Posted in blogging, Humour, Stories, Writing

Bedtime Stories

BEDTIME STORIES

Honestly, I know I’m tired when I jump into bed at night, teeth brushed, earrings out, pyjamas on, mouth guard in, perfume applied…pardon? Perfume applied? Did I imagine I was on my way to work? Did I imagine I was going out on the town? Did I think anything at all? -I think not. I simply splashed a couple of pumps on my neck of the old ‘little black dress’ , dilly daddled for a bit, organised myself nicely, complimented myself on how sweet I Was smelling tonight and then the cogs turned. Are you serious Nicole? What the heck? Why in goodness’s name did you just put perfume on?

It scares me that I can zone out so easily. Autopilot kicks in on my way to work some days also. I’ll walk in the doors and it will suddenly occur to me my concentration had been on planet boonga
for the last half an hour, and I had little recollection of the journey to work. I always feel I’ve forgotten to do something vital at this point…like brush my hair, or put on a bra-you know that kind of rush into work thing and then discover your phone is at home, or you left the dog in the house….or the kids :))

Posted in blogging, Daily muse, Funny, Humour, Story, Writing

Attempted murder, a toaster and six ugly legs

Inspired by the WordPress Prompt

Locked or in this case STUCK!

 

Attempted Murder, A Toaster, and Six Ugly Legs

 

 

I awoke this morning in my usual fashion-barely able to balance on my feet-stagger, stagger-rubbing my eyes to achieve some kind of focus, grumpy that I was required to exit my bed at all and with a solid plan to avoid anything that resembled a human in case they attacked me with jobs and just stuff, during grump hour.

The kettle was there, waiting for me-same place as yesterday…and the day before…to assist me in dragging myself out of slumber, and into the day ahead. As I approached it, I was given an almighty jab of adrenaline when sitting casually in front of me, spread out completely relaxed on his banana lounge it would seem, was a King cockroach.

Now when I say King Cockroach, I mean King Cockroach. The half bug half cow variety, have you seen those? The feral thing was playing around with its feelers and sussing out my Kitchen bench.

As I knew the littlest kid was up, I proceeded to yell.

“Xavierrrrrrrrrr”

The response, no more than a grunt, was not promising. I didn’t muck around and ran into the lounge room.

“Xav, please come and kill this cockroach”

He looked at me as if it was way too much to ask of him, but decided to assist all the same.

“Oh, that’s disgusting” he said

“You’re telling me. Get him”

I’m not sure what he did next, but it resembled a stiff piece of plank, edging it’s way, less than a millimetre closer and launching a hand towel at it.

“What are you doing? It’ll run away, you’ve got to squash it.

He stood frozen for a second, staring at the creature, and was absolutely no help to me whatsoever.

As I was about to grab the other child, Xavier screamed…

“He’s run into the toaster”

 

“Oh good God” I blasphemed.

“I have no time, and now the thing has made home in the toaster…I need to cook my toast”

Xavier’s response?

“Well I can’t get him now, he’s in the toaster” -and just like that he wondered off, unfussed.

I immediately skipped plan B- grab the second kid-and implemented Plan C-out came the big guns.

“Michaellllllllllllll”

Now Michael was out walking the dog, wasn’t he. Typical, although, strangely he replied.

“Ya”

He was outside.

I bolted out the door.

“There’s a cockroach in the toaster, and I’m hungry. Please can you get it out?”

“Are you sure?” He questioned

“Yes, We saw him run in there”

Twenty minutes later, after thoroughly inspecting the item, bashing it on the grass outside, pulling it apart, and staring at it for ages, Michael looked at me.

“It’s not in there”

“It is”

“It’s not”

“It is”

…and then we heard it. It was wriggling around inside.

“Told you” I said.

Michael thought for a bit.

“Let’s cook it”

“Noooooooo! Oh that’s gross. I’ll never eat toast out of it again. That’s disgusting” I could literally feel my stomach churn at the thought of toasted cockroach.

He pushed down the lever and the toaster began to glow.

I couldn’t stand it, so I left the room, but the burning smell was evident.

“Oh geez Michael are you serious?”

TEN MINUTES LATER

“Did you get him out?”

“Yep. Got him”

I could sense something. I don’t know what, but something in his voice smelled of lies.

I closed one eye, lent toward him…and whispered

“I want evidence”

 

“No really. I took the toaster outside….and ”

“Eeeew, was he cooked?”

“Nope, he was quite chuffed. He crawled out and ran away. Then I stomped on him on the road”

I didn’t believe him for a second. Not for one second. I could smell a rat. Excuse the pun…

“Where’s his body? Prove it” I said

I followed him to the road…

 

image

Posted in Funny, Humour, Writing

Supermarket Horror

by

Nicole Martin

 

It has always fascinated me that for some bizarre reason, supermarket trips have had a bad habit of attracting drama. Recently, when I innocently ducked into Woolies for a quick shop, I was lucky to escape alive.

I would dearly love to mind my own business and purchase my bunch of grapes and the like in peace, but it seems-no can do.

It was 7pm. It was dark.

My shopping list contained a few small essential items that my family had obviously decided we couldn’t live without for one more minute, and so I made a bee line for the store in the hope of escaping in a few short minutes.

It was pretty empty. Just the odd weirdo like me and a few dreary eyed looking suit people who had obviously just sat at a desk for 14 hours, had square eyes and were picking up a Mccains re-heat meal for dinner.

As I gathered items, my trolley somehow filled to the brim-I hate it how that happens. A few small essentials sneakily become rations, for a week and beyond. I’m not sure how my mind works when this occurs, but all of these boxes, tins and packets of stuff on the shelves, were into trickery of the most evil kind. They blackmailed me into assuming their necessity.

I rapidly put a lid on it and forged ahead with my over-sized shop, to the checkout-and that’s when I noticed it…

Looking back, I really wish I hadn’t.

A family of 8. Kids, parents, and grandparents had made their way to the checkout with their trolley-only one of their kids, clearly walked straight out of the store with ‘hot’ goods in his hand.

His dad followed-I wrongly assumed-to return the child to pay for the item. However instead, he lent over his kid and assisted him with opening the contents.

I looked at the checkout assistant, who in turn looked at me. We pulled funny faces at each other in disbelief. She appeared nervous and uncertain, but ran for the manager all the same.

Ok, I thought. So THEY’RE sprung! This will be interesting.

I kept quiet in my little space as the excitement unfolded around me. The manager came over-

“Yes I saw it, but there is nothing we can do”

“Are you serious?”- Now this came out of MY mouth I think, I’m not sure why, a knee-jerk reaction perhaps.

I told myself to stay out of it, but the voice within was feeling dangerously defensive of all the honest citizens in the world who pay for what is not theirs despite their financial situation.

-oh no. I could feel an issue brewing.

“Yes. There are rules. They could walk out with a whole trolley-and they do-but we cannot touch them.

“Well that’s ridiculous” -Nicole keep quiet I thought….but it was too late.

“We all saw them do it, can’t you politely remind them to pay for it?”

“Nope”-She said

Not good enough. If everyone else must pay, so must they. I turned to the grandmother behind me and smiled at her gently.

“Hello. You may not realise, but your little boy, forgot to pay for that chocolate milk.”

She gave me the death stare for what seemed like hours and then responded.

“I know dat. I know dat-Eh, Daniel…come over ‘ee wif dat chocolate milk” -She shouted, with a piercing tone

I jumped.

The little kid ran over, put his now empty milk on the counter, and they paid for it.

I continued to place my items to be scanned in an externally calm manner, but my inner nerve told me to watch my back- the checkout assistant kept her head low.

A few minutes passed and I peered in the family’s direction to judge their mood. The grandmother, was whispering in the burly father’s ear and pointing in my direction.

Here we go, it’s on.

Without hesitation, he came toward me, joining the rest of his clan. I kept a neutral expression.

“What you say ’bout my kid?”

I swung around and looked behind me, to give the impression I thought he was talking to someone else. My initial response was to play dumb, but I knew, it was too late for that.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d noticed your little boy had walked out with a chocolate milk in his hand. My kids do it all the time, and I send them back to pay”

He stared at me for a while-

“My kids don’t buckin steal. Right? We got it from dat udder buckin shop”

He pointed in a very general direction. It was now 7:30, and all the shops were closed.

At this point, my mouth was on automatic pilot. I had no influence over it, clearly, as I responded with this…

“Ok. So did you get a receipt?”

The woman with the shrieky voice shoved the man aside and stepped in with her grey whispy hair and her three teeth.

Good God I thought. I hope she’s purchased toothpaste.

“Look. Shut yer buckin mouf yer buckin cant”

Excellent. A well thought out come back.

I looked at her, not moving. I looked at him.

“Please don’t swear at me. I am listening to you. Ok? I am listening.”

They retracted their steps the mother mumbling a few more expletives, the father still staring at me dying for the last day-

“You jus woch your buckin mannis lady…git”-He pointed to the exit.

I thought perhaps my manners had been a little rough around the edges and so declined to add anything further.

I politely ignored him, if ever there was a way to politely ignore someone, and paid for my groceries.

I parked my trolley right outside the checkout and stayed put, as I could see them all sniggering and staring at me in the distance.

The odd “Buck” and the odd “Daniel git eee, wotch your mouf” resonated off the walls.-because clearly, they were watching their mouths. They somehow managed to maintain their focus in my direction, whilst at the same time, consuming everything edible in their overflowing trolley. -and I’ve never seen so much toilet paper-diarrhoea?

I fiddled with my shopping as if in search for something to eat whilst my mind took in the last few minutes, and planned my next move.

I called Michael.

“Hello?”

“Babe”

“Ya?”

“I’m about to be beaten up”

A deep sigh from Michael.

“What?”

“A bunch of people want to beat me up”

“Well I’m cooking dinner”

“Are you serious?”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know”

“What?”

“I’m in Mount Sheridan”

“Yes I realise that Nicole. Where in Mount Sheridan?”

“Oh……Coles…no wait, woollies”

“Just wait there. I’m coming”

As I hung up the phone, a member of the Woollies staff approached me.

“Are you ok? Would you like me to call security?”

“I’m fine, but yes please”

The security officer- a sizeable specimen-appeared in no time, with an enormous bunch of keys jiggling from his hip and an expression that meant business-you know that kind of ‘nobody mucks with me’ face?

“What seems to be the problem madam?”

Madam? Oh dear God-I am old, that just confirmed it.

“Evening Sir. There’s no problem, but would you mind escorting me to my car?”

“Of course.”

We passed the agitated family- they were hovering around with no obvious place to be except perhaps to even the score with me in their perceived favour.

“Have they been troubling you mam? I know them well”

Oh geez, drop the ‘mam.’ He may as well be calling me Matron, or senior citizen.

“Um. Not really. They haven’t touched me, but we had words, and their aggression was enough for me to double think walking to my car alone”

It was when I’d reached my car safely, that I’d remembered I’d called Michael to come and get me-Darn it.

-Oh for crying out loud. Now he’s going to think I’ve been kidnapped. I contemplated running back in to find him, but that would negate the whole reason for the escort.

My mind raced-Should I jump in my car and drive home before the three toothed lady found me? -but then Michael would be roaming around thinking I was dead.-Hmmm. Perhaps waiting for him to figure everything out would be the ticket.

I chose the latter and before I knew it, he was striding at pace, toward me.

“Hi babe, what brings you here so late at night?” I questioned with a wink.

Perhaps I’ll leave the stolen chocolate milk alone next time.

…but then this is the problem isn’t it?

A combination of fear and the Law, have made it impossible to defend one’s own property. Woolworths Lawyers have implemented a policy that essentially protects the perpetrators, deeming it illegal for the grocery store to enforce consequence for obvious theft.

Next time, I will go shopping blind folded.

Supermarkets are a dangerous place for me.

 

Inspired by WordPress Daily One Word Prompt

 

Shelf-‘Put it BACK on the shelf where you found it’

Posted in Deep, Humour, Story, Writing

Bring out your inner devil

image

 

 

🌿

I have a fettish for the ridiculous, and love a character that carries within them, a touch of devil.

The quick witted smiley type who with ease, endear many, and charm their way out of absolutely everything.

These people are essential to my survival. They breathe life into my colourless day, and paint a semi-permanent smile on my dial by simply being themselves at their naughty natural best.

Occasionally I need to be reminded to let go of the intensity, and laugh at myself-however there are moments when a cheeky little person emerges from the depths of me unannounced, and takes life by the horns challenging it’s serious side.

Thank goodness, or I’d probably drown in my own complex algebraic equation of thought.

Life should never be normal-it should always don a touch of ‘bent’ to keep things interesting.

Let the devil out-I always say.

Night Night cup cakes, my eyes are collapsing into unconsciousness.

May your day be suitably ridiculous-the only way to live!

N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in blogging, Funny, Humour, Writing

Dear Jasper

image

‘We need to discuss your A grade ability to sulk.’

 

Author

Nicole Martin

Dear Jasper,

I really think we need to have a heart to heart human-to-dog talk.

Come over here, put your hairy little behind down on the tiles, and bring with you your most finely tuned dog ears.
-and I am not for one minute fooled by that cute little innocent doggy face you are putting on, because I know you can understand me.

We need to discuss your A grade ability to sulk. You have developed quite the attitude of late and we need you to understand that whilst mum and dad always have your best interests at heart, there is no need to disown your father simply because he gave me a foot massage on the couch last night.

This business of storming outside, flopping yourself next to the pool fence and refusing to look at us, let alone talk to us, is taking it a bit far. Your helpless, far away stares into the darkness and your heavy, quite audible sighs, for hours on end had me worried you were sick. I almost called the vet, a ridiculously expensive exercise for a bad case of the sulks.

Mum and dad have to go to work. I understand having nobody to talk to all day, sitting on your bed and staring at the outdoor furniture isn’t the most enthralling way to spend your day, but we take you to the park to chase your favourite ball every single day, and on weekends you go to the beach, roll in everything that stinks to high heaven, nose dive into the sand until your ears, eyes and nose are so full of grains you can’t stop sneezing, and you run with the wind and frolic in the waves until your smile is so big I could swear your tongue would fall out.

You spend every moment you can sleeping on top of dad, you are allowed on the couch, AND our bed, you get to eat left over pasta, roast lamb and chicken, lie in air conditioned comfort, have regular baths and rub downs which we know you love, and you bounce on the trampoline with your brothers when it suits you.

So Jasper, our precious little puppy boy….let me ask you this.

What the heck is all the sulking about?

Love mum and dad

Dear mum,

You’ve got it all wrong. I am simply taking in the ambiance of the night sky. When I sit by the pool fence, I stare at the billions of stars, and find myself in awe of their beauty and wonder. Really.

Love Jasper

Dear Jasper,

It was cloudy last night.

Love mum

Dear mum,

Oh, bugger.

Love Jasper

I will walk with you forever

RED

My tree of yesterday

Use Humour over Anger

To my Boy

Posted in blogging, Funny, Humour, My wordpress, Writing

Do you have Humour Impairment?

‘Being an adult can be serious business, but so many people have lost the sheer capacity for fun, joy and laughter- Even when the opportunity is there, we miss it.’

 

Nicholas animation phone pick up the phone ring-a-ding-ding ding pick up the phone

 

We have always told our kids to hang up the phone when someone odd calls.

We have been receiving many calls lately from non-english speaking folk on the other side of the world, informing us our computer is not working-a scam to steal all our money.

Our 11 year old son was in charge of the house for 5 minutes-I had quickly ducked out.

This is what happened when I was away.

‘Ring ring..Ring ring’

“Hello it’s X speaking”

“Hello X, I was wondering if your mum or Dad were home? If so, may I please speak with them?”-A lady with a strong accent queried.

X- “Nope!” -Clunk-He promptly hung up the phone.

‘That’ll sort HER out he thought, pleased with himself.

5 seconds later-

‘Ring ring, ring ring’

“Hello X, please don’t hang up this time. It’s Mrs K- the Principal of your School.”

X-Silence…panic…shock!

“Oooohhhhh- I’m sorry Mrs K, I didn’t recognise your voice, I’m soooo sorry, I’m home by myself and I thought you were a rip-off from Africa”

 

 

This story was re-told absolutely beautifully by my 11 year old, who has always been – ‘one of those people’ that has the rare ability to lighten my life.

His quick wit and his relentless natural humour, is a gift to me.

 

DO YOU HAVE HUMOUR IMPAIRMENT?

Below is an article that’s well worth the read if you think you are suffering from a condition by the name of ‘Humour Impairment’-I’m certain I have suffered from this in the past, and I am equally certain my husband suffers from it now!!

This article has been living on my study wall for a period of 6 years, sticky-taped and blue-tacked, yet if you had’ve asked me what was up there,  I probably would’ve responded with “nothing.”

It’s funny how something I see every day, can be wiped from my memory recall.

It’s entitled:

HUMOUR MAKES LIFE EASIER

-ANON

Humour can be a powerful and effective mechanism for coping with stress, especially when combined with other means of stress reduction. The real power of humour and laughter shows up when you learn to use it in stressful situations. It keeps things in perspective, helps dispel negative emotions, and puts you in a frame of mind that can help better cope with the situation. Combining stress management techniques with a more light-hearted outlook on life won’t make you stress-proof, but it can make the difficult things easier to endure.

If you’re willing to laugh at the little disasters in life, you’ll find that other areas of your life will also become easier. Laughter, especially when you laugh at yourself, does many important things:

 

  • It empowers you. When you laugh at your setbacks, you no longer feel sorry for yourself. you feel uplifted and encouraged.
  • It helps you communicate more effectively.
  • It makes you likeable
  • It helps you cope. “Nothing erases unpleasant thoughts more effectively than concentration on pleasant ones”-Hans Selye
  • It provides perspective by removing you from your problems. Everyone makes mistakes, and we need to remember that-” I may not be perfect, but parts of me are excellent”-Ashleigh Brilliant
  • People tend to be less threatened by you.

 

Using Humour effectively

You may agree that laughing will help with your stress but agreeing with this doesn’t always help when the kids fight, miss the bus, and leave you late for work.

Everyone has his or her own sense of humour. If you’re not attuned to yours, you’ll end up missing many opportunities to use humour skills to deal with life’s stressors. Being an adult can be serious business, but so many people have lost the sheer capacity for fun, joy and laughter. Even when the opportunity is there, we miss it. Many adults have this problem called ‘Humour impairment.’

Simply defined, it means the inability to find humour even in situations that are funny to most people. Stress can cause humour impairment. Fortunately you can make the choice to change.

 

Finding the laughter in life

You don’t have to laugh out loud to find something funny, but you do need to recognise the types of humour you will be able to  use most effectively to manage stress. Do you life slapstick humour or verbal humour? Do you understand what kinds of humour offend you? Do you like jokes that focus on things you have in common with the comedian? Do you like to see props and gimmicks? Do you find humour in things that weren’t necessarily meant to be funny? Answering these questions will help you identify what humour to seek to help reduce stress and have more fun in life. You also need to ask yourself how long you hold on to misery before letting loose with humour.

 

I wrote an article recently on the benefits of using Humour over Anger in times of confrontation.

It’s difficult to do, but if you can master it over time, the benefits are enormous.

You can read it Here

 

 

 

 

Roaring Laughter-WordPress Daily Prompt

 

What is my favourite post today?

Check out this fabulous story below.

It’s well written, natural, and has a simple, soft voice.

My Favourite Post today.