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...
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