Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Mr BabyMacBeth vs Mr Edenland

Back in June, we thought Dave's cancer was back but it wasn't, hooray, let's live another day and celebrate and then forget and then bitch and moan and take everything for granted again very quickly, ok?

So. During the week of Dave's dreadful stomach pains - like BAD PAINS, I told my friend Beth. Beth the BabyMac. One of the most coolest, sweetest chicks online. Actually, she guessed because she is very savvy and smart and I just told her the truth of,  HE'S GOING TO DIIIIEEEEEEE. I never over-react!

Beth supported me that week with texts and random tweets and funny ditties. She was worried and lovely and caring, and we compared stoking our fires.

One cold night, for some reason - I promised Dave sex in exchange for him making some origami for Max. He sat at this teeny table, cheesy grin, sore tummy, but ripe with expectation. I took a photo and put it up on Instagram:

                                        Oh, that expectant smile!

Beth saw said picture that night, and showed her husband Rob. Rob was *not* promised sex that night, and responded via Instagram with this:

                                          Wob haz a sad.

I showed Dave, who thought it was HILARIOUS. He responds - via my Instagram to Beths Instagram to Rob - with this:


                                        Cheeky bloody bugger!

Game on for Rob. Bear in mind, these guys have never met. They were just having a metaphorical pissing contest on their wives blogs. In the meantime, Beth and I are were frantically tweeting, hoping that maybe after all this crap they'll be too tired for sex anyway? Other people on twitter and Instagram could see it unfolding, and it was bloody hysterical.

So Rob does this pathetic paper airplane and a note to Dave:

Robs note reads: "Well, if you're going to think of me you should know .. for starters, I'm hung like a donkey and have the staying power of Phar Lap."

Ok, so here's where I mention that my husband Dave can be quite .... competitive. He turns to me - WINCING IN PAIN from possible cancer tumours, asking me where is that intricate green paper Japanese origami card we gave Max three years ago? I said I did not know. Dave spent twenty goddamn minutes looking for that infernal origami foldout piece.

You know when you just KNOW you won't be able to find something? Well, I knew. But Dave kept looking, man. I got bored and went to watch TV.

Dave was dejected. And possibly facing more chemo, or death, or some shit. I had a brainwave. "Look, hon, use Max's Lego Guggenheim Museum from New York and spread out on the bed like you're about to get lucky."

So he did.

I believe Dave's last words to Rob were "Maaaate. Game, set, and match."

::

It was all funny and frivolous and stupid. Much how blogging can be, sometimes. But you know what? For about half an hour, Dave stopped thinking about how scared he was about his cancer coming back and just had FUN. And that was from Beth and her great sport hubby Rob. (Sidenote - we still do not know what caused Dave's intense pain that week. I don't care - it wasn't cancer? All I need to know. Good luck with your ulcer or hernia or appendix hon. Stop terrifying me.)

Beth got quite a few nasty comments on her blog this week, which I believe were uncalled for. She even did a vlog addressing her hater. Which I think is GOLD. Everybody's blog is different - man, I can't even DESCRIBE my blog. Beth writes with humour and passion and she loves beautiful things and arranging her house. Her family made a HUGE move from Sydney to the bloody country recently. Takes balls to do that. Takes balls to write honestly on the internet. She takes cool photos and she dares to write that she hates the park and she once tweeted that "Honestly, the only place for egg sandwiches is at a wake."

Beth, if I die before you, can you PLEASE bring egg sangers to my wake? With old school parsley sprinkled on top, not continental? I'd be honoured.

I don't think we should compare blogs. Especially if you've never read one before and you land on one and some white housewife is talking about her new BIN? OUTRAGEOUS!

Because, for all you know, that white housewife may have been up all night tending to her children. Sitting at the end of their beds while they go to sleep. Or had a fight with her best mate. Or had a dodgy pap smear. Or just struggled with life - because life is so hard and people are starving in the world and the planet could be doomed! THAT'S why we're all so bloody crazy!

A white housewife dares to make a warm and inviting space for her family and friends. That white housewife may have had a complete sobbing breakdown crouched down on her haunches in the middle of her kitchen and caught her reflection in the bin and thought, wow, I love this bin.

And blogged, simply, that she loved her bin.

There's always more to life than what we portray to the world. If you're nasty to somebody else, you're probably the nastiest to yourself. And that's pretty sad.

- Funniest sidenote in all the land: That night, laying in bed, Dave was still laughing at the pics going back and forth to Rob. And Dave asked me, "Hon, did ya text him the last one?" And in that moment I realised that he thought we'd been just texting the whole time, not - you know, uploading potentially embarrassing photos to the internet. I laughed so hard the bed shook, and Dave thought I was laughing from the "texts." I am evil.
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