5 months, with a 6 week break over Christmas, weekends off, public holidays off, and that very convenient Student Free Day that happens to occur right before a public holiday with a weekend in between. 
4. Ditch the detentions. I know my kid is a little shit, but I have a hair appointment at 3.15pm and nobody consulted me about this. My kids are my kids in my time.. although they would probably much rather be in detention than listen to Mrs Snippity-Snip gossip about the Smiths & Joneses ironing procedures. Come to think of it, I shouldn't have told them I had a hair appointment. Probably why the little tigers got themselves detentions to start with...
5. Send notes home a minimum of 2 days before a class party. In a locked safe the size of a breadbin. This is the only way we will know there are notes. My child does not volunteer notes, especially when they are bright red and addressed to me. I do not dare stick my hands down to the bottom of that bag for anything. It would be appreciated if we werent told at 8.59pm at night by the children there is a class party in the morning and that they have volunteered me to cook a healthy cake. Last time they did this all I had in the house was some milky ways, smarties, and tiny teddies. Hardly healthy. I made those little milky way cars ..so cute. The teacher told me it wasn't healthy... so I told him the chocolates were tiny.. and moderation is healthy. I got away with it.

Now of course I love my darling little vipers, with all of my heart, and want to spend as much time with them as possible.. but after a holidays full of fighting and mothers in laws visiting, Christmas madness and 40 degree weather I am ready to get myself a coffee & some timtams (minus the timtams, I hate chocolate) a good book and a hammock before the after school homework/tea/bath routine starts all too soon..... aren't they just adorable when they're asleep? 


written exclusively by Briohazard 30th January 2012

Kids have taught me well...

I think I may have decoded my three children, after 11 years of studying and countless melted crayons in the back seat of the car (which I would swear under oath they are placed there purely for their own form of sweet revenge on us) I don't know why it has taken this long, or quite frankly whether my head is even screwed on today... But this is what I have learnt:

1. "No!", in childrens language, means "ask again at a higher pitch and/or cry". A secondary no automatically defaults the first "no", and ergo counts as an official "yes" from us. Depending on the family, a second no will constitute said child running to the daddy, stating "mummy said I can paint my bed with lipstick". Daddy will usually not think twice about this, and believe childs word for it and let them happily play with mummys $40 Wet Shine Diamonds for hours. 
2. "Put that down" translates to "I want to watch you swinging my Very Expensive Crystal around your head.. on my tiled floor..in front of my toffee nosed friends". 
3. Bedtime= last-minute-homework-time/brush-teeth-time/whinge-time/play-DS-because-if-I-put-it-down-I-will-lose-important-level-time/perfect-time-to-build-a-cubbyhouse-time. I wonder what would happen if I ban my children from going to bed? I could try and use reverse psychology.. perhaps I could even convince them that all the cool kids are doing it? I could start a revolution! I must jot that down in my life planner, right under the entry "ensure children stay out of jail if possible"
4. If you would like a child to do something for you, it's a good idea to ask the other one. Guaranteed the first child will get their nose out of joint and whine that you didn't choose them. But just when you think you have this point down pat it backfires.. take note of this and use sparingly, and pounce when least expected
5. A toddlers vocabulary consists of three statements. These are variations of: "no", "mine", and "no, that's mine". The toddler is always right, and everything belongs to them should they decide they like it. And they do not even need to like it.. if they see someone else likes it they will automatically assume ownership. This applies to anything real or not, from the imaginary unicorn your other son isn't even aware of, to your car handbrake. 
6. Vegetables = evilness. To disguise a vegetable you need to trick them. Sometimes this is easy.. colouring mashed potatoes blue can automatically turn them into "blue magic clouds".. and sometimes it's hard.. they will sniff out a sliver of grated carrot in the most perfectly blended soup. The best thing I have learnt is naming the vegetables cool names. But please be aware that not everyone at the restaraunt will understand what "cutesy tootsey magical hula hoops" are..(calamari) especially when you realise your child is now 24 years old and you just say it automatically.. could get a stare or two.
7. Saying anything controversial in front of your child, or within earshot (which could be anything between 2cm away and 100m, depending on the subject)  automatically allows them to repeat said controversy to the person you were talking about. remember this. All communication with anybody should be done via writing, or preferably the Secret Service.
8. The oldest child automatically assumes himself as "The Great One And Only Mr Boss Man". This is not negotiable. Anything and everything they determine is not right in their eyes will be mentioned. Usually in public, and again, usually at an unbearable pitch and within earshot of Mrs Perfect Mummy with a Mr Perfect Child
9. If it is within reach,or not, it means we have put it there specifically to be touched. Or not. It doesn't matter.. they will assume all rights to it whether it is fixed into the kitchen bench or not. This assumption they have rights to it automatically includes an assumption they are allowed to get a permanant texta and scribble on it.. even if it is your friends Very Important Resume you are to drop off the next day..
10. Chocolate is designed purely, in their eyes, to be left in a warm place on expensive fabric, usually right out of view. And sometimes this can include the back of your friends car.. in which you will find out about it at your next Big Blow Up. Be aware.. chocolate should only be handed out under intense supervision, in a purely tiled room with no fabric at all. But be careful, this also turns even the most pleasant child into the next Steve-O from Jackass

So now that I apparently have this "All Figured Out" I ask myself, "Why I am pouring myself a glass of Moscato?" Maybe it could be because my daughter is trying to get the curtain off the lounge room window to make a cape for the cat.. I'm guessing I may just have a few more screws looser than I thought


written exclusively by Briohazard 23rd January 2012

late night infomercials

Fuck you infomercials. Now I'm convinced I  desperately need Proactive for my face, Wen Haircare System for my hair, AbSwing for my stomach, Rock and Chop knife set for my kitchen, Magic Bullet for my wellbeing and sanity, motivational DVD's for my future, financial DVD's for my wealth... and a H2O mop to clean up after. And it's not  just TV that makes us think these things.. it is adverts for weight loss aswell, and on occasion, my darling husband. And just so you know, the nice reply to 'do these jeans make me look fat?' is NOT, I repeat, IS NOT 'don't go blaming the jeans hunni....'


There is a serious need for more motivational, fun TV at night, because lets face it, Austar will probably never let me have another account ever again after our last "incident." Reality shows like Hoarders, 16 & Pregnant, & The Biggest Loser would fit great in these time slots, allowing us to eat our midnight toasted sandwiches without feeling like our lives are shit. Why can't we feel good about sitting there in front of the box while others slog it out? I like feeling good about myself,and others slogging it out is what makes me feel good.  But then BAM, those infomercials hit you like a ten tonne truck. Or my ten tonne ass to be more precise.. which is how they make you feel by the time they're done.


They also make you feel like you are living in a world of hidden disgusting scum that needs immediate attention, whether it be on your skin, in your mind, in your bank account or on your floor, in your oven, or under the rim of your alloy wheels outside. I pull my feet up and curl into the fetal position, waiting for these hidden germs to come attack me. Then I feel guilty... and realise! I am a Bad Wife! I do not sanitise my pot plants daily with a high pressure, high steam, high priced gadget like all the other wives on the ad! I do not buy hours and hours of budgeting advice and make millions in my first year! 


So naturally I decide to buy the damn things. All of them... and what do I learn from it? The products are not cleaning fairies. You have to actually get off your butt and utilise them... fan-fucking-tastic.. I thought I had the answers to all of my dreams....but now the only answers I have is to give to my husband why the credit card is out.  I have thousands of dollars worth of feel good impulse buys sitting in my laundry... and not one of them has up and done the washing.


It's the same for exercise equipment. It's all well and great that we own these pieces, but owning them doesn't equal using them. But it's great for when friends come over and see them, where you can let them assume you're being healthier than they are and being proactive *... snicker* But seriously, do you blame us for not using them? Because from what I could gather from the TV I would turn into a size 8 happy hot blonde chick with perfectly smooth skin, a lovely house and enough money to buy designer workout gear. BUT they're HARD to use!! And it takes AGES!! They are cheeky fucks on the TV aren't they? All my AbKing Pro is good for now is a pizza bench- a fucking $200 pizza bench... (it fits 3 pizzas on there, just for your information...)


So now I have decided to tune out to these ads. It makes more sense.. the less I see and hear them the more denial I can achieve. It most defiantely is a win win situation...


I also kinda tune out to the kids aswell now, but tend to miss important key elements like "can I use this knife to cut up my only photo of me in reception" and "look mum, I can balance on the TV". So next time my kids continually ask me if I have seen Peaches (our cat) with giggles and smirks on their faces I should be instantly suspicious. But no, I didn't catch on, and yes, Peaches spent the night packed in a box. Maybe I best start paying more attention to them and the infomercials

Infomercials, your producers got you in my head like they intended.. Respect and fuck you!


written exclusively by Briohazard 21st January 2012

Shit, my mother-in-law is on the way!

Every so often that call comes.. and you know it the second you press 'accept' that the next half hour is going to be a nightmare. You have registered on the 'do not call' list, you have stressed to your kids to always tell them that mummy is busy.. you have to put your phone on silent every night after 7pm just incase...but it happens. Yes, you have just been summoned to half hour talking with your mother in law.

Now I'm not saying that all mother-in-laws are bad.. hell, I even love mine, but there is always that one thing that puts a definitive line between the Queen & the Princess... and that is what is known as The White Glove Test. Generally, this isn't done very discreetly.. they pretty much rock up with the damn thing in a glass protection case. A pristine fingermark free-smooth- clean glass protection case...with bells and whistles. And a smirk to boot. Naturally your mother-in-law had the brilliant foresight to let you she will be there in 10 minutes, although she lives 300km away. I swear it's a set up. 


Over the last 24 hours your kids have managed to demolish the house, which by the way was pristine the day before, and smear jam on your glass sliding door. Your three year old has managed to paint the cat with blue fingernail polish and smash a light fitting in your loungeroom with a broom. Naturally you had cooked rissoles the night before, and because one of the gremlins decided not to go to bed you didn't have time to do the dishes. You just about have a coronary after you put the phone down after her announcement of an imminent arrival and fall to your knees.


 What better way, you think, rationally, to waste the next ten precious minutes than to get onto the phone to your husband and tell him how irresponsible he is for having a mother who rocks up out of the blue. And to call him every name under the sun for not having the forethought to tidy up after tea.. because it's his fault and all..


You holler out to your kids, who are indeed fighting and carrying on, to help mummy get the house into some sort of order. They ignore you and proceed to dump the lego on the floor. Knowing there is only 7 minutes left until your judgement day you look around the house and decide you are going to pick up the crap off of the floor with a broom. Anything in it's warpath will have no mercy.. then you sweep it into the laundry and wedge the door shut so that your husband will have to call a builder in to fix it. But it buys you time. Anything in the loungeroom gets scooped up in record time and shoved in your bedroom, which is pretty safe- my mother in law has not stepped foot in mine since the day she walked in and found my vibrator on my bed. 


 Anything on your benchtop gets shoved into a drawer/bag/cupboard with no consideration as to what it is. The spray and wipe comes out and you attack the kitchen quicker than chicks jump on a cucumber in a maximum security prison. The place is starting to look a lot better, and you have just enough time to pull the mop out and go over the floor with lightning speed. I have managed to complete this marathon in 10 minutes.. and all I can say is it gives me my own little smirk. You turn on the airconditioner to make the floors look like they haven't just been done, and whip around in your socks shutting all the curtains to hide the windows. It's easy enough to blame the weather.. it's too hot/cold/muggy/bright to have them open.

After everything is done you look around and smile. Ten fucking minutes, I am a legend! You plan your speech when she rocks up: "Ohhhh hiii, how great to see you! I'm so sorry the house is a pigsty, but I haven't had a chance to clean up yet. How embarrassing! You should have let me know sooner! Come in.. no, don't take your shoes off the floor is desperate for a wash.." Everythings set. You are ready to face The Inquisition. You are even ready to face the "has hubby been eating properly? The kids are looking a bit pale, have you found a million dollar job yet?" part of the visit. You make a coffee, sit down and relax. This is going to be OK. You wait for her, not even considering starting another chore should she shock horror bust you in the middle of it.... and then cotton on to your little deception. And of course, she decides to stop into uncle Bob's first, and is 2 fuckin hours late. Mother-in-laws. The bane of every wifes existance.

written exclusively by Briohazard 14th January 2012

11 reasons why America is stoned

Do you ever read something, and think What.The.Fuck? I was just browsing the net and came across some idiotic laws that have been passed in some states of America. Naturally it's safe to assume that some of these laws would have been bought about by lawsuits..but what I want to know though is  how the fuck do half of these  matters get into court in the first place? I would love to be on the jury of some of these choices... I would give up Percy for a while to do so.. and that's saying a lot.  Either whoever the big-wig is that gets to pass these was stoned, or an absolute fucking boss... I'm going to go with boss.. here's some of what I found:

• You cannot "worry a squirrel" .. rightio, I must remember to never sit down with a squirrel, drown my sorrows then tell it I am going to drive home.. I will refrain from telling him about my bills and about Aunt Glady's flatulance problems. How the fuck, and why the fuck would you even want to worry a squirrel? And what gets a squirrel worried anyways? That law is open to all types of interpretation. I could argue in a court of law that my lack of income worries squirrels, and ask for a supplement to keep the squirrel.... uhhhh, unworried?
• If one is thought of as offensive looking, it is illegal for him to be in public during the day"...Well that's one way to keep Jocelyn Wildenstein out of Wal-Mart, I guess... and it's a good way to keep singer Kelis out of our hair. But seriously, what an awesome law to have on your side! Imagine calling the cops because your arch nemesis is strutting the street with her always-perfect hair and clothes? Wouldn't it actually be fanfuckingtastic to be able to call on the authorities and complain anonymously that their looks are offensive? Because this law is open to interpretation aswell, and could be a great one to have up your sleeve! I would so do that.
• Spitting on a sea gull is not tolerated... Well I can't remember the last time I saw a seagull, and found that the first thought that came to my mind was spitting on it? And why seagulls? Why not a sloth, or a llama? Are they exempt from that law? This screams prejudice to me. Someone has become waaaay to attached to seagulls. But hey, at least you're allowed to worry it, unlike the squirrel.
• It is legal for a man to beat his wife on the courthouse steps so long as it is before 8:00 pm. OK, this is a bit weird.. what happens in the middle of a beating? Do the cops stand alongside, then once it hits 8pm go and arrest his ass? And what of the poor chick? I hope I am never standing on the courthouse steps before 8pm, that could get messy. But I spose I could avoid the risk completely by not taking my husband, seeing as this law only refers to married couples.
• It is illegal for a woman to drive a car up Main Street unless her husband is walking in front of the car waving a red flag. Now this, this is the type of law my husband would love to have framed in our bedroom, and in the car, and tattooed to my forearm. He would have a field day with this one. And again, too bad if you're not married, I guess it sux to be a single woman.. you'd never have the opportunity to drive a car up main street. And fuck it if you forget your red flag! I would have to believe a man came up with this law.. and i think it is beyond epic
• It is illegal to use a lasso to catch fish.. OK, lets get this straight. When I go fishing, I tend to use a rod and fishhook.. and I quite possibly had considered using a bucket at some point.. but never would I have imagined I would try and lasso one. I wouln't think that anyone else would have thought of that either, but apparently someone did, and it was offensive enough and worthy of money for this law to be passed. So in future, in a certain State in America, reconsider your fishing options, it may just land you in jail with the real criminals.. like the ones that go around worrying squirrels.
• In Lexington - By law, anyone who has been drinking is "sober" until he or she "cannot hold onto the ground. I like this law. This could come in handy next time I go into my workplace after a hard night. I do not know what consitutes holding the ground, but apparently I'm still sober until I can't. And that's easy fixed.. I just will not attempt to hold the ground while I am in this State of America while I drink
• It's illegal for frogs to croak after 11 PM.. Those naughty frogs must have been at it again.. them and their sordid croaking. Someone, somewhere one day asks, "how can we stop this outrageousness?", and some toss bag decides to reply, "we'll pass a law.. that will solve it. It stopped the squirrels from getting worried". I wonder how they can possibly police this law? "hands in the air, you Litoria Verreauxi, or I'll shoot" Poor bloody frog! And the squirrel thinks HE has problems!
• Persons in possession of illegal substances must pay taxes on them.I can see it now. Major drug operation in full swing, and Well Built Scary Guy says "hold on guys, lets just get our delicious little bumhoolios ready,  and pop on down to the taxman and put in our dues":.. or maybe not...
• Any motorist driving along a country road at night must stop every mile and send up a rocket signal, wait 10 minutes for the road to be cleared of livestock, and continue. haha! Sux if your neighbour lives three miles away! Can you imagine trying to organise a coffee and timtams with your best friend? Kids, check. Keys, check. Mobile, check. Rocket launchers... oh shit. Sorry kids, you cant play with your friends today because mummy has no rocket launchers left.. back inside! And that's not even bringing into account the fact there may be a squirrel around.. I would love to see that law contradict itself... "sorry officer, I couldn't let off the rocket launcher, I didn't want to worry the squirrel" 
• In Danville - All fire hydrants must be checked one hour before all fires. Now HOW HANDY and thoughtful is this law! Imagine how many lives could be saved if people simply had the consideration and foresight to make sure they checked the fire hydrants an hour BEFORE the fire! Hell.. Fireman Sam's job would be easy, considering Pontypandy is rife with fires everyday started by that little shit Norman that has no discipline, while his mother is desperately trying to score a root with the bus driver. And while I'm on the subject, who pays for all those helicopters and call out fees.. and why isn't Norman in Juvenile Detention?

I am going to make sure I never worry a squirrel ever again by trying to lasso a fish, just to be on the safe side...



written exclusively by Briohazard 17th January 2012

what is success?

What constitutes success? Is it a personal venture of "proving" yourself to others, is it conforming to social expectations,  is it a constant sense of achievement attained.. is it reaching a predetermined goal, or is it the dollar signs reflecting performance? Is it because you are highly sought after, or is it because you have a unique quality?

Success, to me, is a part of all of the above, but with the exact right blend of what I will refer to as "ingredients", if you will. I can even go as far as to say to be too perfect can actually be a failure in ones eyes, because I believe in yin and yan. If one is so perfect at something, whatever it may be, there will be a quality in their life that they lack due to the absence of attention they pay to that particular area, which then renders them un-perfect. If you look at the big picture you will see that for every up there is a down.


I wonder, though, is it conceited to allow yourself to assume success is either already attained, or unreachable, prematurely? Does that render the judge unsuitable for further direction? I ask myself if success can be measured, because due to the diverse opinions and potential  personal and professional social implications a measurement could only be as good as the bias behind it? Therefore success is only a mindset?

What is success? Something to think about


written exclusively by Briohazard 17th January 2012

keep your man happy

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Everybody's A Slut

Does it make you a slut if you dream of having sex with someone who's not your partner? I used to think so, but now accept its normal. But it would have to be the last thing anyone admits to...apparently this is a taboo subject and it's not acceptable to bring up in conversation, especially at McDonalds over a frappe....especially if your dream involves a mutual friend. Or their husband, for example.

Now honestly, you're either lying, have short term memory loss, are asexual or a fucking docile frigid  if this has never happened to you. Right now you are blushing because you've just remembered that sweaty, sultry, long, realistic dream you accidently had of fucking your friends boyfriend.. aren't you? I'm not saying the intention was there, or that you even wanted to dream about it.. but you liked it..... didn't you? *wink wink*


Do you know what the worst thing is? You have not seen this guy for months and months before the mind romp, then, naturally, after a steamy virtual night of the hottest sex you could only ever dream about, you happen to bump into him at Woolies. Holy fucken crackamolie, you don't know where to look.. you know what his penis looks like for fuck sakes! You -that very second- remember your dream in absolute clear detail .. and proceed to stand there with a stupid goofy look on your face.... and it all goes pearshaped from there. He knows! You can tell by the look he may or may not have given you when you both went to grab the cheese. What the hell 


Logically you know he doesn't know about your naughty thoughts, but that doesn't stop you going bright red and sinking into the nearest black hole which, naturally, is nowhere to be found in Woolies. Convenient.  You literally have to resort to grabbing the grossest cheese and getting the hell out of there. Juuuuust before you successfully make you magic getaway he mentions there's a BBQ. Tonight. His place. Of course in your haste you agree that you'd love to go. Brilliant.

Now let's get this straight. This situation is pretty much guaranteed to happen. Every friggin time. Of course the steamy night was fan-fucking-tastic in lala land, but this is reality, and you'd never even thought about this guy in this way beforehand. Now you can't get him out of your head. And he fuckin knows! Well, it feels that way. And it's going to, until you forget that dream. But until then you still need to go to that damn BBQ and play it cool. Fuck. Here's some do's and dont's to get you through that night:

• DO NOT look him in the eye while you're eating your sausage. You're likely to look like an absolute retard.. remember, he has no idea about the way your thighs pressed against his cheeks. Take small bites and, if necessary, find that bug walking on the ground very very interesting
• DO NOT giggle like a kid every time something comes out of his mouth. You may have had a sordid affair, but it's only in your head, not his. He's likely to think you have suffered a blow to your head if you can't control yourself.. but his version won't be the same  "blow to the head"  that you did in your dream, thats all
• DO NOT get drunk. If you do, you will feel the uncontrollable urge to describe in detail what happened. If, unfortunately, you manage to have one too many, at least wait til the others are drunk too- the result of not waiting is almost too funny to consider.. we all know what drunk people look like to sober people, don't we!
• DO refrain from playing truth or dare. Because knowing your luck a question will come to you that will relate to your dream. Under no circumstances are you to look at him should this game be unavoidable. Find your pet fly girlfriend... and no, I don't mean the one on your jeans.. that's the one that will take you from normal to slut in two seconds flat.
• DO remember that if he talks/looks/walks/directs anything towards you that it is not relating to last night. You risk people wondering how many eggs are in your carton. And if you have managed to smash the lot of them..

And last, but not least, if this dude has a mrs you need to convince her you are a lesbian, otherwise its more than likely going to end up on facebook in someones inbox that you are a  nasty ho. She will sniff you out of your secret quicker than it takes for a group of 29 year old woman with coffee and timtams to get a rumour around town. It's female law- abide and survive...


Good luck and sweet dreams


written exclusively by Briohazard 8th January 2012

those facebook freaks

It has to be said. There  are a lot of absolute wankers on Facebook, and it Drives Me Insane. Easy solution you say? Delete them? Well.. to be honest I would if their posts didn't provide me with topics to bitch to my friends about. Everyone does it..... right?


Who doesn't want to find out the juicy goss on the star couple who have just split up due to an infedelity.. who doesn't want to watch as they have an argument worthy of popcorn and an ezy-chair? Hell, sometimes I feel like plugging the damn laptop into the TV and adding commentary. But the best thing usually is when you are around at that critical moment when names get mentioned and you see them there for three seconds before they get deleted. What an honour! Naturally this is perfect material for a three hour phone call to your bestie describing how much of a slut she is, and how much he deserved it.


What about the pure elation you get from finding an open profile!? Especially an open profile of the fat bitch that stole your best friend? That is pure gold. I love reading how she is having trouble finding a bloke to settle down with, all the while I'm wondering how long it's gonna take her to try to fuck my ex-best-friends boyfriend. I pretty much know for a fact she will try to, she is so stupid. And she's done it before.  Whilst I am no longer best friends with my ex-best-friend I don't want to ever see her get hurt, but I do want see the fat bitch who caused the fallout to suffer ridicule and sniggers. But not at my ex-best friends cost. Ever. She's smarter than that


And there's always this one chick who, at any given point in time, is sick. Or whining. Nothing is ever interesting, and they are the biggest attention seekers you could find. They like their own statuses, and stick their nose into everyones business but hate it when people do it to them. Which is fuckin funny now that I'm thinking of it actually, because darling, if you post it on Facebook you're kinda telling the world.. it aint no fuckin secret!


OMG *snicker* what about the FML statuses that one guy always puts up, which say noone cares.... and when someone responds they reply with "don't worry about it" What.the.fuck? Dude, just a side note, if you do that on a daily basis I'm preeeeety sure people will end up hoping you delete them in your next cull. Or fall off a cliff, whichever may happen to come first. Don't hate me when I invite you on a rock climbing course, I'm just trying to help you out. Really.


"Like this and I will rate you" ... "like this if you will cry if I die", .. fuck off you little mmmboppity teeny bopper. Nothing screams immature attention seeking and underaged like these types of posts. There's a massive reason why I don't add anyone under the age of 18 to my friends list.. those updates and your fucking goofy duck-lips-in-the-toilet profile picture. Nothing like being unique these days. Loveys and gentlechilds, grow some pubic hair, and when your balls drop you can try to re-enter society.


Oh, and a massive con-fucking-gratulations to those with over two thousand friends. You are popular.. aren't you? The numbers make you feel like you are, don't they? Nothing like having two thousand friends and no one likes any of your statuses. A huge pat on the back for having the ability to use the "add friend" button. No..honestly, well done. What a skill to have to further your prospects in life. 


I thank the heavens for the people with a sense of humour. For the ones who post interesting, insightful updates. I'm not even being smart right now... these are the types of people I can be friends with. Thankyou to those who finished their English class before their bong. Thankyou to those who don't inbox you the second you go online, to those who don't post an update of their new hair colour every week. To those who actually say hi to you down the street. To those who don't add you just because you shared a drunken night with once.... and to those who don't add the photos to prove it


(no, a massive thankyou, I'm more than likely cringing or fantasisng about that kiss every time I see their name)

One last thing..... when is Facebook going to change their name to TwoFacedBook? 


written exclusively by Briohazard 13th January 2012

a mans handbook to surviving marriage

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Ohhh Lala!

I am deliriously in love with my vibrator. I love it’s purpleness and lights and bajillion buttons. I even have called it Percy. Percy is the centre of my nighttime ritual and no man or his dog comes between me and my fun time. Well, let me rephrase that… unless the dog is Rhona Mitra and the man is Jim Parsons then yes, of course I will make allowances for disruptions. 

Can you imagine what sex would be like with Jim? In character of course.. so I will need to refer to him as Sheldon. I’m not whacked.. that guy is so fucking intelligent not only is it a massive turn on but  with all of his know how about bits and bobs I’m pretty damn certain he would be the one and only guy in this universe that didn’t fuck using the in-out-in method. I would almost guarantee he would take it from a physiological approach and absolutely abuse the power of knowledge to my extreme benefit.. not too loudly I hope, pretty sure my mother in law wouldn’t appreciate it. Or my husband for that matter.

Add in Rhona Mitra- isn’t she just a plate of goodness? If I could take her right off of my TV screen during Boston Legal and pop her into my pocket I would. Again, in character. I’m not stupid, I already know in real life they’re nothing like their portayals.. I watch them on TV- they’re real enough… right? 

Obviously not though, which brings us back to the point of why I own a vibrator and am realistic about the whole situation. Isn’t it funny..  majority of us own one but majority of people go red or giggle when you mention the dreaded V word. I am not one to be embarrassed, as you will come to learn. BUT I do make an exception to the one time I was popping over my girlfriend and her hubby’s house for their family Christmas.

No shit, everyone was exchanging gifts. Her mum, her cousins, her grandmother, his parents (who by the way completely do NOT like me).. everyone, when he (girlfriends hubby) pulls out a gift for me. Instantly I knew he was up to no good when I saw the look in his eye and the giggle on my g/f’s face. I open a pack of 32 Heavy Duty AA batteries. Naturally that got everyones attention and they all look dumbfounded. Until my g/f’s GRANDMOTHER asks in front of everyone what they’re for.

You reckon I went red? That’s a fucking understatement! All eyes on me they wait for me to answer.. I was standing there opening and closing my mouth like a stunned mullet when, out of the blue, my g/f’s MOTHER decides to announce they are for my vibrator as I am always running out. If only I could go-go-gadget-go at that second and escape the boring eyes. See, normally I would be able to laugh with them about it, but I couldn’t- it was all true. I do always run out. I use so many batteries I have to budget them into our household bills.  

 I eventually got over the shock and basically accepted that I would be the brunt of all jokes that night. Which was kinda cool in the end, except for the fact that everybody now thought I was some kind of a freak. Maybe I am.. I did just blog about it after all..

Meh 


written exclusively by Briohazard 9th January 2012

another sunday morning

It is 6.53am on a Sunday morning and I have a cat attached to my face. Literally.. like a crab claw on my nose. Apparently throwing kitty on me is my three year olds perfectly rational way of telling me she wants weetbix. A lovely tap on the shoulder and a cuddle obviously seems inconceivable to her. And, naturally, when I step out of bed my foot comes down (with all my weight I may add) onto the sharpest piece of lego known to man. For a full two seconds I stay on the damn thing contemplating admitting myself to a psych ward… but then pain overcomes me and I holler and carry on. The neighbours wouldn’t know any different- it’s definitely a morning ritual here. My husband laughs- so I peg a thong at him narrowly missing his gleeful face.

Being a mum I have given up hot coffee, cold icecream, and basically my entire stomach and boobs. Gone are the tight abs and look-at-me bosom….. I now have an apron round my waist and teabags hanging off my chest. Gone are blissful nights snuggling up with the hubby and the impromptu social calls at whatever time I desire. My life now includes a wall painted with icing sugar, a laptop with no “E, J or 8″ keys, and a constant droning voice “What HAVE you done today sweetie? You didn’t have time to do the dishes??” (insert evil eyes from me and a detailed exaggerated run down of every possible chore I may or may not have done for the day to try and filter out the fact I have possibly been on Facebook for a few hours)

You see, I am just an average Australian mum, just like the rest of you; waking up to what people without kids would curl up in a ball and sob over. You know those people.. they are also the ones that have it All Figured Out. The perfect parents with answers for every possible situation.

They are the ones who give your kids red cordial at 7pm at night then wonder why on earth your darlings are playing “hide the cat food in the washing machine.” still at midnight, while you’re desperately trying to give your kids The Look and the “you wait til we get in the car” speech between gritted teeth. All whilst adamantly denying any naughty/hypo issues your children may have, because, of course, the Non Parent has all the answers and although we know deep down they may have a point we will never admit it to the Other Side.

We would rather put our hand through a mincer than admit to them that our children do not stick to their routine, that they haven’t had their piece of fruit or the day or that yes, they did poop in the middle of the kitchen just for fun.

Kids tend to have one ambition: Drive Mum Crazy. And most of the time they succeed through their angelic blonde hair and blue eyes. But I’m on a mission. No longer is it my aim to have my child read before the age of 6 months.. I am now just clinging onto hope they will actually get up for school in time. Or brush their teeth without being asked, or possible come on a shopping trip to the local supermarket without asking the cashier if she has a mini or a willy. Yes, we’ve all been there haven’t we ladies!!

It’s funny, I had All The Answers eleven years ago when I had my firstborn. I was even sure I had a lawyer on my hands because he rolled over exactly 6.5 days before his peers… over time I have learnt it would be easier to train a monkey to perform brain surgery on the Queen from a remote location with no internet access. My ambition now is to bring my kids up so they are happy and confident. And don’t end up in jail, preferably. Hopefully.

During this time I hope to master the true art of recognising Beyblades, Squinkies, LalaLoopsies & Ninjago’s. And I hope they in return recognise the true art of a good vaccuuming, a shiny fridge, and a car without Hungry Jacks softserve fingerpainted on the windows. Or a brand new wooden kitchen table without a stick man with a penis etched into it.. (don’t ask) It’s all a part of my life and I wouldn’t live without any of it.

Well, the table I could have- I think I gave myself tonsillitis from that little hiccup. But regardless, ask me what will make me happy? I-phone, I-touch, I-pad?? Nope not on your nelly! A 6 month supply of Iced Coffee will do Sir, and a good glass of Moscato in complete silence….. (aka kids not strangling each other for a MINIMUM of five minutes)…. quite enough time to skull the bottle and hide the evidence in the laundry where No Man Goes would be, in my book, the best thing since sliced bread.

So, like a true Aussie stay at home mum I will say it loud, and I will say it proud.. I swear to every man on this continent if I win this I will refrain from describing childbirth as akin to pushing a chandelier out of my nostril and stop comparing my labour to every affliction and illness you have….

…until I decide you have man flu again- I swear 

(this was my competition entry I wrote for a website http://www.stayathomemum.net.au/ to win some omo, I didn't win it but they do have an awesome website, check them out)
written exclusively by Briohazard 21st December 2011