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Monthly Archives: June 2012

The sports that didn’t make it into the olympics.

With the imminent arrival of the 2012 London Olympic games about to grace our screens, I thought it was timely to look back at the sports which did not quite make it onto the olympic world stage…

  1. 80’s Shower Dancing – Passed over for the more popular sport of synchronised swimming, 1980’s shower dancing still possesses every bit of poise, coordination and skill. If you mess up one left elbow to right knee combo whilst blasting Olivia Newton-John’s Physical, you’d not only miss out on a medal but most likely end up getting stitches for a lacerated thigh.
  2. 100m Dash with Full Shopping Trolley to Car in the Rain – If you think the 100m hurdles puts fear into the hearts of men, spare a thought for the athletes which have to brave car parks full of potholes, distracted old lady drivers, heavy rain and the always difficult “where the heck are my keys” struggle at the finish line.
  3. Last Chocolate Biscuit Wrestle – Ok, so this has kinda made it into the olympics, minus the chocolate biscuit (or ‘cookie’ for my international pals). But originally this sport was derived from that moment when two hands collide on the way to reach for the last chocolate biscuit. This then proceeds to a ‘death stare’ show down. To the victor, goes the spoils…or cookie in this case.
  4. Hot Feet Dance – Forget rhythmic gymnastics people. The hot feet dance has been around for centuries. Imagine a beach or pool full of spectators. The sun is high in the sky. You see the water glistening in the distance. You face the judges, put your arms high in the air and begin your routine. A graceful hop, skip and jump over the hot sand or cement will see you triumphant. Lets not speak of the endless competitors who’ve sustained third degree burns on the soles of their feet. Its par for the course in this sport.
  5. Beer Fishing – Alright so technically this could have been a winter olympic sport with its link to sub-zero temperatures. But more often than not, it’s played in the summer months. Once all the ice in an esky has melted beyond 50%, brave competitors must plunge their arms into the freezing icy water to retrieve as many beers as they can. Sounds easy right? Well I know many men who train for years to get this one right. But time and time again, they go back to that esky to perfect their sport. That my friends…is true dedication.
So let us spare a thought for the humble athletes who we see every day, doing their best and training like demons in the hope that one day, these sports may be shared with the world. Just so you know, I’d have won 3 gold medals in 80’s Shower Dancing by now.

 
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Posted by on June 16, 2012 in Charmed, I'm Sure

 

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When your chest needs its own postcode.

In 2011, 672 women died as a result of injuries sustained from overly large breasts. That is probably a fictional statistic. Actually I know it is because I just made it up. But surely somewhere, this is the reality. Large breasts can be a hazard.

I can hear at least half of the population saying “So what’s your beef lady? Large mammary glands are the bomb diggity!” And while its true being a Chesty La Roux has its moments, largely they just seem to get in the way.

You know your breasts need their own postcode if you have every experienced any of the following:-

  • Clothes fit you everywhere else, except your chest;
  • You go to great pains to cover them up but they still bust out of your top with more determination than an inmate of Shawshank Redemption;
  • You can lose an entire course of a meal in your cleavage “Oh I’m sure that chicken Maryland was just on my plate…no, wait, here it is!”;
  • When you lie down, you feel like you may choke to death;
  • Going for a jog is an exercise in physics…weight + velocity x gravity = a reinforced sports bra; and
  • People become hypnotised with that space between your belly button and your face. Men, women, children….everyone. Even you. It has this power that humans are unable to resist.

In no way am I trying to give the illusion that my chest is the biggest (it ain’t) or the best (it certainly ain’t). But its been ample enough to cause a few problems along the way. So while I continue to find last nights dessert nestled sweetly my townships, I think its timely to celebrate women of all shapes and sizes. We never seem to be happy with what we’ve got…but I’m just happy I’ve got them at all.

 
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Posted by on June 5, 2012 in Charmed, I'm Sure

 

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Now, what have we learned from this young lady?

I’m not too proud to admit that for every glorious success I have in the kitchen, I have as many disastrous failures. Once trying desperately to impress my husband’s family with my cooking skills, I tried making profiteroles three times and each time they failed miserably. Almost in tears and definitely out of eggs, I gave up. It just wasn’t my day to make choux pastry.

So today I awoke with bright-eyed enthusiasm at the thought of cooking…macaroons! Let me just preface this whole story by saying I’d already tried making these babies a few times…once with success…twice with failure. ┬áBut today I was determined to make these work. I did everything the little pink book told me to and worked that kitchen like a boss. By the time I got to letting them set, I was feeling good. They looked just right.

Waiting patiently for my ‘macs’ to get a nice crust.

Then into the oven with them. I was being overly cocky and yelled out to my husband “They look perfect! They’re going to work!” But then everything started to go horribly wrong. They were cooking too quickly and colouring up more than they should. I escalated this situation to code red and pulled those soldiers from the hot zone. Sustaining one heck of a burnt hand injury in the process. So…they didn’t cook and deflated more quickly than my spirit.

Who are you trying to kid?? Those are just failure cookies with chocolate on top.

I still made the chocolate ganache which is supposed to sandwich each half together but most of them were not coming off the paper. So I just dumped the chocolate on top with a ‘whatever’ shrug of my shoulders. I sat there despondent, with a distant stare and ate about five broken cookies. They still tasted ok. But I was making them as a gift for a friend and there was no way these passed quality control. So they got dumped into a container to make a ‘macaroon mess’. A few berries and ice-cream…and voila!

So, what have I learned from this experience?

  • That macaroons are more fickle than a five-year old;
  • Leftover chocolate ganache is easily turned into a lunchtime snack of chocolate milk by your husband;
  • Don’t choose difficult baking items as a gift for friends;
  • Even the most unappealing things can still taste delicious; and
  • Never count your macaroons before they hatch!

And to show you what they should look in all their perfection…here is a picture of the one and only time they worked for me. If you have a macaroon secret….I would love to know it. I will not let these little almond delights beat me!

Tower of perfection.

 
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Posted by on June 3, 2012 in Fire Up the Rayburn

 

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