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Thursday, September 27, 2007

Furry, cousins, brothers, billycart & a steep hill.



Hi all, Uncle Furry here, feels like ages since I posted one of these. Thought that since I was at home, relaxing, that I'd sit down & do a post. Now, just in case it actually has been ages, here goes .......

"Those who what to have a "cough & a drag" off you go, those who want a coffee or tea, (or that other shit called Chai that PG drinks), there's the kitchen, milk, water, kettle ..... Those after something more, white's (wine) in the fridge, red's in the pantry, bourbon in the freezer, near the ice, pour me one while you're out there ....... everyone pull up a piece of floor & off we go .........

Today's story is, eldest cousin, steep hill, young furry & a billy cart

You see, we, (Furry mum, dad, and kid brother) when I was in grade 3, (I was around 9 yo), lived in a flat in a shithole of a suburb called Dandenong West. It was on Jones Rd, where this monster of a steep hill is located.

It was as bad walking down the hill as it was climbing up from school. No matter which way you went, at the end of it, you're legs screamed.

Well, my eldest cousin, (and Lainie) came over with Aunty Jean & Uncle Des for a visit. Jeanie was so way cool. She was 8 or 9 years older than me & she did stuff like, talked to boys, (her boyfriend then, became her hubby, was a Commandant with Big Bangs R Us), she drove cars, (learners permit), listened to cool music and was just way cool.

My brother, Lainie & I, got bored shitless really quickly with the visit, so we decided to take the billy cart out for a run. The billy cart needs some describing. Now, Poppa L worked at THE AGE newspaper, back in the days where "foreigners" weren't seen in a poor light. (Foreigners are jobs performed at work, while still being clocked on, (like making stuff out of their steel), for a project at home).

Well this was the case for the billy cart. Some furry bloke, (in 1970), made this billy cart frame out of tubular steel. The wheels were these huge bearings, which had a rubber casing on the outside. (These bearings were what the huge rolls of paper sat on as the paper was being feed down a printing line). The billy cart was near indestructible; it was built like a tank. I shit you not; this billy cart weighed about 80 tons.

Anyway, we were preparing ourselves for the first run down the hill (Lainie & I) when my cousin Jeanie came out. She asked what we are doing and we told her of our plans, she decided she wanted to take Lainie's place as passenger & give it a go ......... I was wrapped because the "cool" cousin wanted ME to do something with HER

Well to paint a picture of Jones Rd, at the very top, just where the hill starts, is a street. At the very bottom, where the hill ends, there is a crossroad. So for the full run of the hill, there is no interruptions, to speak of. Well Jeanie decides she is going to stand in the back of the billy cart, (not sit as suggested) and start the party by pushing the billy cart off "scooter style".

Jeanie is pushing as hard as she can, and the billy cart is hardly moving, "Is that it?" asks my cousin. "Naw, it'll get faster,” replied young Furry. "It'll need to" comes the disgusted reply. Slowly the billy cart starts to build up pace, "That's better" she replies, until, ........... About 1/2 way down the hill a little old lady, complete with purple hair & a walking frame, hobbles out of her driveway.

Now, at 9, I had manners, so little Furry is heard to say "Excuse me please" as we are fast approaching, "FUCKEN MOVE!" is screamed over my head by my cousin, who was obviously lacking in any social manners or graces & who is now hunkered over the top of me, holding on to my shoulders for grim death.

The little old lady responds by a) turning grey as she sees the out of control kids, and b) throws the walking frame onto the nature strip & dives backwards into the drive way. Thinking back on it today, she would have looked at home in a black leather coat in a MATRIX movie.

As we streak past, young Furry is heard to say "Thank you".

At about the 3/4 mark, my cousin screams, "SLOW DOWN, SLOW DOWN, USE THE BRAKES". Furry looks up, basically right up her flaring nostrils & calmly mentions, "We don't have brakes"

My cousin looks at me, like WTF!!! and screams "HOW DO WE STOP, HOW DO WE STOP?".

I was sort of getting over the volume she was broadcasting at by this stage & calmly replied, "We don't, I'll just go around the corner, but there's a fair chance you'll fall out 'cause you're standing up"

AGAIN she looks at me like WTF!!! and replies "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING ....... WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" and then announces "FUCK THIS I'M OUTTA HERE!"

She is poised for a second & bails (jumps) out of the cart. She later told me her intention was to grab a signpost, spin around it a couple of times, (like a pole dancer), and after a couple of rotations gently put her feet on the ground.

Well any furry knows that wouldn't work, brother Kev tried that on the first day & it damn near killed him.

Jeanie jumps, grabs the pole just enough to skew sideways & then get slammed into a tree, pretty much as did Kev when he tried it.

She completes rolling on the nature strip, (not the one with the tree, but the next one down) and sits up in time to see furry pull onto the last nature strip, put the billy cart into a huge slide, back on the footpath, sufficient grip restored and cornering on the two out side wheels.

Now I've just had a thought, what happened if someone was walking around the corner at the same time? Never thought of that back then, go figure ...... ‘Spose I would have just said "Excuse me please".

The ride finally comes to a stop; I turn it around & start pulling it back up the hill. Eventually I get to where my crumpled cousin is still sitting & there was a "fair" degree of blood I must admit.

Now, not only didn’t she help pull the cart back up the hill, (unwritten law people, you ride, you help, OK - remember that one, it's important), but she wanted me to pull the billy cart, & her, up to the top of the hill because she was hurt!

Yeah, as fucken if! That was never gonna happen!

Well she hobbled on her own, I dragged the billy cart up & my brother, the family dog & Lainie came running down the hill, full tilt (flat out).

The little old lady, now seeing a couple of out of control kids & a dog bearing down on her, throws her recently collected frame back on to the nature strip & bails back into the drive way, AGAIN.

Seriously some people never learn. Wouldn’t it have been easier for the old lady just to go back into her house and have a cup of tea? Sooner or later one of the kids would have to go to hospital & then the billy cart would have been banned for the remainder of the day. Then she'd have free run of the footpath!

Well, Cousin Jeanie thinks the kids coming at full bore and all this is for her & feels so much better that the others at least are concerned for her.

Not so, kids land on & around the billy cart, and proceed to help me push & pull the cart up the hill, I mean times money and there were plenty of more "trips" to be had. Jeanie eventually makes it back to the flat, stumbles in the door & soon afterwards is taken to Dandenong & District Hospital.

The diagnosis is

Broken Nose
Missing tooth
Fractured Cheek Bone
Broken Forearm
Broken Pinkie Finger

What did Uncle Des & Aunty Jean say? "If you sat down as Furry told you too, you'd be fine too. You're fault for not doing as the driver said".

Silly bitch still got the billycart banned for the remainder of the day, but!

Unfortunately, the billycart died one day soon after. Kev decided to run an experiment. He wanted to see if the cart was quicker actually on Jones Rd that on the footpath.

You see the old lady was becoming a bit of an obstacle & a real pain in our tits. I mean there is a limit to the number of times someone should announce "Excuse me please".

So the billycart was released at the top of the hill by young Kev, driverless of course, he wasn't stupid you know!

As such, it wasn't able to avoid the Grenda's bus that was coming up the hill.
I know I said it was built like a tank, maybe it should have been "built like a bus!"

Anyway, have a great weekend, I'm off to Chez Fur


Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Furry Fights False Advertising


It's only Wednesday arvo & quite frankly over I'm work for the week. So, with everyone else in "hump day" mode, I thought I'd share a couple of silly "when I was a younger furry" stories with you all.

Frankly, at parties, when I'm 1/2 cut, (pissed (drunk) for those confused ), with the actions & facial expressions, there are often a few victims of tear filled eyes & sore ribs from laughing.

And I must add here, no one died in these events, although we did try really hard. For those trying to be good parents, feel free to use these as tips for NOT what to let your kids do.

Event #1

In grade prep, at the tender age of 5 years, I had a dear friend we shall call Shane. Shane & I were inseparable. We were infatuated with Superman, (we are after all going back near 40 years ago). We tried & tried to fly, and of course, failed.

We figured that the issue was we didn't have enough hight for the take off, so we launched ourselves off the steps, the verandah, the railing, the back of his dad's truck, off the top of ladder & eventually from the 2nd story balcony of his house.

Well that was our first trip together to the hospital, there's not a lot that can be done for broken bones in one's feet!

Event #2

Shane's mum had a veggie patch, (vegetables), and in those days everything was grown from seed. Well, we planted tomato seeds & tomatoes grew, carrot seeds & we got carrots, sweet corn seeds grew sweet corn.

So, one day, Shane's mum brought home a budgie (basically a Australian native small parrot). He was beautiful & we found out she'd paid the equivalent of $20 in today's finacial environment for him.

Well, now that Shane & I had spent some time together and had “behaved”, (not that we were naughty, it was more a reward for not killing or maiming each other), as a reward Shane’s dad gave us 4 bob (40 cents each) & we were allowed to go to the Milk Bar & buy “whatever we liked”.

Well that wasn’t always the case, sometimes we liked crackers & fireworks, but the bloke who owned the shop refused to sell ‘em to us with out an “adult” being present. Fuck me, seriously, how much damage could 2 almost 6 year olds do?

Anyway, Shane & I arrived at the local milk bar (small supermarket), we were scanning the shelves for “what we wanted” when we saw "budgie seed".

Well we examined it carefully. Pictures on the bag confirmed it was Budgie seed, we looked at it and there was thousands & thousands of seeds, and that could only mean, thousands & thousands of budgies.

We decided at $20 buck a pop, (each), we didn't know how much it was, but we were going to be RICH, RICH, RICH.

We purchased the budgie seed, with what was normally 3 weeks lolly money, raced back to Shane’s, and planted it in the veggie patch, watered it regularly & waited patiently.

In a few weeks there was growth, then buds, we dreamed that soon there were going to be budgies EVERYWHERE. We weren't too worried about them flying off, 'cause babies just don't do much, do they?

Well, the buds flowered & died & not a single budgie. We took our plants back the Milk Bar man & complained, he simply laughed, (uncontrollably) at two very pissed off young wanna be businessmen.

That night when Shane's dad got home we were scornfully told off about "throwing our plants at his shop window".

We knew no one saw us, but could never figure out how he knew it was us.

Event #3

Shane lived near a park, with huge old pine trees. Shane was a blessed child, in as much, gravity loved him! Shane would, ALWAYS, get ¾’s of the way up a tree & fall.

Well we were watching a TV show one day and there were two guys climbing a mountain, they were joined by a rope you see, the second guy slipped & fell, the first bloke held on & when the rope went tight, the second guy clambered back up the mountain.

GLORY BE! We thought, here's the answer to Shane’s problems. We took a length of rope of Shane's dad's truck, (even though we'd been threatened with murder if we even LOOKED at his truck, let alone touched ANYTHING), but some things just have to be done.

We got to our favourite tree, tied the rope around our waists & up we climbed.

Sure as shit, ¾’s of the way up, Shane fell;

I held onto the tree & waited to save Shane. The rope went tight, as expected.

Shane was about 2 foot from the ground when it happened. His heals & head hit the deck, at that EXACT moment I was pulled from the tree. I came crashing down on Shane.

In much, much pain, we dragged our damaged little bodies home, (still joined by the rope), to Shane's place.

Well we got our butts belted by Shane’s dad for knotting up his rope, for touching his truck & for being stupid. It was a day of many lessons learned.

After a while the swelling in our arms caused some concern. Off to hospital again, Shane's left arm was set in plaster, as was my right arm.

It was about now, after what was our 7th or 8th joint trip off to hospital together, that our parents decided that it would be more beneficial for both of us not to play together anymore.

Go figure!

That's all for today, next week Uncle Furry will read another chapter from "The chronicles of a young furry". But be warned! If I did this to a friend, what do you reckon happened to my brothers?

See Ya

Uncle Furry.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Blind Puppies and "GO AWAY NAUGHTY HEAD ACHE!!!"


Hi everyone, its Friday afternoon, the working week is grinding to a halt. PG is slowly getting over her injuries, (guess who makes pole dancing pissed at a Party a full contact sport?).

Well its time to invoke the SOP’s (Standard operating procedures) & for any newbies reading this for the first time, I’ll explain ‘em to you.

Those who want a drink, glasses in the cupboard, coffee mugs next to ‘em, kettle on the bench, white wine & the milk are in the fridge, red in the pantry, bourbon in the cupboard, ice in the freezer.

While you’re up, some one grab Uncle Furry a big glass, chuck in ½ a dozen ice cubes, fill it up with bourbon. Pull up a bit of floor & relax for another double installment of the Furry Chronicles.

Listen, another important announcement before we start, all that pissing & griping about passive smoking, has finally worked. PG & Furry as of last Saturday decided to give up the smokes.

So if I’m a little pissy and people are talking while I’m telling my story, I’ll be as compassionate as ever. So expect to hear “Tuff shit & shut the fuck up” if your talking while I’m trying to interrupt with my story!

The first is when I was a sweet & loving young lad. As I’ve said before in my posts, Poppa & Nanna L often minded Cousin Lainie & I. Now Poppy L was as cool as they came.

He’d love spending time with us, and quite often would take us on excursions. At the tender age of 3 & 4 Lainie & I would go to the Fitzroy Gardens in the city, look at Captain Cook’s cottage, the fairy tree, have a picnic lunch, feed the birds (ducks) bread, etc.

Poppy never ran out of ideas, or things for us to do. Museums, churches, country drives, shopping in the city, all these activities were done with Poppa L. Nanna was a "little beige", and ALWAYS had a headache & therefore seldom ever came on these outings. Her company was severely missed, and that brings us to the first half of today’s story. Furry medicine!

This particular day was the first time we were going off for a picnic & to play with the blind puppies. Here’s the picture, Nanna is sitting on her chair at the end of the table, with a cup of black tea. Head in her hands because she had a “headache”.

Poppy has just told Lainie & Furry that we’re going out for a picnic & to visit the blind puppies. We first thought that the puppies were blind & Lainie & Furry bawled their little eyes out, our hearts broken as we bawled "The Puppies are gonna crash into walls & trees BAH HAW HAW HAW".

Poppy trying desperately to gain control, then explained that these "were the puppies that blind people used to see with". There was silence .... then we bawled even more. Furry announced "They take the puppies eyes give to the blind people ..... BAH HAWWWW" .

Poppy, now desperately trying to get us to stop, then explained that the people were blind & the puppies kept them safe by helping them walk around things & cross the roads, etc.

Well we now bawled for the people who were blind & couldn’t see. Today I think back & go “Well done Pop, maybe you should have just stuck with the blind puppies & called it quits there”.

So, there’s Nanna, now probably with a migraine. Lainie & Furry bawling their eyes out, Poppy having to be louder than normal to get heard over the wailing. He then plays the trump card, today we’re off to have a picnic at Studley Park, on the banks of the Yarra River & then go visit the puppies & play with them all day.

Apparently it was part of the training for little puppies & was designed to get them used to human contact. So the thought of a) a picnic with Poppy & b) romping & rolling away the afternoon with cute little puppies was just too fine to mention, so we went from tears to cheers in about a second.

Lots of yipping & yapping from Furry & Lainie. Lainie then looked across to Nanny, seeing her with her head buried in her hands climbed up on the table in front of her. Gently cupping Nanny’s face she asked -

“Nanny, are you coming with Poppy & us to play with the puppies?”

Nanny “No dearest, Nanny has an awful headache & just wants to lay on the bed in the dark”

Lainie “Does this headache make you feel sick in the tummy too Nanny?”

Nanny “Yes darling, Nanny feels quite unwell”

Furry “I’LL FIX IT”

Now Poppy used to have a stash of Barley Sugar & Toffees that Nanny ate when she (or we) felt unwell in the tummy & usually Furry would rush off & get her a couple from the “secret stash”.

So there’s Nanny, faintly smiling, her cheeks cupped by Lainie, smiling to herself that her grandkids were going to look after her when -

Little furry climbs up on the back of the chair & holding on with one hand, proceeds to smack Nanny REALLY HARD in the back of the head while screaming at the top of his voice “GO AWAY NAUGHTY HEADACHE”

Well we went off to the picnic, and had a great day. We played all afternoon with the puppies, and fell into bed exhausted that night & slept all the way through the night.

Nanny also was a lot better, showing no ill effects of bearing the brunt of furry medicine.

When we finally saw her three days later!

But furry medicine really does work. Next time someone is complaining of a headache, sore finger, etc, stomp as hard as you can on their foot.

They soon forget about everything else, other than their foot.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Killer Caramello Koala!!!



When I was a wee Furry, a short while after the events of the last post, Poppy thought he'd be clever. He took us to a newly opened Supermarket in Bulleen (in Melbourne eastern suburbs). Since it was such a big event, anyone who was anyone was there. Since all these celebs were about, everyone who was after a "meet & greet" or cheap goodies was also there. And of course, all sorts of promotions were in full flight.

Poppy took the opportunity to do a “little shop”’ to take advantage of the specials. Lainie & I had developed a cunning strategy. Both of us would run forward of Poppie & the trolley. One of us would stop, the other would keep going. We'd see something that took our eye & would rip it off the shelf, screaming, "CAN WE HAVE THIS? CAN WE HAVE THIS?" at the top of our lungs.

Should Poppy try & explain that we'd already had sufficient sugar uptake rations we'd protest "IT'S NOT FAIR, IT'S NOT FAIR"! and basically we'd shame (read embarress) him into caving in to our demands.

Well, Lainie & I had finished in one aisle & were running ahead when Poppy warned, "Don't go to far - there could be bears here".

We looked at each other, today it would be a look of "What The Fuck"????

Unknown to us Caramelo Koala, (a man wearing a bear suit, who was the face of a national sweet range, (much like Freddo frog), but in the shape of a Koala), was in the building giving away sweets.

We looked at each other, decided that Poppy had lost his mind, and after 3 nano-seconds concern over Poppies mental health, we shrugged our shoulders & ignored Poppy's warning and took off around the corner like rat's up a drain pipe.

You see, if you found something you liked as soon as you got into the new aisle it gave you the extra time to invoke the negotiating system of yelling, (nay screaming) "CAN WE HAVE THIS, CAN WE HAVE THIS" and then argue about it not being fair.

That was our logic anyway.

So, we were off & racing, came zapping around the corner at nearly a million miles an hour, to ran almost smack dab into this HUGE FUCKEN BEAR. The bear, seeing two excited children suddenly appear, assumed we were there for him.

He lunges forward & booms , "COME 'ERE & GIVE ME A HUG".

We locked up, our heals ripping up the floor covering & FUCKEN SCREAMED the most blood curdling of screams ever heard in a horror movies to date! So loud in fact, the roof near fucken caved in. We turned tail, and bolted. As we approached the corner, Lainie had the inside racing line, forced me wide on the turn.

With both of us banked over at an angle that would do a racing bike proud, along came Poppy & his trolley.

Lainie, with the inside racing line, shot between the trolley & the shelves & grabbed Poppy first. By wrapping herself around Poppy's leg, this opened Poppy’s angle further, with the trolley now slowly drifting across into Furry's flight path.

Furry in sheer terror, hip & shoulders (crunches) the trolley out of the way, in order to get to the protection he required from Poppy, turns the trolley from a slowly graceful arc, into a high speed weapon of mass destruction.

It could be said, at about this point, not all things were going to plan. The trolley spun at high speed & hits Poppy in the “family jewels”, (nuts, cods, lads, testicles, call ‘em what you will). The trolley then crashed onto its side, spilling its contents all over on to the ground.

Poppy, (still with Lainie firmly attached to his leg) is now on the ground, holding his groin, with little Furry’s arms wrapped firmly around Poppy's neck, (I think it was this that made his face start to turn blue).

Now Caramelo Koala has realised he’s fucked the pooch (made a slight judgement error) & in actual fact he's scared near 3 shades of shit out of the children. Somehow, I’m sure, what ensued was not the intended outcome of this promotional campaign.

Caramelo started forward, arms outstretched, to "help" calm the children and clear the carnage.

Little Furry screamed "HE'S GONNA EAT US", and that "possibly" caused Poppies "slight" hearing deficiency.

Lainie & Furry realise that Poppy isn’t well, so it was up to them to protect him. Side by side, we stood, gallantly, armed with little Aeroplane jelly crystal packets, throwing them, and anything else they could get our hands on, at the marauding bear.

Well the battle raged for what seemed ages,
but Furry & Fairy power was eventually superior and the bear was forced to disappeared, never to be seen again, (while we were there anyway).

We returned home & Poppy told Nanna about what had happened. Nanna was a little embarrassed, but Poppy said he was so proud of his "little champs" because they fought off the big bear and saved him.

Two things have happened since this day. 1). Lainie & I would carefully peer down every isle in a supermarket prior to turning into it, & 2). to this day, neither Lainie nor I like eating Caramelo Koalas ...........


Go figure

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Web ring.

Ya know what?? If I was a trans-gender lesbian vampyre single father Fundie Christian foodie who likes to dip my left earlobe in Vaseline and Flickr it, there'd by 27 basquillion web rings I could join to promote this site.


But you type in "men who blog" or "blokes who blog" and you get like 3 site in the whole WWW.

Bullshit!!

So I took my cyberwife SG's advice and started one.

Straight Blokes Blogging.

This name was my second option, I really wanted "The almighty ring of KABLAMO!", but the likes of ASIO might get a little sensitive.

I completely dig that there's rings for gay teens coming out of the closet in Anchorage Alaska, and support for teen single lesbian mums in Dubai, I really really do. But, like me, if you're just an average bloke, who likes to blog about your motorbike, your fishing, your BBQ, going out with the missus, teaching the kids to drive, wingeing about the gardening, the footy (any code) or musing over bathing the dog, then you're stuffed.

So if you know anyone who might blog and might like to join, give 'em the link.

Oh, and it's not as altruistic as it sounds... I just want to add Ring Master to my CV.

Anyhow... click on the HERE to go to the web ring and join up.

;)

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Lost and Found!!!!



Hi all, Uncle Furry here, it's 2.30pm on a Friday afternoon (EST) in good ol’ Melbourne town. Uncle Furry has a couple of meaningless tasks to finish off before jumping into the beast, fighting the good fight home, (because I share the road with fuckwits who don't understand its all about "Me, me, me" and they should just piss off outta my way).

So it’s time again to invoke our SOP’s. So, skip off to the “dunny” (toilet, potty, rest room, whatever you want to call it). Grab a drinkie, and some munchies (snacks, crisps, chips, burger rings, etc, etc) and hunker down in your favourite possie (position) for this week's Uncle Furry revelations.

While someone is up, can you grab Uncle Furry his smokes, a big glass of Bourbon, with ½ a dozen ice cubes.

“AWWWWWW FUCK ME & someone put those dogs out (Mrs Peaches & Stella) – Their farting somethin’ rotten. The kids must have fed them boiled eggs again”.

Their putrid those two! And with what they’re “venting”, they could kill a black dog at 20 paces. Which is a concern, since both are black!


Anyway, that's not going to detract from this week’s story. They used to be called chronicles, but that was before the "Prax the Spell Checker Nazi" kicked in & now Uncle Furry is just gonna use little words he knows how to shpell.

So, on to the story ……..

Once upon a time, when Furry was a small child, Poppy & Nanna L would look after him & his cousin Lainie. (This was the Poppy who was a WW2 hero & someone I really loved & respected), not the piss head that lived in Seaford. Nanna was a little beige at times, Poppa was really cool, and my cousin & I were always immaculately dressed.

Lainie would wear shiny little shoes, anklet frilly socks, cute little "Shirley Temple” style dresses. Her hair in pony-tails. Getting the picture? Furry would wear shiny back shoes, short socks, royal blue shorts, white short sleeved shirt. Hair combed nicely. We'd be polished like a button.

As with anyone who’s ever dealt with kids, well poor Poppy, we sort of inadvertently fucked with his head a bit (possibly even a lot). One particular day, Poppy took Lainie & I into the city to Myer's, (a very large department store).

You see, when I was growing up, EVERYTHING was in the city, Dentists, Doctors, Accountants, I mean everything. We’d go into the city, get what needed to be done, & then we were to be treated to a lunch in the Coles/Myer cafeteria.

The Coles/Myer cafeteria to a kid was just "so cooool", you had a tray, you walked along, picked what you wanted, and kept pushing the tray along until you got to the register. So it was a special day for us.

Poppy had to go to the department store (Myers) to buy a present for Nanna's upcoming birthday, and we were sort of pissing him off. We’d constantly ask , “When’s lunch?” or “How much longer” or advise him, “We’re STARVING” or “I'M GONNA DIE!”.

We sort of thought this would move him along. The out come was better than we could have expected!

After a while it got too much & he said, "Look, go & find something to occupy yourselves for a couple of minutes". Well, we did EXACTLY what we THOUGHT we were told to do.

We asked this very fine lady some directions & off we set. 3 flights of escalators later we are in the toy department. Well, do you know how much fun it is to occupy yourself when you’re busy opening boxes & playing with brand new toys?

"Occupy yourselves for a couple of minutes"? I think not baby puppy; I'd still be there today given half a chance.
Well, we’re playing happily, to the point where we weren't even fighting!

Every now & then over the intercom system someone would say, "We are looking for a little boy & a girl, if you are lost please talk to one of our Sales people". Poor little buggers we thought, this place would be a scary as all fuck to be lost in, & back to playing we'd go.

A very lovely lady asked if we were lost & we told her no, we were fine thanks, and off she went.
Well we played for ages. Still they called for these lost kids & still we played happily.

Eventually Poppy turned up; he wasn't looking overly happy to see us. He had a man with him, he was the manager we found out later & the lady who asked if we were OK in the first place was there too.

Poppy asked, "Why did you say no when this lady asked you if you were lost?" We explained to him that we weren't lost. That we found the toy department so we knew exactly where we were! He then informed us that HE couldn't find us & HE was scared.

He must thought this was the best option open to him to guilt the two children into never disappearing again. Excellent plan Poppy, the road of life is littered with the crumpled & torched remains of “excellent plans”.

Imagine the next scene, two little kids bawling their eyes out, hugging Poppies legs, telling him it was OK, we'd found him now & he's safe. My cousin reaction was the best. "Poppy, why didn't you ask one of the Sales people to call us over the radio & tell us where you were? You didn't need to be scared of them, they are really very nice people",

Apparently, little furry walked up to the man, shook his hand & thanked him for finding Poppy & bringing him back, repeated the same to the lady. Instead of shaking her hand, Furry gave her a kissed on the cheek in appreciation.

Wiping tears from our eyes, we told Poppy that we wanted to skip the Coles/Myer cafeteria lunch; we just wanted to get him home because we knew how upset he'd be after being lost.

My most prized memory of that day was, we were all getting ready for bed, and Poppy, bless him, would clean his teeth with us so we knew that there was no more sweets for anyone tonight.

Well the conversation went this way, please understand my cousin Lainie had a horrid stutter, and I'm definitely not talking the piss out of her, (teasing her), but the story needs to be as it was said. It took place while Poppy was cleaning his teeth.

Lainie - "Ppppppppooooppppppy ........."

Poppy - "Yes darling".............

Lainie - "Ppppppppppooopppppppyyyy tttthhhhhh"

Poppy - "My little darling, take a deep breath, another, that's my girl, what is it precious"


Lainie - "Pppppoopppyy tttthhhatttsss thhhhhe tttttoooooothhhh bbbbruuushhhhhh Fuuurrrryyy & I uuuuuusee tttttooo cccccclllleeeeaaaannnn tttthhhheeeee ppppppooooooottttttyyyyy"
- Translation "Poppy, that's the tooth brush Furry & I use to clean the potty (training toilet)


Well Poppy spat a lot more than normal that night, rinsed even more so, gargled & gargled, then cleaned his teeth all over again with another tooth brush !!!!

Don't ask, I had no idea why .....

See ya next week

Furry.

Family History


Family History

This is going to make Nanna L flip in her grave, but our family history is we were sent out to Australia on the first two boats, courtesy of the British Government. Apparently it was an all expense paid trip. When I was younger, I thought they must have won a competition on TV.

My ancestors apparently had an issue with “some relocated stock”. Apparently the Great, Great, Great Grandfather ripped off (stole) some bread & the Great, Great, Great Grandmother swiped some potatoes.

So fuck me, as you can see, we were crims who moved major weight. It was rumoured that the two, actually never “really” married. This was of great concern to Nanna L as somewhere in the past, some one was illegitimate.

The other thing that was a “blight” on our good name was Poppa L’s dad. Apparently he was renown for running Burlesque Houses, SP Bookies (illegal bets), Sly grogging (making & selling booze & not paying taxes), and worst of all, Brothels.

It seems that the family wealth was gotten somewhat illegally. It was pissed against the wall by Poppa L’s father due to his major gambling habit. Nanna L was mortified whenever this history was mentioned.

Poppa L was one of the major influences in my life. In my eyes he was a great man. He was awarded the Oak Leaf in the Second World War. From what I’ve been told, there were less Oak Leaves awarded in WWII than the Victorian Cross.

You were nominated for the VC by your Commanding Officer, The Oak Leaf nomination was from your peers. Poppa L got his by rescuing his CO in Papua New Guinea.

As for my parents, and brothers, well that tie has been cut long ago. They have successfully pissed me off, to the point, they (in my eyes) are not worth the effort or further disappointments.

Was married at 25, and that marriage failed after 13 years. Occasionally the ex sticks her head up and causes me grief. I’m willing to admit, on occasions I’m wasn't exactly virginal (not a “little” bit to blame) either. There were times I felt that a yapping mutt just needs a good kick in the guts, but now if figure the Karma bus is gonna run over her dogma some day. So I really don't give a fuck anymore.

It wasn’t all bad though, I’ve got three beautiful kids from that marriage, their nick names are, Spud, Yarz & Els . Remarried only 2 years ago to PG, and as such, now have two step-children, Madam Mouse & LeeLee .

Do all the kids get on? Yeah, their just like any “normal” family, fighting & hating each other one second & involved in an all in blue in the park because some kids picked on one of the other kids. Go figure.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Zombie Chicken!!!


Uncle Furry, Little Furrys & the ZOMBIE CHICKEN!

Told this story to Prax last night & others on the board today have been wondering, so here it is!

I'm the eldest of 4 boys;
the story takes place when I was 13. My brothers were 8,6,4. Parents were busy with their shop so on the weekends my grandparents would mind all 4 boys.

Pop K was an alcoholic, & usually hammered by 6.00pm on a Friday night & crawling off to bed. Nan K was exhausted by 7.00pm & we ALL were usually in bed by then. At 7.10pm Nan would be sleeping & all 4 boys would be up.

On Friday nights "Deadly Earnest"
was aired on Channel 10, (in those day’s it was Channel 0).

It was a show where the host would be all spooky & scary, and showed a variety of horror movies every week. One week vampires, next mummies, etc, etc. On this particular Friday night it was a movie about Zombies. These fuckers just wouldn't die.

All 4 boys on the couch JUST peering over the blanket, all shit scared, but no one willing to say so. Everytime there was a noise, there would be 4 fresh dents in the roof!

Important to the story, whenever Pop K & Nan K had a fight, Pop K would go to his shed, sit there drinking beer, with his favourite pet Bantam rooster sitting on the bench. While hand feeding the bantam he’d bitch to it about Nan K.

This bantam was a bastard of an animal. It ruled the backyard like Hitler. All us boys were scared of it, as was the dog, because it would lay in wait & ambush us.

Picture this, a large backyard in Seaford (Melbourne beachside suburb, but a shit hole of a place), long path to the car port, big leaf vegies (pumpkins etc) on the left, tomatoes & the likes on the right.

It was here that you were most at risk of being ambushed.

Tired of the constant & unrelenting attacks a plan was hatched by the 3 eldest boys to scare the bantam into submission. The plan required the youngest brother to be sent down the path as a decoy. Again, much, MUCH coaxing was required. You know, it would have been so much easier for us if he just did as he was fucken told & not argue all the bloody time.

We (the 3 eldest) then armed ourselves to the teeth with projectiles (stones, dirt bombs etc), and as planned the bantam attacks! Young brother was off & running in first place, bantam in a close second, projectiles flying, (young brother received some "friendly fire" damage), with some missing the designated target, some hitting.

We adopted the very much used US Army "pray/spray" mentality of warfare. And again, the 3 brothers had already discussed this plan & it was a risk we were willing for him to take.

Suddenly, second brother lets fly with a pearler (great) throw, nailing (hitting) the bantam in the back of the head. The bantam slumps forward, skids along the ground & comes to rest; face down; it’s wings spread, totally motionless & unmoving.

Our focus now moves from the bantam & our peripheral vision expands.

We all start to take in the scene & carnage around the same time. Feathers slowly fluttering down from the heavens, dirt, dust, stones all around the yard, as it unfolds we all realise that a). Pops favourite bantam is dead, b). Black feathers are ALL over the yard & c). When Pop finds out, we’re all dead!

We decide to clean the yard up PRONTO. As for the missing bantam, we are adopting Sargent Schultz’s (from Hogan’s Heros) response to questioning. That is “We know nothing, NOTHING!”.

If further questioned, “It must have just escaped”!

With our plan hatched, a place at the very back corner of the yard, where nothing ever grew, was selected as the burial site, a shovel was taken from the shed, and a hole was dug, DEEP!

The bantam was picked up on the shovel, carried carefully as far away from you as possible (as if it was going to explode any second), and then the lifeless body dropped unceremoniously into the hole.

A second shovel load of dirt was dropped on the poor departed bird when suddenly it jumped up out of the hole, screeching, flapping it's wings & attacks!

Second youngest brother screams "ZOMBIE CHICKEN, ZOMBIE CHICKEN" and the now revitalised & very pissed off bird attacked the 4 boys, and dog.

Picture this, 4 boys, 1 large dog, all in real fear of their lives, running full bore towards the back door, one screaming “ZOMBIE CHICKEN, ZOMBIE CHICKEN” with the bird hard on our arses.

Pop on hearing the commotion, opens the door just in time to be mowed down by the fearful 5.

Pop, now laying flat on his back, looks up between his feet, to see the bird, the feathers, the carnage.

Demanding to know what has happened. Your’s truly, seizing the opportunity to save his & his furry brother’s lives, yells, "Mr Jones' cat attacked the bantam".

Mr Jones, also a pisshead, disliked my Pop as much as Pop disliked him. So next thing Pop & Mr Jones are in a full blown punch up over what was latter to be referred to as “That fucken cat & That bloody bird debacle” by the boys anyway.

On a much needed positive side, we boys were saved from an absolute belting & Mr Jones & Pop were able to maintain their "normal" relationship.

Several weeks later the
ZOMBIE CHICKEN passed in an unfortunate accident. 2nd Youngest brother (Zombie Chicken boy) was in a hurry to get the "good seat" in the car for the trip to the beach (the seat between Nanna & Poppa) and was therefore desperate to get to the car to claim it.

ZOMBIE CHICKEN true to form, attacked & chased the poor lad, he dived into the back seat of the car (because that was the door that was open) and slammed it shut.

ZOMBIE CHICKEN was 50/50, (half in & half out) so on the back floor of the car we have a chicken head trying to peck little brother, a headless body doing laps of the car & a 6 year old on the parcel shelf of a car, trying to get out via the rear windscreen, screaming "ZOMBIE CHICKEN, ZOMBIE CHICKEN" at the top of his lungs.

So that's the story, I don't like it when animals are hurt, but ZOMBIE CHICKEN had it coming!


Still don't know why brother #3 is in therapy. Maybe it is partly due to ZOMBIE CHICKEN; maybe it was when I ran him over with a motorbike & sidecar.
Ahhhh that's another story.

Have a great day
Furry

G/day!!!


I’m a Furry. Even my nickname is “Furry”. What am I? I’d like to think that I’m a “normal” bloke (Aussie male at least). You know the type, and I refuse to believe that we (Furrys) only live in Australia.

I believe we can be found worldwide. You know the type of bloke I’m talking about. You see us around BBQ’s in summer. T-shirts, shorts, thongs, a stubby, (small bottle) of beer. We love cooking dead meat over a fire; we love poking it with a stick while it cooks.

Furrys? Come on, you know us! We’re the ones laughing loudly, telling a yarn (story), hands in the air, exaggerated movements, laughing & joking. We hang shit on (tease) our mates (friends).

We are the type of blokes that when you pull their finger, we fart, and we always find this hysterical. We’re the sorts of blokes’ kids flock to, they listen eagerly to our stories. They embrace our humour.

We’re the keepers of “history” and the storytellers of the tribe. We’re the blokes you find kicking a footy (football) or throwing a ball, out in the front yard with the kids. We are the ones who fake a huge tackle on a little “bloke”, and when he evades, goals, scores or touches down.

We, Furry’s, are the sorts of blokes that the upper crust looks down on. We hear them say, “They’re rough & crass, they’re loud and uncouth, they’re not well spoken or educated, they’re “beneath us”.”

We really don’t give a fuck, we’re the ones they call so they don’t dirty their hands, or break a nail, or when the shit hits the fan. We don’t really care what they think, we have a “warrior mentality” and we see them as below us. Actually, there isn’t many people who’s view really means much to us.

What do Furry’s do for a job? All sorts of things really. We are Tradies, (Plumbers, Builders, Electricians). We are Coppers, Ambos, Fireys (Police, Ambulance or Fire Fighters). We are Grunts, (in the Armed Forces, Army, Navy, Air force). We are Miners.

We can also be graceful enough to hold down “a Highly Professional” career. We may act dumb, be warned, it’s a cover. We hide lots of things behind our big, simple, even gruff exteriors.

Furry’s like all forms of racing, “The Nags” or “Hayburners (horses), “The Dogs” (Greyhounds), Cars (Formula Ones, V8’s, Rally, whatever), “Bikes” (Motorbikes, Formula One, Super bikes, Motocross, again whatever). We love cricket or football, or soccer, or gridiron, or baseball. We love contact sports. We like hockey, we like almost any sport imaginable.

The only two sports thing we want to change is Synchronised Swimming & Skeet Shooting.

We’d like shark fishing introduced to the sporting arena, run in conjunction with Synchronised Swimming.

Even better, Skeet shooting & Wavewasting (Jet Skiing). If I close my eyes, I can imagine it now, the “WHA WHA WHA” of the Wavewaster bouncing over waves & “PULL” BOOM!!! Of the shooter.

Ahhhhh to dream, one less fuckwit I’ve gotta share the bay with.

Anyway back to it, my wife tells me that being a Furry isn’t just about wearing a mohair singelet, (ample body hair), it’s a complete package. She reckons Furry’s have a touch of the “ever so’s” about them. You know, “ever so naughty, or dangerous, or even, ever so dirty”.

She reckons that we walk with confidence & ease. That our presence can be intimidating, (due to body shape, confidence, stance, posture). She reckons that you can see a Furry is confident in his skin. That they have accepted who they are, where they’ve been and their lot in life.

I don’t see it myself. I think we are just “Blokes”. I see us as what a bloke is meant to be. We are the hunter/gatherers of a tribe. We don’t think anything about grabbing a club, racing up behind a Dinosaur, and giving the bastard a fair smack to the back of the head, repeatedly if need be.

Again, we aren’t stupid, after a couple of decent smacks to the head, if Dino the Dinosaur hasn’t fallen down pissing blood from his ears, we are smart enough to know he’s about to turn around really pissed at us. We then evoke option two, run, run fast.

We love a joke, a laugh, time spent with our loved ones. We are passionate with what we do, who we are & who we can be. We Furry’s are re-known for leaving our mark. We’ve left them on the world (in the form of craters, or huge impact scrapes).

On those we love, (anything from hug bruises) from what my kids used to call “pop ya head off cuddles”. You know the ones, huge squeezy cuddles full of love. On those we aren’t so fond of, grazes. But for the most of it, we leave marks on people or the world that are unique, and positive.