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I can't please everyone and you might disagree with something I've said so share your view - just don't be a dick about it.

Sunday, 27 March 2011

deardeb72@gmail.com

Hello all,  this is my new email address for blogging purposes. 

I've had to stop theinvisiblewomanuk due to two bored little people stalking me.

Obviously I don't want to put my new blog title on here, so if you'd like to move with me, email me for details.  Oh and it is not debaholicsanonymous - I messed that one up!!!
Thank you for following theinvisiblewomanuk and thank you to all those of you who view only as well!

I will check this blog when I get new comments and reply as usual but will not post on here anymore.

Hope to see you at the new blog sooooooooon!

Friday, 25 March 2011

Mars Bars and Mr Shar


Look-In No.51 13th Dec 1980 ABBA Look-In No.31 25 Jul 1981 Princess Diana Royal Wedding Look in Mag  3 April 1982 Bucks Fizz Haircut 100 1978 LOOK IN No.40 J TRAVOLTA GREASE OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN   
“Mum can I have a Mars Bar”? 

“NO! You’ll be sick”.

 
I was never allowed a Mars Bars as a kid for that reason alone.  It was never explained to me why that particular chocolate bar would encourage vomiting and  I was allowed Marathons (if I persisted) but definitely not Mars bars.  I was even allowed Treats and Nutty bars. Obviously choking hazards didn’t faze Mother.

I became a bit obsessed with them.  Not in a Marianne Faithful way of course!!! No,  I just used to stare at them, sitting there in all their splendour, in between the boring Galaxy Counters and the safe Milky Ways. 

As a child, the sweets were quite rightly at eye level, so whilst Mum was buying a stamp, or a tin of beef soup for Dad, I’d stand there, ear to Mums hip, staring longingly at the snack that promised to allow me to work, rest and play!

When I was 11 and got a weekend job in Mr Shar’s corner shop, often left alone for a few hours whilst Mr Shar went about his business, I would eat the Mars Bars.  I never got sick either.

Before any of you judge me, Mr Shar paid me about £3.50 for the full weekend.  I had worked for that Mars Bar and now I needed to rest and then play.

Once, I didn’t turn up for work on a Saturday as Mr Shar had muttered in his very strong accent, that my eleven year old self was only required to work the Sunday.  On my arrival on the Sunday, Mr Shah informed me that I had let him down by not coming in for work and he would have to let me go. 

We had an argument, right there by the Look- In’s, and I called him a ‘b*stard’ and pushed a loaf of Mothers Pride off the shelf!

I was a nice polite child really but I had had enough of Shar! 

Only the week before, he decided at the end of my Sunday shift that he would not pay me the full £3.50 in cash, oh no.  he decided it would be better to pay me £1.75 in cash and I could choose £1.75 worth of goods from the shelves!! 

By now I was bored of Mars Bars and hadn’t quite discovered the delights of being drunk on Thunderbirds yet, so I chose a box of Quality Street and some potatoes, both for my Mum.

See? I love that woman.

While we're on the subject of child labour etc  on the 1st April 2011, my friend Linda is going to be attempting a 100km trailwalk in aid of Oxfam.  Yeah, one hundred kms!?!""?**?!

We're sensible people, so I think you'll all agree that it's an obviously ridiculous feat but all in a very, very, good cause.  So, if you've just been paid and have a spare quid, or have just given up smoking and think you'd like to donate the price of a packet of ciggies, or if you are a loaded banker and you have a few thou of us taxpayers cash lining your pockets, then click on this link and donate... http://www2.oxfam.org.au/trailwalker/Melbourne/team/61 
'tis simple and it really will help people and make you feel a bit warm and fluffy inside ;) 
(I bet Mr Shar doesn't donate....the tight bastard)!

Thursday, 24 March 2011

TIME TO MOVE ON

 

Hello everyone.

I am really fcuking angry to say this but I have no other option than to stop invisiblewomanuk and start a fresh blog.

All followers, I will email you individually when I have started the new blog.  It will obviously have a different name.  I just don't want the duelling-banjos nasty lies and general madness anymore.

I have tried to laugh off the fact that they are reading my blog but today Banjo 2 sent some pretty evil, messed up texts to Him. 

If we were 'important' celebrities, the texts today would be deemed libellous.  As we are just normal folk, they are merely farcical words of abuse by a strange and spiteful individual who should know better.

This blog was meant as an escape for me to chat to, entertain or just off load to interested, like minded people.  Unfortunately it has been contaminated and I hope Banjo 1 realises what hurt they have caused all round.  I wonder was it worth it? What made you so stupid and spiteful?

So, please FOLLOW... otherwise I'll lose you forever.  I will endeavour to stop invisiblewomanuk by Monday 28th March and start the new one. 

Please Follow.

Monday, 21 March 2011

HAIR - The Musical

Mum told me, with a sympathetic frown
“When you were born, you were covered in down!
Nothing to worry about of course,
It was soft, not thick or coarse”.

But that was then, how things progress
I look like Chewbacca in a dress!
Now surely there must be a cream
To make ‘baldness’ not just a dream?

At 10 you just don’t give a sh*t
By 12 there’s hair under your pit.
AGGH Grab the razors, no one must see
My transformation from ‘coot’ to ‘Yeti’!

So I started the journey of depilation
I’ll have hairstyles of every variation!
Brazillians, Hollywoods, nothing will faze me
A seventies ‘fro, if I’m feeling lazy!

I tried Nair and Veet and lazers
The speed it grows back would just amaze ya!
In-grown hairs that would just dazzle
I could cover them up with a Vagazzle?!

It’s just no good, I’m way too hairy,
I’ll leave it to the professionals to wax my ‘mary’
But even they didn’t have much luck
“it’s quite robust”! What the f*ck?!

But it’s only for women, all this fuss
Even though men are affected just like us
I have heard that when they grow older
P*bes start appearing on their shoulder

Their scalps shine through as hair gets sparse
The thick hair reserved just for their *rse
Spidery strands from nostrils fall
Whilst a dandelion clock hides willy, balls & all.

Society tells us it’s just not right
To remain a hairy woman without a fight
And there’s never any chance of marriage
With an unkempt under-carriage!



I’m on holiday soon, everything on show
Maybe I’ll just let it grow
And men will shudder and babies will cry
As ‘German Shepherd-knickers’ walks by!

The French look good with all their fluff
Dark, bushy armpits, ‘tache and muff.
Why do we all worry so much
It we look like Rapunzel on our crotch?

And even with her almighty fringe
I bet she’s got a bald and sparkly m*nge!
Oh I’ll just have to carry on
All this just to look good in a thong!

Oh look, I can’t keep on, I’m getting dizzy!
Ok just a trim, I don’t like frizzy
But I’ll miss it when all too soon, one day
I’m left with patchy, wispy grey!

So maybe I’ll just give up now
It’s only an opinion anyhow?
Who says you’re bad and sick and weird
If you sport a healthy knicker-beard?

Sunday, 20 March 2011

L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW how I have moaned over the last few days.  Granted I do feel like poo BUT life is good and I have a lot to be grateful for.

If I were to win an award today for my part in world jibber jabber, this is how my acceptance speech would go:

Oh really, no stop, oh haha, you're too kind...I LOVE YOU ALL!

I, I, ha ha oh gosh this is so embarrassing!  I can't believe I've won this.  I had no idea! I haven't even written a speech!

There are just so many worthy winners here tonight, that I would never haved dreamed that I'd be singled out and awarded.  After all, without you all, I'd have no conversation, would I?

Firstly, I'd like to thank Chareen. 

When I had an idea to write to a certain magazine, inviting them to write an issue on normal women, it was Chareen who advised me to start a blog.

I had never even looked at one before and didn't realise how much I'd benefit from taking her advise.

Obviously I had no idea how to start up and so when I asked for help, both my brother and Paul S stepped forward and showed me exactly how to get my very own blog up and running.

I'd like to thank Jo R who, even though she has many things on her plate, kept her pressurised promise and became Follower 41.   Also DC83 who sprang to the post of becoming Follower number 30. 

Main contributors, Sphilips05, Saraphic, Tori, Showgirl and Linda and her twaddle who offer endless comments which make me feel listened to and spur me on to write more posts.

My viewer from Hungary and one in particular from USA, yes you two, who somehow manage to 'view' my posts, within minutes of me posting them.  I smile each time I refresh my stats and see you both appear.  I hope that you'll comment soon and share your thoughts.

My Mum, who fed my imagination as a young invisible,  reading me stories of possibilities, adventures and exciting, colourful characters. 

All the numerous folk who encouraged me along the way and all those who told me to shut up and do something about it.

My darling HIM.  You encouraged me the most.  You make me feel I am capable of anything. Apart from running, playing football, ice skating, house work, driving safely and a few other things. 
Yes, you have such faith in my creative side, which was being suffocated in my current situation, that it drives me to take risks and just go for it.  So thank you.

I'd like to thank my children, Thing 1 and Thing 2, who keep me irritated, entertained, knackered, fat, dishevelled, laughing, singing, shouting and worrying.  Thank you both.

Without all of you, I'd be bored and possibly carted off for talking and chuckling to myself.

THANK YOU !

Hmmn, dunno where I was going with that really!  I think I just wanted to chat.

Reading through comments from you lot is so fulfilling.

Seriously. I am very aware of the risk I am running at coming across like a right knob head but it's true. 

I really do hope I have made some of you chuckle, or go, "ooh yeah I can relate to that".  That is what my blog was for.  I really do wish for you to join in and comment.

I have had some really positive feedback from Marie and Secret Squirrel and a lot of people who for various reasons cannot 'follow' or comment, but read my blog anyway.  It's exactly what I wanted. 

I did expect some criticism, or negativity so thanks to The Duelling Banjo's  for not letting me down.

Finding a good blog is like finding a good book or a good article.  I have found one. I have been reading through Linda and Her Twaddle and it's fantastic. I have only just scratched the surface but I now have something good to read whenever I get the urge to.

It confuses me that there are so many genuinely talented, creative and entertaining people out there, and yet too often it's impossible to find something you want to watch on television, or listen to on the radio.

I reckon it's a definite positive addition to anyone's life.  I urge you to start one up if you have a cluttered brain, a bad memory, or feel trapped at all.  It's like having your own magazine. Self indulgent, rewarding and like a little sanctuary - even if it is being read by two arseholes,The Duelling Banjo'swho should conserve their energy and start their own one.

I feel ill. I think it's an ear infection but it's been a nice day.  The sun has started to shine and the weather is getting warmer.  He and our son have just planted spinach, strawberries, carrots, potatoes and tomatoes in the garden;

When I am trying to have a few minutes to type up a post, I am often interrupted with calls of, "Mummy, Mummy.....Mummy, Mummy.........'ello!" and I turn round to see this type of thing;


And this;


I honestly don't know where they get it from.


Anyway, I am going now. I do feel like my head is being squashed and my eyes, ears and neck feel hot.  I am returning to the dopey Doc tomorrow to see if this time, he can do more that print out an advice sheet!

On that note, you know that you've become a fatty when you complain that you have a headache and your 4 yr old son shouts back impatiently, "Mummy!, (tut), then why don't you just have another half a doughnut"?!

Amazing photo taken by a friend, Gwyneth, of the moon on March 19th 2011

Saturday, 19 March 2011

I See A Bad Moon Rising

I have been troubled since Tuesday.  

I have made a tough decision which will make me even less popular with certain people but as Janet said, “If they knew you, they would not be like this.  It is because they don’t know the real you that there is the problem”.

So, with that in mind, I have had the courage to decide against putting myself in a situation that could become explosive.

I am deciding against attending an event as I do wish the best for the people having the big day and I do not want to be the one to tarnish it in any way.

Marie said that the situation is like a tinder box.  One spark and it could blow up.

I’d like to have the confidence to know that regardless of provocation, I would remain calm and serene.  I know however, that I have put up with so much rubbish and so many lies for so long, that I would be anything but.

So, Tuesday began a spiral into feeling like crap.

Aside from the headache and general p*ssed off feeling, I felt a little better on Wednesday but this was possibly the soothing effect Marie has on me. She is brilliant and it’s therapeutic being in her company.  She makes me smile and boosts me up.  I hope I do the same for her!

Thursday though, I had become constipated…. This is completely unheard of for me, of which the Midwives at my sons birth would vouch for.

By about 10am, I had awful pains under my right boob and the headache had become much worse.  This continued all day.  By the evening, I felt awful.  

Friday morning I woke up with earache, headache and tummy pains.  I went to the doctors.

“Have you had any stressful situations recently”? He asked.

Embarrassingly, I burst into tears! 

He checked my tummy to make sure it wasn’t gall stones or appendicitis and concluded that it was most definitely stress related.  He did tell me to book an eye check and gave me a prescription for eye drops and a print out of PMT symptoms and ‘cures’.

I got the £27 eye drops and after reading the PMT print out, I purchased calcium, magnesium and vitamin B6.  Today is the second day I have taken the combination and I have 3 months supply so I will endeavour to keep you updated as to whether they do minimise the moods.  

The PMT is a real problem at the moment – don’t read on if you want to be entertained!!!

I have the usual evil week, the week before I am due – then, I am dizzy Miss Silly-knickers for the blob week, and then I’m lusty Miss busty (hahaha err) after for a few days until, DUN DUN DAAAA, about 2 weeks after the first day of the P, for two days I am depressed, emotional and deflated.  I mean really depressed.  Like it’s all too much. 

My friend was diagnosed with Menieres Disease due to extreme bouts of dizziness, nausea, passing out and migraines.  18 months later, they realised that it was actually all down to periods.

They really are awful bloody things (no pun intended) and I just don’t think there is enough out there to help stop the physical and mental debilitation that accompanies them.  

I think there should be a simple, widely offered, free test that checks which levels of hormones are low, or high and a simple dose of said hormone to be taken orally, that just brings you back up to earth again.

HE told me this morning that the moon is the largest it’s been in 18 years tonight and that maybe that has an affect on me.

I agree that there is some truth in the moon affecting us women.  After all, the words ‘lunatic’ and ‘lunacy’ come from Luna, meaning moon so who knows?

I’m off now to take two more Paracetamol, anoint my dry old eyeballs and shave my palms.

Later Home-slices!

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Too Cool For School?...


There’s a photo of me, aged 11/12, first year senior school, in the snowy playground, sort of ‘running’ towards the camera in a pathetic attempt to make the camera operator think I was gonna get them with the snowball (flake) that’s stuck to my cheap red gloved hand.  

I would’ve definitely missed, had I had the nerve to have thrown it.  

That photo, taken by my cool, confident friend Sarah, sort of summed me up at that age. 

A bit of a prat but nice enough in an annoying, groovy way.

Some people are just cool aren’t they? Some people have a swagger, or an aura that seems to draw other lesser folk to them. Some people would never have a photo that bad in their entire back catalogue.  Thank goodness for digital cameras eh?

It’s got to be confidence that makes these people stand out from the crowd but how do they become confident? What made them so self assured?

It’s not money necessarily, as there are a lot of seemingly cock-sure people who live in poor housing estates, just as there are sappy, unconfident kids attending our private schools.

So what is it?

I’ve done ok considering I was often one of the last to be picked during PE at school.

I remember at aged 7, standing in the playground, staring nervously at the basket of big orange net balls, thinking, “surely they’re gonna pick me before her, she stinks”… I remember being shocked and feeling like I’d been prodded in the solar plexus the one time I was second to last and all the ‘boffins’ had been picked before me! 

I was never a bully and I hate all that bitchiness but there is a definite hierarchy at school and you can’t help but think like that sometimes.

Actually, I hate to admit it but there were occasions when I stood by and laughed while others were bullied.  Not physical stuff but name calling.  And I participated in name calling and poking fun at one particular girl who I am ‘Facebook friends’ with now and has done very well for herself.  Sorry K!

Oh and I also shouted out ‘Jodie’s a wanker’!  in the queue for the tuck shop, as a dare.  She wasn’t a wanker at all actually.  Well, there was never any evidence to suggest she was.

I wonder what would have happened if I had been confident enough to say something to the bullies.

Until I was 12, my Mum chose my clothes.  I wasn’t sporty either and so Mum dressing me as a nerd, (before nerds were ironically cool), with a pageboy haircut and ‘pear collars’ on my shirts was where I was at.  

I was also only allowed two pairs of Clarks, or Startrite shoes a year - navy T bar flats in the summer and brown T bar flats in the winter. 

I once spent an entire day demanding that my poor Mum, ‘get me some open toed shoes’!  It must’ve been a Friday for that afternoon, my Dad Stanley-knifed the front of my shoes off and made me wear them all weekend!  I was mortified.

I thought open toed shoes would make me cool. 

Another thing that 7 year old me thought would aid my rise to the rank of ‘trendy and popular’ was getting my ears pierced. 

I remember crying and screaming, again at my poor Mum, that, “everyone in my school had their ears pierced…at least twice”! But my Dad used to come home from work and bark, “You can do what you like when you’re 18”! And, “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”!

Do-gooders be calm!  My Dad is a fantastic father and there is no cause for concern. ;)

So, it wasn’t til I was 12 years old that my Mum actually decided that a pair of ‘small gold studs’ might actually look rather sweet and I remember posing in a photo booth with her afterwards…modelling a Lady Diana flick and a denim waistcoat, beaming like a Cheshire cat.

It didn’t make me cool though.  I am just not like that.  It has to be inbuilt.

I loved watching Sandra Dee’s transformation into Sandy, in Grease.  I loved it so much I watched that film right from Betamax, through VHS and again later on DVD.

There are things that I think help you to be cool, accepted and popular.

Being good at a sport for example.  Not table tennis or chess.  These don’t become cool until you’re a parent, or an auntie/uncle and can show off exaggerated below-average skills to young relatives who have just found out about these past times.  Random memory alert - an old, eccentric Dutch guy called Herman taught me how to play chess, on his speed boat in the Canary Islands.  No… just chess!

Some kids used to just naturally make cool choices even with something as trivial as crisps.…  how they reacted when asked for one.  I remember most kids used to grimace when asked to share a ‘Ringo’ and they’d separate just half a crisp at the top of the packet and grip the bag tightly so there’d be no chance any more would be taken.  Sarah was too cool for that sort of nonsense and probably had a mountain of crisps anyway, so, as long as you had clean fingernails, she’d just casually offer them.  You could even have a second one!

Bags were another area to show how cool you were.  Which carrier bag would you be carrying your school books in?  Benetton, or Next were good.  Iceland, or Bejam were not and DEFINITELY NO ‘FASHION HOUSE’ BAGS!

A year or two after the carrier bag trend had really taken off, Sarah came in with a proper draw string bag with a clock on it! Well, you just couldn’t compete with that kind of style could you?

Although I did well by becoming friends with someone so cool, it also showed up just how un-cool I was in comparison.  Like the time we walked to her home from school and I fell over.  She laughed a lot but nowhere near as much as I’d have laughed had it been the other way around.  Anyway, I picked myself up and scurried behind her confident strides, resembling Baldrick & Black Adder.

Sarahs parents home is beautiful and was very trendy, the kitchen in particular was like something out of a magazine.  Pristine and crisp.  I walked in and politely said ‘Hello’ to her Mum and threw my bag on the white kitchen work top.

A few seconds passed and Sarah’s mum sniffed and turned her nose up, “ooh yuk can you smell something girls”?  We all sniffed the air and agreed there was a nasty pooey pong.  “Oh what’s that!?!!” cried her Mum, looking at my bag.  Sure enough, when I’d fallen, my bag had landed in dog shit, which I’d then flung over my shoulder and up my coat and then all over their lovely clean surfaces.

It wasn’t long after that episode that their pet Doberman attacked me, ripping my one pair of royal blue, Benetton cords.  Maybe she could still smell the shit and thought I was trying to mark her territory!

Anyway, I think I got on alright coz I wasn’t particularly nasty.  I was clean, (B.O is definite bully bait) and I read quite a bit so I was fairly articulate which helped when I was trying to make the cooler kids laugh.  Laughter is a passport to anywhere.

Aww, I will chat more on school days as there’s such a lot to be said about them.  I hope yours weren’t too uncomfortable and I hope they make you smile when you think back to them.

 

Fun with a Thesaurus

Or, Frivolity with a Reference Book.

I have always believed myself to be good at creative writing and particularly as a young child, loved exploring my imagination and scribbling it down on paper.  On school records, my attainment was invariably awarded a higher grade than the effort I put in.   Aren’t I brrrillliant? Rah rah rah!

Since starting this blog, it has dawned on me just how small my vocabulary is.   I’m sure it has shrunk.  Well, maybe not shrunk so much as stalled in its development.  It was growing so beautifully and at least at the same rate as the physical me but in the last couple of decades, I have definitely overtaken it, in the growth stakes.  It’s as though it hit a few pot holes on the way here and has suffered serious damage….

My memory is appalling now.  I don’t know if that is to blame for my word shrinkage.  I can usually only remember word for word, things that are of great interest to me.  
If I find a subject remotely dull, my brain shuts down, like Homer Simpson when Marge wanted to confide in him and he lowered his sunglasses that had eyes painted on them and said, ‘tell me all about it” then quietly fell asleep behind them.
I really like Russell Brand because he is very, very funny and rude but I love him for his use of our language.  I can listen to him for ages and can visualise as he speaks, like when Rolf Harris is painting and you can watch the brush strokes develop and take shape.  I love that Russell may be encouraging the ‘text n lol’ generation to talk, ‘all proper like an’ all that’.
Obviously and boringly I adore Mr Stephen Fry too.  He is beautifully eloquent in an effortless, non patronising way.  To me he is almost other worldly. He’s a kind of deity that lesser mortals gaze upon, to witness wisdom emanating from him in rainbows and to bask in the warm, cuddly glow of his intelligence.
I love clever, witty, intelligent people.  At work, I speak to people all day who cannot even be bothered to open their mouths properly to communicate what they have rung up for. The syllables literally shuffle and scuff out of their orifices and grate as they barge their way, spitting and puffing into my ears. 
They’re so rude.  I’d love get all Marjory Dawes on them.  I would like to send these people back to school. 
With that in mind, I bought myself a thesaurus. 
I am so behind the times in the technical world.  I don’t have an ipad.  My (so big it only just constitutes as mobile) phone doesn’t even have a built in camera. OH THE SHAME!
I don’t like the idea of Sky TV (too much telly) and I don’t even own a Kindle!............................... I still buy books made from paper!
It’s not a dislike of all things new, I just can’t be arsed to keep up and most of the time, couldn’t afford to either. 
What I do hate is how thoughtless most communication is now.  The reliance on ‘spell check’ is frightening. Convenience has overtaken the poetry of our beautiful language.  If the young are already abbreviating whole sentences, (pmsl, lol, lmao),  by the time my kids are hanging about with their mates, hoods up, they’ll be conversing by using just beeps and clicks! WTF!?!
Sometimes when I ask my son how his day at nursery was, he grunts back like a teenager, ‘don’t knooooow’, or, ‘can’t remember’! Other times, like this morning, amidst the mad rush, he decides to engage brain & mouth and told me in an animated fashion, all about how the lion told the other animals that the bat had never seen, ‘the eye of the stooooorm’!  All wide eyed and theatrical, he looked like a miniature Mystic Meg forewarning of perils to come.  Moments like that give me hope.   
Anyway, whilst enjoying my 99p thesaurus, I began to wonder about the great and famous quotes and sayings throughout history and whether they’d have sounded different had the owner of said quote had a thesaurus to hand. 

Here are a few I had a jiggle about with;

Hover in a similar way to a refined caterpillar, insert toxin akin to an apis.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Mohammed Ali

Whilst on a recent visit to the Land of Nod, I deviated from reality and I’d like to tell you all about it.
I have a dream - Martin Luther King

A singular tread for a person, an almighty vault for the human race.
One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind. Neil Armstrong

A downward jerk of the cranium is as adequate as a spasmodic twitch of the optics, to an equine quadruped, devoid of visual capacity.
A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. Dunno who said this but my Irish friend Catherine told me the alternative.

Whilst trawling through ‘famous quotes’, I have discovered that Winston Churchill was hilarious.  I knew he was cool but I didn’t know just how sharp and funny he was.  Aw, England once had a geat PM! ;(

Here are a few of his quotes;

It is the inalienable right of every Englishman to pronounce foreign words exactly as he pleases.

Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.

When I look back on all these worries I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.

Those that fail to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it.

Out of intense complexities, intense simplicities emerge

It is impossible to obtain a conviction for sodomy from an English jury. Half of them don't believe that it can physically be done, and the other half are doing it.

If you are going through hell, keep going.

And possibly my favourite;

The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.

I have just been ORDERED by HIM to end this post with a ‘quote’ (?)

With a sudden, bewildering aggression He jumped up and blurted out, “If I saw Prince in the street, I would definitely kick him in. Stick that on your blog”!


Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Potatoes!

I've had a really sh*t day today. 

I've been trying to work out what's the best decision to make for everyone involved but sometimes, you really do have to please yourself don't you?  I am referring to an up coming event featured in my old post Dilemma. 

HELLO TO THE DUELLING BANJO'S IF YOU'RE BORED AGAIN & READING THIS!!!

Anyway, really depressing, head ache inducing, brain cluttering emails, back and forth regarding decisions and reasons and what ifs etc

Finally I just sat staring vacantly, answering call after call with a cloudy, painful head and a lump in my throat.

You know when you dread something so much that your adrenalin starts pumping around your body til your eyes feel like you're wearing blinkers?  Ever had that? I've read why that happens...something to do with when we were hunters and adrenalin would kick in, constricting our vision so we were focussed on the target in front of us, blah blah blah

So, I had a very miserable afternoon. 

I must have looked really glum because four people asked if I was ok.  One, Jo, even said I looked like I'd had the soul sucked out of me! 

Sharon the wee darlin', swore a bit,  then invited me out for a drink after her wedding. 

Janet gave me some words of experience and kept circling me like a big breasted buzzard and patting my back motheringly.

Little Pup, Justina, stayed relatively quiet for her. 

Usually she is like an exciteable labrador puppy and DOES NOT SHULLUP, but this arvo she was quite restrained.  She agreed with Janets advice a couple of times then just carried on with her 'work'.

Right at the end of the day, I don't know why but she asked me if I found her cringe worthy...

I said "NO! Just rude sometimes.  Like when you ignore me or snap at me.  But it's alright coz we're quite similar. Like when we clashed over advising people about books in the book club....I'm sorry about that by the way".

Then Justina piped up at 100 miles an hour, "Yeah well see like I don't actually care when you're like rude to me because actually, you ignore me too and like it's fine because like I just think well, actually I just know it's ok because it's not like, comingfromabadplace....it's just like, actually coming from like, the surface which has like been temporarily cracked and um, like .....filled with potatoes"!

And I actually laughed!  Sometimes, you just need a pup talking about spuds to clear away your troubles.

To top it off, she got a bit over exciteable on the walk out of work to our cars and as she burst out laughing at another of her hyperactive mutterings, she stopped suddenly, looking stunned, "OOH I actually like, laughedsomuchthen that I actually nearly farted"!!!

Hahahahah brilliant! Thank you for making me smile Pup! x x x