Bub Tooth Time Machine

As a kid growing up, I was obsessed with two things. Collecting bread tags…and time travel. (Uh…forget I mentioned the first thing)…

Wide-eyed and tousled hair (yes, I did have hair once and I assure you, it was quite tousled), I disappeared into TV shows like Time Tunnel, Doctor Who, Quantum Leap, Sliders, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, Star Trek, Planet of the Apes, Ready Steady Cook (again, forget that last one). I built my own play TARDIS in the backyard and fantasised about travelling through time and space.

Then came the movies; The Time Machine, The Philidelphia Experiment, Timecop, Time Bandits, Terminator and Terminator 2, DejaVu, Austin Powers, The Time Traveller’s Wife, Hot Tub Time Machine and of course Back to the Future, just to name a few. All fuel for the Mr.Fusion that is, the Delorean of my mind, flitting backwards and forwards in time and space trying to figure out the hows and the whys.

And I have my own theories on what’s possible and what isn’t, but don’t get me started on that, I already alluded to the existence of temporal displacement in an earlier blog(Mumma’s already dropped off at the very first mention of the words, time travel).

And there’s been a myriad of vehicles, devices and methods that people have used to get there. Elegant Santa sleigh-esque Time Machines, Deloreans, trains, boats, spinning psychedelic discs, plasma balls, phone boxes, hot tubs. You name it, they’ve tried it. But…

Who’d have thought the power to travel backwards in time, is located within…

One solitary, little…baby tooth.

For, just as things were progressing quite nicely in the “sleeping through the night” department, the emergence of that little tooth has transported us all back to 1928. Back when Indy was waking up every few hours and Mumma and I would look at each other, me in my high pants zoot suit and handlebar moustache, she in her flapper fashion bodice and feathered headdress, thinking…

“Haven’t we already done this?”

But alas, it seems we’re destined to relive the past, at least until we can find a way to get back to the future. But I’m guessing, we’ll need a lot more teeth to make that journey happen.

Until then, we’ll rely on our faithful friends, Panadol and amber neck beads, to get us through the night. Mumma can take the Panadol and I’ll try the beads, they seem to help Indy sleep, maybe they’ll work for me?

“Great Scott, Doc. This is really heavy”.

Relax folks, it's all relative

Relax folks, it’s all relative…

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40YrOldDad’s Christmas Advent Blog Post

Photo on 15-12-12 at 2.01 PM #3

On the 8th day of Christmas my Facebook stalker, militant communists Aussie Dad Bloggers gave to me – a story about why men can’t see sh#t, right in front of their face. You asked, we answer… in the Christmas spirit, us Aussie Dad Bloggers are answering the questions raised by readers.

Q: “Are men ACTUALLY visually impaired when it comes to locating objects inside the home?”

The short answer…NO.

The slightly longer answer…NU-UH.

Trust me, there’s plenty of objects inside the home we have absolutely no trouble locating with our eyes closed. The corner of the coffee table in our shin, the die-cast metal hot-wheels car underfoot, our own playground equipment downstairs.

Men are like dolphins, and use echo location sonar to find objects we can’t see. Dolphins use a series of clicks and whistles to locate objects underwater like fish, sunken treasure and universal remote controls. Men use a slightly more complex version of sounds such as, “Where’s the bloody car keys?” or “What happened to the potato masher?” With dolphins, the sonar bounces off the objects and back to the dolphin, helping him to determine it’s location. With men, the sound bounces back in a more female tone such as, “Did you try looking in the kitchen drawer?” or “They’re right in front of you on the bench!”

However…if you are a theoretical physicist or even a keen fan of Doctor Who, then you will no doubt realise there is an actual phenomenon that exists in the universe, known as “Brittany Spears” or in scientific terms…

“Temporal Displacement”

Which sounds like something you do when you momentarily lose your mind, or skim rocks off Japanese battered fish…wait…that’s tempura. (Really, I thought was a car?)

But in reality, there are tiny wormholes in space and time and the universe is simply teeming with them. As the earth spins through space, it collects these temporal displacement wormholes like a spat out Cool Mint collects lint. And certain objects are placed in their path like car keys, tin openers, nail clippers, remote controls, socks, pacifiers, did I mention car keys? And of course…car keys.

Kind of like when you accidentally suck your wife’s earring into the vacuum cleaner by mistake, or your son swallows a penny. For all intents and purposes, it has temporarily been removed from the present, only to be returned a small time later in the not too far off distant future. And that’s why we can’t see them. It’s not our fault…it’s the universe.

So, men are simply the hapless victims of temporal displacement…or God’s just f@#ing with us.

But universal subatomic string theory aside, some men (like me), occasionally wear glasses.

So, it can be argued that there is a certain level of visual impaired-ness among men, that the universe just cannot account for.

Male visual impaired-ness relates to a variety of categories, such as…

MEASUREMENT: 3-5 inches is…a foot, (either your man is trying to bolster his own ego, or wears tiny sneakers).

HOUSE REPAIR: Actual time to perform repairs…5 mins. Actual time to getting around to actually perform said repairs…6 months – 20 years.

LISTENING: I know listening isn’t a visual impaired-ness, but if we’re not looking at you, we’re probably not listening. Men listen with their eyes, not their ears. So, make sure we can see you so at the very least, we can read your lips.

READING LIPS: Men cannot read lips.

PRIORITIES: Family ALWAYS comes first, before anything else. (Excluding sport, alcohol, watching sport while drinking alcohol, drinking alcohol while playing sport, anything related to electronics, procrastinating, talking about procrastinating, Mythbusters, monster trucks, ourselves, Bigfoot or…boobs).

Which only goes to show, there’s no accounting for good taste, universal laws or people who don’t keep track of their receipts.

So, I hope that clears things up. Remember, it’s not your man’s fault…(cue Milli Vanilli)…”Blame it on the (substituting “rain” for “universe”, “Einstein”, “Stephen Hawking” or “The Big Bang Theory”).

Merry Christmas, y’all 😆

Psst: Oh and hey, be sure to check out the other Daddy Blogger Advent Posts on our Facebook page here at Aussie Daddy Bloggers.

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The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

When was the last time you saw a baby in a pram on the escalator stairs of a multi-level shopping centre? Never? Me either. Yet, there’s babies in prams on every level. How did they get there? WHAT’S GOING ON???

I have a couple theories. Maybe the shop owners on the upper levels live their entire lives trapped on their particular level. Kind of like Tom Hanks in that airport movie or Carrie-Anne’s Poltergeist trapped in its dimension and unable to move on into the light. As generations pass, they meet and interbreed with other shop owners on their floor, have babies and the cycle continues. Which explains why there are always food courts, supermarkets and bathroom facilities on every level.

Or perhaps multi-level shopping centres are located on mysterious ley lines that criss-cross the earth and have access to inter dimensional wormholes that enable parents with prams to mysteriously travel between floors, completely undetected. Or prams somehow have the ability to materialize from floor-to-floor somewhat akin to the blue Police Box TARDIS from Doctor Who?

Believe it or not, the real answer is not that far removed from those theories.

There’s a secret about shopping centres I wasn’t aware of until I became a dad. A secret nobody talks about. And I don’t mean Fight Club. Mind you, if you find yourself in Myers during a stocktake sale or anywhere near the red light special in NQR, it may be a different story.

There is in fact, a mysterious silver TARDIS box that acts like a Stargate wormhole, transporting you through time and space between floors. The secret box I speak of, is…

The Secret…Shopping Centre Elevator

And I don’t mean the one you catch from the car park. I mean, there’s another secret interfloor network of elevators throughout the entire centre, that people without prams have no idea about. A hidden world off the beaten track, beyond the looking glass, existing only in your peripheral vision.

Sneaky hidden corridors that leave you wondering if you’re Don Adams sneaking into the underground headquarters of CONTROL…or trying to get to K-mart on Level 2.

Specifically made for people with prams. Who knew? I certainly didn’t. But somehow, my wife seemed to be psychically drawn to their locations as if she’d always known about them. And there’s this weird knowing nod, that other parents give you when you join them in the elevator. The same type of nod that bald nightclub bouncers and security guards give to other bald men when entering the premises. The kind of nod that says, “Yeah, I get it. You’re cool.”

It’s like being part of an elitist club with a strict “babies only” policy. And god help any man without a pram who thumbs a ride because he’s too lazy to use the escalator. I sure hope you’re wearing kevlar, cause you’re about to get stabbed. Hell hath no fury like an elevator full of territorial mums. What exactly is the collective noun for an elevator of mothers? Oh, that’s right. It’s called, “I’ll catch the next one”…if you’re smart. (Ha, Get Smart. Get it?) 🙂

But it’s a weird insight into a secret world I never knew existed. And as my journey into fatherhood continues, I’m constantly reminded of the various opportunities that will no doubt present themselves. And where one door closes, another one opens. And maybe, just maybe…that door leads to yet another mysterious as yet untouched world for me to discover.

I think Scully & Mulder said it best…the truth is out there.

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