Right. A web site. O-kaaaay.
It seems it’s one of those things you do, right? Like in the ‘60s you got a pixiecut and a miniskirt, then graduated to bellbottoms and platform shoes, litres of mascara and the Mary Quant/Vidal Sassoon geometric look. In the ‘70s you wore trailing embroidered muslin gowns that reeked of patchouli, tried smoking dope (but didn’t inhale) and moved in with your boyfriend. Forget the ‘80s --dull, dull, dull, working was serious shit and no-one actually listened to disco music, did they, hey? Answer me that. The ‘90s were all about PCs and mobile phones, cruising the Information Superhighway (remember when they actually called it that?) and discovering that banal is banal in any medium.
So here I am. I KNOW every semi-literate 12 year old already has their own web page, and no-one else bothers unless they’ve got something to sell or, occasionally, something rilly rilly interesting, useful, funny or grotesque to share with the world (and in that case it's more likely a blog or MySpace -- shudder). (Oh, not forgetting pornographers, sad men with little weenies and government departments, of course). I never claimed to be on the cutting edge of social revolution.
JUST THE FACTS, MA’AM
My name’s Vicki and I live in Ipswich, Queensland (yes,Australia, that’s right).
I’m 52, and married to Tony, 63, a former Englishman (about whom I intend to say little, silly old sod). We have two daughters now aged 29 and 27 (or at least I do, but Tony has been their dad for 20-something years and I intend to say even less about their biological father), two delightful grandsons (have I mentioned my grandsons?), a number of assorted fish and, grudgingly, a cat. Our two dogs, who were neither use nor ornament, passed on to the Great Smelly Couch in the Sky a while back, and so far we haven't felt inclined to seek canine company on a permanent basis again.
Tony drives a cab. I work on a casual/consulting basis for the goverment disability service, after giving up fulltime work with them several years ago (more on that later). Apart from occasional paid work, I spend time with my grandsons (have I mentioned them?): read a lot: muck about with the computer (nothing clever, sorry, just a terminal user or whatever you call it): bead, knit and stuff like that: do stuff with my family: doodle around with this and that...cripes, what DO I do all day? Dunno really. I figure, when I reached the late 40s I earned the right to indulge in a little pointless time-wasting whimsy. So there.
DESCRIPTIVE BLURB
And so here. What IS in here?
[Pause to rummage in pile of old envelopes and scraps torn from notebooks]...Well, there’s a bit about me, of course: you can skip that bit, I won’t mind a jot, truly. It’s okay, I’m a mother, I’m used to being ignored, discarded and taken for granted. You go on ahead without me,I’ll be fine...
Oh, you want to see some pictures of my kids?? Sure, great, I just happen to have a couple of dozen here...I’m sure I saw them just the other day...in that box the toaster came in, maybe -- the one over there next to the laser printer that’s too expensive to fix but too good to throw away. ‘Sokay, I know I can lay my hands on them, just give me a sec.
(Hey, while you’re waiting, take a look at my gorgeous elder grandson, only the smartest and best-looking kid in the known universe. Or the younger one? Ah bless! Isn't he just precious? (Oh alright, stop gagging)...What, you want to see a picture of my husband? You jest. Hmmph, all right, if you must, I believe there’s a reasonably well-preserved daguerreotype of him somewhere in that shoebox with the ones of the rest of the family. Prepare to be overcome with disappointment, and don’t say I didn’t warn you).
POSTMENOPAUSAL THEMES AND FUNCTIONALITY/DYSFUNCTIONALITY MOTIFS IN THE MIDDLE PERIOD WORKS OF THE AUTHOR: Tired Clichés as Tired Clichés for Life, the Universe and Monumental Tedium
They say every web site should have a theme...
...(and they, as you well know, will say damned near anything). So I have a theme. Work it out for yourself. As to how I got this way, I have cunningly provided a Great Big Clue -- several, in fact.
There’s a bunch of other stuff tucked away in here as well. What I did on my summer holidays. Gratuitous advice (take it or leave it, I won’t care -- much. No, really). Secret Big Sisters'’ Business. Hints on Skills Every Girl is Sure to Need, and a few others besides. Mumblings, rants, dreadful verse, you know, like that.
A WOMAN OF MANY AND MANIFEST TALENTS
If you want to give me job (minimal hours, work from home, embarrassingly munificent salary only, please) -- you can trust me. Really.
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