Local Life

It can be said that the local life here in Basildon can leave a little to be desired for some people.  The local "Entertainment Complex" affectionatly known as Bas-Vegas (see that cunning play on words there...) isn't for everyone.  There are clubs, bars, a few resturants, a cinema, bowling alley...

So if you're a quiet home-body, it's not that appealing.  So what do you do?  Well, you could browse the internet, but then, not everyone has the internet.  You could watch TV if you are REALLY stuck for something to do.

Or, like a local person here, you could put an advert into a window.  A local post office window.  And to be fair, don't beat around the bush.  Now, personally (not that I would) I would have put such an advert into the local "dating" paper classifieds.

Of course, me being me, I read this advert - in the window of the local post office, frequented by single mums, asshats like me, and the Old Biddy Brigade - and I had to laugh.  And chuckle.  And cringe at the rammifications.

Now, I was going to go through this letter one line at a time, but... Well, it doesn't need it really, does it...  It can be summed up with the following parts:

• Up to 80yrs
• Adult Fun

I'll let your minds run rampant at that...

Crack Security Force

Today I spent my time mostly sitting with Kellie.  Yes, I'm a sap.  Gemma turned up after school with her wee ones, and the two girls spent their time gassing while Kellie had cuddles with Zoe - sorry, Zoé, which became feeding Zoé, burping Zoé and more cuddles with Zoé.

Jaysen, in the meantime, was running around with Amy, sorting out toys and having a laugh with his wee ickle cousin.

Gemma decided to drive Kellie home to save her getting the bus (Awww) which probably doesn't bode well for me.  Females being Females, and all that...

When they left, I decided to take Jaysen into town and get him a McDonalds - it's not often we have take away food, and while I had a strawberry milkshake, he had food.  And it's there that I get to the point of this post...

See, we were sitting in a rather sparsely-populated food court.  Various resturants and fast-food joints and cafés and suchlike.  However, with it being 5pm, most people were going home and NOT sitting in the food court. 

While we were sitting and eating, I noticed that the table diagonally across from us had a friend, in the form of a bulging backpack.  The table was clean - so either it had been cleaned and the bag ignored, or it had been put at the table after cleaning.

Regardless, there was an unattended bag.

Now, you probably know where my mind is at this point.  I really wasn't expecting it to go blammo, but the whole "you never know" factor was there.  In this day and age, with hightened security levels and threats from all and sundry, the risk was there.

Being a Good Citizen, I get up and alert the girls that look after the tables.  "Excuse me, sorry, but I thought I'd let you know there's a bag with no owner sitting at that table."  The woman looked at me and huffed.

Yes, she huffed. 

"Oh IS there?" she asked me.  Now, the backpack wasn't big, but it was sticking up from the chair and quite visible.  I turned and pointed.  She huffed again.  "Oh OK then" and she wandered off.  No thanks, no acknowledgement, no bravery award.

I sit back down with Jaysen and watch the old girl toddle over and pick up the pack almost gingerly.  With one meaty hand, she wandered over to the other staff who were watching and performed a careful check.

She shook it.

*shake-shake-shake-jiggle-jiggle*

There was no firey ball of death, no cloud of death-flavoured gas.  Thankfully.

So, from the height of four feet, she dropped it to the ground, and with one meaty "I'm On My Feet All Day" foot, kicked it under the cleaning station.

Again, no Blammo, No Hisssss-gag-choke.

A few minutes later, a Proper Security Guard arrives.  He looked very very bored, and leaned over the cleaning station to chat up the younger girl working there.  My Lady pointed out the backpack, so he skirfed it out with his Size 12 Security Shoe, picked it up and shook it.

No Blammo.  No Hissssss-die.

So, with all the precautions taken, his Keen Security Training moved to the next level.  He opened it.  The first thing I noticed were wires.  Not to be put off, he turned the back upside down and shook out all the stuff inside into the sink.  I think one of the items that crashed into the metal bowl was a multimeter or something similar.  Wires, some tools..

As me and Jaysen made our escape, he was casually stuffing it all back into the pack.  I didn't look back.  I'd make an awful witness...

Now, it's not just me, is it?  I mean, heaven forbid it HAD been someone that was sick of the infidels - the British, the Shopping Center, McDonalds, Men, Women, whatever - my last thought would have been "What is that silly cow do- *BLAMMO*"  The headlines would have reported the terrorist attack on Eastgate, and some poor sap would be scooping my intestines from the Happy Meals.  It wouldn't have read "Security Team: What A Bunch Of Knobs" or anything else.

Sitting around that table was myself with Jaysen, a mum with six kids, a mum and dad with two kids, a mum with three kids, plus various staff for the various places, and whoever happened to be in the shops above and below.

All because of Miss *shake-shake-shake-jiggle-jiggle*

Couldn't Take The Risk...

I got this this morning from Mr Shiny Demon on his blog, and couldn't take the risk.

"You know the ones, "Forward this e-mail or; you'll never have sex, you'll have bad / good luck, your teeth will fall out, someone will rape your cat, we'll come around to your house and inject you with ebola." O.k, I made the last three up, but you get my point.

Whoever writes these things (I suspect a greasy, spotty, teenage, friendless, self abusing yank) is a complete spaz. And anyone who actually forwards them is just as bad.

Do they really believe that my refusal to forward a shitty e-mail will result in some terrible voodoo being sent my way?

And, if I do forward it, are they so sure that my sex life will increase ten-fold?

Grow up or fuck off and die.

Forward this blog entry or you will be killed to death by rabid chickens on acid."

I just can't risk those chickens coming and getting me... And he DID say to do it...

Edit: I should add, this MUST BE TRUE!  I checked Snopes.com and it wasn't on there, so clearly it's not an urban legend!  And it was probably on Fox News or something as well as PROOF!  And my sisters husbands dads best friend Colin down the pub - well he says HIS mate just got attacked by a pack of rabid chickens on acid!!!!!!111one

Apparently I Need Some...

Almost One of Those Days

My life has been very tranquil of late. Mainly because there is very little that is actually getting to me, thanks to walking around like a grinning idiot for the most part. My life has become this really strange - in a good way - thing that I barely recognise.

I have a tan for heavens sake! NOT monitor burn, not lightbulb poisoning, but a real, bona fide Sun Tan.

Today, however, has kinda pushed my limits just a teeny bit. Nothing bad has happened, but it was borderline to me standing up, arming myself with a cricket bat, and fighting the zombie hordes in those around me.

I should have know it'd be a good one when one of the kids left a rather sharp-and-pointy toy car on the landing last night. I stumbled out of bed, and was subsquently run over by the afore-mentioned car. It got off relatively unscathed, but me, the pedestrian, suffered serious damage to my ego. Oh, and a cut toe. Ouch. Not the best way to wake up.

Then I couldn't understand why the kettle wouldn't boil for a coffee. I kept clicking the switch on it, checking it was seated correctly, checked the socket was turned on, checked the water level wasn't too low. Fifteen minutes it took me to figure out the plug in the socket was for the tumble dryer, and that the kettle plug was sitting on the work top waving at me.

Then the school run was fun, as Ruth couldn't leave at the same time as me... So I had to do the school run with a 15-16 year old brother of some of the kids, but for the most part, I was in charge. Jaysen and Tam. Ruths two girls. A friends girl that had to be taken in by us. The twins in Jaysens class. Their sister. Me, eight kids. You can imagine, right?

Then, finally, the chaos ebbed, and me and the Peanut jumped on the bus to Canvey to see Kellie. Except the driver had no idea what I meant when I asked for a "Canvey Rover" ticket. Every other bloody driver knew what I mean what I asked before now, but no no... So I had to explain I wanted a rover ticket, that let me travel TO and FROM Canvey Island.

The journey was dull and altogether too slow. Tam was good as gold for me, and we sat playing. I had Kellie stay at hers too - usually she has to meet me in order to guide me through the rabbit warren to her place, but I have solved it. So the first I saw of Kellie this morning was her greeting us at her front gate.

All that stuff - which I will gloss over to protect you lot - was very very good. The only downside to it all was she has germs. A sore throat, to be exact, and while she pressed on, over the day she slowly got more and more icky. So the germs had me all growly too.

Then Father Tim, the old bastard, decided to speed up the course of time so the hours and hours we had together lasted for around about seven microseconds. So, we left her place in plenty of time, she escorting us to the bus stop so we could say bye bye as I left. However, due to gravity and Tam wearing the worlds most diabolically evil shoes we had a minor mishap that resulted in a scraped knee, a really scraped elbow, and Daddy (In his new white tee shirt) getting covered in blood. But, with time still to spare - ten minutes - we arrived at the bus stop. Even told someone arriving after us that no, they had not in fact missed the bus.

I HATE when a bus is late. Even more so when it just doesn't show up at all leaving me watching the clock tick closer and closer and, indeed, closer to School Finishing Time. When it became apparent that I, the bad father, would not be at school in time, I got Ruth on the case so at least my son wouldn't be abandoned at the school gates. The next bus told us that the previous one was stuck a ways back... Out of petrol. HOW?! Surely the little arrowy-gaugey thing says "Fill Me Up Please!"

So the journey back to Basildon took forever. Then all the shitty school kids got on and pissed around. Shouting, yelling, effing and blinding (I'm allowed to swear on here, this is MY blog!) and pressing the stop button over and over. Me and Tam evacuated and headed to Ruth where my son was being held. I'd like to say he broke down when I arrived back, that he missed me, and was upset I had forgotten him... No, he sat eating his ice pole.

Ruth made me a coffee and the kids played. My two, her two, plus one... Then plus another when Alyce arrived with one of her, like, forty three kids ;)

Five of the PM rolled around, so we left for dinner, with the kids chattering at one another which became moaning, then whining then all-out fisticuffs. So Shouty Daddy had a moan and they cheered up. Salad, nibbly bits and tuna mayo for dinner, most of which got eaten. Then the scraps got knocked over. Sally won't clear up salad.

Pathetic mutt.

So I cleaned that up, went downstairs, washed up, came back up to find a previously unexploded mine had detonated under the kids toys, showering the entire lounge - desk and sofa included - with toys, dolls, lego, games, bits of bits, bits of bobs...

We spent an hour clearing up, only for Jaysen to "find" that the bin in the bathroom was humming. And I don't just mean it stank to high heaven... No no, it was breeding little flies. I have been seeing them in the bathroom for the last couple of days, but just assumed it was the damp curtain "bringing them in" but it turns out my delightful son has been hiding food he doesn't want in there... I pulled it out and nearly gagged.

Seriously, it smelled like a corpse under all the tissue and stuff he had padded it down with. Blergh. So that bag rapidly went THE HELL OUT, the bleach came out, the air freshener came out... I can still smell rancid grossness. I wouldn't mind if I could smell it before hand, and I am sure had Kellie noticed it day before yesterday, she would have said something.

Bed time then could not arrive fast enough, and once they were tucked into bed, I stumbled downstairs, exhausted...

And got hit by that fucking car again.

Just, Yum

To off-set the ranty-rantness of the previous post, I feel I have to post a somewhat pointless entry.

I've not been eating very much of late - a sandwich here, picking at some food there, but while sorting out a bag for the weekend, I decided I needed a sandwich. So I was going to have tuna mayo. Then oooh cucumber. Oooh tomato. Lettuce. Cheese. Onion...

What I ended up with was a sandwich worthy of a medal. And/Or an orgasm. Whichever deity you pray to, He/She made animals very tasty :D

So here I sit, scoffing the Worlds Greatest Sandwich, while Tam eats her salad and stuff beside me. I WAS going to take a picture of the Holy Food Item. But it got et.

That is all. Nom.

Anyway, I'm off to spend the weekend with Kellie, with both my kids in tow, while Kellies son is off on Saturday morning, this will be the first time the kids have been together since Kellie and myself became "a couple". All of them older than Tam have given us their Seal of Approval, which is always good :D In the coming weeks, we've also had invites as a couple to various "things" which is rather... erm, fuzzy-inducing ;)

Ahhh Shit

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water, when things were looking up, something always always crops up to put a dampener on your day. It doesn't matter what I do, there is ALWAYS something.

So I going around minding my own business when I discovered that today will be The End of the World! I mean, how unfair is THAT!

However, it's not all doom and gloom. In September 2006, the spanner making the same predictions said it would happen then, but was wrong.

Well, obviously.

So if today is the end, thanks for reading ;) Now, I wonder how I can End-of-the-World-proof my computer. I think it has to be bubble wrap and duct tape. NOTHING can get through bubble wrap and duct tape.


PS - this may or may not be a deciding factor, but he's in Texas.

Karma

I've not listened to this video, so don't know if there's any swearing or anything... But it doesn't matter if there is, because I love it when little shits get their comeuppance.


And to be fair, I saw it coming and waited with gleeful hands being rubbed together :D

On The Meds

OK I'm kidding... mostly. See, while I am off my Happy Fun Pills, I am NOT off my "For-The-Love-Of-All-Things-Holy-OWIE!" pain killers. Unlike sadness and depression, chronic pain and missing-bits-of-spine don't go away.

Which is a shame, but still.

See, in my garden, I have a plant I've mentioned before. I'm not going into the SATAN of all plants, but if you're bored, have a google for Japanese Knotweed. I have that. Lots and lots of that.

I had to contact DEFRA (Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs) about the plant after being bounced from council, environment agencies, departments for this, that and the other. DEFRA are a nice group - they are the ones that deal with the nice stuff, Foot & Mouth, Bluetongue, Avian Flu... All the good stuff.

Oh, and now, Knotweed.

I had to leave the garden while they investigated and looked into it as it's a bitch. Once you have it, you have it. Anyway, a nice lady called me this morning and said as long as I don't dump it, shred it, landfill it or anything else, I can rip that fecker up. Of course, to get to it, we had to get the tribe of pygmys to allow us to hack through the grass jungle. So me and the boy hacked, and mowed, and strimmed, and piled... Took us three hours, but we found various things, most importantly, the gravel and the lawn:


OK, to put this in perspective - the shed at the end of my garden was all but hidden. The metal washing-line-pole was missing. Of course, it's not tidy by a long shot yet. There's actually a PATH on my lawn but it's well grown over. And no, I still don't have a fence. And yes, the rear-neighbours do have a pool. And yes, the house on the right has a lovely garden. If you look carefully, that pile of GREEN next to my shed - that's the stack of knotweed that was covering the lower half of the garden.

And to give you an idea of this weed... See the fence panel on the left of my garden? See the green plant growing next to it? THAT, my friends, is knotweed. Mine wasn't quite that tall, but still - that is 5 weeks of growth. That's a seven-foot tall fence panel. Still not impressed? Go right, to the paved garden, and go to the end of their garden where it backs onto the people behind... See the green behind their shed and their neighbour? Yeah, that's it too. That's how far it's spread. It's two or three doors to the left and right, and one garden back.

Here is a detailed artist impression of what my garden looked like before we used MANLY skills on it.


Actually, I am quite impressed by the depth in that image. My art skills are clearly improving. But that pretty much summed up my garden. Sally could go out there and vanish in the grass. I had to wear my big clumpy boots incase I found a snake out there. *shudder*

But anyway, to the subject at hand. I am now sitting with fluffy-leg sensation, and am listening to very loud music and waiting for the Mother F'king pain to jump on the bus and get outta Dan Town. Head Meds - gone. Back Meds - My Friends.

The Posh Palace

Having finally returned to the degenerated town of Basildon, I am had my feet up for a little bit, kids are put to bed and I've stolen some milkshake. My nerves are now settled enough to discuss the goings on of the weekend.

The journey up there was a breeze. What should have taken two and a half hours took just under two thanks to the wonders of trains being waiting for me as I arrived. Result. Of course, while heading up there and getting a text from Mand asking "where are you now" the only reply I could give at that moment, considering I was on a train in a strange county, not near anything resembling a village or town, with no one around me was "on the train".

I have been told there are aspects of the weekend I am not allowed to talk about, but nodding to someone and actually obeying... Well, different things really aren't they.

The biggest hamper on me personally this weekend was the Germs. Yes, that cold I shook off re-emerged Friday morning and by the afternoon I was all croaky and crap, something that got worse over the weekend. My manly voice was replaced by the sound of a lad who's voice is breaking.

First hurdle was meeting the hosts and their wee one who is a mini dynamo. That was fairly easy as I've spoken to Mand on messenger and the phone, and Jack on the phone a couple of times.

That evening, we drank fake Jack Daniels and played computer games. Which, I hasten to add, caused me to be beaten by a girl. However, just admitting that makes me even more manly. Some time between the hours of 2-3am we all started yawning and called it a night. I hit the sofa, staring at Mands dirty hole.

Oops, I wasn't supposed to mention that..

Then the following day came more people. The first bring Jennifer who I'd never met. She, like me, was a Southerner so we were the "Common as Muck" brigade with constant smutty comments and taking the piss. A while later Lynzy and Bex turned up, a pair of northerners that sounded very, er, northern ;) So us southern sorts too the piss out of them for a while too.

With the troop assembled and the wee one shifted off to a grandmothers house, we started to drink, have a lot of laughs and drink some more. We hit the pub. We drank more. Four of us hit a club while the other two went back to the house. We continued to drink and things started getting very fuzzy and blurry. At one point I thought I was having some sort of seizure, but lo-and-behold, I was on a dancefloor. Bex is only tiny, but she MADE me do it.

Plus I was too pissed to care at that point ;)

We got a cab back to the Palace a little later on, and ordered delivered fast food. Burgers, Kebabs, Chips - that kinda thing. I remember eating it, I remember dropping it Mayo-Side-Down onto my mobile phone... The next thing I know, it's half seven and I am laying on a two-seat sofa with a duvet thrown over me. One girl asleep on the mattress on the floor, another on the big sofa.

I did the Post Heavy Night Of Drinking checks.

- Still fully clothed: Check
- No spill/splash marks on chest or legs: Check
- No lumps of food in nose: Check
- No hangover: Check
- No unexplained injuries: Check
- Check calls made on the mobile: Check
- Check messages sent on the mobile: Check

Being that I was dressed, albeit in last nights attire, I was able to sit up and not make a bigger fool of myself. No sign of sick, the world was completely stable and sounds didn't bother me - though Lynzy's phone with Jim Carey screaming "Alrighty Then!" made me defecate myself. Still, I had no Booze Bruises, and hadn't done anything silly on my phone. Except make it smell like a cheeseburger.

And that was this morning. We gradually got ready, some taking longer than others to do so. The Northern Girlies had to shift off early ish for their train back to the land of Coal Mines, Bitter and Whippets, so we said bye bye to them, had lunch, then me and Jennifer decided to head off too - we went together as we both needed London, so we continued our reign of terror down the spine of the country (well, more it's spleen).

Being as we got on the wrong carriage and got sick of trying to walk the length of the train against the flow of people, Jennifer decided we'd be EXTRA classy, and she paid for us to be upgraded to First Class. Wot wot wot. Two common-as-much sorts sitting in the first class carriage of a Sheffield-to-London train.

Of course, I think our laughing and less-than-quiet topics of conversation got us some funny looks, but still ;)

Once we arrived in London The St Pancras International, we strutted through the very posh area, browsing and perusing the stores till we had to part ways, and from that point on, the train system fought against me. There were massive delays and issues on the Circle Line - I think because of some party/protest thingie the night before, but the train was taking forever. In the end, I got off four stops early and walked for half an hour through London to where I needed to be.

Silly Underground.

Once I got to Fenchurch Street, it was clear sailing through again.

Got to Basildon, kidnapped the kids, walked home with them, got in, put away laundry, put on wash load from the weekend, put kids to bed, and now here I sit. Knackered.

Of course, being so tired, I am struggling to remember a lot of what went on, in what order. There are things I've been told I have to post about though...

- I did in fact lose on a computer game to a girl.
- I flaked out first in the house Saturday night.
- End famine in Africa by giving them all vibrators so they are having fun and not breeding, and thus not creating a strain on the food supplies.
- Mand does have a large dirty hole. That we all saw. And it's a bit flaky around the edges.
- Mand is better than me because she has a license, but kept having panic attacks while driving. And stalling.
- The first drink spillage was Mand, caused by her trying to hide from people while she SMOKED. And she kept stealing peoples cigs to smoke during the evening.
- Someone needed to re-dye their hair quite seriously
- Mand and Bex had a slight fight against gravity on the dancefloor. They lost.
- Jenny has one topic of conversation. Sex. It's all good.
- Bex decided to buy an airbed. No pump. Guess which spanner ended up doing the majority. I still think the previous attemptees didn't open the valve though.
- Me and Jenny being left at the Palace on our own. Long Distance phone calls, Pay Per View orders, rummaging through underwear draws.
- Lynzy trying to convince me that her land of Coal Mines and Bitter isn't quite true, and that they don't always make up words. Bex then asked if "anyone wants owt" Owt?!
- I got to meet the Posh Parents in the new family Posh Pub. The Fox and Hounds, Bedford. Very nice (See that, free advertising ;)
- Mand needs to clean up her bedroom.
- My laptop didn't get fixed. Have to phone Fujitsu-Seimens (*snigger*) and hope it's under warrenty.

I have a sneaking suspicion that others will be back here to correct me on my notes, and prolly add some to the list. But suffice to say, I had a bloody great time, everyone was most excellent and great fun, and can't wait for it to happen again!

Big thank you to Mand and Jack for putting up with me, plying with food and drink, and having a great time!

How Rumours Start

On Strange Pets

Now, you may be forgiven for seeing the title of this post and thinking "Oooh strange pets like odd fish or weird rodents" or suchlike, but that is not the case. No, after receiving various messages over the weekend while I was at my mothers, I figured I should explain something.

My years as a child, and even today, any pet belonging to my family has always been a little bit... Well, as the title suggests, they've always been a little bit strange. Mum is the "Crazy Cat Lady" in her area. People find cats and give them to her. She keeps them, feeds them, looks after them and runs them around to the vets and suchlike. They go from strays to loved pets.

Over the years, we've hand-reared kittens, taken in the waifs and strays of the area and generally had animals bursting out of the windows. She's down a lot compared to before, and only has twelve now.

Yes, only...

Of those 12, two are stone deaf, one has odd coloured eyes, one talks to you, one is 20 years old (runt of the little, hand reared, never thought he'd make it...), one is universally hated by all the others and lives in the kitchen... As opposed to being "just a cat" it's more a case of describing them by their peculiarity.

Her two dogs aren't normal either - one is anti social and eats rocks (requiring fairly regular surgery) while the other is getting on a bit, allergic to all sorts of things and had a stroke giving him a wonky face. Like a golden retriever needed to look any more stupid.

And then there is Snoopy. Snoopy is not a beagle. No, this is a duck called Snoopy. A duck that can't walk without falling over. A duck that is not waterproof, and a duck that, when it hits the water, it sinks. In the rain on Saturday it stood there, outside, getting drenched and looking sorry for itself.

Well, as "sorry for himself" as a duck can look, but it really did look miserable.

Mum had pets from as long ago as I can remember, from a blind dog that bumped into everything (did it need a seeing-human?), a cat that fell out a window and dribbled every day from then on, two cats that had to live in rabbit hutches for six months after accidents nearly killing them, a mental dog that used to chase me and Gemma out the house or up the stairs, and a parrot that did a perfect smoke alarm impression at 3am.

Mum broke her arm trying to get down stairs to see what was burning...

Next time you think your pet is a bit strange, just send it to my mother. It'll be right at home.

(No) Musical Monday

So, once again, I'm late with my Musical Monday post. However, I've gotten in this evening, and with so much going on in my head, I am actually copping out. I hold my hands up and say "I gots nuffin guv"

This weekend, I shifted the kids off to Jo and headed over to Ruths. Her fella was down, and needed help lugging a bloody great rather heavy television, as well as having his computer looked at. TV, not an issue, we got it in and spent an hour fiddling with connections. However, the banana head managed to forget his hard drive... Ho hum.

Saturday I cleaned, then Kellie came over before we both jumped on a bus and headed back to our old stomping ground. She used to live next door to me, and we have plenty of memories of accident, injury, falling off/over/through things, so we decided to go back home, stopping at my mums for a coffee.

Was great to look at the places we used to terrorise, and marvelled at how similar but different it was, how walls and trees we used to climb just seemed dinky now, and how the walk to the local shop and then the school was a few minutes - I'm sure they used to be miles from home.

Then we headed over through the old Laindon Shopping Center. Wow... It used to be a concrete and depressing stand of shops - now it's a concrete and really depressing stand of boarded up shops. Headed over to Gemma and Petes to see Zoe and Amy. Ooooh broody. Zoe is lovely, Amy stole all my money, but I got a beer out of it, so you know, fair trade off ;)

I would detail what happened after leaving Gemmas, but I promised my guest that I'd not mention her weak bladder or her doing the "Don't Pee Myself" dance. Suffice to say, after not seeing Gemma for the better part of fifteen years, Gemma saw Kellie twice in one day.

Then it was back to mine, grab my stuff and head over to Kellies. Bus ride, walk, collected her kids, ordered chinese food (Yes, I'm a lardy) and then spent the evening drinking and watching comedy telly, and one of the Jackass movies. Oooh how we chuckled. Well, I chuckled, she chuckled and gagged.

Sunday we nearly got lost wandering to her sons football practice, then wandered home where she sorted out a roast dinner. Yummy. Did I mention I'm a lardy? Then it was a few more drinks before I had to head home in time to have the Boy returned to me.

After an early night - and waking up with a snotty nose and sore throat... I headed over to see Jo's new place. Oooh it's purdy. While wandering lost on an estate I should know, I gained a stalker. Now, aside from the fact I should be used to stalkers (as, let's face it, I have a few of them!) I was completely unfazed while people I've told today have said they would be scared...


He literally popped out of a bush next to me as I walked through the estate, and followed me from ten - maybe fifteen feet - for about twenty minutes. People kept stopping and staring at me as though I was The Crazy Fox Man or something. Even after coming out of Jo's place, he was there and around for a few more minutes before heading off into a bush where I assume he had a nap.

After having lunch with Jo and Tam, I headed back to Ruths, then school run, then back to Ruths for dinner until finally, being knackered and feeling a bit icky, I headed home. I think the plan for this evening is to throw the boy in the washing machine, get the tiny bit of washing up washed, then have a shower and maybe an early night.

How was your weekend :D

Is It Me?

I am not going to comment on this, but I took this picture today in the childrens section of a local book store. Is it just me that sees it?!

Pssst...

About ten minutes ago, I started writing a blog post in the usual style of a "shurrup bloody gossipers!" in an attempt to stop the rumours, quell the chatting going on behind closed doors and everything else. It was quite a well-written piece, taking some of the information that has filtered back to me through the various 0ddChannels out there, and justifying each and every one of them.

However. After much contemplating, reassessment and consideration, I deleted that post, removed my well formed words, perfect grammar (pfft) and whatever else fell from my fingers onto the keyboard, and came to a new, even deeper conclusion.

Fuck it!

It occurs to me I've spent a few posts here and there examining the stuff that people might have heard, thought about (and asked - I'm not quite THAT good!) and assumed. But, I have decided that I'm bored with that. If people want to gossip, you go for it. I like to think I publish pretty much everything I get up to, either on here, via Twitter, or even on my Facebook. Obviously there are aspects of my life I've always kept private, and on the grand scheme of things, there are probably only two or three people that know even more than that.

Trust issues, don't ya know ;)

So, go nuts. If you hear from someone that I was seen by someone with another person, then obviously there is something going on there. If someone asks someone why I am spending so much time with someone, thenclearly I am hiding something.

So here's the deal. Want to know something, just ask me. I might answer, I might tell you to get stuffed. Or, just gossip away. I'm going to start sowing seeds of gossip among a few key people, so the information you might get may well be tainted, which means when I announce the truth, you will look an even bigger banana.

Enjoy ;)

Words of Wisdom

Tagged: Natural vs. Fake?

Pretty much everyone in the world loves boobies. Let's face it, they're great. And I don't mean just us blokes. No no, girlies love them too - and why wouldn't they, they get to play with them as much as they like under the pretence of "adjusting the bra" or "having an itch"

Don't give me that look, you women sigh at us when we adjust ourselves for "adjusting the boxers" or "having an itch", fair is fair. We itch and adjust, so do you.

But I digress.

The debate here is Real vs. Fake. Me - fake seem OK as long as they aren't the size of a beach ball, and don't look like they've had the worlds water supply injected in them. Or, in other words, I like boobies.

The question is, can you tell the difference between Real Ones and Fake Ones? This quiz - and it's for grown ups - shows a video clip of a pair, and you have to decide if it is a real pair or a fake pair jiggling in front of you. If you don't like boobies, don't click the link ;)

Me, I scored 22 out of 30. Of course, I am more "Hands On" as it were...

Click Me or Click Image!

While we're on the subject of Breasticles... Have a Poll! Not done one for a while ;)

Real Boobies or Fake Boobies

Select an option:

I'll only have them Real!
I can handle them Fake!
I'm not fussy at all
I don't like boobies

Goggles

It could be said that Tam is, at times, a little bit... 0dd. To be fair to her, she DOES have some interesting genes going on... My brains, good looks and, er, well, I think that's all she needs really..

But none the less, she has developed from somewhere, a rather 0dd streak. Sometimes she likes to wear her knickers on her head. Sometimes she likes to sleep under the duvet, around the wrong way, with her feet up on the pillow. Some days she just chatters away in her own language, much like Leeloo in The Fifth Element when she crashes into the taxi cab.

While poodling around the various blogs I read, I came across Nutty Mummy on The Little Nut Tree discussing one of her wee ones sudden love of goggles. And while reading it, I could only think of my daughter on one of her strange moments.

See, Tam owns goggles, but hates them - with a passion - in the bath or shower. However, as is the case with Her Strangeness, she loves them all the time away from the bath.




Yes folks, she is wearing her goggles, and her hair inside them, just because she likes to. If you have long hair, have you ever tried to drag a pair of goggles over your head?? It's painful, yet she likes to do it, and she does it a lot.

Maybe it's just a phase... I'm still going through it. It should stop any time now....

Who Banned Me?

Uh Oh

After reading the "news" this morning about the rabies "scare" - I used the terms news and scare as loosely as possible - I went about my business and doing my own thing. However, after a while, the dreaded Boredom kicked in.

Now granted, I am clean, smooth from a shave, my hair is ever-so-sexy and clean (and conditioned!), and I am dressed. I have the balcony door open, which I sit beside, I have music blaring (check my Last.FM page), and I am contemplating some booze. It's nearly 2pm on a weekend, I can booze if I wanna.

Oh, and I am being spammed by an Aussie wench.

But, randomly clickity clicking around the web and I found myself looking at information about rabies, and, thanks to the internets and it's tubes, I am now a rabies victim. Bear with this, but assuming you read my blog on a fairly regular basis, you will HAVE to agree with the diagnosis:

The first symptoms are a flu-like fever (My temperature is always up and down, and I am always being asked "getting Man Flu") as well as Headaches that can last for "a few days" (Let's face it, I am a walking headache!). After that, the victim becomes Confused (No comment), Anxious (look at the state of my fingers and you will know I am always dealing with anxiety), as well as delirious (While it is tough being so studly, clever and great, there are those that believe I am delirious). Lastly, this will quickly develop into hallucinations (but pixies DO do my housework when I am tired and hurting!) and Insomnia...

See! I have Rabies!

Next time someone says "Bite Me" they will be sorry. And ooooh I could go around and infect the country. It'd be like 28 Days Later!