THE RIOT DIARIES ...June 2009

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June 30th

Brent took the day off work today. He said he has the flu. Man-flu.
But I know better.

I know it is a delayed reaction to his shopping trip. What he actually has is PTSS.
Post Traumatic Shoppers Stress.

Most commonly found in men over 40, it is a genetic disorder for which there is no test.
It can cause the patient to display symptoms similar to a man-cold.
Fortunately it is rarely fatal and there is usually a good prognosis with counseling and positive visualization.
Nurse Possovitz has been very attentive.

 

June 29th

I wormed the cats today.

“What do you mean I need worming?” shouted the house God indignantly, “I am a God; Gods don’t have worms!”
He sat up on top of the fridge evading my efforts to entice him down. “Anyhoo”, he said, “You can clearly see that Flossom doesn’t have worms”.

Flossom, freshly back from the tack shed, still excited after a near-mouse experience, bristled.
“Oh look”, she said, glaring up at Zeuss, “There’s a large worm on top of the fridge which looks like it needs to be de-catted”.

June 26th-28th

I managed to trick Brent into a shopping trip.

Brent is phobic about spending any money so this means strategic planning on my part if I want to buy anything.
I snuck into his car as he headed into town to work on the house.
“I just need to check out a book in a SECOND HAND bookshop” I said, chirpily, emphasizing the SECOND HAND bit.
We spent about two hours in various bookshops gradually making our way to a ‘proper ‘book store which sells NEW books. I bought a book for my art class.

Suddenly it was time for lunch and of course the only café I could think of was one that is; conveniently enough, right beside a large shopping mall.

After lunch and before Brent knew what had struck him, I had him inside that mall and in the middle of the menswear section of a shop, about to part with some money, and I was there to support him.

When we got home, I was tempted to apply some of my new-found counseling skills to the test and draw up a flow chart of feelings so he could ‘move through his trauma’, but remarkably, he was ok.

And I have a new outfit; it’s a win-win outcome.

 

June 25th

I have to go on a diet. There’s no getting away from it. It’s no good having great hair if your bust arrives in a room two minutes before you do.

I’ve been threatening to go on a diet for about 10 years. I keep hoping that by talking to the fat cells in a stern voice, I’ll have them all shrinking from fear but instead they seem to be expanding – gathering troops for my War on Fat which is now inevitable.

I am drawing up the plans for an official body-wide embargo with internal sanctions placed on all food products entering by way of mouth.

I am expecting a mass evacuation of fat cells over the next 6 months after which I will hold a decision-making meeting with myself to decide on further tactics which will also tackle the problem of Post Traumatic Stress events amongst remaining fat cells.

Well that’s today’s plan.

 

June 24th

I am solid proof that one’s hair should ALWAYS be left in the hands of a professional.
I’m not actually sure what I should do with the ‘products’ Raewyn sent me home with.

 

 

 

 

June 23rd

June 22nd

June 21st

Raewyn and I spent our final few hours together embarrassing her teenage daughter Becky.
We developed huge pompous dressage judges voices with which we directed at each other while we waited for the train.
“I say”, I yelled at Raewyn, “Isn’t that your daughter?” and I waved a regal hand at Becky.
“Oh, so it is”, shouted Raewyn, “I’d forgotten I’d had one”.
“Where did you get her?”
“I can’t remember”.
“I bet she cost a fortune”.
“She did…still does”.
“Quite well bred by the look of her – who’s she by?”
Becky, mortified and trying to disappear around the corner, was saved by the arrival of the train.
We agreed that it was in the interests of my hair, to be done every 6 weeks – which means a trip up north every 6 weeks. I suspect Becks will leave home next time I come up.

 

June 20th

My friend Raewyn, whom I was visiting; is a top class hairdresser - she took one look at my hair.

“Ye Gods”, she said, “I need a drink”. We drank some bubbly and then she grabbed a pair of scissors.

She cut and chatted and then zchushed it up with mousse and spray and then we both looked at it i9n the mirror and I had to look twice to make sure that the Goddess staring back at me was me.

It wasn’t. It was Raewyn’s assistant.
However I have to say, we all agreed, it makes me look at least 3 hours younger than usual.

 

June 19th

I took the train up to Blenheim.

It was warm and dry with great views. I’m thinking of moving in to a train – they even serve cooked meals and alcohol. It’s like your own mobile lounge only full of people you’ve never met before. If My Mother had been there we’d have had drink with everyone before we got to Kaikoura , caused a riot and set off heated debates on either side of the train.

Seeing as it was just me – and before lunch, I made do with merely chatting to the woman sitting opposite me. She appeared to be listening.

June 18th

The House God has been listening to the news.
“It’s going to be open entry to University” he yelled at me when I walked out this morning. “You don’t even have to have been at school”, he blared; “It’s brilliant – I’m going”.
“Zeuss”, I said, sighing heavily, “You’re a cat”.
“And your point is?”
“You can’t read”.
“Doesn’t matter” he said beaming up at me, “they give you a helper – someone who does the reading for you”.
“So, what were you intending to study?” I asked.
He looked thoughtful, then; “The contents of your fridge”.

I’m off to Blenheim for a couple of days tomorrow, I think I could do with the break.

June 17th

I received a gorgeous parcel in the mail.

My friend Roz has donated some beautiful make-up to me.
I rang her to thank her and to tell her it has arrived just in time for my new start at my new job cheering people up tomorrow. We both agreed I’d lay off the false eyelashes as they make me look like a big drag queen, but I’ll be test driving the bright green pencil and the gorgeous purple shadow.

Then Roz told me she’s looking forward to receiving the 25 million dollars in lottery winnings tomorrow. Apparently she’d been in touch with the universe and was sure to receive it which was weird I told her , because my friend Karen said the same thing only we both agreed that Karen is a shoe-in as she has read THE SECRET.

That led to a discussion about how depressed God must be trying to decide who should win what war when they seem all to be fought in his name. It’s probably why not many people hear from him anymore; he’s probably sitting in a black hole eating far too much crap food watching The Universe and other reality shows.

 I half expect him to turn up at the depression group meeting…”Hi, my names God and I’m depressed”.
I’m pretty sure my new make-up will cheer him up.

 

June 16th

I spent the day basking in the glow of my electric blanket.
At lunch time, Nurse Possovitz wandered in and glared at me.

“Ahh Nurse, I’m glad you’re here”, I said, “Could you just help me a minute”.
“Can’t touch you” said Nurse Possovitz, taking a drag on a cigarette and blowing a few smoke rings.
“What do you mean you can’t touch me?” I said.
“Swine flu”, she said, yawning, “Can’t touch you”.
“Well what are you doing here then?”
“Thought I might have a snooze” she said, leaping up onto the bed and curling up into a ball.

“But you’re a Nurse, you’re supposed to help me”
“There’s no helping someone with swine flu”, said the Nurse, casually washing one of her paws, “You’ll have to be put down”.
“And if that happens” I said, “you’ll miss out on dinner”.

Nurse Possovitz stopped washing her paw, “er, I just have to make a phone call” she said jumping off the bed and rushing out to the phone.

 

June 15th

Brent took me in to the doctor this morning which was very brave of him considering his allergy to the medical system.

We walked into the reception and I immediately started hacking and coughing – as you do as soon as you get to the doctor, which had the desired effect of clearing out the waiting room.
A frightened looking nurse approached me cautiously, “Have you been overseas lately?” she asked.
“Er, no, but I did spend about 3 hours at the airport last week with My Mother” I said. “She hates to be late”.

The nurse looked slightly aghast which I found a rather extreme reaction on hearing about My Mother and disappeared out into the doctor’s room. She was back in about two seconds with two surgical masks for Brent and I to pop on, and we were ordered to go back to the car and await further instructions.

A few minutes later a nurse came out to the car and asked us to don our masks before she could speak with us. “Go home” she said, “Stay there in isolation and wait for the herd tester (she may not have used those exact words- it was all a blur) to come and test you for swine flu”.
Brent and I looked at each other – it all seemed a bit extreme for a harmless case of bronchitis, “Um?”, I said, “I was just AT the airport”
“I know” she said, “where did you go?”
“To the café mostly” I said. It was her turn to give me the look of non comprehension.
“So you didn’t actually leave the country?”
“No”.
“Oh Lord”, and she ran back in to return a few seconds later, “We’re sorry”, she said, “We thought you had been out of the country and that we were about to get our first case of swine flu, the doctor will see you now”.

That explains it, for once; My Mother has nothing to do with this sort of panic.
I have bronchial pneumonia, which, I can’t help feeling, after looking it up on the internet later and reading these words…
Bronchial Pneumonia Can Be Deadly…
makes swine flu look like a picnic in the park. I am justified to be feeling so utterly crappy.

Now I’m pretty sure the doctor said 2 large glasses of neat brandy to be taken at night with my antibiotics…

 

June 13th

I hate having the flu. I have a very busy week ahead of me and quite frankly I have no right to be sick.

Actually, I’d rather watch car racing on TV or stick pins in my eyes.Z

My Mother is very sympathetic, unlike when I was a child. She didn’t catch her first cold until she was about 75 so she had no idea till then, how ghastly it feels.
“Go outside and stop that awful coughing” she’d say when I was a child.

Nowadays she’d fly all the way down here just to press a cold flannel on my face and share a medicinal brandy.

That’s the problem with small children really; you can’t exactly break open the medicinal brandy and share it with them.

I expect I shall continue to be sick until such time as I get bored (which should be pretty soon really) or the brandy runs out.

 

June 12th

I think I’ve got ‘Swine Flu’.

This would be ironic considering how much I’ve been scoffing at the notion of this being a global pandemic. I mean people don’t seem to be dying from it. Not in this country anyhow, but I get it now, you don’t actually die, you just feel like you are going to die. In other words, it’s just like any other sodding flu, which is what it probably is… but when I checked in the mirror, there was something distinctly porky about my appearance.

So there’s only one thing that I can say about it really ….
 OINK.

 

June 11th

I met an extraordinary small boy yesterday.
I’m taking him on as a private student.
He’s only seven and though I usually have an allergic reaction to small children, this one is different.
Not only is he exceptionally bright, but he is funny.

“So,” I said, after viewing a veritable gallery of drawings made by him, “How about we hone up on some of the basics and get your skills up in the toning and shading department.
He looked at me quizzically. “Oh”, he said, “I think I’m well beyond that”.

I have a feeling it will be him who teaches me.

 

June 10th

Flossom spent the morning luxuriating on the floor flat on her back in the sunshine.
“What are you doing?” asked Zeuss, who had just arrived through the cat flap with a belly full of rabbit.

“Oh you know” said Flossom stretching her paws, “the usual; you wouldn’t understand     - I’m talking accountancy; adding…subtracting…math”
“Math,” said Zeuss, “Hmmm, did you know your math is equal to that of a thmall horth?"

“You name it and I’ll sing it” said Flossom.

 

June 9th

My Mother has a shapely brain.
This is according to the latest report from the hospital psychologist who insisted on seeing her as soon as she got back.

“They are very impressed with my brain” she said gleefully when I rang to see how she’d got on.
“They are?”
“Yes they are; I’m above average for my age” she said.
“What do you mean above average?”
“I can’t remember the details” she said, “But I am above average”.
“Mum, “I said, “above average could mean you are above average in your ability to forget things”.
“I’ll have you know,” she said, “they said my brain is in very good shape”.

That’ll be all the brandy she’s preserved it in.
I think I need a brandy.

June 8th

I took my Mother to the airport about 3 hours before she was due to leave – she hates to be late.

We sat in the café watching the planes roll in and out. It’s a bit like watching an aquarium, great big jets glide slowly past the window like enormous sharks, rounded and self satisfied having swallowed a whole bunch of people.

Then it was time to deliver My Mother to the departure lounge. I watched as she marched up to the x-ray guys and started to engage them in animated conversation. As usual they fell for her, guiding her gently through the x-ray arch and helping her restore her bags before pointing her in the right direction and waving her off fondly. She would have made an excellent drugs courier.

She headed off up the hallway and then to my astonishment, turned around, making for the exit door back towards me.
Luckily, before she could make it out only to repeat the cycle and truly confuse the x-ray guys, she was apprehended and propelled in the correct direction up some stairs.

I spoke to her about it on the phone later.
“Well there are no signs”, she said crossly.
“You just needed to walk straight ahead Mum”, I said.
“They should put signs up”, she said, “It’s very confusing”.
There was a sign with the departure gate number on it but she’d forgotten that that had any meaning. My Mother needs signs with words on them – something like ‘THIS WAY DOROTHY DEE’.

I must remember to write to the airport authorities.

 

June 7th

My Mother is here and I’m trying to write my diary.
I’ve sat her in a chair with strict instructions to be quiet. I even gave her a newspaper to rustle.

I had just started to write when I heard “GEEEZ!” I looked up, “Do you know anything about these possum merino jumpers?”
I continued to write; 5 minutes went by then, “Hmmmmmmm, do you know Teresa Gattung…”

I screwed up what I had written and started again. “Have a LOOK at this!” she said. “I glared at her. “Oh that’s right, “she said glaring right back at me “I’m supposed to be quiet, but I’ll just show you this you’ll never believe it” and she handed me an advert about some heat pump special.

 

June 4th

It seems My Mother has stepped up her efforts in the War on Error.
She is now focused on preventing Error of Judgement.
This includes stuff like ‘Things in the Wrong Place’ where she discovered a bunch of tea towels hiding out in no-man’s shelf, so launched an initiative to move them out and repatriate them in a little known, more spacious part of the cupboard where they could reside peacefully until they are yanked out and made to wipe dishes.
Of course, there is rebellion – coming namely from my Aunt, for whom, like me, having organized, tidy cupboards is an anathema.
I will be shipping My Mother out before she can reorganize the entire Southland economy.

June 3rd

I had to get into my bank account over the internet to get some details for someone over the phone. (And No it was not a lesser known Nigerian Ambassador with millions waiting to be pumped into my account)

I made it through the difficult parts where you have to remember what user name you made up and THEN you have to remember your password, and I was congratulating myself on having achieved this as I struggle to remember what my husband’s name is; when the window pops up which asks you to copy some ‘random’ words.  Imagine my surprise to be asked to copy the word…
ARRSE.

I rang my Aunt to check on the status of My Mother.

“We’re having guests for dinner” she said cheerfully, then qualified it by explaining that they weren’t actually going to be eating the guests. “I thought I should qualify that” she said, “seeing as it’s you”.

My Mother couldn’t come to the phone, she was too busy grilling the guests.

And by grilling I mean….

 

June 1st

My Mother is still in Gore.
There are several possibilities as to her long absence…

• She has become lost in my Aunts’ pantry, which she occupied in her bid to start her War on Error. She will be evaluating the organizational possibilities and planning a long term assault in her bid to restore peace and tranquility to the middle shelves.
• She has been drinking far too much medicinal brandy in an attempt to keep warm, or
• She’s not due back till Sunday – this is a strong possibility which I shall have to confirm when I find my diary.