24 July 2007

Ain't nobody told ya?

So New Girl not only has her secret blog but has also started another blog, which is a detailed description of all the people who inhabit her blog broken down into friends, family and whatever other categories she happens to thing of.

Anyway, I have neither the wit nor the energy to emulate such a feat, but I have decided that I should also make a list of "who's who". But again, factoring in my laziness, this list will only include those who make a regular appearance or are likely to appear again in the future. There will be a link to this in the sidebar. It will not be called "Who's Who in the Zoo" as that is just revolting jargon. Here at Bex we do our bext to avoid jargon.

Without further ado, in alphabetical order, names changed to protect the innocent, the Peeps of Bex:

Antiquer, The: Friend. When I moved back to Perth and I didn’t have a car he just shrugged and said, “Take one of ours.” Never actually asked for it back. Loves running and not eating. Hates just about anything else. [See also: Tam O’Shanter and Small Thing.]

Bay Leaf: Older son of The Burp and The Rooster. Makes books, memorises world records, rollerblades. A painted fairy. [See also: Machiavelli.]

Bette Midler: Sister of The Rooster. Tres sportif and dynamic. I have the tiniest little crush on her and her stylish tracksuits. [See also: Wheels.]

Bezley: Stepmother and friend. Got Bloody Ern out of some of his more extreme bad habits and into sarongs. Also, when they got married she took all the staples out of his shorts and hemmed them properly.

Bloody Ern: Extreme father. Dad to the max. Like The Rooster, A Real Man. He and The Rooster were in the same room once: the world bulged at its seams, straining to contain all the manliness. His exploits live on even though he does not.

Boop, The: Daughter of Jessie Mo and Livewire. Told me all about her new Barbie sneakers. I didn’t understand a word.

Boxer Girl: Fun, super-efficient and kind-hearted co-worker and now - yay! - friend. Dedicated to fitness and salad. And the ever-so-occasional bourbon and coke.

Burp, The: Surprised me after twenty-odd years of friendship by confessing that putting together a kids’ party freaked her out, man. Can do anything else. Sells a lot of Plasticware™, plays netball, and organises many social events. I am preparing myself, quite inadequately, for her imminent departure from Perth. [See also: The Rooster, Bay Leaf, Machiavelli.]

Canned Ham: Bright and breezy work mate, on the lookout for a booty caller (whatever that is).

Chopper, Mr: Neighbour to The Burproosters. Lives hard, looks mean – but I know he likes to cuddle poodles and scrapbook. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! (Much respec’, Mr Chopper.)

Chopper, Mrs: Wife of the hard man. Looks sweet but look who she’s married to: and remember, he calls her boss.

Cinderella: Not-so-ugly step-sister. Raises turkeys that she’s already named. Claims they’re going to get served up as Christmas fare all the same. Bezley and I very much doubt this.

d.: Husband of k., father of t.. Works in exotic locales, running mines. Though his visits to Australia are brief, he is a rich vein of blog fodder.

Don Mary: Grandmother, erstwhile.

Dyzie: Mother. Not lorst but gorn before.

Grumpy: Husband, faithful companion and all that crap. He wears the long shorts in the Grumpyberry household.

Inge de Bruin: Broad-shouldered, statuesque, over achieving, no-nonsense goddess who kindly lets me call her a friend. Thinks this blog business is odd.

Jessie Mo: Although we rarely get to chat in person because she lives in Canberra, the email waves run hot across the Nullarbor as we discuss the fact that of course such and such behaved in such a way because this is his/her star sign. See, it’s all explained! We’ve only recently discovered a mutual love of Fleetwood Mac. To think that all this time we could have been talking about Stevie and Lindsay and the rest of the gang. [See also: The Boop.]

k.: Wife to d., mother to t.. Another excellent source of blog fodder despite only intermittent appearances in Perth. Smiles in an enigmatic way when I have yet another joke at her expense. Will probably kill me one day.

Machiavelli: Younger son of The Burp and The Rooster. Too cute for his own good. Seems to think this life bizzo is a bit of a lark. [See also: Bay Leaf.]

Nefertiti: Mother of Scarab. Always calls me dahlink or sweetie. With her husband built up a large and prosperous business from scratch. Judges people on first impressions and has yet to be proven wrong. I say that because she likes me.

New Girl: Swiftly promoted from work peep to matey. Sits in the next office and is often found in mine discussing just when I’m getting a new DVD player so I can watch her Bill Bailey video. Appreciates the restorative powers of Swedish nachos and Gloria Jean’s. Filled with infectious enthusiasm for many things but will probably never convert me to coffee.

QEII: Soothing balm to my soul or mosquite-like irritant? Difficult to say, but she certainly understands the necessity of hazelblackberry carving out some me time. Our friendship has barely withstood my non-TV watching ways. Highly conversant on lady gardens and the maintenance thereof. Loves her dog, Lola. Likes fresh chocolate and red, red wine. Her cheese and her laydeees should both have that matured edge to them.

Rooster, The: Man’s man and husband of The Burp (the two are not mutually exclusive). Tends to roll his eyes whenever he sees me. Goes red easily. [See also: Bay Leaf, Machiavelli.]

Sarah Ulmer: Uber-woman. If she took it down a thousand, she’d still need to take it down several thousand. Really out there. I mean really.

Scarab: Friend. Likes to bead while watching Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple and Midsomer Murders. Also likes Star Trek, but we can overlook that. Drives a green VW bug and still can’t tell left from right. Is a dog person but has looked after our cats with great love and attention: there is no greater recommendation. [See also: Nefertiti.]

Small Thing: A sweet and solemn and very small thing. Probably the only person to be able to manage the enigma that is her father. [See also: The Antiquer, Tam O’Shanter.]

t.: Son of k. and d.. Last time I saw him he hadn’t yet reached the talking stage, but he was devilishly cute.

Tam O'Shanter: Long-time companion of The Antiquer. Makes him acceptable for human consumption. Delightfully Scottish. Like The Antiquer loves to run, with an added dash of grinding-the-opposition-beneath-her-heel. [See also: Small Thing.]

Wheels: Husband of Bette Midler. When I finally worked up the courage to talk to him I found out he was quite nice.


New Girl said...

I probably still won't be keeping up, HB. But well done: "You and Continental..."

meva said...

My god! It's a cast of thousands!

hazelblackberry said...

Yeah, but bear in mind there are two dead people on the list. I haven't bothered with the people who are (dramatically flings back of hand to brow) dead TO ME.

Anonymous said...

Nice work Haze.
Delighted to be mentioned; even if only as a reference in The Boop's entry. Does this mean I am NOT dead to you?

And since you brought it up - the reasons why The Boop is (now) of a 'broken home' - two words - "Fleetwood Mac".

hazelblackberry said...

Definitely not dead to me. You may get your own entry yet: let me think about it.

As for Fleetwodd Mac: broaden your horizons, man.

k & d said...

We do read this you know!!

Anonymous said...

Jezz Mo says:

There we go and break up and then Livewire (posing as anonymous) cracks a ripsnorter of a joke like that.

I am still listening to Rumours day in day out at the moment. I know it was a big seller and a classic but do people enthuse about the producer/mixer the way they do about other albums? because they should.

anyway, yes, i feel more enlightened about some of your characters er friends now. but you didn't give all their star signs!

genevieve said...

What Meva said, exactly. But it does look very entertaining, and I love the blog name. Have a nice holiday, Hazel.

qe11 said...

I cannot believe I'm not on this list *huffy*