Goggleblog

My running commentary of today's gogglebox...

blow by blow commentary (only funny if you actually watch this)


-Hubby and I still arguing about Adipose's name

- which fucking fridge? - some of us only have one

- I miss Caroline Ahern - not the same without her

- who dyes their asshole - actually I don't want to know

- Sqeedge - possible future cats name?

- I love Leon and June  and his Japanese impressions

- Seriously going to replace all my mugs for pot noodle cups (if it wears out I can replace it for a yummy snack and cup all in one)

-Maybe a virtual boyfriend isn't a terrible idea?

- What that boy needs is a good blowjob - not convinced that's going to fix society

- Does silent Bob (jay?) ever speak?

- That Dom is definitely dirty in the bedroom...

- Why does everyone fancy Nigella - I cook okay badly but no one fancies me (other than hubby and he tried my lettuce soup)

- Loving Dom's dodgy tooth mother crushes

- Hubby is suckered in by steak and Nigella..... we'll go back to the blow job theory then? (see above)

- Mum and I discuss Dad fancying Nigella and me saying its cos she looks like her.. (well if you squint and stand on one leg)

- Mum want's to remove the grey hair from his nose (Mr Michael)

- Loving the posh couple slurping and getting on the old tits  which Dom would like to see

- Ad break - continued argument about ADIPOSE, hubby (who is getting on my tits) votes FEZ, mum is doing the names in a hat and letting the kitten (ADIPOSE) choose... Mum then (forced by the way) is still pushing for BelloTrix (so not happening)

- and we are back (which is a relief from the awkward kitten name tension)

- chin chin - I so have to stay at their B n B I should have put it on my 33 things (maybe I could include it in have a holiday?)

- Oh god Sandy and Sandra twerking - I can never remove that image from my brain

- why does everyone feel the need to show their asses tonight?

- ooooh cake and beavers (this will make no sense in the morning)

- Mum: didn't we watch this? (educating yorkshire)
me: no you said it was shit
Mum: but its the final
Me: yes but you said it was shit
Mum: nothing final is shit... and they are crying we should have watched this... (insert eye rolling here)

- comparing hubby to fat dad - I meant it in a complementary way but he just looks cranky

- this teacher needs a wife or tie teaching lessons

- okay teacher may be shabby but I do want to cry now...

- FINE teachers are as cool as social workers

- Hubby making F%^K jokes - trying to be grown up and mature - given in and laughed - will now have to watch educating yorkshire finale tomorrow - for the emotional release and research purposes for NaNoWriMO

- argument about tie teacher... hubby says clothes don't matter what was girl child's teacher wearing at parents evening... I have no clue and don't care she was a woman, hubby tries (and fails) to use gender equality against me ... he misses the point.. its not the tie, I don't care if he does or doesn't wear one so long as he wear its properly - still arguing about this... want to kill hubby

- back to gogglebox (because argument will go on all night and I am confident that I am right)

- I am worried that I don't understand Russell Brand sober of all people especially when he's talking politics (maybe am not as clever as I like to assume)

- I need Steph's boots (always distracted by shoe porn)

- She says he looks dirty yet she's sleeping with Dirty Dom

- Cocks and Tits I love Wednesdays

- It's true the UK cannot deal with weather - of any kind - and for the record where was my storm?

- I don't even watch x factor anymore and I want this prison chick to win

- massive dress - Leon I have bigger ;) (oh god hitting on the OAP's must be immoral?)

- Decide against singing this as marriage is hanging by a thread - but my heart will go on (just so you know)

- Too late, did it, made mum and hubby's ears bleed.... they are currently discussing singing lessons, I suggest hearing tests

- Thinking we should install Sandra in our house instead of spider off....

YAY GOGGLEBOX

Adipose, Implants and *ahem* After Eights

So day two of annual leave, which for how much I want it when I'm working, I can't work out what to do with it when I actually have it, I make all these ridiculous plans about how I'm going to embrace my inner goddess (she has to be in there somewhere) and the house is going to be re-energised and spotless, I'm going to go out and do meaningful things and see wondrous sights and achieve spiritual enlightenment. This in fact never happens, in fact I sleep in, yell at the small people and achieve absolutely nothing aside from wishing I could go back to work.

That being said in my path of doing nothing, I feel that this was entirely earned today, as today was implant removal day. Which if you are not a big girly wuss pants is not in fact a big deal/day, but I am afraid of anything remotely medical (I can't even watch casualty or Holby city), blood, needles, bandages and more specifically (thanks to recent events) hospitals. So I have spent the majority of the day stressing myself out with what could go wrong stories, imagining needles and blood and chainsaws (must stop watching random Netflix horror movies) and working myself up. Mum said I needed to keep my blood sugar levels up to prevent the inevitable passing out so I ate an éclair just to be sure. Also had small moment of panic when remembered I wouldn't be able to shower for two days after and couldn't find actual implant in arms. Decided after much talking to myself that even my own body would not have digested it no matter how hungry and that maybe it had migrated up into my armpit. This resulted in emergency shaving as I did not want the poor nurse to have to scrabble around in my under managed armpit jungle. Then as I had wound myself up into a state of where the implant had gone, I attempted some moves of gymnastic proportions to find it, which was very difficult to explain to boy child. Eventually located it where it was originally put and marked with pro-marker in proactive helping the nurse find it way. (Hey they did it to boy child and got the right arm so no harm in being prepared)

But before all that hubby and I got into a debate last night while he was trying to sleep and I was bored. This is never a good combination because when I want to chat, he gets annoyed because apparently beds are for sleeping and sex (sometimes at the same time) but NOT according to him chatting. Also when I want to chat that means I want to start an arguement about some socially related issue so I can tell him that he knows nothing about anything and that this is why he works with computers and I work with people. (Okay at least 5% at the time I work with people). I also highlighted to him the importance of "chat" and that its what normal couples do when they go to bed because it allows them to grow and develop as people and couples. He said he would love the chance to grow and develop but that when I want to chat it means I want to talk endlessly without listening to anything he has to say and to just be right. (This may be true but there was no way in hell I was going to confess to this). I am nothing if not persistent, so I baited him into a conversation about the human rights act, informing that his opinion doesn't count for anything and that he really needed to work on his conversational skills. There may have been a few minutes where if you didn't know us you would think we were having a full blown argument (which for the record if we were I would have been winning) but seeing as it resulted in him going to sleep before grumbling about bloody annual leave and being restless and disturbing all us sane normal people with real jobs, and me sulking downstairs with Bridget. On that note I have gone off Bridget *SPOILERS* and her dead Mr Darcy because she is not as much fun as she used to be.... plus I can see more of myself in her than ever before and I do not like it....

Hubby came home to pick me up and take me for the removal of the implant (because even when he's all fake cross he does know there are some things I am not brave enough to face alone) and took me via the animal shelter where we met ADIPOSE the kitten. I have to put this in capitals because me and said hubby are having another debate (there is a lot of debating going on in this household these days, I blame the implant) about the kitten's name. They said he was shy and timid (ADIPOSE not hubby) and that he does not like to be fussed, shows what they know because not only is he the cutest bundle of fluff he was begging for attention and to be taken home (note to self: buy cat tent cutest thing ever aside from ADIPOSE) so he is currently half rescued as we have to do lots of visits to the shelter with the small people to ensure that he is a good match and for our landlord to say that yes we can have him. I am very excited about this, even if I have to debate with hubby some more.

Animal shelter was great distraction from implant removal. Which I was late for due to all the kitten fussing. Hubby threw me out the car while I ran through the hospital like a crazed person and apologised profusely for my lateness. Had most excellent nurse who understood when I said things in high pitched voice along the lines of

"I'm a bleeder I need to lie down"
"Don't talk to me just do it"
" Oh god I am going to vomit if you keep doing that"

All of these things are true, but she took it in her stride and was very professional, keeping me talking and distracting me, Hubby burst through the door after fighting with the receptionist about data protection just as I was losing my cool, calm, collected state and I yell "talk at me before I pass out". I naturally forgot that asking him to chat was a recipe for disaster as he froze like a deer in the headlights. See I knew he needed to practice this chatting thing more, luckily the nurse who was pulling and cutting and doing god knows what to the sound of a dripping tap distracted me with talk about cars of all things. This worked for a while until my brain started pointing out the fact that she had during this time got a chair to sit down in, and it appeared to be taking longer than usual. This was when I began to have a panic attack / pass out / vomit all of the above. Also weird anaesthetic thing that makes your arm all numb and dead weight eventually gets to your brain and makes everything weirder. I also talk a lot (yes I know) but a lot more and in dolphin when I am beginning to panic and cannot remember what else I said other than is it over yet? Finally it was indeed over which is when the nurse said "I didn't want to tell you this while I was doing it...." Heart stopping moment... why do they do that? If I didn't want to know then I don't want to know now.... nah ah! But she continued with, I didn't think I was going to be able to get it out (Hubby later chimes in with she's not very good with a scalpel for a nurse) so you will experience some severe bruising, and I wouldn't remove the bandage for a few days just to be sure, and you'll probably scar but it is out. I did my vomit face (see I knew I didn't want to know). Clearly she had been listening to the liable to pass out on the floor and knock myself out like the previous time I went through this, and entertained me with sexual health talk like cutting off hubby's bits or mine, before thrusting condom's at me. I have already asked this today as it has been a long time since I had to use these darn contraptions and I noted that she gave me mint flavoured ones, I am a little concerned about putting them in my lady garden, because I imagine (not that I have tried this) that it would be like putting mouthwash down there, but I was too embarrassed, vomit worthy and fainty to ask. Therefore I asked my oracles on the web, and have been advised that I should (I believe) lick them first before taking the plunge, and that if they taste like after eights I will probably be ok. Libido has not kicked in yet, so I think when that actually happens I may leave the mint ones till last.




^^^^^^^ My duck faced injured selfie, proving that I have indeed been to battle. Not actually that easy to take a photo with a dead, achey, sore and bruised arm, but god loves a trier.

Mum can't handle the prospect of two Virgo's with damaged left limbs, so threatened to drink the hurricane supplies, luckily she still hasn't mastered child proof lids so my supplies were in tact (I am drinking them now)

She did take pity on me and make me yum scrum cheese and onion puffs and courgette and carrot salad



Remembered that it is NaNoWriMo in November and that if I am going to achieve this writing a novel thing that this is probably a good opportunity, plus I say I'm going to do it every year and then don't. Luckily because I love to prove other people wrong and have fellow writing buddy (who makes plans and drafts and is a professional) I am fully signed up and ready to go, what is 1667 words a day between friends? Plus I am in full procrastination wing it mode.

Finally we have had this picture for years and I have hated it for all of that time. But before I found this picture it had a giant snow tiger on top, which I didn't like because it looked at me the whole time and this has caused much discussion (thats different to debate) with hubby who loves it. I actually got it down so that I could do my Dr Who puzzle on it, the tiger fell out and I found this underneath, which I very much love and think will be fabulous in patchworked front room. Now all I have to do is convince hubby that he loves it too, or that he loves the walls enough to stop me from hanging it up and do it for me :)

Tomorrow mum has a job interview and another trip to the dentist, which could make for some amusing blogging, provided she remembers to do the right thing in the right one since they are next door to each other.

Annual Leave, Soup, Pound Shop Wonders and Patchworking

Now I am aware that it has been a week since I last blogged, this does not mean I have fallen off the writing / blogging bandwagon, it just means that after the last few crazy weeks of being in and out of hospital that I just needed some "normality" time to kick in...

So WOOHOO on the day of the great storm (that hasn't happened here yet despite the preparations I made hubby make just in case) I am officially on annual leave for a whole week, which as previously mentioned feels much needed. So I have planned to legitimately do nothing all week and enjoy it. Apparently I have to spend time with the small people too, but only in small doses since they spend most of their time with their faces in assorted tech, only in the boy child's case coming downstairs in search of food.

Things I have achieved today... mother insisted that she needed taking out for her weekly excursion, meaning that it is payday and we have to do our monthly treat of going to the pound shop. This is a monthly celebration in which me and my mother look forward to in the same way that extreme couponers enjoy climbing into dumpsters and getting things for free. Since we live in the UK we enjoy getting crap we don't need for a £1. Its all regional really! Since it is pay day and therefore pocket money day, the small people insisted in being allowed to come along, which I agreed to on the basis that girl child took boy child around town on their own, so that I could be the pound shop whore that I am in peace. I did realise that this meant that she would ditch boy child in the sweet shop while she shopped for make-up but to be fair the town I live in is small enough that if either of them sneezed I would hear them...

And so mother and I trawled the pound shop, and oohed and ahhhed over all the delectable things that are £1 and got even more excited on the occasional 2 for £1 which causes a good 20 minute debate between us about how many we need. Now we both take the approach that if everything is £1 then we can have as much of stuff as we want.




This beauty is my find of the day, especially since this label states that it contains no sympathy or compassion. I am still unsure as to whether it causes man flu, or fixes it. I shall test it on hubby in an unsuspecting moment and report back.

I also discovered lots of other gems that I needed in my life, including store and pour bags (very good for all the soup making) russian doll nail care set (it's cute everyone should have one) fake pink hair and super hot sauce (I got this for hubby).

After all this shopping me and mum were knackered so we swung past the YMCA. Boy child complained because he couldn't join in the dance since his plaster cast doesn't bend that way and Mum complaining because she is left handed and does the dance backwards... We had a wander to see if there was any good finds, I rescued a trivial pursuit set and mum got a hamper to hide all of her stuff (crap) in. I love that she likes to think that she's going home to Italy some time in the next two years but yet we all know she's staying.

So we got home, and I decided that if I tidied today that therefore means I don't have to do it for the rest of the week. I had a bit of a bicker about the fact that nobody cleans anything any more, and why should I be expected to use my holiday to sort out all this mess?, before resorting to my usual trick of stuffing things in drawers, spraying polish on the radiators and light-bulbs before turning them all on, and making piles of other people's mess. Oh and making lots of humphing and groaning noises to show the effort I was making in all of this.

Then boy child decided to throw his milkshake all over the sofa and rub it in, in an effort to pretend that this isn't in fact what had happened. It was then that I decided that in order to save the sofa, mum should wash it, so I swapped and changed up the sofa for what I think is a pretty nifty patchwork trend setting solution:



Mum said this was foolish since the minute hubby walked through the door he would know that someone had spilled something, so I suggested we made the whole sofa red, but then she made excuses about being women of a certain age and that we were not as strong as we used to be and trying to get the red sofa cover onto the sofa when it took three of us to get the cream one on, just wasn't a possibility. She said all of this while playing chef city and not taking her eyes of the screen.... turns out she was right, hubby walked in the door and said OK who spilled what, while looking at boy child. But I don't care I like it and it's staying like this till the next spillage and then I can put the blue covers on... Patchwork Chic is what I'm branding it.

Now hubby and I got into a bit of a debate this weekend about the photo frames I begged him to buy me nearly two years ago. He says that he's fed up of looking at them and remembering my (supposed) promise to fill them with photos and yet failing to do so for the said two years and that if we have to move again he is not putting them up. I tried to explain my emotional attachment to the family contained with in these frames, and that I like to imagine how Emily and Jordan got on throughout their lives. Hubby said that was frankly ridiculous and showed that I have more attachment to some random photo family than I do my own. I got a little mad and said he should leave the amateur psychology to me and that he had no soul for young or old (depends on which photo frame you are looking at) Emily and Jordan and their family and that just shows what kind of person he is. This debate went on for a good few hours and resulted in my sulking and his well doing whatever it is he does.



Since I had already had to reorganise the front room to accommodate milk spillage, and although it crushed my heart to move Emily and Jordan on I thought I should finally fill the photo frames just to shut him up. In fairness they do look kind of cool and I found wonderful discoveries in the shed that I had forgotten about (it really is like an Aladdin's cave in there)

I then decided it that since I am still veggie, and did not lose or gain weight this week, that it was time to revisit soup... (yes I am a glutton for punishment)



What we are aiming for....



Now I will confess at this point I was getting a leetle worried, because this is exactly how the lettuce soup started looking..only green not orange obviously...


But never fear because I am the ultimate domestic soup making goddess, and although the rest of the family betrayed me and ate pies out of tins with meat... I made this (insert fanfare and cherubs and possibly a shrine for good measure)



And it turns out that this scores a gold plus triple A* with honours... Butternut and Sweet Potato Soup is now my speciality. It was scrum yum yum to the max. Admittedly I may now have enough to eat it every day for the rest of the month (which makes it frugal and money saving) but it is also as an added benefit fat free! Feeling very smug from my soup tower in the sky.

In other news, I may have mentioned this ridiculous skin problem, that I have had for the last 16 months ish, that makes me want to peel off my own skin and wear someone else's and not just because I am a sick individual but because it would feel better. You know the one my GP keeps googling and giving me ridiculous lotions and potions while scratching his beard and saying "well I don't know". Well I am a genius, I have (with a little help) worked out that this is all because of my ridiculous implant. After frightening the living daylights out of myself (via google incidentally) I marched myself down to family planning who said... Yup all of those symptoms (there were many that I am currently experiencing) are your problem and we need to get that implant out of you ASAP, we have an appointment at the end of December. God I love the NHS! Now this is me, so yes I may have thrown a small Tabs of epic proportions, including threats of riots, sandstorms, hexes /poxes and other witchcraft, as well as media reports, a helicopter and crying, which resulted in the implant's removal tomorrow. I did giggle when the nice sexual health lady said well what will you do without an implant? I informed her politely that since I don't want to have sex with it, I probably don't want to have sex without it. Well she was horrified and offered me condoms, which at the grand age of 33 I should be mature about (I failed OK I regressed to teenage-hood, giggling, snorting, going red the works), I asked her to give me a minute to confer with hubby while we averaged out how many condom's we would really need, plus what would be deemed to be the average (it was like a cross between deal or no deal and millionaire drop) and equally how many to ask for so as appear to be sexually active and slightly rampant adults. Hubby did ask if we had time to make a spreadsheet so as to be accurate - I said no, so we asked for 52, on the basis of once a week. It turns out this was the wrong answer as she said "really for a week dear?" but it was too late to back out. I now feel that when I return tomorrow that I should be more conservative in my estimates!!!

Since I now stitch again and have holiday, mum managed to make me feel bad about the pattern I started 10 years ago for a birthday present (I never stated which birthday people) and guilted me into picking this up again. So for inspiration only... it currently looks like this and I may finish it by next year.

I am attending the very cool hobbycrafts show next weekend (very excited) which means I can probably distract her with new goodies, but I stumbled upon the Birmingham Comic Con... which I now also have to go to dressed as a time lord, however so far my companions (see what I did there) are refusing to dress as K9 or in fact anything else, so I may have to go alone!

I shall update you all tomorrow providing I can actually type :)

Bloody Hospitals, Halloween, Birthdays and Lesbianism.

Well you leave hospital with one and you end up going back with another. So I had planned a nice prepared approach to this whole halloween thing as well as making birthday cakes like a domestic goddess and basically delivering it all with my calm and collected demeanour. Turns out 33 hasn't changed me all that much, and that my small people are clearly in competition with each other...


So it started on Thursday when girl child did drama in which they had to pretend to be dead fishes out of water... personally I would have refused on the grounds of the clearly sick mind set of the teacher but this is how my daughter first injured herself. Now I had been applying my usual parenting approach of just ignoring it until it bleeds excessively, or loses a limb, unfortunately with my mother in the house I have to pay more attention to these things otherwise I end up with an injury myself. (Constant ear ache and ear bleeding until I pay her attention, she's just another small person in a significantly longer and taller body)

After she started being violently ill everywhere I decided that this fit into my parenting categories of ill, resulting in a call to the old NHS who ask the damn weirdest questions. I will admit to nearly choking and dropping the phone when they asked if she was pregnant... long story short we ended up rushing to the hospital.

Hubby and Girl Child waiting...

She's so brave

To be fair if I had to stare at humpty dumpty falling off the wall at 13 years of age for more than 4 hours I would have looked pretty pissed off too.... Much pacing and waiting, and poking and prodding and then alarming talk of Gall Stones and Appendicitis and surgeons and over night stays. Eventually (oh about 11.30pm) they decided she has "merely" twisted a muscle in her stomach, and we have to wait a week to see if it gets any better... cue sick buckets and those stupid hats on the way home. Bless her she was wiped out by the time we got home so she went to bed and actually fell asleep. Today she has been poorly once but looks a little less peaky.... which is fine except I have to take boy child back to the hospital tomorrow instead... (yay!)

Now today is my mother's birthday, and I had planned to be a little more organised but the previous day's events didn't really allow for this. My mum is like a big kid on her birthday and she got very excited opening this particular present. As she pointed out its been a long time since she sat down and got to open presents on her real actual birthday.

Chocolate makes her happy, peanut butter and chocolate makes her ecstatic... she didn't offer to share....

This present was amusing because I am a firm believer that you should not give white goods as birthday presents unless you want them wrapping around you head.... needless to say I told her that hubby chose it in case she did indeed take offense... She burst into excited seal noises (complete with clapping and whisker rubbing) and then howled; with what I can only describe as hysteria, as she exclaimed that if one of her hubbys had given her this she'd have killed them (and you wonder where I get it from) but now she can have frothy coffee galore and she's going to whisk the heck out of everything... (remind me to stay out of the kitchen until the novelty wears off)

Now in an overtired not hungover state, while trying to manage girl child, work from home and organise a kids halloween party I realised I needed to make a cake (I actually realised it last night but was worried I would burn the house down and we do not need a joint family visit to a and e thank you very much) So I made one red velvet cake and one chocolate which based on the facebook phenomenon which is my mum and those bloody pink boots meant I had to make them in cake form.... Now I would normally indulge you people by giving a long descriptive disaster filled account of this cake making, but I used up any remaining energy parenting and running halloween parties. Basically somehow I turned the above..

Into this, now it's not perfect and if I had more time I would have virgoed all over it and made it perfect... but it was as close as I was getting with the time allowed.... plus I did eat 3 packets of strawberry laces (I needed the sugar people)

When I discovered we had no candles I did have a moment of panic, but hubby (in his tin foil suit) rose to the occasion and improvised me a nice 2... I mean 5... because he thinks like a boy....

Mum was very pleased (and she just let me have a slice and it was quite yummins)

After this I had to dash off and do cubby halloween things, I am very pleased that after all my cutting, glueing, pasting and conning mum into making globby, gloopy messes that I freaked out 11 of the 12 cubs that turned up today. The last one being ASD who told me exactly what the items were in a very matter of fact manner... thankfully I anticipated this and made him go last so as not to ruin the fun for everyone.

Decided once I walked through the door, (that I would like to have some normal no stress days please) that since I missed the weigh in yesterday to weigh tonight... turns out small children in hospital / vegetarianism and french roast hair aid weight loss (it's still bloody ginger but I'll cover that tomorrow) and I now officially weigh 12st 5 (I didn't have the camera handy so you'll have to take my word for it) so I have lost another 3lb this week (which is 5 in total only 28 more to go)...

I'll end by saying that when I announced this loss to my mother (smugly I might add) that it was because I am getting all this roughage now that I am a lesbian....... no vegetarian.... It was all she could do not to spit her tea into her keyboard...

Halloween, Hair Dye, and Pokefest...

So after yesterdays drink a thon, I fell out of my pit at 12:59pm and cursed because as always when the weekend comes, I had made a million squillion plans of how much more productive I was going to be these weekend and get stuff done.  (FAIL) Allowed myself the mandatory 20 minute wake up routine of ignoring everyone (who had clearly been up for many many hours hence the death stares) smoking excessively and drinking as much liquorice tea as possible.

Gentley cajoled hubby into getting the food shopping done. Now he has a natural aversion to our local Asda, for a man who is so laid back that he should be dead. It's like the minute he gets near the place he channels satan and a cave man all at once and just wants to murder all the innocent Saturday supermarket shoppers. I have to deal with this by knowing roughly what I want and charging around the store as quickly as possible to prevent a complete melt down on the hubby's behalf. I stalled him first by insisting he take me to poundland (he doesn't suffer the same pent up rage in here and I can normally reassure him with a £1 pack of sweeties). Needed to acquire emergency supplies for Cubs on Monday since I really am winging it / running out of time / panicking about whether I can really do this. Luckily poundland does all manner of halloweeny crap that I can use for these kind of events. Did food shopping (okay mainly Vodka and crisps but they are still valid supplies)

We got home and despite Hubby stating that he does want nothing to do with my insane halloween and scout relating projects did disassemble my shopping purchases so that I can make my group reassemble them. There was a nasty moment in which Hubby stabbed himself with a fork and bled everywhere, but I made sure he finished the job before applying first aid.

(See practical me)

Decided in one of my crazy last minute hair brained ways that what I need for halloween is props and paper mache.... so I got all slap happy with the wall paper paste and balloons that will not be dry in time for Monday that will either be cauldrons or pumpkins, failing to meet the deadline means they will become baubles or snowmen for Christmas. Have to confess that there is a certain relaxation element about smoothing bits of paper in a glue globby mess onto balloons.

In the abscence of any decent storage, that poor room that I keep tidying just to untidy ended up looking like this:

 

And then I sat and cut out a lot of ghosts and bats without any actual plan for what it is I am supposed be doing.

Also spent ridiculous amount of time proving that I am indeed a smoker with crap lung capacity as it took me a good 15 minutes to inflate these pumpkins....

As always no day is complete without a bit of the old Dr and I was spoiled today with this very fabulous jigsaw that I intend to complete and then frame on the wall. Household do not realize this but I am slowly building a wall of Who in the front room, I'm actually surprised that they haven't cottoned on since he is kind of all over my house like a beacon (or shrine) in case he ever calls by with his Tardis (I can dream all right?)

I have been wandering around for a long time in a slightly shaggy and very ginger state, and announcing on regular intervals that I am going to fix this... Its like a weekly ritual now in which I say it, everyone else agrees and then the subject is left to rest for the next week. Clearly hubby got fed up of this conversation and went out and got dye, which is apparently going to be french roast when it comes out. I ran out of vaseline so decided to use vicks instead, this so far (still waiting for it to set while I blog) turns out to be a huge mistake since I am battling through the smell of vicks and hair dye and trying not to asphyxiate on the fumes. Also using vicks and putting a carrier bag on your head means that your ears and face feel like they are going to burn off through heat exhaustion, but at least I can rest easy that I'm probably not going to get a head cold anytime soon....

I did cook dinner which was fajitas and I have to say that fake chicken is kind of edible but rubbish, but I am still a vegetarian so yay nearly two weeks down... which means nearly half way there right? 

And finally in other news, because I haven't been up long enough to have done anything amusing... the family who have declared it pokefest, all gave me this look when I interrupted the poke-catching to ask for a photo...

Heat + Hot flushes, Hoovering and Tardis related injuries

Now I'm not sure if I'm still hospital hungover, hormonal or just hungry.....but its generally been the kind of day where I function on auto-pilot. Therefore I make no apologies for this blog entry but am proud that I bothered despite the content.

Descriptive element: woke up am not dead, neither is boy child who I had the most graphic dream about dying that I had to get up 7 times to check he was still breathing. Was mildly disappointed at still alive status (mine not boy child) but worked from home regardless.... I say this in very loose terms because I dealt with emails, watched extreme couponing, sorted out bookcase based on sets, because mother was busy surreptitiously lining up my books while I half wrote support plans and clearly she was itching to organise my books and claimed they were screaming for help. I actually agreed and had heard those screams while dreaming of boy child's death (well its clear to see how I could mix those two things up right?) but find that I can deal with change by putting it into sections...

Realistic element: I spent most of the day on the phone; bitching, wailing, making up dr who theme tunes, consoling, cajoling and being fucking rude. Also smoked ate and excessively weighed self (weight gain anticipated people). Love my dear friend but cannot cope with her recent turned 30 status in which she has converted from her previous sexual deviant catholicism state into weird philosopher who wants to celebrate mine or in fact anyones death (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE FREAK)

Girl child is still dying from I cannot walk itis but I can eat and shout and bitch and do a full display of hormones dependent on who will give her the most sympathy. I decided to go with the women troubles mothering technique in the midst of which I forgot that we don't have a microwave anymore. Now unlike another dear dear soul mate (and she also knows who she is) I am not despite my love of language a spelling or grammar nazi (hey I have F7 and can't be arsed to use it) but the following above destructions... offend me to a new level.. "only chean the friend and the wheat bag with a wet cloth"... I spent a ridiculous amount of time working out if I missed out on cheaning in home economics or whether I am not in fact as au fait with the English language as I like to pretend. Also hubby who is (I'll only say this once this year) way cooler than me, pointed out who needs a microwave when you can give him five minutes with a wheat bag. (Insert morally and ethically offended face here) and then (insert very confused / bemused and worried face here) turns out because he is a GENIUS (but clearly not on the same level as me...) that xboxes generate nearly the same heat as a microwave...

Girl child in stolen bobble hat (read: MINE MINE MINE) and heated via xbox wheat bag.... maybe I should approach microsoft and dragon's den (mmmmm Peter Jones Socks mmmm dribble, drool.. slurp) and copy right the xbox microwave method? 

Finally tidied both front rooms... this class thing of having front rooms is very confusing when you have two, because I can't quite deal with living room and room for best, just the front room (at the back of the house) and the front front room (at the front of the house natch)... and have decided that I need a middle sized tardis, had much much fun to annoyance of both girl child and hubby by setting all my tardis's off at once, it was like a whooooosh whoooosh, brake leaving on (river song people river song) whooosh woooosh wobbly wobbly symposium of time lordishness... 

See it's clearly missing a tardis of average size ish ness... which clearly the time lord of karma heard me and chose to cut me in the finger to remind me of my betrayal...

At this point I declared that hubby made a crap first responder as it took him 10 minutes to find a bloody (not my actual blood) plaster and apply it in a casual manner. Also girl child who I appointed to St Bernard role, failed to supply medicinal Vodka in time. Ooooooh I forgot after yesterday's blog post I caught my mum dusting things with dust in a can... she was so ridiculously happy EVERYTHING that ever needed dusting is now officially clean...

During my bloody tardis moment... girl child and hubby got into a debate about the appropriateness of Miley Cyrus video, in which hubby said "I like a pretty girl in a hoody as much as the next man" (turns out this isn't what he said but it's what I heard) and girl child got all weirdy about it when I tried to explain that dad was in that weird catch 22 where he can fancy her and be mad at her all at the same time. Probably didn't help that I decided to put my hoodie up and lick the hammer (he put the telly up with nothing else) nearest to me... We all mutually agreed never to speak about this event again by refusing to make eye contact...

Hunny distracting from the pretty girl and hoody moment by proving he knows how to use a hoover with out licking it!!

During all of this mum farmvilled her way through regardless....

Finally because  I forgot to mention it yesterday I'm still a bloody vegetarian, so I made *ahem* sausage hot pot.... there is no what I was aiming for picture because I have absolutely no clue whatsoever

Meaty meat version

Veggie version

Which was fine till I dished it up and forgot whose what it is... I will give boy child a mention today to say that I really hope they change his cast on Tuesday since now it has not only spag bol from yesterday but Sausage Surprise (al la the now missing Jean from eastenders) all over it...

Boy Child, Bones, and Dusting

Boy child was only moaning the other day that he doesn't feature in the blog enough. Now call me a cynic but there are better ways to get my attention than the past couple of days. It started yesterday while I was merrily trying to think of distractions from work including excessive smoking, purchasing chocolate bars and thinking how much happier I am working from home (be careful what you wish for people), So I finally convinced myself that 11am was an acceptable time for a snackette (real thing ask my mother) and had wandered away from desk in search of comfort / chocolate. Which is when I noticed I had missed 8 calls from school. Now while I cleverly put the school's numbers in my phone I wasn't smart enough to have labelled them differently so didn't know which school had actually called. But my instincts always kick into what exactly has the boy child don't now, and it's never failed me yet. I called the school who announced that boy child had had a fall and needed taking to hospital. I'll be honest I have no idea what happened between that call and arriving at the school other than to say that I made it home quicker than I probably should have.

Boy child was looking a little sickly but putting a macho boy face on, so I bundled the little mite into the car and off to minor injuries (god knows what work think about me bearing in mind that less than a few weeks ago I was taking girl child to the very same hospital) Now the good thing about the boy child is that he is a male minature me, and therefore amusing company even when he is in a ridiculous amount of pain. So we did the xrays and the examination and waited to find out if he would need to go to "proper" hospital and we amused each other by bending our ears into ridiculous shapes (oh alright I did it to him) and people watched and then he made me laugh when the phone rang and the nurse who was a proper lad's lad and spoke to us like real people then launch into the kind of medical speak that just sounds like babble. You did have to be there to see boy child's face and reaction that just said "what the hell" , long story short because I have hospital hangover they gave him a temporary cast and sent us off to the real hospital..

Cast number one. Boy child wanted to ring dad and nonna on the way to the hospital and said to both of them, "I'll be alright if I can survive mum's driving" - Everyone's a critic, but I decided it was the medication talking and forgave him. On arrival to hospital they took us into a ward straight away (which only added to my worry as to how serious things were despite his positive demeanour) and we sat and played hospital eye spy. This is when I learnt not to play with him who comes up with things like BI and I look round the ward like a lunatic before he says "it's behind you" which is when I saw the leaflet for Burns Injury(the big cheat)

Us waiting in the children's ward, and boy child is highly fed up at the idea of not eating for several hours. Also since football got us into this mess, when I picked him up from school he had his shorts on one sock, half a shirt and then it thundered it down so I ended up giving him my clothes even though he does insist on doing the werewolf thing from twilight. Had small moment of panic when they took his readings and the nurse looked worried and said I'll be back (not what I EVER want to hear in a hospital) and did come back and read him again and again before disappearing again. Finally she came with a stethoscope and a doctor before announcing that boy child was the coolest child she had ever met due to his resting heart rate being a low 50, I did try and tell her he was lazy but she was still amazed. At this point he announced that he was glad he had broken his wrist as he wouldn't want to go back to school after all this fuss with nothing!!

Lots and Lots of waiting before he got the official arrow, which made him laugh because he thought it was obvious which arm was the problem. The nice nurse asked him if he had or needed a social worker, which caused a giggle when he said "I have one, she's my mum"  Then the surgeon who also speaks medical waved a lot of paper work at me and muttered on about consent, and wires and risk (I really wish he hadn't) and the anaesthetist (who sorry hubby was drool worthy) who was fabulous and took the micky out of boy child supporting Liverpool and explained the process in way that he could understand (gold star for both gorgeousness and understanding). Boy child was wildly brave until they put the needle in his hand... He also stated "I think girl child got the better end of the deal"

And then they whisked him away, boy child insisted that Dad was with him to sleep and I was there for waking, so we spend an hour worrying....

Before he came out alive and well and thoroughly casted. I knew he was fine when his first words were I'm hungry...

An hour later with tea and toast inside him, and all teched out thanks to Dad who knows how bored we get...

And finally he stopped fighting the drugs and while complaining about having his hands upright he fell asleep. No way was I going home, but I did discover that sleep is not possible in a ward full of injured teenage boys who snore, fart, burp and scratch throughout the night, plus it was freezing. Boy child didn't get a good nights sleep either as they had to check him every two hours and by 5am he was demanding drugs and breakfast (that's my boy) I had thought about disappearing off to the addicition ward to get me some alcohol, or raiding the medical supplies, but then I remembered the budget cuts and decided it wasn't worth the effort

5am this morning

Little bit of a fright when they took the needle out of his hand and then 5 minutes later there was blood everywhere, I was trying to do my calm in control mother face, and he was trying to do his calm oh god mum's going to pass out at this face... thankfully the nurses reacted before either he bled everywhere or I passed out, but I should have known we wouldn't make it out without bloodshed.

Much to both of our relief the Dr said we could go home, but we have to return on Tuesday to see if he needs wires or just another cast, so we got out of there (via McDonalds but it is the only thing he asked for) as mum went off to the very same hospital. I promptly fell asleep and boy child amused himself with TV and food, a lot of food...

We spent a lot of time together over the last two days so we came up with some new rules, one I could sign the cast first because I was there first (so I did) but that I am not allowed to turn it into a craft project.... I shall just wait till he is sleeping.. second that he's allowed one break per childhood and therefore he has used this up, and any further emergency's if they are gross school rings dad and if they are minor school rings me... which we both decided was a good plan. We also decided that it was acceptable to eat an entire tub of mint choc chip ice cream between us...

Remember how I tided this up the other day... well dada!!! (insert fan fare here) I now look like I live in the house the hoarders forgot, because hubby in his coping mechanism distraction technique decided to mount the telly to the wall and didn't know where to put my books. I will confess that  mother points out I don't cope with change, I'm OCD about how my books are ordered (even though she did offer to put them away knowing that I would get stroppy) and I hate to tidy... so I have done nothing about this today, I don't have the inclination...

But I was pleased to discover that I never have to dust again.... not now I have dust in a can (stock up people it's genius) 

After all of this I was mighty pissed when school (the other one) phone to say girl child was in the medical office (oh good lord no)...........

Because she had a HEADACHE and couldn't walk to catch the bus.... I mean REALLY.... I sent hubby.... and then I frowned at her when she walked through the door... (Look I've done more parenting in the last 48 hours than I have in the last month therefore I am all used up)

And finally because I am over tired and crabby... proof that girl child can be nice to boy child... we'll see how long that lasts....