Just Humour Us

How do you draw 'antidisestablishmentarianism'?

Modern educators have a tough task in front of them. We are now more aware than ever of the many different learning styles – visual, auditory, intuitive, methodical. Teachers are required to be adept at identifying their students’ individual needs and must work hard to cater to them.

 
M: I’ve always preferred the bribery method of learning. ‘Do well in this test and I will give you a chocolate.’
S: Certainly solves any motivation issues, although I daresay it wouldn’t help the current childhood obesity problem all that much.
M: True, but ‘Do well in this test and I will give you some carrot sticks and a lovely container of cottage cheese’ just doesn’t have the same ring.

 
This article in the Sydney Morning Herald on 1/9/07 (Every picture tells a story – so put those spelling books away) is one example of how teachers are having to adjust the way they teach the basics in order to achieve high standards in literacy and numeracy when the children are tested in later years.

We are all for increasing our national literacy rate. We certainly don’t want to be considered the dummies of the globe, and we’d like to thank Miss Teen South Carolina  for taking the pressure off us for a moment there. But we can’t rest on our laurels. We can’t rely on just drawing pictures instead of spelling words. There are much easier ways to ensure a high number of excellent exam results.

 

• Change the way we weight the different questions in exams – 50 points for getting your name right, 1 point for every correct answer after that.

• Reverse the syllabus. Start with Shakespeare in Kindergarten and end with Jolly Phonics in Year 12. OK. Our tiny tots might not fare so well to begin with, but by George we’ll have some outstanding HSC results!

• Bonus marks awarded if you’re a good sport. Australia seems to churn out an incredibly high number of talented athletes for our relatively small population. Kids that are busy training to be the next Don or Thorpedo can’t possibly be expected to swot up on the books. Give them 20 exam points per wicket, try or personal best.

 

Of course, we could always implement the university courses referred to in Jasper Fforde’s novel The Fourth Bear. Degrees in ‘Correct Use of Furniture’ or ‘Advanced Blinking’ could see the number of Australians completing a tertiary education reach record highs.

 

As for the ‘draw the picture to enable you to visualise the word’ philosophy, it perhaps has a broader application than originally considered. We could apply it to other problem areas in society. Get street thugs to draw pictures of what they want and instead of beating up people and/or attacking them with guns or knives, they would politely ask “could you possibly spare some of what appears to be your considerable personal wealth and success with those of us who are struggling to find our place within society? Thank you ever so much.”

Tupperblog

Earlier this year we both attended a Tupperware party – Wait! Before you roll your eyes and tune out because only boring, middle-aged housewives are interested in Tupperware, hear us out! 

It was Tupperware’s National Party Day. That’s right. January 4^th – the day when Tupperware Ladies everywhere gather the faithful together to celebrate all things new and useful in Tupperware. 

    M: Are you still allowed to call them Tupperware Ladies? It doesn’t seem very PC.
    S: Tupperware demonstrators might be better perhaps? Or at least Tupperware people.
    M: Tupperpeople! They’re plastic and collectable! In a great range of colours and sizes to suit your every need!
    S: You’re going to be annoying again, aren’t you? 

Our Tupper-experience got us thinking. Tupperware has come a long way in the past 10 years. They have branched out from their previous fixation on containers of all shapes and sizes (and at times rather hideous colour combinations). Their range now includes saucepans and knives, silicon bakeware and containers that fold up for storage. 

We think that there is still room for improvement though, so here are out suggestions for future Tupper-innovations: 

DIY

• Silicon paint brushes and Tupper-paint trays for rollers

• Tupper-toolbox

• Storage for screws, nuts etc

• Tupperware pots and gardening equipment

    M: Do you think I could get a Tupperware Jamie Durie?

 CHILDREN

• Tupper-dummies for babies

• Kids paint palette trays with wells that can be sealed with lids

• Tupperware cubby houses, where you can store all the Tupperware containers that have exploded under your sink. 

PETS

• Dog/cat bowls

• Lead, container for plastic bags, and poop scoop for walking the dog.

    M: Sealed tubs to quickly wash cats. Along the lines of the marinaders – fill with water and shampoo, throw in the cat, close lid, quickly shake container then remove lid. (And run!)
    S: It’s lucky I know you love cats, otherwise I’d be dialling the RSPCA right now.
 
OFFICE

• Tupperware pen tidy

• Tupper executive toys

• iPod and mobile sized containers – you never know when you just might need to put them in something with an air and water tight seal.

• Tupperware fishtank

    S: If they could extend their life-time guarantee to include the fish, then we might be on to something. 

 
Tupperphones! Tuppervisions! Tupperloos! The list is endless. However our number one request for the little Tupper-masterminds slaving away in the development lab at Tupper-HQ is quite simple. Boomerang Tupperware. That’s right. After it has been away from your home for 48 hours, it immediately activates a tracking signal that leads it back home. No more ‘misplaced’ containers that you are positive you left behind at a BBQ last week but your friend swears are no longer at her home.

    M: Call the Tupperpolice! The Tupperthieves are on the loose!
    S: You have to turn everything into a drama, don’t you?

 

 

A little more than 5 Things You Wouldn't Know About Us

The lovely Melissa from Business Mums has tagged us to complete this meme. We couldn't resist. Particularly Meredith, who has no shame about revealing her strangest quirks to the world.

Meredith:
    1. I am not only arachnophobic and BryanAdamsaphobic, but also slumbermoistaphobic.
        S: Slumbermoistaphobia?
        M: The fear of falling asleep in a public place, and drooling.
        S: You really scare me sometimes.

    2. I have always wanted to own a llama.

    3. My two first preferences for children’s names were Sediment and Windowsill, but sadly my husband used his veto power on those.

    4. My middle name is my first name, my first name is my middle name and my maiden name is unpronounceable. Which is why government departments, banks and telemarketers all hate me.

Susan:
    1. Despite enthusiastic attempts by several friends, I remain unconvinced that sport is necessary for a productive and happy life.

    2. I applied to join Mensa several years ago in an attempt to meet intelligent, witty and interesting people.
        M: Isn’t Mensa an organisation for socially inept pseudo-intellectuals?
        S: That’s not very nice or very accurate for that matter. I seem to recall, by the way, that you  were quite excited when I gave you an official Mensa coffee mug.
        M: You have noticed that I’ve decorated it with Shrek stickers, haven’t you?

    3.  I am deeply and personally offended by muzak.

Both:
    1. We have a strong dislike of poor grammar, punctuation and spelling. This, combined with the fact that we don’t know how to find the apostrophe on our mobile phones, results in text messages that sound like they were written by Dr Seuss. “I will not be able to make it. I do not know. I do not eat green eggs and ham.”

    2. Our first combined writing project was a ‘Thrills and Swoon Horror Romance’ called ‘When Love Misfeeds’. The central character was the school library photocopier (a rather amazing and impressive piece of office equipment back in those days).

    3. We were members of an all girls’ choir for many years during our teens. The trauma caused by having to appear in public in floor length fire-engine red skirts and shapeless white blouses continues to result in terrifying flashbacks and nightmares consistent with PFD (post-traumatic fashion disorder).

Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover

Looking for an epic tale of passion and romance? A story packed with unrequited love, enduring friendships, emotional scars, heaving bosoms, throbbing loins and a crackpot deaf/mute uncle living in the attic? Then Mysterious by Fabio is the book for you. 

A tale as vast as the grassy tundras of the opening scene. 

    S: Aren’t tundras empty frozen wastelands?
    M: Mere details, my friend. 

We have our own rating system for books. We like to compare then with breakfast cereal. The rating scale is along the following lines: 

Allbran – you know it’s good for you. You know you should read it. But no matter how you try, you just can’t enjoy it. (E.g. Joyce, Milton)

Sultana Bran – good for you but with nice juicy bits for you to enjoy. (E.g. DH Lawrence, Austen, Bronte) 

Weetbix very nutritious when eaten daily (“serious” newspapers such as The Australian, Sydney Morning Herald) - but you need to add sugar (draw goatees and horns on all the photos of politicians). 

Fruit Loops - a lot of popular “chick-lit” falls into this category. It’s not so bad that it hurts you if you have it occasionally, but you don’t really want to anyone to know you have it as often as you do. Tell them it’s your holiday reading, when really you have some every night after dinner. 

Which brings us back to Mysterious. How does it rate? We have been so, um, impressed, we have created an entirely new category (with thanks to Toy Story 2 for providing this option):
 

Cowboy Crunchies (the only cereal that is sugar coated and dipped in chocolate). No substance, no good for you, but worth trying every now and then just to remind you why it is you should be having something better.

 

 

 

Silly Songs Say So Much

Of all the indications we have of aging – the first grey hair, not bouncing back from a late night out, the “late night out” finishing at 11.30 pm – none hurts so much as the realisation that we have just uttered the words we never thought we would: “The music the kids are listening to these days is ridiculous.” After spending much of our youth defending our musical tastes to less-than-impressed parents, it really chafes to find ourselves saying the exact same thing to our own children. Of course we blame the Crazy Frog.

        S: He makes a good scapegoat. Most people will get behind you on that.
        M: Car won’t start? Footy team lost? Global warming? Blame the Frog!
        S: It’s either the Frog or Eddie Maguire.
        M: And the Frog isn’t handing out a million dollars.

The Crazy Frog’s version of Axel F and to a lesser extent Schni Schna Schnappi by Das Kleine Krokodil were the straws that broke the rapidly aging camel’s back. But it’s not so long ago that we remember our own parents rolling their eyes at the songs playing on the radio when we were kids. On closer inspection, they may have had a point. Novelty songs have always had their place in the Top 40. Even we, the generation that brought you the anarchy of the Sex Pistols, the sheer volume of ACDC and the grunge of Nirvana, have our own embarrassments hiding in our past. Ladies and gentlemen, we give you Agadoo:

        M: Agadoodoodoo push pineapple shake the tree agadoodoodoo push pineapple grind coffee.   
        S: OK that’s enough.
        M: I was being ironic.
        S: Sure you were.

To our credit, we didn’t really defend Black Lace back then. We saved our impassioned pleas for tolerance for better stuff than that. And yet even such classics as Stairway to Heaven (“If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow don’t be alarmed now. It’s just a spring-clean for the May Queen.”) and Hotel California (“Her mind is tiffany-twisted, she got the mercedes bends”) can seem a little, well, odd if you don’t have the right frame of mind or mind-altering substances.

        M: I remember thinking The Reflex by Duran Duran was like poetry.
        S: “The Reflex is an only child who’s waiting by the park. The Reflex is in charge of finding treasure in the dark.” – Well it rhymes, I guess.
        M: I still love you Simon Le Bon! Caaaall meeeee! 

Our parents lose whatever point they may have had when we take a little look at the charts from their youth – the birth of rock and roll – the 50s. “Tutti frutti oh rutti, tutti frutti oh rutti, tutti frutti oh rutti, Awop-bop-a-loo-bop a lop bam boom”. Yeah guys, that’s so sensible and meaningful. This same era had a Witch Doctor dispensing such good advice as “Ooh-ee-ooh-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang”, a detailed tribute to a cartoon caveman (“Alley Oop oop...oop…oop-oop.”) and of course “Shaboom sh-boom”. 

        S: Gee it’s no wonder the squares were horrified by rock and roll.
        M: It wasn’t the pelvis thrusting that bothered them, it was the yeah yeah yeahs and the sha na nas. 

Of course these “squares” were the same people who listened to such gems as “I’ve Never Seen a Straight Banana”, “Does the Chewing Gum Lose It’s Flavour on the Bedpost Overnight” and “Yes! We Have No Bananas!” If we continue back down through history we are likely to find that each generation who turned up their noses at the nonsense songs of their youth, had in turn had some rubbish in their own past. It’s entirely possible that Grandma Mozart told her grandson that the Magic Flute was “ridiculous, and why can’t you play some nice Handel? Now that was music!” Or that lyrics best accredited to the Beatles first appeared in early workings of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, only to be thrown out because “Sie liebt dich ja ja ja” didn’t scan so well in the text. 

We can ultimately take comfort in the thought that the next generation, now so confident in their musical superiority, will one day wake up and cringe at the thought of the songs they once held so dear. Hopefully the tones of the Crazy Frog will ring in their ears as they berate their own children for their lack of musical taste. Whatever happens, at least we know that by the time the next generation inflicts their silly songs on us our hearing will be so bad from repeated exposure to high decibel rock concerts that we won’t be able to hear it anyway.

The things grown-ups say to kids

As children, we have all been brainwashed by those old wives’ tales that have been handed down for generations. Despite the total lack of supportive evidence of any kind, we have been conned into believing that eating your crusts will make your hair grow curly and that if you pull a funny face and the wind changes, it will stay that way. We put our minds to remembering a few of the psychologically scarring things our family told us as we grew up (and those we have inflicted on the next generation).

Susan

As a child my grandmother told me that she used a threaded needle to remove splinters because that way if she lost the needle in your hand (or wherever else the splinter was lodged) she would be able to retrieve it by pulling on the thread). I never questioned this, as I was quite young when she told me and we all know Grandmother’s words are law. In later years, however, I became quite concerned that she had a Plan B in place just in case she lost an inch long needle inside my finger. On reflection, I probably should have taken my minor medical problems elsewhere.

Meredith

My grandfather had the tip missing from one of his index fingers. As a wee girl I would love to stand on chairs near the kitchen counter and watch Grandma make cakes. Grandpa told me to be very careful near the electric mixer and not to stick my fingers in to try to taste the mix, as that was how he had lost his fingertip. I was duly concerned, and made sure to always stand with my hands behind me. It was only recently that I started to consider that Grandpa had been a carpenter and builder all his life, and had a large selection of huge circular saws downstairs in his workshop… perhaps a more likely cause of his missing fingertip.

Susan

I’ve inflicted some psychological damage of my own. Once after taking young cousins swimming, we were sharing bowls of ice-cream at home. We were all still in our swimmers, which meant that my husband was shirtless. When one young girl asked why she couldn’t have as much ice-cream in her bowl as my husband (who had ice-cream up to the rim of the bowl and almost overflowing), I directed her attention to his chest. “Do you see that hair on his chest? Well that’s what happens when you eat too much ice-cream”. I’m sure her screams of horror confused her mother the next time she was served ice-cream for dessert.
 
Meredith

My father-in-law was the culprit for childhood trauma. On visiting once, my daughter, then three, raced in to ask him “Where’s Nanna?” He replied (as you do) “She went mad so we shot her.” Oh, the horror! Luckily Nanna arrived home just in time to save the situation. 

 

When We Grow Up We Want To Be...

We’ve decided it’s time for us to consider our future. After all, one day we may just grow up and we probably should have some plan in place just in case that happens.
M: Hey! I’m grown up!
S: You spent an hour in the sports store giggling about a piece of sporting equipment called a “large ball sack”
M: What’s your point? 

So, we’ve decided to list our dream jobs – those we consider ourselves ideally suited for.

Chocolate Taster

Is the chocolate aesthetically pleasing, without bubbles or blemishes? Is there an early taste of cocoa, a hint of vanilla and a creamy finish to sooth the palate? Is the taste dark and exotic, light and refreshing, or sweet and stimulating? Who cares? We’re just happy to be paid to eat chocolate all day. Ah, does it get any better than this?

  M: Maybe that could be a part-time job. We’ll supplement our income by doing this:

 Body make-up artist

Brad Pitt needs his torso oiled for an impressive entrance in some action block-buster? We’re there, baby oil in hand, to do our part for the movie world. We have no desire to be in front of the camera or calling the shots as producer. We’re happy to perform those small, menial tasks, such as spraying mist onto Hugh Jackman so that Wolverine can look authentically sweaty after his work-out, just to be part of the glamour that is Hollywood.

   S: And for the weekends:

 Stand-in Bridesmaids

Had a falling out with all your sisters, friends and sisters’ friends? Just weeks to go to the wedding? Call us. We’re happy to frock up at a moment’s notice, foof your train, carry your bouquet and refill your champagne glass.

M: One for you, two for me, one for you, two for me.
S: Ah – you’re that bridesmaid, aren’t you?

We’ll talk to drunk uncles (as long as they’re not too grabby), deal with the DJ, and hold your hair back when you’ve over-imbibed on the doe show. And the best part is that although we scrub up OK for the photos with a bit of spack-filler makeup and a soft-focus lens, we’re not attractive enough to overshadow the bride. All for the low price of a meal of rubbery chicken or chewy beef and all the cheap red wine we can drink. Hey – we’ll do anything for a night away from the kids.

 

Surviving Survivor

As impressed as we are by the challenges on Survivor and similar reality TV programs, we think that the time has come to raise the bar.   

    M: Those contestants think they’re so clever with their fitness and their training and their plotting. They wouldn’t last a minute on the streets.
     S: The streets? You know, you’ve been getting a bit full of yourself ever since you outran your neighbour’s dog that time.
    M: It was a Pomeranian! Those guys are tough. Anyway – I’m talking about the real world. I’d like to see the following:

Survivor: Preschool
Trap those tanned, adventure-loving, outdoor types in an average day-care centre for a few weeks. Their official rations will consist of Vegemite sandwiches and rice crackers (which they could, of course, supplement with playdough). No exotic birdsong here (except maybe from the class mascot, a rather nervous budgie). Instead they will have to endure endless repetitions of Wiggles and Hi-5 songs. Their challenges will include building a life raft out of paddle pop sticks, sticky-tape and Papier Mache; organising twenty three-year-olds into a straight line; and coping with those really teeny tiny toilets.

Survivor: State of Origin
Wearing the sky blue of a true New South Wales supporter, the contestants will be seated in the middle of a group of enthusiastic rugby league fans. Then, 10 minutes into the game they have to remove their jerseys to reveal the maroon of Queensland. No challenges or diet difficulties. They just have to survive until the end of the game.

Survivor: Shopping Centre
Christmas Eve, a crowded suburban shopping centre, a list of present needs ranging from two-year-old nephew to 91-year-old great aunt, family, in-laws and friends. Need we say more?   

    S: Ah – I see what you mean now. How about Survivor: Christmas Dinner? Contestants have to create a meal for a dozen relatives, three of whom aren’t speaking to each other, two are strict vegans, and one uncle has already partaken of a liquid lunch before the main course is out of the oven.
    M: Throw in a teenage temper tantrum and a vomiting overexcited toddler, and you’ve got yourself a challenge!
    S: And my personal favourite:

Survivor: Public Library.
Send this group of self-absorbed exhibitionists to the local public library. Each of them has to sit in a separate part of the library quietly reading a book extolling the virtues and quiet achievements of someone else. The last person to break from the strain of fading into the background wins.

    M: You’re so cruel! I love it!

In Defence of Lollipop People

We have been shocked by recent reports in the media that the Lollipop men and women at school crossings have been experiencing abuse and have even been threatened by irate drivers. These people provide such a wonderful service to the community. They ensure the safety of school children crossing the road before and after school. They also provide ongoing employment for the makers of those stylish fluoro vests.

 We have to confess that we have a soft spot for Lollipop People.

 
S: That makes them sound like a race of people with big round heads and tall skinny bodies.
M: I’m afraid that’s the technical term for the job, so you’re just going to have to live with it.
 

Not only are LpP important to our children’s safety, they also are unfailingly polite. Most have a friendly wave to kids and parents, and the occasional “Slow down there, little fella.” 

S: There was a wonderful Lollipop Man patrolling a crossing near a local school that a friend and I used on our way to Uni. He always checked that we had a jacket with us on cold days and if we were rushing used to warn us to walk so that we didn’t trip and hurt ourselves.
M: Because it’s well known that your average Uni student has the common sense of an Olympic luge competitor.

 

Being an LpP is not a particularly glamorous job (let us once again remind you of those fluoro vests). They get to stand in the wind, rain, and/or blistering heat twice a day with little thanks or recognition.

 M: They can take some comfort in the knowledge that they top my list of hypothetical band names.
S: You are kidding right?
M: Seriously. If I ever find a guitarist, drummer and bass to add to my own skill on the tambourine, “The Lollipop Men Experience” will rocket up the charts.
S: Ok, moving right along…

 
Lollipop Men and Women of Australia we tip our hat to you and applaud your willingness to throw yourselves in front of oncoming traffic in the name of road safety.

 

 

 

Bring Out The Tissues

 

On the weekend I watched the Susan Sarandon/Winona Ryder version of Little Women with my daughter. As damning with faint praise as the word is, all I can describe it as is ‘nice’. You see, I thought I would cry more. You know, especially in the scene where -  

S: Wait a minute. You’d better not say too much in case you spoil it.
M: Everyone knows, don’t they?
S: Better safe, than sorry.

 

OK – especially in the scene where the whole y'know thing happens with the sist-

  S: Careful, there.

Anyway I thought I would cry more, but I didn’t. So it was nice, and that’s that.

The whole thing did however get me thinking about the big tearjerker scenes in movies and television. So here they are: Our Favourite Bring Out the Tissues Moments

 

Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey – I read this book as a kid, and just knew that the movie was going to be the end of me. The little boy, waiting so patiently for his dog, and the other dog and cat come running home, and he’s happy to see him, but still waits for his old dog. He (and the viewers) thinks all is lost, and then – finally – the faithful old dog comes limping across the yard to him. Waaaaaaaah!

 Breakfast at Tiffanys – towards the end, a distraught Holly Golightly tosses Cat out into an alley in the rain. And he’s sitting there in the rain. And he’s getting all wet. And then she goes back for him, and can’t find him. And did I mention it’s raining? And finally with Paul’s help, she finds the Cat, and they hug him and each other. Waaaaah!

 Toy Story 2: When Jessie the cowgirl doll sings “When Somebody Loved Me”. The little girl grows up and stops playing with her. Then one day she takes her out again, and Jessie is all happy, thinking she has her friend back, but she’s really just taking her away to be dumped. Waaaaaah!

  S: That’s your top three, and they’re about animals and a doll? What about real people?
M: I like animals. You give me some then, smartypants. Sophie’s Choice? The Shawshank Redemption? “Your girl is lovely, Hubbel?”
S: Uh – I was going to say Cool Runnings.
M: Not the movie with John Candy and the Jamaican Bobsled Team?
S: That’s the one.
M: Oh this should be good.

 Cool Runnings – The Jamaican bobsled team have overcome all obstacles (not the least of which being they come from a small Caribbean Island and this is a sport involving ice) and are competing in the Winter Olympics. They have a run-down second hand bobsled. After a humiliating first run, they pull themselves together and start their second run perfectly. The crowd is cheering, they are making record time and it looks like they will make the finals. Then their bobsled starts to fall apart and they crash. The medical team rushes in and just when you think that the athletes have all been killed they crawl out from underneath the bobsled, pick it up and carry it, limping over the line to finish . The teams who were ridiculing them only minutes before lead the applause. It’s a beautiful moment... (sigh) Look I was 8 months pregnant, okay?! All those hormones.

M: Fair enough. And now on to the biggest tearjerker I’ve ever seen. Do you remember the old Kleenex tissues ads with the little boy and the duckling? I’m talking the early 1980s here.
S: Not to forget the ads for Kleenex, Hallmark, Huggies nappies. The emotional manipulations of the advertising agencies know no bounds.
M: Ah yes – never underestimate the buying power of weepy women .