Leave the length at the back.

Oh, and I must tell you, I over heard a wonderful conversation last week while young Jeffrey and I were enjoying ourselves immensely in a gorgeous little Cyprian restaurant we had discovered at Byron Bay.

Mercifully, my back was to the table responsible for the disturbance, else the look on my face may have created an even greater social predicament.

The table had a number of younger children, several older people and a lone teenage boy, suffering from acute mortification at being out with such relatives while there were any number of hot German backpackers walking past.

Imagine his agony when his mother's friend or aunt maybe, decided to discuss his hair do.

Off side, I say.
She should face a disciplinary hearing for that.

Regardless, in a lovely loud, nasal Aussie voice, this person told him what was and wasn't right about his appearance and then unfeelingly went on to make suggestions as to how he might look more trendy.

Why isn't trendy a c word?
We all know it should be, and I for one, am going to start spelling it with a silent c.

In fact, I'm going to try doing that to every word I don't like, starting now.
Csorry, but my conscience is quite the cbossy cmoralising cdictator.

OK, I'll stop now.

Well anyway, her advice to this poor chap was as follows...

"You should cut your hair like my son. You know, short and the front and long at the back."


--------------- O M F G -------------------


You mean, like, into a mullet, you stupid bitch?

Go get fucked, take less cheap oestrogen, lower your voice and mind your own fucking business, you insensitive, impertinent old mole!

Well, that's pretty much what I suspect that young man was thinking. Quite right too.

I believe he was also picturing himself throttling the crass life out of her bossy, menopausal head, right there at that very table - knocking plates of fetta and olives onto the floor as he did so.
Surely no-one could have blamed him for that.
Don't the Greeks and Cypriates smash plates as a symbol of controlled loss anyway?

Not guilty, Your Honour...

And so folks, that's how it happens. That's how the mullet is still around for us to enjoy today.
And these people drive cars and are counted alongside us as members of the community...

Not too long ago, as I was having my own hair cut - a task I truly loathe, I took the time to ask the hairdresser what people request when they get a mullet.

She replied that they never ask for a mullet as such, but that they just say, "cut the front pretty short and leave the length at the back."


Of course, translated, that means,

" My mother's my cousin, Pappy done built us a trailer out of twigs and coke cans, but only 9 of my 11 ADHD children fit in it. Got any white bread?"

All that aside, Cyprian food really is very nice.
Not as simple or salty as Greek fare, and they really know what they're doing with lamb.
Hallelujah! We both really like lamb.
We stalked around Europe questing for even the smallest morsel, earlier in the year. Finally found it in Paris, courtesy of a Greek restaurant. I suspect we may have paid close to $40 each for a shish, but, mmmmmmmmmm lamb...

A couple of years ago, as we were driving through the NSW countryside towards Braidwood, Jeff was looking apologetically out the window at the sheep who were grazing peacefully, and was heard to refer to them as, "...poor delicious bastards..."

So true.

Certainly more delicious than mullet anyway.

Kiss off.

I have so many issues around social kissing that I really don't know where to begin.

Obviously there are rules and stringent social expectations that I'm simply not privy to.
Seriously, I just don't have a clue what's going on when it starts up.
How does that happen to a child born of two European parents?
Never mind that, how is it still happening to a woman partnered into a decent sized Lebanese family these last nineteen years?
The mind boggles.

With this in mind, I'm sure that if you're able, you'll help me by setting me straight on a few basic points.
And please, speak slowly. I'm not only blonde on this subject, but truth be told, I have no real will to reform at all.
I just have to know, that's all.
I'm not planning on changing. Don't get excited. I would just like to be able to gauge exactly how much offense I'm causing so that I may enjoy it more completely. ;O)

So, here are some of the concerns I have in regards to this most unhygienic practice.

• How many kisses do you actually need? Seriously, just from the perspective of efficiency alone, coming back for the second or third kiss is just wasteful. And awkward. I can't do it. I all but end up head butting people in my efforts to abort. Honestly, would you shake someone's hand three times?
  
• Is there a kissing hierarchy? What is it? For God's sake, someone, tell me what it is! Must I start with the eldest person? What if I get that wrong? How rude. Isn't that worse than not kissing them at all? Too much pressure.
  
• Do I start with the person I've known the longest?
• Hello and goodbye?
• Why can't I just kiss the people I like, when I like?
  
• What happens if you kiss one person once, but the others twice, or even thrice? Is it competitive?
  
• Can you kiss a whole room full of people, yet skip just that one person you've never seen before in your life?
• How long after meeting someone do you need to start kissing them?
  
• Why can't I just smile and wave?
• Anyone except me remember stranger danger?
• Is it really such a big deal if sometimes I kiss you and sometimes I don't?

Look, there's plenty more, but as usual, it's getting me all worked up and confused.
Rabid blonde deer in the headlights.

Anyway, don't tell me there aren't rules. There bloody well are so.
You all know them and I don't.

But I'll tell you this, I'm adding one of my own.
But I'm going to be decent enough to tell you what it is.

ONE!
YOU GET ONE!


Use it wisely and if you have a problem with it, kiss off.