Flopsy, Mopsy and Nibbles

I've been driving kilometres recently. Lot and lots of kilometres. Luckily, I've had the world's trashiest music to guide the way. When was the last time you all listened to 92.9 or 93.7? They're playing this rad new song called Good Girl. I like to belt the lyrics somewhat loudly. Also I only just saw the video a second ago - you can guarantee that some of those d-floor moves will be emulated in Melbourne over the weekend. (Sister Al and I have a penchant for stealing daggy moves..) and when did being a 'good girl' equate to wearing a school uniform? It's like the western world has yet to discover anime porn.

As well as driving kilometres, I've been in Busselton with my family - which includes two little nieces and one not-so-little-anymore nephew. Lets call them um. Flopsy, Mopsy and ah. Nibbles. Flopsy, the eldest is into animations, sci-fi and apparently this new board-game called War on Terror. He fabricated some of the rules in order to slaughter me, but you can imagine the basic plot:

1. Create an Empire (I called mine Hezbolah)

2. Buy villages, towns or cities in your preferred nations (I chose Palestine, Saudi and 'North Australia').

3. Pick up cards that allow you to bomb things.

4. When you go bankrupt you become a terrorist, and you steal oil, suidice-bomb and undergo espionage attempts.

It's all rather politically in-correct, and would be far more fun with grown-ups.

Nibbles is the youngest of the three. I've named her after her favourite guinea-pig. We wrote a story together one night about Nibbles and Maisie marrying the man guinea-pig, Omni. She's obviously a firm believer in polygamy, and told me that she would never drink 'beer' or 'champagne'. I asked her about vodka, I was shushed by my Mother.

Finally, Mopsy is the mopey middle-child. She's kind of the teeny-bopper kid - always talking about the size of her thighs and how she doesn't look good enough in clothing. I empathise with her though, I tried the tween thing once, it didn't suit.

Hope my family added some humour to your dreary easters. If not, then fuck you.

Evilboy.