Sweeties, lovies, once again the treachery of fate has taken me away from the only friends I have ever known. The small crumbs of comfort I have ever been able to pick up from the cold floor. The only.... oh alright, I'll tell you. There have been laptop issues - or baggage as my mate would say.
A stork is bringing a new one. Why can't that bloody Dell have a frackin' shop? Its alright for them looking smug on their advert - lease out a premises, mates, and put a sign on the window. Never did PC world any harm!
So am furtively on this one (Husband's) for now. Bloody pain in the arse.
There was also the Thumb Affair. Bloody breaking Pistachio nuts with me thumbs, suddenly got this terrible and evil pain go through one of them. Bastard was throbbing all last week. I was this close to going to Casualty. NOT that anyone in this bloody house cared! But I am used to lack of emotion and love. Grown up with it.
Anyway, was on the verge of going, then the bloody pain lessened. Just like Rosemary's Baby - spooky!
Got my Christmas booze in. Tesco Value brandy and Tesco Imperial vodka (the small size), this'll do me. Husband has sneered at their cheapness but I bet if he had to put HIS hand in his pocket - well!
My one xmas outing that I'm really looking forward to is : "Its a Wonderful Life" with James Stewart is on at the Richmond Curzon over christmas. Have always wanted to see that on the big screen. Will be first in that queue. Who wants to come? It can be our little seasonal outing. Bit like an office party if you will. I'll bring the fags - hope everyone likes Caption of Strength. Couple of you can bring some Baileys (supermarket brand of course) and someone else can bring the sweets. Let me know when's a good time
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Turmoil!
Been up Richmond, haven't I. The one in Surrey. What a one horse town! I mean, don't get me wrong, if its culture you're after then you're laughing all the way to the - er - programme seller but otherwise what a load of old shit. Anyway it was the scene of a dilema, o brothers.
Had five minutes between Snappy Snaps and Robert Dyas. And had to choose between getting strawberries for the kids (from Waitrose) or a fag by the car park. Oh it was agony! Which one was it to be? I was torn in half, o my brothers, quite literally torn in half.
It was like one of those On the Road films with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby where a little old lady with a harp is on one of Bob Hopes' shoulder and a devil is on the other. And he can't decide what to do! The old lady sternly told me I cannot fob off the kids with a chocolate cookie for dessert again, it was time for fresh fruit! Meanwhile old Nick was tellin me the joys of inhaling that smoke by the A316. I was broken, brothers, just broken.
I like to think I eventually made the fair and right decision. And anyway Waitrose fruit is a complete rip-off.
Had to really smoke a lot this morning. It was Victorian day for year 6 and Son was going as a chimney sweep and was desperate for ash to put on his face. Well, I was happy to oblige. I told you smoking is good for you!
Had five minutes between Snappy Snaps and Robert Dyas. And had to choose between getting strawberries for the kids (from Waitrose) or a fag by the car park. Oh it was agony! Which one was it to be? I was torn in half, o my brothers, quite literally torn in half.
It was like one of those On the Road films with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby where a little old lady with a harp is on one of Bob Hopes' shoulder and a devil is on the other. And he can't decide what to do! The old lady sternly told me I cannot fob off the kids with a chocolate cookie for dessert again, it was time for fresh fruit! Meanwhile old Nick was tellin me the joys of inhaling that smoke by the A316. I was broken, brothers, just broken.
I like to think I eventually made the fair and right decision. And anyway Waitrose fruit is a complete rip-off.
Had to really smoke a lot this morning. It was Victorian day for year 6 and Son was going as a chimney sweep and was desperate for ash to put on his face. Well, I was happy to oblige. I told you smoking is good for you!
Thursday, 5 November 2009
Eye of the Tiger !
A quick burst on here today, brothers, between fags. Because its that time of year again, isn't it. At least for Son anyway. Its the frackin' bloody 11+ exam. The one where millions of kids try to all get in one school.
Daughter went through this shit and didn't get in. In fact, she bombed it. And yes, loads and loads of heartbreak followed. In fact, it was that that got me blogging and everything. I needed to tell people. But thats all behind us now and she goes to a super girls school down the road and that. So when Son came up for secondary school, we did not want to go through all that shit again and planned to put him down for the comprehensive where all his mates are going. I mean they have sport and maths and shit, don't they? I wanted an easier ride this time.
But oh no, Son wanted to try and get into that bloody school, didn't he. That unobtainable building six miles away. And Stupid here listened to all the advice - it would be a lot crueller if you didn't let him take it, you shouldn't deny him the experience - I should have said Bollocks but didn't. Got on the phone to Daughter's old tutor and it all went from there.
But even then, it seemed safely far away. But not now! Early December in fact. Oh Bloody hell! He won't get in! Unless they have a special exam for kids who do no bloody work - he will never do it. And I'm gonna go through this heartbreak again!
And it does matter, you know. You can tell yourself what you bloody well like - it does matter!
As Liza Minnelli once said about the Oscars - when they're opening that golden envelope, it matters!
Have ordered a hundred fags from Fatso to be collected on that date. That woke the old git up I tell you! And have booked a triple cappaccino from the nearest outlet.
This is a vital time. Why won't he do any work? Why can't it be like Rocky 2 where the wife in hospital tells Rocky she wants him to win? And he goes out training in Philledelphia and all these kids follow him up the stairs and that? Why can't that happen with Son? (Bloody good film that!)
Well thats it. Time for my fag - and my hands are throbbing..
Daughter went through this shit and didn't get in. In fact, she bombed it. And yes, loads and loads of heartbreak followed. In fact, it was that that got me blogging and everything. I needed to tell people. But thats all behind us now and she goes to a super girls school down the road and that. So when Son came up for secondary school, we did not want to go through all that shit again and planned to put him down for the comprehensive where all his mates are going. I mean they have sport and maths and shit, don't they? I wanted an easier ride this time.
But oh no, Son wanted to try and get into that bloody school, didn't he. That unobtainable building six miles away. And Stupid here listened to all the advice - it would be a lot crueller if you didn't let him take it, you shouldn't deny him the experience - I should have said Bollocks but didn't. Got on the phone to Daughter's old tutor and it all went from there.
But even then, it seemed safely far away. But not now! Early December in fact. Oh Bloody hell! He won't get in! Unless they have a special exam for kids who do no bloody work - he will never do it. And I'm gonna go through this heartbreak again!
And it does matter, you know. You can tell yourself what you bloody well like - it does matter!
As Liza Minnelli once said about the Oscars - when they're opening that golden envelope, it matters!
Have ordered a hundred fags from Fatso to be collected on that date. That woke the old git up I tell you! And have booked a triple cappaccino from the nearest outlet.
This is a vital time. Why won't he do any work? Why can't it be like Rocky 2 where the wife in hospital tells Rocky she wants him to win? And he goes out training in Philledelphia and all these kids follow him up the stairs and that? Why can't that happen with Son? (Bloody good film that!)
Well thats it. Time for my fag - and my hands are throbbing..
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Cutting Edge!
Applause!
Welcome to our alternative poetry readings. live from the Avant Garde Club.
Now I know you've all come tonight to hear Fatso's new anthology "No Superkings, sorry" - (perhaps his most brutal work of all) but let me introduce our newest and freshest warm-up poet - Jenny Smith
(polite applause amid murmers "but I wanted to see Fatso!" and "I hope he doesn't fall asleep this time!")
JS clears throat:
"This is my most radical piece to date:
Half-term! What a load of shit that is!
Its not even christmas. Or Easter.
And the kids get on your tits
And they hog the laptop all the time
if you're not driving 'em to sleepovers that is!
And don't get me started on Halloween...!
(Sounds of "boos" start to erupt dangerously amid murmers of "doesnt' even rhyme" and
"where's the irony? thats what I want to know...")
Look! Its a work in progress, okay?
When the hell is it Monday?
When I can get rid of the bloody lot of them
Daughter says she's got a sore throat
well, I tell you, she's bloody going.......
Ow! No, stop it! Hey! Thats not very ladylike!
(tomatos and paper cups are being thrown now)
"Fatso! Fatso! Bring on Fatso! Get off, you talentless waste of space!
AND you're not allowed to smoke in here!"
Well, sod it then. Did Philip Larkin ever have this trouble, I wonder.
Welcome to our alternative poetry readings. live from the Avant Garde Club.
Now I know you've all come tonight to hear Fatso's new anthology "No Superkings, sorry" - (perhaps his most brutal work of all) but let me introduce our newest and freshest warm-up poet - Jenny Smith
(polite applause amid murmers "but I wanted to see Fatso!" and "I hope he doesn't fall asleep this time!")
JS clears throat:
"This is my most radical piece to date:
Half-term! What a load of shit that is!
Its not even christmas. Or Easter.
And the kids get on your tits
And they hog the laptop all the time
if you're not driving 'em to sleepovers that is!
And don't get me started on Halloween...!
(Sounds of "boos" start to erupt dangerously amid murmers of "doesnt' even rhyme" and
"where's the irony? thats what I want to know...")
Look! Its a work in progress, okay?
When the hell is it Monday?
When I can get rid of the bloody lot of them
Daughter says she's got a sore throat
well, I tell you, she's bloody going.......
Ow! No, stop it! Hey! Thats not very ladylike!
(tomatos and paper cups are being thrown now)
"Fatso! Fatso! Bring on Fatso! Get off, you talentless waste of space!
AND you're not allowed to smoke in here!"
Well, sod it then. Did Philip Larkin ever have this trouble, I wonder.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Quick....!
Just a quick one before I go to work, o brothers. (yes, work, me! With my nerves and aspirations and everything..etc etc. .....)
Went on a train the other night to that O2 place. Got off at Waterloo. Told Husband I was having a fag before we got on that funny Jubilee line thing. Went out the station and opposite was a cage(!) with Smoking Area posted on it.
"I am not getting into a fracking cage to smoke!" I told Husband politely. What is this world coming to? Its a side entrance at Waterloo where lorries drop off things and that. Whyever would you have a designated smoking place there? And I'm tossed if I was entering a buggering cage?
There were a few meek smokers in there and I glared at them, trying to make them aware of their betrayal and stood directly outside it and lit up. I noticed a few others did beside me.
Husband looked worried. Let 'em call the Police, I told him. And who exactly were going to call the police? The porters? The men in the lorries? The man at the Costa stand? For fracks sake! A cage , my arse.
I mean I've gone along with this No Smoking shit quietly so far. Simply because I've had no choice. But there are times when you need to kick out at these bastards.
Will be back soon for part two. This will include not being able to smoke near that dreadful shitty dome thing and how high up I had to frackin' sit. Oh yeah, and about the pop group I went to see.
Went on a train the other night to that O2 place. Got off at Waterloo. Told Husband I was having a fag before we got on that funny Jubilee line thing. Went out the station and opposite was a cage(!) with Smoking Area posted on it.
"I am not getting into a fracking cage to smoke!" I told Husband politely. What is this world coming to? Its a side entrance at Waterloo where lorries drop off things and that. Whyever would you have a designated smoking place there? And I'm tossed if I was entering a buggering cage?
There were a few meek smokers in there and I glared at them, trying to make them aware of their betrayal and stood directly outside it and lit up. I noticed a few others did beside me.
Husband looked worried. Let 'em call the Police, I told him. And who exactly were going to call the police? The porters? The men in the lorries? The man at the Costa stand? For fracks sake! A cage , my arse.
I mean I've gone along with this No Smoking shit quietly so far. Simply because I've had no choice. But there are times when you need to kick out at these bastards.
Will be back soon for part two. This will include not being able to smoke near that dreadful shitty dome thing and how high up I had to frackin' sit. Oh yeah, and about the pop group I went to see.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Eye of a Needle
Have such a stinking cold, my brothers. Fate is a very cruel mistress indeed.
Have been taking Aspro Clear like it was lemondade and now they've given me the shits. I was telling Son's teacher about my tummy antics just this morning. And do you know, Brothers, I suspect he has the same symptons as me. He kept clearing his throat and had an uncomfortable expression on his face:
"...through the eye of a needle ", I explained
"....yes, mrs Smith, now about Son's algebra...."
Me and education just do not mix. I don't mean just the fancy book-learning stuff either. There was an insufferable 9 months when I was a dinner lady - sorry, I mean SMSA - and do you know, my working space was full of kids! I couldn't talk to the other SMSA's about Big Brother or periods or anything. Some bloody kid was always interupting us blithering on about scraping knees and that. And whenever I suggested a bloody good cuff round the ear, they would look at me funny!
And now I'm back in the frying pan. Just when I thought it was safe to walk by a school. The Invigillators reach out and get me. Yes, I've applied for that at Daughter's school. I thought you only needed 'em for "O" levels in June and that was that! I mean , there's no sixth form!
No, they have them all over the bloody place! And then this lady kept talking about modules. I mean this isn't bloody Brunel university. Anyway, the poor cow needs hundreds of invigilators apparently.
I have hazy memories of my Maths teacher invigilating several exams and smoking a fag under the desk. Even in those very politically incorrect times of 1974, smoking was still not allowed. His fingers were as yellow as the sun. The only person I would swear blind died of smoking. The only one I would concede to anyway.
But no, these teachers can't do it anymore, they need someone like me. They prefer Mums apparently. Well, I haven't even said I'd do it yet - and I remember that when I became a dinner lady. They don't actually offer you a job, they just assume you're doing it. And this lady is sending me on a course without a bye or leave. Did anyone see those invigillators on Armstrong and Miller? Thats what I want to do.
Whoops! Son and Dad back. Gotta go xxx
Have been taking Aspro Clear like it was lemondade and now they've given me the shits. I was telling Son's teacher about my tummy antics just this morning. And do you know, Brothers, I suspect he has the same symptons as me. He kept clearing his throat and had an uncomfortable expression on his face:
"...through the eye of a needle ", I explained
"....yes, mrs Smith, now about Son's algebra...."
Me and education just do not mix. I don't mean just the fancy book-learning stuff either. There was an insufferable 9 months when I was a dinner lady - sorry, I mean SMSA - and do you know, my working space was full of kids! I couldn't talk to the other SMSA's about Big Brother or periods or anything. Some bloody kid was always interupting us blithering on about scraping knees and that. And whenever I suggested a bloody good cuff round the ear, they would look at me funny!
And now I'm back in the frying pan. Just when I thought it was safe to walk by a school. The Invigillators reach out and get me. Yes, I've applied for that at Daughter's school. I thought you only needed 'em for "O" levels in June and that was that! I mean , there's no sixth form!
No, they have them all over the bloody place! And then this lady kept talking about modules. I mean this isn't bloody Brunel university. Anyway, the poor cow needs hundreds of invigilators apparently.
I have hazy memories of my Maths teacher invigilating several exams and smoking a fag under the desk. Even in those very politically incorrect times of 1974, smoking was still not allowed. His fingers were as yellow as the sun. The only person I would swear blind died of smoking. The only one I would concede to anyway.
But no, these teachers can't do it anymore, they need someone like me. They prefer Mums apparently. Well, I haven't even said I'd do it yet - and I remember that when I became a dinner lady. They don't actually offer you a job, they just assume you're doing it. And this lady is sending me on a course without a bye or leave. Did anyone see those invigillators on Armstrong and Miller? Thats what I want to do.
Whoops! Son and Dad back. Gotta go xxx
Friday, 16 October 2009
Bloody cheek!
Would you adam and eve it? Of all the nerve! I mean Really????
Babysitting at mate's house. Dark already! Go outside for a fag don't I . Felt something fall spookily over my shoulder. Screamed - assuming it was a zombie - it was only a bloody spiders web! Walked right through the bloody thing!
Beside me was a spider hastily scrambling up on what was left of its web. It gave me a filthy look. Look where you're going, you stupid cow!, it glared. I told it: Excuse me mate, we'd all love to put down webs where we'd like, haven't you heard of consideration and Council tax? And how much rent are you paying here? I keep forgetting.
Spider tutted and went on making a new web. The cheek of these scrounging buggers! I mean I know they're Gods creatures and that, but really! Anyway I took a shot of the cheeky sod, threatened to expose it and sell it to the Sunday Sport. It went pale at that one, I tell you!
Interfering with my fag like that! Bloody cheek!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)