Showing posts with label Mummy Blogger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mummy Blogger. Show all posts

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Punk and Blanket and The Mummy Blogger; Chapter 3; Exodus


As you guys all know we have a history of confrontation in the face of dumbness.  We don't often start a fight but we normally finish it.  So it was with some surprise that we found ourselves in mediation with our office-mate, Mia the mummy blogger.

It started as most modern spats do, with a tweet.  We were researching images of Prince Andrew sweating and grinding for our cartoons when we saw a headline about The Australian of The Year 2015 recipient.  Shocked, confused we shot out a quick tweet.


We were trying to render Andrew's teeth when two uniformed police officers appeared in tow with Mia.  She was a weird mix of scared and smug.  The officers asked if we were punk and blanket and we said yes.  We reach for pens assuming they want an autograph but they say they have reason to believe that our conduct has been of a threatening nature to our office mate and that she no longer feels safe to be near us in the workplace.  We know it's not a joke as Mia doesn't have a sense of humour.  For sometime we remained silent, as silent as Gerard Baden-Clay taking the 5th.  

Eventually they asked us if we had any understanding of why Mia might be afraid. We kept staring blankly. Constable Bethany Brown in a tough little girl voice goes "Mia reckons you guys published a hateful and provocative attack on survivors of family violence, accompanied by menacing visual imagery. Have you guys been on Twitter this afternoon?"

It was impossible to lie. Twitter was open on the desktop of our very large screen Apple MacIntosh computer. We hand the mouse to Constable Beth and her offsider, Constable Dean Marsh. We let them scroll away and got back to the royal teeth. Mia becomes agitated, probably because it's the first time she realises our ambivalence to authority is real. Screeching between the Constables and pointing at the Emojis, she looks like she is on the verge of a panic attack and demands an intervention order.  We know we are living in the era of the sook but that seemed pretty extreme.  The police threw water on her request and suggested it was an issue more suited to mediation.

Brian, our mediator told us that Mia said she needed a support person to 'balance up the room'.  That was fine by us, even though she brought Fi (her grief counsellor who tried to make us rat on Sir Elton) with her.  She had also requested that we not be in the waiting area when she arrived.  That was also fine by us.

The mediation kicked off with Mia telling Brian (reading straight from her copious notes) her reasons as to why her safety was threatened by us. The tweet was just the final straw and confirmed in her mind that we were "probably sociopathic".  She provided an extensive list of transgressions.

1.  They are self-absorbed.  Example, they only blog about themselves and things that only interest them.

2. They are nasty.

3. Uncharitable.  Example, they refuse to support social justice movements like, #jesuischarlie #Istandformercy #Iswear #he4she #everydaysexism #paythewriters #paythedancers #IbreastfeedthereforeIam 

4. Small-Minded

5. Apolitical.

6. So juvenile for educated people.  Example, their bad cartoons.

7. Think they are special because they believe they can channel dead surrealists.

8. They laugh at fat people.  Example, they go deep water running and make jokes about getting caught in the whirlpool of a fat person's slipstream. They say they feel like corks.

9.  They openly tell her small children that their drawings don't look like what they are supposed to be.

10. They never like the pictures of her friends children on Facebook.

11. She has heard that they have invented a parlour game for their parties called Mia Translations where guests have to translate her sayings. "He's been here before", about her middle son, would translate as, "My child is Jesus". 

Addressing us, Brian asked if we would like to put our issues on the table.  We said we are simply here to move forward. Before proceeding to the negotiation phase, Brian called private sessions with each of us. Mia went first, which was great as it gave us some time to smash through a couple of levels of Candy Crush. Brian came back and informed us he was not in a position to relay what Mia had said but that we could now talk freely. We really did feel comfortable with Brian as there was a non-judgemental openness to his bearded face. He looked like a friendly bunyip that would be receptive to our truth. We say Mia has an over-inflated idea about the importance of her blog and we think she has an unhealthy attachment to her followers and her opinions. She doesn't understand what we do and what we stand for, she doesn't know the difference between mischief and contempt. She's always at us to get 'sponsors' for our blog and won't accept that we will never be monetised or appear on The Project. Brian nods and says Mia does appear to be quite opinionated. We raise the hashtag activism scene that Mia is mixed up in, where people wear compassion like they would band t-shirts. Brian indicated he was familiar with these sort of pretenders. He thinks Ben Quilty and his mob of supporters are making it worse for Andrew and Myu. We agree and tell him we call it 'compassion porn' and think it's a really dark practice. Normally in lore, people smudge with sage bundles to dispel bad energy fields. We tell him we believe being in the room during a punk and blanket session is the surrealist equivalent of being smudged and Mia is not changing despite our daily presence. Brian terminated the mediation at that point. 


Monday, July 08, 2013

Jason's List (double click for a better view)


We found this list in Mia "The Mummy Blogger" and Jason's bin. We've seen these venting lists before, written in a stream of consciousness at Dad's in Distress groups. Jason is clearly experiencing early onset self-actualisation.



                             







Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Punk & Blanket & The Mummy Blogger: Chapter 2

We're at a BBQ at Mia's place in Brighton. All of the women have brought earthen bowls of ancient grain salads, some with quenelles of home-made labne. Jason is out the back tea-smoking farmed trout, beaming with smooth pride. A former athlete, Jason unashamedly favours a low-carb beer while Mia churns out carb-less white-spirit cocktails for 'the girls'.

We were a late addition to the evening which had been planned for months. A babysitter was looking after all of their children - except for Flynn, who was asleep in her room - so the parents could have their me time together. They shared stories of birthing, parenting, post-natal depression, teething and growing up too fast. Mia juggled advice, ancient grains, pouring glasses of Tasmanian Rain, all the while cooing into the mouthpiece of her state-of-the-art B&O baby monitor. It was like a Madonna mic with an ear and mouth piece so she can sooth Flynn remotely.



Tania, a mother of twins and mature aged student who'd returned to school to study Natropathy, is sitting next to us and keeps saying 'Isn't Mia great?', but it's not really a question.  She says to us, 'You guys work online too, don't you? Mia's told me your site is really fascinating. It sounds like a terrific idea.' Before we know it, Tania is trying to sniff Sir Elton's private life out of us like a truffle pig. Throwing her off the scent, we tell Tania we make it all up and back-off towards the blokes smoking trout. We often find sanctuary in the comfortable silence of men.

Fiona ('Fi'), a grief counsellor, comes out the back and asks for a puff, she's normally not a smoker but after a few drinks... She used to smoke a lot before she had children and even when they were little babies because 'they didn't know the smell'. The talk of pregnancy segued to a direct line of questioning from Fi about Sir Elton and David's second child. Luckily Mia walked passed and we grabbed her tanned arm, asking to see the baby as we knew our wish would be granted immediately.

All the way up to Flynn's cot, Mia, who is a little bit tipsy now and unsteady on her feet, regales us with Flynn's sleep history and visits to Sleep School. 'I could never leave her with a baby sitter,' she explains, 'The separation anxiety would be too bad.' As we stand by the cot, what Mia calls the 'Love Mobile' hangs above the cradle. It is fashioned from coconut shells with photographs of Mia pulling various faces attached to them, each one a different version of 'the mother'. She lists them for us:

Reassuring mummy
Loving mummy
Happy mummy
Caring mummy
Funny mummy
Unconditional mummy
Concerned mummy
Smiley Face mummy
Silly mummy
Beautiful mummy
Peaceful mummy

...and suggested we try and guess which 'mummy' was which Mia.








Punk & Blanket & The Mummy Blogger: Chapter 1

We have had to sublet part of our workspace due to the Global Financial Crisis which is really hitting Australia hard.  Mia, an online editor and publisher of issues to do with parenting has moved in.  In her application she demonstrated a vast knowledge of our site as she had noted the various ups and downs with our tenuous, volatile relationship with Sir Elton.

Mia has three children with partner Jason: Baxter 6, Atlas 4 and a little girl called Flynn who is 15 months.  She's very busy.  Kerryn, her personal assistant helped her set up her workstation. They've been friends for a really long time and finish each other's sentences. Kerryn is also a mother but only has her children fifty per cent shared care as part of the court order with her ex. As we watched, Mia art directed her 'Wonder Wall', a collection of keepsake images of her family. Kerryn suggested using the proof sheets of Flynn's professional shoot and Mia went with it, deciding on 'eye level, and to the right'.

On her application, Mia had ticked the box for coffee machine. We were slightly deflated when Kerryn unpacked the Nespresso, and with that we discreetly retrieved our Gloria Jean's loyalty cards from the bin. Kerryn was coming at us with Decaffeinato Lungo, we diverted the situation by popping the bottle of Bollinger we'd bought especially for the occasion. As always happens with French, one bottle is never enough. Mia gave Kerryn money to go to the shops and buy three more bottles. Before too long, we were all shouting to each other about ourselves. No one was listening. The last memory is Kerryn shouting down her mobile to her new partner Brendan saying she's maggoted.