Little Barry Special's Christmas Wish...

‘Little Barry Special’s Christmas Wish’  - 16^th December, 2013

Dear Santa

I have been a very well behaved, hard working farmer this year & have just one thing I would like in my Santa stocking on Christmas morning…

A brand new wife!

Now I don’t mean to appear ungrateful, but my current one is really mean, disrespectful, pretty much over the hill & keeps writing stories about me.  I am even prepared to consider a trade-in to sweeten the deal.

My new wife should be very young & extremely hot, extraordinarily naïve & have a solid understanding of a woman’s place in the home, circa 1918.  She needs to be anally retentive when it comes to housework & never make fun of my sweeping...allow me to eat white bread (with every meal), & be ready & waiting at the door when I get home each night with a frosty Corona in one hand & chops & three veg in the other. 

I don’t particularly care where she comes from, as long as it’s not Victoria. 

She should have the IQ of a newt & never talk back, use sarcasm, roll her eyes, make obscene gestures behind my back or make fun of me.  In fact she doesn’t even have to speak English, as long as she laughs at my jokes, even though she may have heard them once or twice before (!), & understands the ‘international language’…of lurve!!

I would like her interests to include…vacuuming, ironing, cooking…for me, shooting parrots, taking out the garbage, mowing the lawn & watching me play hockey.

I would also be terribly grateful if she harboured an intense dislike for pets, especially Labradors, the Hawthorn Football team, Keith Urban & skiing.

She would never ever criticise my driving or make fun of my handyman skills & would rush to my defence should I make an uncharacteristic social faux pas, instead of just sitting back grinning, allowing me to dig an even bigger hole for myself. 

Under no circumstances would she ever refer to me as Mr Special or Barry & she would have no computer or typing skills, which may lead to unwanted story telling…in fact she should be illiterate!

She would bare me children that didn’t make mess, were cheap to maintain, never ate in the car, fight or speak unless spoken to…they could even be mute!

She should never use logic or reason should we ever have a disagreement, & park as far away from the supermarket as possible, so as not to sustain any dings on the car from run-away trolley’s or other car doors. 

Well, I think that’s about it Santa, as I said, I have been very good this year, & will be sure to have my stocking ready & waiting in anticipation of you feeling as sorry for me as I feel for myself!

Your friend

Little Peter Cowcher

From Barry, his mean wife & family of little (definitely not mute) Specials we wish

you all a safe, happy & wonderful

Festive Season & a healthy & prosperous New Year....

Mr Special Is...Barry Claus!!

Mr Special Is… ‘Barry Claus!’ 2^nd December, 2013

In many a household at this time of the year, “ Tis the season to be jolly”, but for Barry & the household of, ‘Special’, we hear more “fa la la la laa’s”, than is really necessary, borderline uncouth & enough to make Santa glad that he lives at the other end of the earth, where he doesn’t have to hear about it…which is where I sometimes wish I lived!

Barry Claus, who, I suspect, would like to cancel Christmas altogether, simply because it interferes with a perfectly good work day, would be in a home for the ‘imaginarily insane’ if he were to actively embrace anything to do with Christmas that didn’t extend beyond eating yabbies & drinking beer.

I know I’m not alone…I can feel the collective nodding…

Curiously however, the Boxing Day test doesn’t seem to interfere with a perfectly good work day, so maybe instead of writing letters to Santa, we should all be encouraging our kids to send text messages to Warney…at least they’d receive an interesting, if not inappropriate, reply!

Please allow me to paint a brief Barry Claus ‘Ideal Christmas Scenario’ for you…

1.                  No living Christmas tree, they shed more than a dog….but if we HAVE to have a tree, I will go out into the woods & illegally chop one down (for free…free being the operative word!)

2.                  No parties, they just create work, are expensive & I haven’t got time.

3.                  No Christmas Carols, they are all lame…unless sung by Toto, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin or me!

4.                  No fancy meal….we have yabbies, they are free…but I will somehow overlook the fact that they are being washed down by my ‘definitely-not-free’ Corona’s!

5.                  Christmas cards are a complete waste of time & money & should be banned

6.                  Absolutely no presents that require the use of an alan key, socket set or arrive in a flat pack…we once spent four hours on Christmas eve putting together a bike…& don’t ever mention the rabbit hutch!

7.                  If you REALLY feel the need to give a gift, wrapping it is a total waste of time – the bag it was given to you in IS the wrapping

8.                  Roast Turkey…really!  A tasteless, dry & overpriced Chicken on steroids…now Beef, that’s tasty &….again…free!!

9.                  Christmas afternoon should be spent….sleeping…

10.              & even though you’ve just spent a good part of the day asleep, be sure to get to bed early so as you are well rested & ready to sit in front of the tv all day watching cricket, eating yabbie sandwiches & complaining about the mess

Unfortunately for Mr Special his long suffering wife & children happen to love Christmas.   I come from a family that also loves Christmas & Barry nearly had a fit the first time he spent a Christmas with us all….for starters we had a real tree, that wasn’t stolen, ate a big extravagant lunch…which included turkey & ‘twas not a yabbie in sight!  Gave each other ‘wrapped’ presents, played Christmas carols, which I must admit were fairly horrendous…but that’s what you do & stayed awake all day.  I think he’s still getting over the experience!

So from all of us here in Barry Special’s world we wish you a very Merry Christmas, full of all the ‘Joys to the World’ & minimal ‘Fa la la la laa’s’…

HAVE YOURSELVES A VERY SPECIAL CHRISTMAS 

Jen ox

Barry Special is - Mista Fashionista!!

Barry Special…Mista fashionista! 21 October, 2013

If the Twelfth Man was to do a spoof on Mr Special’s fashion favourites a la Richie Benaud styley, “the crème, the eggshell, the beige, the bone, the white, the off white”...Mr Special’s favourites would go down in history as the following...“the blue, the powder blue, the royal blue, the midnight blue & the 80’s chambray”, such is his penchant for ‘sporting the blues’… so much so that we can confidently quote the ‘Village People’, as he’s well & truly, “In the Navy!”

On a recent shopping ‘event’ in Perth, (‘tis an event as it’s something we both hate to do, & doing it together only makes the experience all the more arduous!), Mr Special was ‘let loose’ in Myer, $30 gift voucher in hand, & was on a mission to find a new article of clothing to add to his already ‘Imelda Marcos’ sized wardrobe.  Already being, ‘up to Pussy’s bow’, with our... ‘death by shopping’ experience, I decided to...accidentally, on purpose get lost & knowing that Mr Special would be fussing around for many an hour…went to visit the makeup counter on the next floor for some, ‘Botox in a bottle’!  Upon my return to the ‘Men’s section’, (Botox free, but sporting a very nice new perfume which differed remarkably to my usual scent of soap & sausage rolls!), I finally found Barry – after three goes up & down the escalator…us shorter types are often hard to find in big department stores, we tend to disappear behind the myriad of clothing racks, only adding to my dislike of clothes shopping – who had, draped over his forearms (as you may recall being one of his best assets!), a truckload of polo shirts in every colour of the rainbow, as long as that rainbow was blue…the powder blue, the royal blue…you get the picture...remember!!  After much persuasion &, many, “you’ve gotta be kidding me’s...”, ‘we’ decided on a very nice striped polo – navy & white….& being a ‘glass half full’ kinda gal, I saw it as a half a win!

 

Frugal Fashionista…

Often in family life, I feel we walk a fine line, & one particular line we seem to be constantly walking with Barry is that of, “At what point does frugal become feral?”…I ask you, pulling out old socks, jocks, pj’s & boxers from the bin (where I try to dispose of said items ‘gracefully’), to use as ‘rags’…Frugal or Feral?

I must admit that over the past ten years or so, I have purposefully hidden any bras destined for the bin, for fear of one day seeing them atop a cattle crate or auger, ’cause, “you can’t waste good wire!!”

The one time the ‘hiding of the smalls’, did back fire on me however, was a few year’s ago, when a trip to the tip was required, & unfortunately a pair of Barry’s, Homer Simpson boxer shorts, (which amazingly enough were not blue!), flew out of a rubbish bag on Carne Road on their way to the tip, (yes, I had hidden them…no elastic in the waist…not attractive!), ‘twas a mid-week tip run, & they landed smack bang, in the middle of the road – I saw them on my way home from town...giggled…& kept driving…& so did a certain neighbour…& much to Mr Special’s disgust…so did his mum!!  On his way home however…Barry stopped…picked them up & let it be said…was not happy!  Since then I have never disposed of another pair of Barry’s boxer shorts…so little elastic…so wrong… but I am a woman of my word!!

Fail Fashionista…

And so in closing…you may think me harsh…but please stay with me for one more minute while I recount last summer’s, ‘Dilemma of the Thong’…!

If you found, after a day spent with family at Rockingham beach, (the home of the ‘byo sofa & trolley on the sand’ on Australia Day), a pair of, perfectly good, sadly abandoned thongs…size 8, (as it turns out, just Barry’s size), lying in the sand…looking lonely & sad, would you:

a/ walk away, thinking…”papilloma, foot fungus…wrong”!

b/ “hmm…just my size, nothing wrong with pre-loved – potential find...hang on...the ball & chain is watching...might make it into the next Williams news...act disinterested & walk away...you can always come back later”!   Or/

c/ “fabulous opportunity…free thongs…one man’s loss is another farmer’s gain” – pick them up & continue on your merry way, very proud of your latest find!

I leave you with this unfortunately very real quandary...Frugal...or just terribly Feral??

Jen

What sort of man is Mr Special??

“What sort of man is Mr Special...?” (Part One)

One of the questions that I am constantly asked since Mr Special shot to fame a year or so ago, is, “what sort of a man is Mr Special...really?” 

In an attempt to get to the bottom of this quandary, I believe a dissection is in order, as I do feel that Mr Special is somewhat like an onion, & not just because at times he can be so aggravating it’s enough to make one’s eyes water!  He is a man of many a layer, some annoying, some, not so annoying, but always with the undertone of...special!

An Old Soul...

Or more accurately....an Old Woman’s Soul!  Some days I’ll sit back & casually watch him go about his daily ritual...yelling at the kids, yelling at the dogs, anally sweeping the floors until the skin on his little hands begin to blister & bleed & I can very clearly envisage him in a floral house coat with a little apron on, curlers in the hair...muttering beneath his breath, “why am I the only person in this house who respects things??”

Somewhat Accident Prone...

Some days I am quietly comforted in the knowledge that should something ridiculously comical befall someone in our family, it will...without fail, befall Barry!

For example, one evening myself & Barry went out in Perth for a ‘romantic’ dinner, just the two of us, which unfortunately ended in a pre-marital spat (over what I can’t remember), & Barry huffed off across the road, in his sensible little navy jacket & good shoes, (as the restaurant had a ‘no sneakers’ policy!), when he stepped off the curb & smack bang into a pothole full of freshly poured concrete...Jenny – 1, Peter – nil!!

A Lover of ‘Pets’...

One of my favourite days of late, was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning when our friends decided it would be a good idea (& an extremely amusing one), to take Mr Special to the doggy beach, (& anyone who knows Barry well, would know that this was his equivalent to a day trip to hell!).  To enhance the experience, our friends also decided it would be a good idea to get breakfast at the McDonald’s drive thru, unbeknown to us however, they ate theirs prior to arriving at the beach, but due to Barry’s anal car antics, we weren’t allowed to eat ours until we arrived at the beach...picture it now...five hundred dogs, one family of idiots & a bag full of Maccas...(at this point it would be pertinent to mention that Barry was also sporting a rather gargantuan hangover at the time!). 

Needless to say it didn’t end well, ‘Max’ the Labrador did a flying leap through us all & grabbed Charlie’s hash brown, straight out of his hand, leaving only the wrapper & crying child in his wake, & another nameless canine scored two of Macy’s pancakes, again, cue the crying child! 

My very favourite part of the morning however, & one that has left a lasting impression on me & our friends, is when Mr Special got out of the car, looked down at the beach full of canine love, shook his head & whispered, ever so mournfully, “soooo many dogs!”

Hearing Impaired

Unfortunately, my frequent suggestions of a trip to the Lion’s Hearing Van, often falls on ‘deaf ears’, literally.

You be the judge...recently I said to Barry, “Soph wants us to take her to see the Duyfken”, to which he responded, “no way!”...because, after careful cross examination, he thought I said, “Soph wants you to take her surfing!”  & given that Mr Special can’t ride a bike, surfing may present somewhat of a challenge!!

Jen