So The Ashers are on a secret mini-break in New Farm.  Secret because we are at Mum’s joint (who is currently holidaying herself around bloody Europe on my inheritance), and we haven’t told her.

We have availed ourselves of the house rules:

Please take note of rule #1.

We have already broken that one (we have Evil Geniuses remember).  Plus 2, 3, 7 and 8.  We plan on breaking 4 and 5 shortly.

But I digress.

The real purpose of this blog is that we went to NEW FARM PARK.  The best and most dangerous park in the Southern Hemisphere.  Have you been?  It’s amazing, in that the park is built into the wizened old Moreton Bay Figs.  It’s sweet.  I’ll take some pics tomorrow if I can be bothered.. I didn’t have the foresight to take the camera today.  To up the ante I took a friend who has no children.  So that was fun.  Or something.

Here are the things we saw:

• A man who’s pants were so low we could see in excess of 4cms of flabby white person builders’ crack.  This was highly undesirable.
• Parents paying no attention to their own children what-so-ever, and then asking the other child (who was approximately four) “Where’s your brother?”  Met by blank stares.  Now I don’t wanna dis New Farm, but let’s face it, it has a very ‘mixed’ residency.  So this is not particularly good parenting.  Or safe.
• Tattoos, piercings, small people climbing up extremely high things, children getting kicked in the back, small people falling off very high things, volleyball, a wedding, tightrope walkers, crying children, drunk adults, a throw ball game, a dodgy dude who may or may not have been looking for a kid to steal- or a drink, laughing children, kids drunk on spinning, some mums who may or may not have been drinking screwdrivers, and one little lemony-skinned fairy (mine).

So all in all, a pretty good initiation for my mate into the “other world” that exists that side of a viable uterus.  I think there’s a fair chance her womb is now barren.

Now excuse me, we have this to attend to:

This is what happens when you have mates with no kids. #winning

See you on the other side…

…From The Ashers xx

Yesterday I purchased my Sweet Ride, Ouiser Boudreaux, so we lost her maidenhead took her on her maiden voyage, on the Tour de Peregian.  The Tour, as we like to call it, was exactly like the other Tour, other than there were no hills.  Or French people.  Or actual exertion.  We did have rolls though, so: baguettes.

All was well, and all would be well, until we decided we would like to feed the canards (French for ducks) some of our baguettes.  The ducks were there, we were there, glutinous blobs at the ready.  Then we saw this:

Duck are gluten free too

ARE YOU KIDDING NOOSA COUNCIL?

Kiddies can no longer feed ducks at a duck pond.  And they should feel very guilty if they have ever done so before.

Nor can they do any of these things:

Fair enough really.  I mean, it’s not as if you come to a park to have any actual fun.   So I shook my UN-HELMETTED head, and cut another lap around the lake, ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE PATH, got a bit thirsty and DRANK WATER FROM THE UNFILTERED TAP and then went into the fenced off park area and LEFT THE GATE OPEN.  I told the kids to do the same, but they just went and sat nicely on the seat until it was time to go home.

Yep, livin’ on the edge, man.

I may have played this Ice T on my iPod on the way home.  I may have played super-soft so the kids couldn’t hear the swears.  Still a rebel though.

Are your parks over-regulated?

What rules are just too hard not to break?