Of bladders and bad English

Prostates and pelvic floors being what they are, I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone came up with a website for movie-goers who lose the plot (literally) because their bladders can't make it through a screening.
That website is RunPee.com, an online help-line that takes the guesswork out of when to take a dunny break without missing any crucial scenes or plot twists.
The site covers all sorts of movies and tells you when it's a good time to head to the toilet, how long you've got to do the biz, and then gives you a short synopsis of what you've missed while you were away.
In the case of My Life In Ruins (pictured above), you're safe to go 45 minutes into the movie and have four minutes to get back to your seat.
Brilliant or what? You can check it out here and there's also a blog here.
On another wet note, did you see the story in The West on Wednesday about rain delaying the opening of the new Perth to Bunbury highway?
It was pretty unremarkable except for spokeswoman Tammy Mitchell, who when asked about the delay said, "We've had a constant series of rain events."
God help us. Whatever happened to "raining a lot"? Or even a good old Australian, "It's been pissing down"?

Poxy lady? Let's hope not.

Spotted in a supermarket carpark last week, one of those Wicked rental camper vans with the following slogan painted on the back: "If God were a woman would sperm taste like chocolate?"
As an atheist, this is a hard one to answer but I'd like to think that if there was a God and she was female, she'd have the imagination to go seasonal.
Beer and seafood in summer, roast chook in winter, chocolate on birthdays (and let's not forget special catering for those who have allergies, gluten intolerances etc).
Unfortunately, all of that wouldn't fit on the back of a van so I can see why whoever wrote it just went with chocolate.
But while we're on the subject of spotted, it's one of the reasons I haven't been around lately.
Son, who lives on his own, came down with chicken pox, big time, as in really ill.
He's now better and my husband and I are waiting to see if the pox will be passed on to us.
We both think we had it when we were kids but my husband can't check because he's an only child and both his parents are dead.
My mum says she doesn't remember me having it but then my mum's reached an age where one in 10 conversations start like this:
Mum: "I read that book you were telling me about, what was it called, you know, the one that was made into a film with...what's his name?...I saw him on TV last week with that woman who was married to Xavier Cugat...Ron! What was the name of Xavier Cugat's third wife?...it's on the tip of my tongue..."
Suffice to say, every time we itch, we panic.
And in case you're wondering, Xavier Cugat's third wife was Abbe Lane.