Doesn’t like a fuss…

Yesterday Mr Woog celebrated a birthday. Now, he is not one for a fuss, but I believed that a little garden party was in order to celebrate. But keeping in mind that he “doesn’t like a fuss,” I kept things very simple.

Which could have also meant quite lame.

One lonely balloon hang from the tree outside the house. The Divine Ms M took a photo of it and commented that it was the saddest thing she had seen for quite some time. But I thought perhaps the traditional car-port set up, may have been a little sadder. I mean, take a look at that sign…

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Our family has a thing about balloons. We all hate them. I have been the longest term hater, as once one popped in my face when I was a kid. The same thing happened to Horatio when he was at Bunnings once. So all up, there were only 4 balloons in total. It is an actual thing, ballon phobia. Taken from wiki –¬†Generally, globophobics will refuse to touch, feel, or go near a balloon for fear it will pop.

“Where did all these children come from?” Dr. Woog announced. For there were STACKS of kids aged from 3 up till 14. And they were everywhere. I loved it! I asked two of the little girl toddlers to go pick me some flowers. And they massacred Mr. Woog’s beloved geraniums, which were originally a cutting from the Hungarian Nursing home that his grandma was in. MASSACRED.

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Mr. Woog is quite the eccentric bloke, and finds glee from collecting strange things and placing them about the garden. Like this thing. What a scary, strange thing.

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Now I have this theory that the more fuss you endure when it comes to entraining, the less fun you actually had on the day. I was able to show the crowd how to plank for ten seconds, while mildly intoxicated. There was applause, but not much. There should have been more, considering I had done it in a full length Camilla kaftan, endangering its existence and putting grass stains on it.

But by jove, isn’t it good to catch up with family and friends? Dad and the Wicked Step Mother are overseas, so they were a no show. Dad is over there writing the great Australian Novel. (From London).

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Mum and niece Ella. Mum is a red hot spunk.

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Jack turned to his “go-to” party outfit, which he pulls off with aplomb. There was a disco involved, of course. ¬†Here you can see him showing his displeasure at the noise, while Harry teaches a little gang of boys how to pack down in a scrum. There there is a shot of the Birthday Boy (in black.) He likes to remain anonymous. So we are quite opposite. Adore him heaps.

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Mrs Goodman provided a 5 star, award worthy pavlova for dessert, by which time everyone was in full swing. It was just after this that I decided I really should jump on the trampoline. I was fairly confident that I would not piss on it, like the last time I tried. There was me and 3 mates, and we hit that vinyl like women possessed. And then I did a bum-drop that went askew so I could not get up for the laughter. Then evil Mrs Spark kept double-bouncing me, as a screamed for mercy. (and maybe did a little dribble.. just saying).

By the time I went to bed, Mr Woog was sitting out in that carport with a mate, solving the problems of the world over a red. Because he doesn’t like a fuss.

How do you entertain?

Do you go the whole hog, or are you a little lame, like me!