Call me the Bag Lady

#Sponsored A
for full details see my disclosure statement

In November I put the call out for sponsorship to DPCON13, touting myself as a fabulous Madonna photoshopper, Glowdonna. Sadly, and if I'm honest, quite surprisingly, no companies saw that as a real, bankable talent and no emails offering a partnership were forthcoming.

With the proverbial cabbage moths flying from my inbox (and my bank account), I stepped things up a notch in the form of a fancy pants info-graphic sponsorship proposal. If I can't be Madonna, then at least my proposal could be, cone bra, oversized radio mic and all.

 

And whaddya know, a fabulous company, who I enjoyed working with once before, said they'd sponsor me... on the proviso that I put away my Madonna photoshopping once and for all. It was a tough call, but, sometimes you have to make sacrifices in life.

So you can call me the Bag Lady. Or to be more specific, The McCormick Marinade in a Bag Lady! Hurrah!

I tried the Marinade in a Bag when it first came out and loved it. I was excited to introduce it to my friends on the weekend at a big Australia Day pool party BBQ (at which I would of course have passed off as something I'd whipped up myself) but unfortunately feral toddler Tricky has a contagious condition and we are in isolation. Oh well, more chicken for me!! Silver lining FTW!

There are four great flavours: Honey & Soy, Red Wine & Garlic, Teriyaki and Sticky BBQ and they're available from Coles for just $2.99 each.

My favourite is the Teriyaki and Map Guy loves the Sticky BBQ. Tricky devours them all equally because MEAT, so I really have no clue if my little carnivore has a preference. I love that it's a marinade without the mess and that I don't have to dirty a separate tray to use it (hello, less dishes!), you just open it, chuck in up to 1kg of meat, seal shut and leave it to work it's marinadey magic. Even those allergic to cooking could do it.

McCormick aren't only sharing the lovin' with me, they want you to be involved too, so keep an eye out in the coming months because I'm going to have a fabulous giveaway of lots of yummies!

So a major thank you to McCormick, and I promise from here on out, Glowdonna is no more.

Have you tried Marinade in a Bag? Did you pass it off as your own, too?

And then my faith in humanity was restored

If you follow Where's My Glow? on Facebook you'll already know this, so here, look at a picture of a cute puppy instead.

If you don't, or the stupid, incomprehensible Facebook algorithms mean you didn't see it, the other day I shared how disappointed I was at the withdrawal of support for Sydney wedding photographer and personal friend Fe Lumsdaine after she photographed a same sex wedding and shared on her page just how much she loved being part of it.

I wasn't the only one. A number of Fe's friends shared their sentiments on our personal and blog FB pages encouraging those who support marriage equality to support Fe. Well, you lot all came to the party so I wanted to say thanks. If we could group hug right now, I'd be up for it.

Like a lot of people, Fe didn't take too much notice of her numbers... until they started dropping. A few people made no secret of the reasons behind their decision to back out and unlike her page - they were leaving purely because she stated her support of the couple she had photographed and the love that shone between them.

Not the couple in question, obviously - that is from a private collection
Copyright Lumsdaine Photography. Used with permission

I was so sad that a business could suffer for promoting equality. Then sad turned to angry, because, well, let's blame hormones - everyone else does. Who am I kidding? Ignorant twats annoy the shit out of me.

I'm not perfect, you already know that. I'm guilty of being intolerant, too. Normally of dickheads.

When people are being bigoted twats I find it super hard to just shut up and be quiet. The Status Quo doesn't get changed by people sitting on their privileged bottoms with fingers on lips.

You do have a right to your opinion. But when your opinion includes out dated, fear-based stereotypes that go against discrimination legislation then I have a right to not give your opinion any weight (and think you're a douchecanoe at the same time).

It was not long ago, in many parts of the world, that black people were treated like second class citizens and interracial marriages were either frowned upon or illegal. Hell, in Australia, Aboriginals and Torres Straight Islanders weren't even citizens! Less than 50 years ago they were classed under the Flora and Fauna Act. As animals!

Also not the couple in question, but still a lovely photo!
Copyright Lumsdaine Photography. Used with permission

Women had to fight to be allowed to vote, participate in government, own property or have paid employment after they were married. Even rape within marriage wasn't criminalized throughout the country until 1992! 1992!!! New South Wales kicked it off in the early 80s, but it took the rest of the country a whole bloody decade to catch up to the fact that saying "I do" once didn't mean "sure, have your way with me whenever you damn please, even when I say no".

Continued pressure on government changed these attitudes. From being marginalized and ostracized to being considered human beings with human rights (I know it's not perfect still, just look at the gender pay gap and Indigenous health differences, but a hell of a lot has changed). It can be done again. We just have to stand up and be counted.

This story has a happy ending. A lot of you did stand up. The likes on Lumsdaine Photography's Facebook page have increased by almost 35% since the first post went up. What started as fear, hate and bigotry has ended up being a tale of love, equality and support... and being part of it was amazing. You little bloody beauties!

The way I see it, the more people that stand up for equality, be it marriage equality or otherwise, the quicker the law will change. With any luck when Tricky is my age he'll look back and say "I can't believe it wasn't legal to marry someone you love!".

*Not sponsored in any way, shape or form. At all. Not even a promise of super squishy hug the next time I see her... though I'm pretty sure I'll get one anyway!

The blog post to break the blog break

OHAI! Fancy seeing you here! Long time no see. Or write. Or read. Whatever.

It has been a while, indeed. I gave myself a lovely bloggy break over Christmas and New Year and if I'm completely honest I Loved the time off. See that? Capital L, Loved. I adore blogging but I also really enjoyed living in the moment without the constant ticking over of my brain thinking "I could totally blog the crap outta this". It was all Zen and shit.

But how exactly does one come back from an extended blog break? And yes, I consider a month extended because the blogosphere moves so damn quick if you blink you've missed 300,000 posts and your Google Reader is bursting at the seams.

There are just so many strings of stories running through my head from the last month that they're all jumbling up together and looking like a failed Cat's Cradle that is in dire need of being cut off your fingers because they're starting to turn purple.

Maybe I should tell you about the pest inspector man who came and out of nowhere started banging on about how religious people were ruining the world and how I should really start hitting Tricks if I wanted him to grow up right? What, right like you, pal? Errmmm no.

Or maybe I should mention that on Boxing Day we went out to Map Guy's Aunty and Uncle's farm and we all got to have a go in a gigantic bloody harvester? I could even tell you how we actually had to jump-start it from the Land Cruiser first because it had a flat battery and how I never in my wildest dreams ever imagined jump starting a machine that could have cut us all up so fast it would put Dexter to shame.

But that just won't do. Even a giant mofo harvester is not big enough to break a blog break.

So instead, I'll cut to the chase and mention that I've been really sick. I've been spending a lot of time in bed over the last month and even more time with my head hung over a toilet bowl calling for Ruth. Because I'm in The John Hurt Way again.

Yep, my friends, that is how you come back from a blog break with a bang.

Spawn2.0 is currently taking up prime uterine real estate at this very moment and causing this Mama to be sucking back on Maxolon like they're orange flavoured Tic Tacs. Sadly they've done almost nothing for me and I spend most of my days wallowing in self pity and complaining to Map Guy that it is cruel and unusual punishment to be starving hungry and aversive to food all at the same time all the while clutching my spew bucket. Classy.

Cletus the Fetus has already managed to give us a scare with a suspected ectopic, on my bloody birthday no less (yeah remember that appendix thing on Facebook? Yeah, that was a fabulous night). On a side note, you go straight to the front of the triage list and personally escorted to a private nook of the emergency room and filled with tubes if you rock up preggers with a pain in your side, a previous ectopic on your file and only one fallopian tube.

We were going to wait until the obligatory 12/13 weeks but I am terrible at keeping my own secrets (tell me yours and I'll take 'em to the grave, but mine? BLABBERMOUTH!). It turns out Map Guy is terrible at keeping secrets too, because at work when he announced it on Friday half the office knew already after he'd blurted it out after a few drinks at the office Christmas party.

It truly has been the worst kept secret. Half the Perth Blogging scene had a suspicion when I wasn't drinking at the W.O.M.B.A.T. Chrissie shin dig because hello, free drinks. I had to tell my work early on because it's caused my chronic pain condition to flare uncontrollably and I'm unable to stand up for a whole shift any more without the need for major drugs and a weeklong stay in bed.

But despite my body not doing the whole hormone thing too well, I'm happy. And when Tricks rubs my belly and leans in to kiss the baby I'm deliriously happy. He says it's a boy and it's name should be Spotty Dog or Tractor.

So it does appear that 2013 will be a big year. I can't wait and I'm shit scared at the same time.

But what I want to know, what I've always wanted to know, is WHERE'S MY FUCKING GLOW? 

See ya later, 2012!

Well it's been another huge year and kudos to y'all for surviving the apocalypse. I've put together a list of my fave posts from each month this year in the obligatory blog wrap up.

January - I had fun at the tennis without actually watching the tennis with special guest star Real Jive Turkey and *ahem* smuggled alcohol.

February - Went to a horrid holiday home that was infested with vermin and sucked my will to live.

March - I broke out the Cranky Pants and let you know what not to say to a parent (i.e. me).

April - Created a pictorial tutorial on how to handle a toddler tantrum. Surprise, surprise, it involved wine.

May - I stood up for my bloggy self because a sample of washing powder sure as shit doesn't pay my electricity bill (in response to the infamous Bandaid-Gate).

June - The Trickster turned two. Nawww, my little boy is growing up so fast!

July - I stood up for 50 Shades of Grey. Well, kinda. I KNOW, I KNOW!

August - Made a very naughty 50 Shades of teddies cake. The teacher's face was PRICELESS!

September - Got featured in CLEO magazine thanks to a douchecanoe troll.

October - Nuded up on the interwebs. Again.

November - Gave you some tips on what to do with your ben-wa balls when you're not using them.

December - Got shitty at a woman who tutted at Tricky when he was mid-meltdown and I was trying to calm him down.

And that's it!

I'll be taking a little bloggy break over Christmas and New Year but I'll see you back here mid January with news of my fan-freakin-tastic sponsorship to DPCON13! Ya huh, someone actually admires my head on Madonna's body photoshop skills! Who'd have thunk it?

Until then, be safe, take care of yourself, and each other, or whatever it is that Jerry Springer would have you do.

Of Boats, Booze and Barfs

Yesterday I went on a wine cruise that my mum had bought through one of those daily deals sites. We decided to make it a bit of a girls day, cruising up the Swan River on a gorgeous summer's day, wine glass in hand. Ahhh yeah.

I've been on a wine cruise before and figured it would be similar - cushy and air-conditioned with obligatory snack/wine bar and tourist commentary that you're too busy talking over to hear. Instead we were met with a dingey boat that had seen better days. It appeared that they were trying to hide the fact that the boat was ancient and could do with a really good scrub by covering it with lashings of bright turquoise paint on the inside and hear-it-coming-orange on the outside.

Kinda looked like this...
CC wdlindmeiers

About three minutes in to the cruise I was wondering why I even said yes because my stomach had already started doing flips. Not an issue, surely they'll turn on the aircon soon? Wrong. They didn't have any. On a boat where the windows didn't open and half of the roof was made of glass...

It was sweltering and despite it being a calm day I was starting to turn a lovely, and appropriately festive, shade of green. I asked Gopher Smith for a sexy spew bag. I thought he was taking the piss, the way most people mock me for intense sea sickness (I got sick on a cruise ship with 12 decks...) but no, they didn't have any. They don't stock them.

Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of public boat, particularly one that is on a WINE CRUISE serving a tonne of cheap goon to it's patrons, doesn't provide spew bags? Boats and booze, people! One of those is going to make at least one person yack.

Gopher, who looked like one of the Waugh brothers (the sexy one), gave me a shopping bag, complete with hole in the bottom. He might as well have handed me a paper cup and gone all Garth on me. "If you're gonna spew, spew in to this".

On disembarking, after having managed to not lose my lunch (if I'd had lunch - you had to pre-order food on the boat and we weren't told until we got there) I let the guys know they might want to invest in some vom pouches to which they replied "But people don't get sick on the Swan River". I'M PEOPLE, I GOT SICK! Fucker.

It got me thinking, what places have you been that have had the most obvious thing missing? Pub with no beer ala Slim Dusty? Hotel with no mini-bar bed? Tell Aunty Glow and she'll write them all strongly worded emails.