My Mum CCed me on the email below that she wrote. It'll give you some insight to where I get my humour from...

Poddy is my Aunties dog, Rosie (who is "writing" the email below to Poddy) is my family's dog, Emma is my sister, Tyla is my niece and Mum and Dad are of course my Mum and Dad (naturally the Mum and Dad of Rosie):

Dear Poddy,  I’m writing to you cos I’ve had it with humans.  They’re all a bunch of half-wits.

Maybe you can give me some advice.  Mum is muttering about sending me to “that lady who trains bad and mad dogs on TV” whoever she is.  Emma calls me a murderer and Tyla, well, she growls at her mummy and grandma and says “no, Row row GOOD dog” - she’s the only one on my side but Emma reacons that’s because she never saw me being bad. Anyhow, she’s  a kid and around here, that doesn’t count, not when it comes to growling at dogs apparently.  Dad says he’ll take me fishing when the weather’s fine to get me away from the crazy women.

You see, It all happened like this. 

Yesterday Mum and Dad, Emma and Tyla and me went for a ride to Morrinsville to pick up some chooks (bloody things) that Emma had bought.

Everything at this stage was going great.  I was sitting on Tyla’s knee and she was patting me and telling me I was a good girl and looking for fleas and stuff.  The trip took about an hour, but that was OK cos Tyla and me had a great view out the window looking at stuff and she thinks I’m a bit dense cos she keeps telling me the names of things, like Cow and tractor and horses, etc. For some reason the humans think this is really cute cos they keep telling her that she’s clever and good and tell her new names to say.  I can’t figure this out cos when I try to tell Tyla she’s clever and good by licking her face, I get told “bad dog, no lickies”.  Tyla and me, well, we’re pretty tight, and we lick each others faces when they aren’t looking.

Well, we finally got to the farm and blow me down if there wasn’t fifty thousand other dogs there.  Bloody big bloodhounds, cattle dogs, tiny pups and dogs like me and all sorts.  They, of course, were all in their cages, but boy, did I let them have it.  I told them in every language I could think of, of what I would do to them if I could get out of the nissen and they could get out of their cages. I even leapt at the windows and snarled and growled. I mean, spit was even flying.  Things were looking good and then -  Mum hit me and told me to shut up.

Some strange lady then looked into the Nissen and said “a jack russel, is it.  You’d better keep it in the car.”  Well, my Dad then said “she’ll be alright”.  But mum spoiled it all by saying “like hell, she stays in here”.  They then got out of the nissen and went inside this shed.  I heard the lady saying that she was selling the chooks cos her dogs were killing them. (Stupid dogs, why didn’t they hide the bodies, then no-one would know what happened to them. That’s what I do. )  Of course, it helps to make sure ALL the feathers are covered up.

Anyhow, after a while Dad comes out with a cardboard box and puts it into the back of the nissen and goes back inside.

After a while mum comes out, opens up the back door and finds me on the back seat. 

While Poddy,  in all the time I have known her, I’ve never known Mum to be speechless.  This time she had plenty of speech.  First of all her eyes opened up wide, then her mouth opened up and then, my god, the most awful noise came out.  It was hard to make out, I mean to say, my ears were all blocked up with feathers.  My mouth was too and it was pretty hard to see what was happening cos it was hard to see through all the feathers. She was bellowing things like “you bloody dog, you murdering little bastard, fuck me” and then, she walloped me, HARD, and sent me flying.  I hopped into the front of the nissen and sat on dad’s seat, where I thought I’d be safe.  I must admit it was rather funny cos there was mum, standing there holding this bloody chook with its head lying sideways with its tongue hanging out and shouting “it had to be the bloody nice one, didn’t it”, and  turning around to Emma who had raced out of the shed.  Well, if you thought mum’s language was bad, you should have heard Emmas.  She can really let strip. Dad had to protect me.

Anyhow, after a while things quietened down and they loaded up the other chooks and off we went home. I hopped down under Dad’s legs and stayed very quiet and still.  Everything was very quiet for a time and then emma said “That was so bloody embarrassing”.

(I thought quietly to myself –“bloody oath, humans are so embarrassing”, but I think she meant me.)

Mum kept giving me the evils, so I shut my eyes.

Dad kept giving me pats when he thought mum wasn’t looking, so I stayed there, under his legs. 

When we got back to emmas place, I just stayed hiding on the floor, I really didn’t want to let her know I was still breathing.

Well, poddy, I’m sick of chooks and people and I also got car sick lying on the floor under dad’s feet.

I’m going for a lie down now.  I think I’ll give up chasing stuff for a while.  

Love from Rosie  


This has gotta be the grossest display of over-packaging I have ever seen:

That's my workmate Mark, holding up a USB hub in his left hand and the box it came in, in his right hand.


My boss John and I had a great time going around NZ checking it out between meetings.

On John's last day I realised that he hadn't had NZ fish & chips yet! We drove past one place and noted that it had a large sign saying "Auckland's Best Fish & Chips". It wasn't until we got out of the car and had ordered when we noted the fine print under "Auckland's Best":

A decade too late, but still, we had damn good breaded fish, battered muscles and Kumara chips!

Also, I've managed to catch up with Craig, Kim and their newborn Ellie!

They've both done rather well I reckon.