The following is my son's first attempt at writing a story.
Title: The new and old car
One day Mr Holden had a VERY VERY OLD car. The car had webs bird poo and smelled like someone put banana on the seat. Mr Holden went to the Holden shop, to buy a new car when he got to the shop
Mr Holden asked the shop keeper which car I should get. The red one or the blue one or the orange one now I have made my choice I want the orange one but can you make it a bmw. Sorry we are not the bmw car shop, Now can wait what is your name? My name is Holden what car do you want? a bmw. Then a burglar came to steal a car ,then super Holden asked the shop keeper can I go on a car yes lets go 1 minute later he caught up ,Then the police came then Holden smashed then the police shot the traffic light the burglar said I better turn into the police station .
So the burglar turn into the police station but the police saw him. The
Police put him in jail. And so mr Holden went back to the shop but when he was back the shop keeper said we made a bmw so mr Holden changed he’s name to mr bmw and they all lived happily ever after.
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Pretty much unedited, a couple of spelling errors but the story remains untouched.
He has a couple more ready and they'll go up soon.
Enjoy.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
I once slept with 8 women in one night. (But I'm no whore)
I have a true confession to make. I once slept with eight women in one night. This is a true story, only the names have been changed coz I can’t remember them all, just their nationalities.
The day started like any other on the camping tour across the US of A. There were 18 of us in a mini bus campervan about 10 & 8 males to females. We’d been together for about 8 days, driven from Los Angeles, via Vegas and then through the canyons of Utah and Arizona and on to Tucson.
Vegas was our first official pitstop, the sleeping arrangements were pre-arranged, that is, we would have to share 8 rooms in a Casino hotel. Therefore, there would be rooms of 2 and 3. I was to share a room with 2 guys, Renoux and Emanuel (French and Swiss), but soon there was a knock on our door. The tour operator (and driver) was looking for someone to swap rooms with Katsumi (Japan), he did not want to stay in the room he was allocated. We questioned him, “what’s wrong mate? Who are you sharing with?” We looked down the hallway and from his room emerged Inga and Courtney (Dutch and South African). They were both quite attractive but that wasn’t Katsumi’s problem. He could not bring himself to share a room with 2 women, some sort of cultural thing. Well, before the others guys could open their mouths, I had my suitcase in hand and was already heading down the hallway, dust trail flailing behind me. As it turns out, the other two weren’t keen on sharing with the girls either. So my 2 nights in a Vegas hotel were shared with two attractive blondes.*
When we arrived in Tucson, we discovered that the camping ground was on an Indian reservation just outside of Tucson. We removed our luggage and camping equipment and started to set up for the night. We were treated to a typical Western meal, huge steak and not much in the way of vegetables, maybe a salad of sorts but I don’t remember that too well. We sat around the campfire, listened to some history about the area and what was planned for the following day.
We retired to our tents. Now this was another one of those awkward situations, we didn’t have to set up our own tents, that night we were going to sleep in real, authentic, Indian teepees. Problem was, there were only 2 of them and we could only fit 9 in each. We had 18 people, but only 8 girls. So once again, I threw myself into the lions den and slept with the ladies, all 8 of them. We had Hella, the Danish army recruit. Courtney, the South African writer, Inga, the Dutch swimming teacher, Tammy – Canadian teacher, Dianne – English teacher, Penke – Finnish student, Tania and Rochelle (both Americans, can’t remember what they did). They were all great people (even the guys), I learnt a lot about each of them and really hoped that I would meet them again one day, but that was nearly 15 years ago and nothing other than a couple of Christmas cards, the night I slept with 8 different women. All I have is the memories.
*Needless to say, nothing happened but it makes a good story to tell mates when you return home. No need to tell them the whole story.
The day started like any other on the camping tour across the US of A. There were 18 of us in a mini bus campervan about 10 & 8 males to females. We’d been together for about 8 days, driven from Los Angeles, via Vegas and then through the canyons of Utah and Arizona and on to Tucson.
Vegas was our first official pitstop, the sleeping arrangements were pre-arranged, that is, we would have to share 8 rooms in a Casino hotel. Therefore, there would be rooms of 2 and 3. I was to share a room with 2 guys, Renoux and Emanuel (French and Swiss), but soon there was a knock on our door. The tour operator (and driver) was looking for someone to swap rooms with Katsumi (Japan), he did not want to stay in the room he was allocated. We questioned him, “what’s wrong mate? Who are you sharing with?” We looked down the hallway and from his room emerged Inga and Courtney (Dutch and South African). They were both quite attractive but that wasn’t Katsumi’s problem. He could not bring himself to share a room with 2 women, some sort of cultural thing. Well, before the others guys could open their mouths, I had my suitcase in hand and was already heading down the hallway, dust trail flailing behind me. As it turns out, the other two weren’t keen on sharing with the girls either. So my 2 nights in a Vegas hotel were shared with two attractive blondes.*
When we arrived in Tucson, we discovered that the camping ground was on an Indian reservation just outside of Tucson. We removed our luggage and camping equipment and started to set up for the night. We were treated to a typical Western meal, huge steak and not much in the way of vegetables, maybe a salad of sorts but I don’t remember that too well. We sat around the campfire, listened to some history about the area and what was planned for the following day.
We retired to our tents. Now this was another one of those awkward situations, we didn’t have to set up our own tents, that night we were going to sleep in real, authentic, Indian teepees. Problem was, there were only 2 of them and we could only fit 9 in each. We had 18 people, but only 8 girls. So once again, I threw myself into the lions den and slept with the ladies, all 8 of them. We had Hella, the Danish army recruit. Courtney, the South African writer, Inga, the Dutch swimming teacher, Tammy – Canadian teacher, Dianne – English teacher, Penke – Finnish student, Tania and Rochelle (both Americans, can’t remember what they did). They were all great people (even the guys), I learnt a lot about each of them and really hoped that I would meet them again one day, but that was nearly 15 years ago and nothing other than a couple of Christmas cards, the night I slept with 8 different women. All I have is the memories.
*Needless to say, nothing happened but it makes a good story to tell mates when you return home. No need to tell them the whole story.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Saturday was Salami day.
The weather is cold. There is a slight wood-fired smell in the air. It must be Salami making season! As every good wog boy knows, this time of year is the time we all make our salamis. Why now you ask? It’s the climate; the salamis need the cold air to be able to cure correctly. Also, you need a drafty shed, one which you can light a fire and leave it for a few hours so the salamis have that wonderful wood-fired aroma.
This year, my girlfriend experienced her first wog family salami making occasion. It was great to share the day with her. I wasn’t sure that she would enjoy the sights and smells, but other than the off cuts bag, J got her hands dirty and that makes her a “made woman”, as far as salami making goes, an honorary wog girl.
With J there, we got to relive some of the olden days when grandfathers ruled the salami making process. Mum retold stories about the old days back in the village where on a weekly basis, in the freezing hills of southern Italy, her grandfather worked as a professional salami maker, selling his skills throughout the village to whoever wanted the best salamis that year. He was very well respected and compensated for his skills. My dad’s grandfather was a notch lower on the salami professional’s scale, but he did not charge, he only worked for family and close friends.
I was reminded the old days when as children, we weren’t allowed to “interfere” with the process. The thought that we might spoil the meat and ruin a batch of salami was always on my grandfather’s mind. “Keep those kids out of here” (in Italian of course) he would shout. We just wanted to see what the fuss was about and get our hands into the raw meat. Surely we could prick the salamis with the needle? Even that was a fine art, do that wrong and you could ruin them as well. Nowadays, I want my kids to join in as much as they can. The 9 yo came for a quick peek but wasn’t very impressed. The 6 yo was more adventurous early but he couldn’t stomach the sight of the intestines. Next year, I’m certain that they’ll participate a little more, or is that just wishful thinking?
Anyway, we now have 23 kilos of great looking sausages, suprasatas, cappacollo and pancetta hanging in the garage, being smoked with the finest, aromatic timber dad could find at the nearest building site, the cold temps doing their bit for the process and also filling the house with wonderful aromas. (In the old days, we used to make about 60-70 kilos).
It was a great day, 4 or 5 weeks and I’ll be eating them. Yippee!!!!
This year, my girlfriend experienced her first wog family salami making occasion. It was great to share the day with her. I wasn’t sure that she would enjoy the sights and smells, but other than the off cuts bag, J got her hands dirty and that makes her a “made woman”, as far as salami making goes, an honorary wog girl.
With J there, we got to relive some of the olden days when grandfathers ruled the salami making process. Mum retold stories about the old days back in the village where on a weekly basis, in the freezing hills of southern Italy, her grandfather worked as a professional salami maker, selling his skills throughout the village to whoever wanted the best salamis that year. He was very well respected and compensated for his skills. My dad’s grandfather was a notch lower on the salami professional’s scale, but he did not charge, he only worked for family and close friends.
I was reminded the old days when as children, we weren’t allowed to “interfere” with the process. The thought that we might spoil the meat and ruin a batch of salami was always on my grandfather’s mind. “Keep those kids out of here” (in Italian of course) he would shout. We just wanted to see what the fuss was about and get our hands into the raw meat. Surely we could prick the salamis with the needle? Even that was a fine art, do that wrong and you could ruin them as well. Nowadays, I want my kids to join in as much as they can. The 9 yo came for a quick peek but wasn’t very impressed. The 6 yo was more adventurous early but he couldn’t stomach the sight of the intestines. Next year, I’m certain that they’ll participate a little more, or is that just wishful thinking?
Anyway, we now have 23 kilos of great looking sausages, suprasatas, cappacollo and pancetta hanging in the garage, being smoked with the finest, aromatic timber dad could find at the nearest building site, the cold temps doing their bit for the process and also filling the house with wonderful aromas. (In the old days, we used to make about 60-70 kilos).
It was a great day, 4 or 5 weeks and I’ll be eating them. Yippee!!!!
Thursday, June 23, 2005
I'm so proud of my babies.
The kids finally received their mid year reports and it was all smiles. The eldest had a very established report (whatever happened to A's, B's, C's and F's?) and the youngest had a very established report too. I was very pleased with both their reports, and I'm already being asked for the latest CD from whosawhatsit. I'm sure the boy will cotton on and ask for a reward too. I think they deserve a little something.
My boss is going on leave on Monday and so is our second most senior guy. This leaves the Shezmeister and I to run the fort. What usually happens in these situations is we fight the fires that we can and put everything else on the back burner waiting for the bosses to return. It's usually a good defence and with the usual pace of movement in a large organisation like ours, 2 weeks ain't gonna make a lick of difference.
OK, good night, I'm off to morph into the shape of a hot water bottle and pretend I'm somewhere I really want to be.
Mwah.
My boss is going on leave on Monday and so is our second most senior guy. This leaves the Shezmeister and I to run the fort. What usually happens in these situations is we fight the fires that we can and put everything else on the back burner waiting for the bosses to return. It's usually a good defence and with the usual pace of movement in a large organisation like ours, 2 weeks ain't gonna make a lick of difference.
OK, good night, I'm off to morph into the shape of a hot water bottle and pretend I'm somewhere I really want to be.
Mwah.
Top 100 movie quotes.
Well someone produced a list, and I like lists. These are the top 100 quotes from movies as voted by the American Film Institute. I bet "Cinema Paradiso" is not in this list.
http://www.afi.com/tvevents/100years/quotes.aspx#list
http://www.afi.com/tvevents/100years/quotes.aspx#list
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Why is it so... part 1.
Why is it that as soon as an 18 yo boy gets his licence, the next thing he gets is a P-plate, a baseball cap with the peak shaped to a point, followed by an over powered v8 1995 VR Commodore or a 1988 VL v6-turbo Commodore?
It seems we are producing a bunch of cap wearing speed hungry morons that are unlikely to make it through to their 20’s.
There is also another phenomenon, when these young males congregate in cars, usually 6 to a car; only the driver is allowed to wear his peak cap. All others must remove theirs as a sign of respect to the driver.
This never happened in my day, my 1976 Datsun 180b couldn’t hold my school books, let alone more than 1 person in it, but it did get me from A to uni and back.
“Shut up old man! You’re wearing a Ferrari flag!”
Oi, do as I say, not as I do!! Be off with you.
Prediction: The Ford Falcon XR6 Turbo will replace the Commodore in 10 years as the hoon car of choice.
It seems we are producing a bunch of cap wearing speed hungry morons that are unlikely to make it through to their 20’s.
There is also another phenomenon, when these young males congregate in cars, usually 6 to a car; only the driver is allowed to wear his peak cap. All others must remove theirs as a sign of respect to the driver.
This never happened in my day, my 1976 Datsun 180b couldn’t hold my school books, let alone more than 1 person in it, but it did get me from A to uni and back.
“Shut up old man! You’re wearing a Ferrari flag!”
Oi, do as I say, not as I do!! Be off with you.
Prediction: The Ford Falcon XR6 Turbo will replace the Commodore in 10 years as the hoon car of choice.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Panic Stations.
You ever have one of those days when you were expecting the worst.
That was me today. On Tuesday I received a notice from Aussie Post telling me that I had some registered mail waiting for me at the local post office. Hmmm... who would bother to send me registered mail? Well I let it go until today, post office hours don't coincide with my work life all that well, except for today when I drop the kids off at school and can get in to work a little late.
So off to the PO I go and on the way my mind starts rattling through the possibilities.
1. Speeding fine, I'm still waiting for a possible fine dating back to early Feb. But they are not normally registered.
2. Tax Office Audit, I never wanna see a letter from them unless there is a cheque attached.
3. A retrenchment offer from work, we have been filling the unemployment offices quite regularly lately and maybe they didn't want to tell me face to face.
4. Maybe that dude that has my other car has clocked up some parking fines and hasn't paid them?
5. I'm being sued by some guy I had pushed over back in my school days?
but alas, it was none of the above. It came from the Real Estate agent managing the property I live in, but why registered?
1.Maybe the owners want to sell the house at the end of the year and they need to make sure I receive the notice.
2. Maybe the house they are managing for me needs more work and they are too scared to call me
3. The agent is inviting me to their christmas in july party.
Again, none of the above.
They were just advising me that they want to jack up the rent by $20 per month.
So after all that panic, it was nothing worth worrying about.
That was me today. On Tuesday I received a notice from Aussie Post telling me that I had some registered mail waiting for me at the local post office. Hmmm... who would bother to send me registered mail? Well I let it go until today, post office hours don't coincide with my work life all that well, except for today when I drop the kids off at school and can get in to work a little late.
So off to the PO I go and on the way my mind starts rattling through the possibilities.
1. Speeding fine, I'm still waiting for a possible fine dating back to early Feb. But they are not normally registered.
2. Tax Office Audit, I never wanna see a letter from them unless there is a cheque attached.
3. A retrenchment offer from work, we have been filling the unemployment offices quite regularly lately and maybe they didn't want to tell me face to face.
4. Maybe that dude that has my other car has clocked up some parking fines and hasn't paid them?
5. I'm being sued by some guy I had pushed over back in my school days?
but alas, it was none of the above. It came from the Real Estate agent managing the property I live in, but why registered?
1.Maybe the owners want to sell the house at the end of the year and they need to make sure I receive the notice.
2. Maybe the house they are managing for me needs more work and they are too scared to call me
3. The agent is inviting me to their christmas in july party.
Again, none of the above.
They were just advising me that they want to jack up the rent by $20 per month.
So after all that panic, it was nothing worth worrying about.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Intro...
Why Cape Man ?
On the occasion of my 40th birthday, my beautiful sweetheart draped my in a flag, a Ferrari flag the colour suits me, I posed for the camera and from that point on, I was to be known as "Cape Man". We have other pet names, but I think they'll be subjects of other blogs.
On the occasion of my 40th birthday, my beautiful sweetheart draped my in a flag, a Ferrari flag the colour suits me, I posed for the camera and from that point on, I was to be known as "Cape Man". We have other pet names, but I think they'll be subjects of other blogs.
Love you baby xxx
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