The Bogan Box Set

This was going to be a simple post about how much I hate some popular car stickers, but while writing it I discovered it’s more a post about judgment.

It’s true. I hate some of the currently popular car stickers. And while it is your free choice to put one of those stickers on your car, it is my choice is judge you. Let me explain…

 Frangipani, No Fear, JetPilot, Silver ferns, Southern Crosses and Playboy Bunny stickers started it off. Totally bogan and completely judged. They explain to the rest of society just what sort of person you are.  And I can say this having driven (my husbands) VP Commodore emblazoned with JetPilot on the rear window for a number of years.  

Then there were the My Family stickers. Now while I’m happy enough for parents to have those “Baby on Board” stickers or hanging things in their cars, I’m sure they’re put there in the hopes that if your car was skidding uncontrollably down the road and you had the choice of smashing into one of two cars, you’d steer towards the one without the “Baby on Board” sign (hopefully). But the My Family stickers upset me. When they exploded themselves all over a large number of rear windows around the place my first thought was for the families who couldn’t have children. Here were these other child abundant families parading around their insane number of children. I felt sad for the childless families. My attitudes shifted slightly when I realised that there were a large number of families driving around with the same father, mother, son or daughter as so many other families. I mean exactly the same family member as so many other families. How is that possible? It’s insane! And just as insane are the people who have a picture representing themselves and their pets. A single woman and 12 turtles. Worse still, a single person and 20 fish bowls.  I’ve seen it. Or just a pet picture. What are you? A horse?!  I think it’s just stupid. Which is why you won’t ever see a My Family sticker on my car. Ever.

I could keep going.  Window flags, reindeer antlers, red noses, eyelashes… the list of bogan car accessories just keeps getting bigger.

Seriously?!

But onto the judgment. Why should I judge someone who has one of those bogan stickers on their car? Why do I even consider them bogan stickers? Why do I judge that girl wearing leggings as pants? Furry ugg boots and short shorts? Any guy wearing jeans tighter than mine? I don’t know, but I do. I’d would have told you I’m a pretty non-judgmental person. In fact a friend of my husband came out to me before Patrick (who he’d been friends with forever) because I’m “alternative and will get it”. But to kill my lovely non-judgmental buzz, there’s Patrick who when I mention my non-judging attitudes scoffed and accused me of being a bitch. A bitch?! You really think so?  I’m not a bitch. I just comment honestly on what I see and think. Sometimes too honestly. But I’m not one for stirring up controversy.  I won’t say something just to upset someone or to stir trouble. Ok, there was that one time at the local pub though… I expressed my opinions of the pub & its clientele (to my friends) but unfortunately it was heard by the local bar fly and well, things got ugly.

And I’m happy to agree to disagree. Just don’t try to win your point over on me if I’m not into it. You’re just inviting a whole world of trouble you don’t want start and cementing my disdain of you for a lifetime to come.

So call me a judgmental bitch if you want. It’s your choice to judge me. But unless I’ve judged you harshly, I’d rather you thought I was opinionated!  

Man Land, Reborn

The History of Man Land:

We moved into our house about 5 years ago. At that time, it was November, it was the hottest Summer on record and I was very pregnant with our first child. We had previously lived in a 1.5 bedroom flat. Perfect for our life back then, but not where we wanted to raise our child. So we found the house. It was big! It had bedrooms, a double garage, a rumpus room and a shed. A very big shed.

Not being boats or caravan people (and having previously come from a very tiny flat) we didn’t have much to put in the shed but over time that changed. In the beginning we used it as storage. Anything that didn’t fit in the house went in the shed. Anything useful or potentially useful went in the shed. And anything friends or family couldn’t store went in the shed.

Shortly after our daughter was born, Patrick realised his life long dream of owning a pool table. We had discussions where the table should go. In the shed and start the creation of Man Land? Or in the rumpus room and start a “pool room”? Both were good options but hindsight is a marvelous thing. I was a new mum, I was sleep deprived and I was mentally in love with my tiny daughter. There was no way I was going to leave her sleeping in the house while I went out to the shed to shoot some pool. Patrick’s motives were slightly more concerned with his new “baby”. He couldn’t even think of putting the pool table out in the shed. It belonged in the rumpus room/pool room and that was the final word. And so the pool room was born.

Years passed with BBQ’s and pool games. Lily was born and Ava was growing fast. Baby items were stored in the shed, along with 2nd hand furniture that might come in handy and furniture of friends/family moving house. And there were toys. Lots of toys! As the girls grew up, pool games stopped being so frequent. Patrick was concerned that they would damage the table unintentionally and it was getting harder to play a proper game around all the toys. At different times we discussed moving the pool table into the shed, but Patrick wouldn’t hear of it.

Until one day, frustrated with all the dolls, prams, Barbie’s and little girls toys taking over the lounge room, Patrick declared “This is ridiculous! The girls need a play room!!”

And so Man Land was reborn.

It took some time, and a lot of orginisation but we are well on our way. And if anyone ever asks you to help them move a pool table, say no! It took 5 adults and not just a few cross words & eye rolling moments to move the table from the rumpus into the shed. I’ve set the goal to be completed by Christmas and I’m pretty certain we’ll make it. Man Land will be an ongoing process though. Continually adding extra bits here and tweaking things there. But it will be a fun ride.