Gruntski

Today was just another day… up early, showered, shaved, and off to work.Slightly more productive than other days: managed to solve at least half of the worlds issues today, and the rest must wait until Monday….(will someone take that tongue out of my cheek, please…)

Got home, with not much to do. The house is clean (to my standards, anyway) the lawn is mowed, and it’s Friday.

I was walking through the back of the house (towards the toilet, if the truth must be known) and I heard galloping hooves. I opened the back door, and I spied a horse, wearing a blue rug, near the gate to my house (please remember I live on a farm/ranch/whatever) and heard a couple more horses snorting and carrying on out of my sight (there is a rather bushy plant between my back door and the gate).

In my infinite wisdom, I made a noise, specifically designed to chase the horses away from my gate. To wit, the noise was similar to that which a snake would make–>TSSSSSSSSSSSS.

The next thing I knew, there was a small whinny, and a thumping of hoooves, and the blue rugg’d horse was lying on it’s side, in my yard (over the top of a barbed-wire fence)

I shit myself.

Those horses (according to the landlord, who just happens to be the horses owner) are worth $au5K each. And this one wasn’t moving.

I ran back to the phone, rang the landlord, and screamed down the line “STEVE……STEVE, IT’S GRANT!!! ONE OF YOUR HORSES HAS GONE OVER THE FENCE AND IS IN MY YARD, AND IT’S NOT MOVING!!!!”

 .

“FUCK!!!” was the reply.

I was convinced, as this horse wasn’t moving, that there was, at the least, a broken leg involved. Or at the most, a broken neck, and I was responsible.

I ran to the next door neighbours house (said next-door neighbour works on the farm), and yelled “JUSTIN, COME QUICK, HELP ME WITH THIS HORSE!!!”

Judy and Steve arrived, in their Toyota Land Cruiser, and raced out of the vehicle to the poor stricken horse.

I had no idea what to do, apart from mildly shitting myself over what might happen to me for spooking the horses.

When Steve saw the horse, he said something along the lines of “The stupid pricks just cast; lets drag him so his back is uphill….”

This made no sense to me at all. I even said “Whaddya mean, he’s cast?”

Judy answered with alot of anger in her voice “He’s just cast!!!!!”

A great help that was.

Justin and Steve grabbed the horse by the fore-hooves, and dragged him around until his back was facing uphill.

He then stood up.

I was dumb-founded.

“Why can’t they stand up if their back is downhill? Can’t they roll themselves around?” I asked.

“They just don’t try,” Steve said, “You and I know that we could get ourselves out of a similar situation; horses just seem to realise that they can’t get up from where they are, so they don’t bother”.

So for a horse who managed to roll himself over a barbed-wire fence, into a position where he couldn’t get up unaided, this prick of a thing got up, ran through the gate, and galloped across the paddock like nothing was wrong.

And I nearly had a heart attack.

 There wasn’t even a scratch on him.

Bastard.

On Saturday, I dropped my daughters ‘Magic Wand’ off at her house, because she had left it at mine last weekend. When I told her I had found it, it was immediately apparent that if she didn’t have it back in her care as soon as humanly possible, a great calamity would result.

Whilst delivering the Wand at my ex’s house, she (my ex) showed me some of the produce from her garden (Like pumpkins, and chillies, you terrible people!!!). Whilst in the kitchen of her house, my children were clamouring for my attention, and generally making a lot of noise.

The night before had been a bit of a special thing for the kiddies, as they got to enjoy some easter eggs, as well as some other “treat” foods.

I was in a conversation with Anthony, when he reached across the table, grabbed an almost-empty bag from the night before, and asked me “Daddy, d’you want some Cock Porn?”.

I just looked at him, my mouth slightly ajar.

“Sorry, Anthony, what did you say?”

” You want some Cock Porn?”

Whilst I tried (unsuccessfully) to stifle my laughter, I got my phone out, and proceeded to film him asking me if I wanted to eat some of his Cock Porn.

 So, I have a video of my son trying to say PopCorn, and failing, but due to Nokia Phones being “different”, I am unable to post the video.

 **Note to self- make sure the digital camera is in the car at ALL TIMES***

This is almost as funny as him saying “I (am) a girl, cos I got BOOBIES!!!”

Out of the mouths of babes… (and they say genetics has nothing to do with it!!!!)

I am glad I have lived to see boganism make its come-back. The Age newspaper in Melbourne (online) publised this story, showing Melbournes fashionable are now turning to flannies and stove-pipe jeans to look the part. And paying shit-loads to do it. Admittedly, my skin tight dark blue faberge’s (with white stitching) are a thing of the past, and I have put on about fifty kilos since those days, but I am sure I can organise something with the flannies I have left over, to ensure I am considered one of the “fashionable few” next time I head down south…

 ”These days, the most fashionable are forking out thousands of dollars on designer gear to look like fair dinkum, Victoria Bitter-swilling bogans.” (and I do it for $6.99 from Target…huh…)

 ’bout freakin’ time.

This last weekend, I spent in Hall, a little country town adjacent to the ACT. Yass Polocrosse were hosts for a Polocrosse carnival, and two of the organisers live on the same farm as I do. So I went along.

Fun was had by all; and if you are even remotely into horses, and action sports, I recommend you check out a polocrosse competition. Four “Chuckers” (quarters) of 8 minutes each in standard competition, and the action is full-on.

It took me a little to understand the rules, but the sight of half a dozen horses galloping down a paddock, jostling each other at full tilt, whilst chasing a bouncy ball is a little awe-inspiring.

I was “recruited” to help out in the canteen, both during the day, and Saturday night, when there were a heap of folks looking for a feed. Not bad value, either. $12 got you a t-bone, two whole spuds, corn & peas, carrots, and the worlds best gravy (I was serving the gravy-it had to be good!!). And dessert (apple pie and ice cream).

 Entertainment was provided; a four piece band, who did really well, mixing covers with original numbers. Some tool from the crowd got up, and convinced them to let him play guitar with them. General consensus was that he’d had too much to drink.

I even drove to Yass on Sunday to pick up a friend of the two people mentioned above. She didn’t seem to appreciate my humour…

 Even after getting home on Sunday night, I was immensely grateful that today (Monday) is a public holiday (Canberra Day) for those that work in the ACT.

 And next time I go to a Polocrosse carnival, I will video some of the action for you to have a look at.

EDIT- I realised, after re-reading this, that the line above about getting home on Sunday night could be taken to indicate something untoward may have occured between “girl giving me the bird” and myself. Didn’t happen. If you read the line above the photo, it states that I picked Laura up from Yass Sunday morning. I then took her to the Polocrosse. And she’s 16,  for Gods sake… get your minds out of the gutter!!! (and how strange is that statement, coming from me…)

And I just re-read that last line about filming “some of the action for you to have a look at…”. You people are terrible!!!

And now I think, I’m going to cry….

The bloodshot eye is a direct result of the stye, and not due to excessive alcohol compsuntion. yet. (haven’t had anything to drink today. )