Is it just me?!?
I'm about to take a ride on my menstrual cycle and was just thinking about how bloody (no pun intended) annoying having a period actually is.
For one thing there's the whole 'period bra'. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one but I go up almost a whole cup size and my breasts aren't exactly small in their normal state. It's ridiculous! Over the years, Mr Me has come to accept that this increase in size, whilst wholly tempting, is completely out of bounds. If he so much as dares to touch them I am likely to punch his lights out.
And that's another thing, what's with all this sodding pain? I'm seriously tempted to invent period shoes. Each one would have a large steel scaffolding pole with a cup attached to the top for me to rest my breasts on. Probably needs a bit more thought though - not sure how walking would work?!? Failing that I'd like a very small man (or woman. I'm not sexist) to stand on my shoes, like little girls do when they're dancing with their fathers, and just hold them for me. Hopefully it would take some of the weight off my aching back.
With the 'period bra' comes the 'period blouse'. Tops which are purchased specifically for this time of the month so that the buttons don't gape open when I least want them to.
Oh, and then there are the 'period pants'. OK, so I've already admitted to being a bit obsessed with pants so I'm happy to report that there aren't any Bridget's in my drawers but even I have a special range of comedy underwear for this particular time of the month. My current favourites have Woodstock & Snoopy on them though I am partial to my Betty Boops.
Thankfully I don't suffer monthly skin breakouts but, even if I did, I think it would be perfectly acceptable. After all, I'm not exactly at my most attractive in my comedy pants and reinforced bra. At least I don't feel very attractive anyway.
Though, somewhat ironically, I have got the raging horn! Mother Nature has such a great sense of humour.
Have I mentioned cravings yet?
I don't think I've stopped eating today. Starchy, heavy, carb loaded food and chocolate. Lots and lots and lots of chocolate. Um, and about 6 packets of Refreshers. When I get home tonight I'm having chips a pea fritter and I may just ask the nice chip shop man for a bag of batter bits. Any other time and the very thought would make me green - with sickness, not envy.
Oh, and seeing as how I'm on the subject....................................there was a moan coming there but I've managed to pull my horns back in and the trident has remained in my handbag!
I'm off to forage for pie & chocolate.
Wednesday 24 June 2009
Tuesday 16 June 2009
Headless mice, screaming frogs and SAS cats.
On Twitter recently I confessed to having attempted to give a mouse the kiss of life having rescued it from the jaws of a cat. I gave it a bit of peach & blew JD fumes up it's nose. It died!
I gave it a very drunken burial in the garden. Did I mention I was drunk?!?
The next morning I nearly stepped on it's muddy, cat spit sodden body as I made my way to the kitchen in search of a hangover cure. I'm assuming that JD fumes & peach aren't hoodoo enough to create a zombie mouse & that one of the cats had decided that an exhumation was in order.
These particular cats made my life very interesting.....................
A very long time ago I moved in to a house with my friend Sam and her two cats, Gizmo & Tabitha (aka G&T). Our other friend Sally also moved in with us and we lived in a wonderful, fluffy, pink girly world - most of the time.
G&T were 2 years old and had spent their whole lives - up to that point - as flat cats. No they didn't arrive wrapped in cardboard and requiring self assembly. Sheesh!
They'd never been outside before and our new orchard of a back garden was a weird and wonderful place with lots of strange and frightening creatures - for all of about 3 days! After which they morphed into bloodthirsty killing machines & I secretly renamed them
Ian & Myra.
There didn't seem to be anything these cats wouldn't maim or kill or terrorise - including the bulldog over the back fence and whose sole responsibility was to protect it's owners prize doves.
It failed, many many many times.
I could often be found climbing over said fence with a dove tucked under my arm. (Ooh, that reminds me of my wedding night when I was climbing over hotel balconies with a kettle under my arm - if you ask me, I'll tell you)
I think it was on the fifth time of returning one of these doves that my neighbour said "I don't know how your cats get in. How they gets past the dog and under the wire fencing. Are you breeding S A fucking S cats over there or something?" I think we officially became the neighbours from hell at that point.
Which leads me to a question - Have you ever heard the noise a frog makes when it's being tortured by SAS cats?
They scream. Like a baby or a really small child screams. It's the most horrific sound & all the more terrible if you've never heard it before and are woken up, in the middle of the night, by the sound of a 'child' screaming AND it's coming from the direction of your lounge.
Did I mention that G&T were identical twins? Well, it's fairly relevant to this story so I should have done.
That night, I crept to the lounge and threw the light on. In the middle of the floor were G&T half sitting, half laying, facing each and between them sat the biggest, ugliest frog I've ever seen and that frog was screaming.
G&T were playing a tortuous game of 'smack' with the poor thing. One would stick it's nose up against the frogs face and then smack it on the head. The frog would scream & hop/spin 180 only to be met with the face & smack of an identical cat whereupon it would scream again and do another hop/spin 180. Poor bloody thing. No matter which way it turned it must have felt like it couldn't get away from this horrible sniffy, smacky cat.
Once I was over the shock, I broke that party up and rescued said frog only to find it the next morning squashed beneath the tyre of Sally's car! I suspect it probably had post traumatic stress disorder threw itself under her wheels.
Want to hear a frog scream? www.youtube.com/watch?v=948rhsRvIkw Not the best example but you get the idea.
G&T would regularly bring us fresh squishy deliveries and there was once a morning when I opened my eyes, having had a glorious sleep, only to be confronted with the headless body of a mouse on my pillow, right next to my cheek. Trust me, you really don't want to see a mouse's innards, not before breakfast at least anyway.
Thankfully I now have two of the most apathetic cats when it comes to hunting. The only thing they ever bring me is leaves. I did find them playing with a may bug in the hallway once but I'm pretty sure it had made it's own way into the house by accident.
Sometimes it would be nice to have hunters again, if only to keep the daddy long legs & moth population under control. Ultimately, though, I like to imagine them throwing the cat equivalent of a peace sign & conscientiously objecting but I suspect that they are just too damn lazy.
I gave it a very drunken burial in the garden. Did I mention I was drunk?!?
The next morning I nearly stepped on it's muddy, cat spit sodden body as I made my way to the kitchen in search of a hangover cure. I'm assuming that JD fumes & peach aren't hoodoo enough to create a zombie mouse & that one of the cats had decided that an exhumation was in order.
These particular cats made my life very interesting.....................
A very long time ago I moved in to a house with my friend Sam and her two cats, Gizmo & Tabitha (aka G&T). Our other friend Sally also moved in with us and we lived in a wonderful, fluffy, pink girly world - most of the time.
G&T were 2 years old and had spent their whole lives - up to that point - as flat cats. No they didn't arrive wrapped in cardboard and requiring self assembly. Sheesh!
They'd never been outside before and our new orchard of a back garden was a weird and wonderful place with lots of strange and frightening creatures - for all of about 3 days! After which they morphed into bloodthirsty killing machines & I secretly renamed them
Ian & Myra.
There didn't seem to be anything these cats wouldn't maim or kill or terrorise - including the bulldog over the back fence and whose sole responsibility was to protect it's owners prize doves.
It failed, many many many times.
I could often be found climbing over said fence with a dove tucked under my arm. (Ooh, that reminds me of my wedding night when I was climbing over hotel balconies with a kettle under my arm - if you ask me, I'll tell you)
I think it was on the fifth time of returning one of these doves that my neighbour said "I don't know how your cats get in. How they gets past the dog and under the wire fencing. Are you breeding S A fucking S cats over there or something?" I think we officially became the neighbours from hell at that point.
Which leads me to a question - Have you ever heard the noise a frog makes when it's being tortured by SAS cats?
They scream. Like a baby or a really small child screams. It's the most horrific sound & all the more terrible if you've never heard it before and are woken up, in the middle of the night, by the sound of a 'child' screaming AND it's coming from the direction of your lounge.
Did I mention that G&T were identical twins? Well, it's fairly relevant to this story so I should have done.
That night, I crept to the lounge and threw the light on. In the middle of the floor were G&T half sitting, half laying, facing each and between them sat the biggest, ugliest frog I've ever seen and that frog was screaming.
G&T were playing a tortuous game of 'smack' with the poor thing. One would stick it's nose up against the frogs face and then smack it on the head. The frog would scream & hop/spin 180 only to be met with the face & smack of an identical cat whereupon it would scream again and do another hop/spin 180. Poor bloody thing. No matter which way it turned it must have felt like it couldn't get away from this horrible sniffy, smacky cat.
Once I was over the shock, I broke that party up and rescued said frog only to find it the next morning squashed beneath the tyre of Sally's car! I suspect it probably had post traumatic stress disorder threw itself under her wheels.
Want to hear a frog scream? www.youtube.com/watch?v=948rhsRvIkw Not the best example but you get the idea.
G&T would regularly bring us fresh squishy deliveries and there was once a morning when I opened my eyes, having had a glorious sleep, only to be confronted with the headless body of a mouse on my pillow, right next to my cheek. Trust me, you really don't want to see a mouse's innards, not before breakfast at least anyway.
Thankfully I now have two of the most apathetic cats when it comes to hunting. The only thing they ever bring me is leaves. I did find them playing with a may bug in the hallway once but I'm pretty sure it had made it's own way into the house by accident.
Sometimes it would be nice to have hunters again, if only to keep the daddy long legs & moth population under control. Ultimately, though, I like to imagine them throwing the cat equivalent of a peace sign & conscientiously objecting but I suspect that they are just too damn lazy.
Monday 8 June 2009
Hello, my name is Sassy and I’m addicted to pants.
Now that’s out of the way, here’s a few other things you should know about me before you decide to invest any of your valuable time reading this blog……….
· I can’t ride a bicycle unless there’s a trombone strapped to the back of it.
· I am convinced that marzipan was created by Satan & no-one can persuade me otherwise.
· I love almonds. Which is weird considering the marzipan issue.
· I have a friend called Lulu who describes me as being like a wind up toy. Wind my key and watch me go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, stop.
· I was County & National champion at 100m Freestyle, for many years, and my father used to say that I was built like a race horse. Never did quite understand that one. Something to do with having legs up to my arm pits I think?!?
· I was a late bloomer and my breasts took my by surprise by deciding to make a sudden & unexpected appearance at the age of 17.
· Men stopped looking me in the eye when I turned 17!
· I gave up swimming when I was 17. Actually, I think these are in the wrong order and the previous 2 points wouldn’t have existed without this one.
· I’m essentially lazy and, as a result, won’t be updating this blog with any regularity.
· I’ll pretty much eat anything once but if you come near me with marzipan or toblerone then you’d better be prepared to bring it!
· Most of the time I’m either thinking about food or sex or both. Or sleep.
· It takes a hell of a lot to make me angry but when I blow you’d better be ducking & covering
· I’m not as clever or smart or funny or dazzling as I’d like to be.
· I’ve always fancied bass players but married a drummer.
· Yes I have a sense of humour – see point above.
· I play a mean game of Uno Extreme.
So, now that you know these things about me I’m going to start counting and if you’re still here by the time I get to 5 then you’re mine…….one………two…………three…………….ooh did someone say pie?!?
Now that’s out of the way, here’s a few other things you should know about me before you decide to invest any of your valuable time reading this blog……….
· I can’t ride a bicycle unless there’s a trombone strapped to the back of it.
· I am convinced that marzipan was created by Satan & no-one can persuade me otherwise.
· I love almonds. Which is weird considering the marzipan issue.
· I have a friend called Lulu who describes me as being like a wind up toy. Wind my key and watch me go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, stop.
· I was County & National champion at 100m Freestyle, for many years, and my father used to say that I was built like a race horse. Never did quite understand that one. Something to do with having legs up to my arm pits I think?!?
· I was a late bloomer and my breasts took my by surprise by deciding to make a sudden & unexpected appearance at the age of 17.
· Men stopped looking me in the eye when I turned 17!
· I gave up swimming when I was 17. Actually, I think these are in the wrong order and the previous 2 points wouldn’t have existed without this one.
· I’m essentially lazy and, as a result, won’t be updating this blog with any regularity.
· I’ll pretty much eat anything once but if you come near me with marzipan or toblerone then you’d better be prepared to bring it!
· Most of the time I’m either thinking about food or sex or both. Or sleep.
· It takes a hell of a lot to make me angry but when I blow you’d better be ducking & covering
· I’m not as clever or smart or funny or dazzling as I’d like to be.
· I’ve always fancied bass players but married a drummer.
· Yes I have a sense of humour – see point above.
· I play a mean game of Uno Extreme.
So, now that you know these things about me I’m going to start counting and if you’re still here by the time I get to 5 then you’re mine…….one………two…………three…………….ooh did someone say pie?!?
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