Saturday, 2 December 2006

Au Revoir, Blog Amies!

“No, Lonie! Don’t leave us bereft of your humorous, polony-based rants for a whole week!” I hear my thousands of fanatical readers cry out in despair as they tear out handfuls of their hair. “How will we cope with our dreary, polony-free days? We’ve tried other blogs but Lonie™ Polony is the only polony guaranteed to be 100% rectum free! WE DON’T LIKE RECTA!”

And then I snap out of my oh-so-delightful dream.

Unlike many self-aggrandising fantasies, this one does contain a few grains of truth: No-one likes recta, except as necessary parts of the body’s waste-removal system (and possibly those people who consider it a delicacy. I don’t know who such people might be, and don’t care to accept any dinner invitations from them); Lonie™ Polony is the only polony guaranteed to be 100% rectum free; and I am leaving bloggerland for a week.

The suitcase and carry-on bag are finally packed, and yet again I’m amazed the clothes and miscellany for Miss Lonie, Master Lonie and I have all fitted. I try not to think about the return journey, when the suitcase will be bulging and straining at the zips because I can’t be arsed packing with anything approaching the same amount of care.

Mr. Lonie is snoring on the couch – in my obtuseness I thought this was the opposite of what he intended to do when he declared he would stay awake tonight – until it’s time to set out at the unusually ‘eff off! I’m sleeping!’ time of 3 a.m. on the way to his junket in New Zealand.

The fruits of my womb and I are to make the less physically arduous but perhaps more psychologically straining journey to the town of Wynyard with my progressively batty parents, to visit my grandmother. A week with my parents?! Wish me luck.


Anonymous said...

I'd never survive a week with my parents...

My prayers are with you. ;)


Anonymous said...

Adieu Lonie P. fare yee well and travel safely till you are welcomed back into the expansive bosom of the Blogosphere! Would it be OK if I come with you next time?

Anonymous said...

au revoir aussie (pun, geddit??)
Whe we left Brisbane this am, my brother-in-law put a carry-on bag with 20kg of 'found' golf balls in the trunk of the taxi without telling me (sure, he told Heckle and Jeckle, but why would a teenage boy say anything sensible to their mother?)We were stuck with the horrid thing!
I'd already done web checkin and boarding passes, so we had to carry this bag on with us. Bloody airport security let us get away with it, for heaven's sake.
I hope your rellies are better than mine....

Lonie Polony said...

Tee hee! Thanks for the kind thoughts, Steven. They must have helped because I managed to minimise my reactive contribution to the madness.

Mutley: trust me, you would not want to accompany me anywhere my parents are.

Foodkitty: Obvious truths about loving our families aside for ranting purposes, based on the golf ball story, my family kicks your family's bottom when it comes to infuriating behaviour.