new ways to embarrass myself x 2, sleep recordings and other ramblings...

Okay so you'd think by now 7 days into the job I might finally have stopped being the odd one (I know right who are we kidding) and that I would have at least worked out how to be more organised or just anything.

Let me tell you this people, there are people who are shiny and happy and professional looking without a hair out of place who say things like oh it's no effort whatsoever (Liars) those who are the same but at least admit to giving up an hour of sleep to look perfect and then there are the bone idle who choose sleep over everything else... and then there is me, who just can't be arsed... that being said even I have a base level of standards... not that you would know it. For example I may go to work with my clothes backwards, inside out or indeed smelling of substances (it was ONE time people) and occasionally torn but I do not arrive in hot pants, one because I don't actually fit into my hot pants any more and even if I did I don't think looking at my camel toe is something anyone wants to do; or for that matter evidence my muffin tops hanging out the sides either. Also because I am not a stripper / pole dancer / other hot pant stereotype (Kylie?) and because age has snuck up on me and my hot pant days are officially over. Well aside from when I know Girl Child has friends over and I'm trying to intentionally be the embarrassing parent or want to do the milkshake dance (yes I really do that for kicks). 

Now I was brought up in a household where there wasn't a dress code, mainly because my mother purchased all my clothes (tartan, plaid and velvet from memory) and also because I was spoiled enough to have them laid out every morning (No not like hand maidens) however there was rule which I attempt to apply to everyday life... boobs or legs never both. Which having only ever having legs (which at secondary school a boy told me were thunder thighs and called me elephant legs every day) and just penny's on an ironing board was never really an issue. Until now, in recent years I have lets just say bloomed in the bosom department which when all my mates were like "yada yada back ache, losing stuff (including boyfriends) in there and other negatives, I didn't understand and now I do. Trust me I found half a kit kat down there on Monday... As always I digress, so I got up on time; meaning that mum came bursting into my bedroom in her post waking up stupor and waffled about weeds while sniffing at my seedlings before passing out, which made me feel like it probably was time to get up. Selected my outfit in a no thought just whack it on, black and black with pink and orange always goes right? And before you also sniff... actually it does... or would if you hadn't gone to a very professional meeting without paying attention to aforementioned bosoms:

Now I was going to take a selfie of this so you could truly understand my scenario but then realized that, that would be probably porn and a belfie... I mean when did this happen to this frock? Did I have one of my drunken moments in which I announced that none of my clothes fit so either took some kind of hallucinogenic trip to a stripper boutique (possible) or did I decided after (still probably drunk) an episode of the great British sewing bee to alter all of my clothes? because I'm willing to admit that I have put on weight but not that this frock EVER looked like this before...

So by the time it dawned on my that my puppies did not really need to be on display anymore than my belly button to excuse myself to the toilet... please bear in mind that I do in fact now own an emergency sewing kit but I could hardly get that out mid meeting while announcing I was going to the little girls room could I? So I did the only sensible thing a person could do...

YUP I put the dress on backwards in order to solve the problem...also used own teeth to bite out label because that way no one would ever know! and returned to the meeting. Several problems with this plan is that a) when looking in the mirror I did acknowledge that I did look a bit ninja like and that actually now the frock covered half of my face and that b) when one is me and looks in the mirror the only part that I'm considering is my front half.... it doesn't take a genius to work out that if your belly button and bosoms were on show when you had the dress the right way round that your ass is probably on full view through the glass windows of meeting room to an entire floor of other professionals when you turn it around. Fortunately for me this didn't actually occur to me until I was walking back to my car and the builders gave me the whistle. Foolishly V smug about this as you can imagine thinking how many years it was since anyone actually whistled at me randomly until it did dawn on me, which I decided to rectify by doing a sideways crab walk to hide my indecency which only promoted the frontal ninja, ass hanger look. Took detour to supermarket with sewing kit to rectify the problem...Admittedly not a complete triumph especially since bosom threatened to bust through frock for the rest of the day, which interestingly is very distracting when trying to be professional but mind is focused on how to sit or not sit to prevent this from actually happening. 

So as if that wasn't enough I then went to have a look around a service, you know introduce myself make some contacts, network even like a real grown up, which is when I met the manager of said service and I'm prattling along in the boob buster dress (trying not to bust) when he finally interrupts me to me that he is in fact my old bosses husband.... which is when I want the ground to swallow up and eat me alive since I spent the last 20 mins of that half hour telling him why I left my last job... Now really looking forward to next set of meetings, which are monthly and mandatory - oh look its tits Maloney  or ass girl you know the one who hates her job (dammit). On top of that for some reason (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY) when he was asking about why I like to be called Tabs I made the "pussy joke" (CRINGE) so that's probably going to add to the thank god she left the last job shes clearly insane list.

Also word to the wise, if you have insane taste in music of the offensive variety don't play it at full volume with your windows open, when you are at work - don't ask just trust me on this. 

In other news I have been of late listening to Scott Mills of the Radio 1 variety (other radio stations are available) and enjoying his section on sleep apps. SO of course I had to get it and I had to test the theory last night.... which naturally led to an argument with hubby (in a good natured no you, no you kind of way). WELL turns out that for how much I talk in the day I don't do that much talking at night, but what I do do is scream weird noises followed by breathing heavily afterwards while hubby yells "bed space bed space" in the background...I did ask if there was naughtiness (that I may not recall) or if he was trying to kill me in his sleep but he swears blind that neither of these things is true.... think I may have to keep recording just in case... If I hadn't deleted that baby I would have put it on here...

In other news I took great pleasure in getting the opportunity to drive past my mum on her way to work and hanging out of the window making an L sign on my head and screaming Loser to the amusement of the rest of the village. She's not due home for another hour or so but if I go AWOL it's either her or the hubby...

A weekly round up, odd looking sweets, new job new job, gardening and other shenangians

I feel like its important that I explain that the titles of my entry's are completely made up and based on whatever I used as a picture within the post before I even started writing. Also they are often inspired by what I saw or read on Facebook last... the fact that I used the word shenanigans today is because I saw a post about putting the "she" in nannigans.... probably not that funny but it stuck in my head...

Anyhoo general round up much prompted by photo's because I have the memory of a sieve without them.

NEW JOB, NEW JOB, so in case you had not caught on I changed job AGAIN but actually its not so much of a big change but a step back into something familiar, a bit like putting on a pair of slippers, so I'm back to SWing in LD which already after a week feels right. I had one of those why did I leave? this moments (I'm full aware that this will wear off again in about a week) so its all good.

So in order to be the professional being that I am, I prepared my bag in the way of a highly efficient and organised person, and have little packs of things I should always have carried around, this includes a pencil case to rival Rymans, an emergency sewing kit (turned out I was right about that) enough drugs to tranquilize an elephant (I may not have done this job for a while but I remembered the headaches)  first aid kit (yes really) and other essentially essential goods. Actually felt a bit smug about my look at me, can't parent for crap but have highly efficient handbag to cover all acts of gods and possible tsunamis (ask me about my fold away poncho and expanding towel) look. You know new me, new job, first impressions count. I even went to bed early and set like a zillion alarms (which I slept through but its the thought that counts). Of course at this time I was still deaf in one ear, so I did get up in the middle of the night and googled "how to not be deaf for my first day at work" It's amazing the things people on the internet come up with. For once I'll save you the really gory details but I did try most of them excepting the paraffin and a lighter trick (that scared even me) and in the end I settled for the hour long douche blasting ear technique.... hurt like hell and the state of the sink after could have been used on the set of a movie (like attack of the ear wax or some such film) but I could hear. Went back to bed even more smug than before.

So I slept through a few of the alarms but I did get up in relative time, had an argument with the boy child who decided again that he was going to have a shower (what is with this child? - I miss the dirty one that took a wash only on his birthday at least he didn't hog the bathroom - plus why shower every morning if your going to turn your pants inside out and wear your socks for another week?). Actually had the time to make myself a nice cup of tea in my travel mug so that I could drink it on the way to work. In theory this should have been the most perfect first day morning in history... but no not me. I had planned my outfit around wearing my beloved boots which kind of make the outfit, which is why when I loaded up my car and didn't notice that my boots had fallen out of the car (Yes I still can't drive in heels) that as I reversed out of the drive I ran over the damn things... knackered is not a description, those boots have gone to the great shoe graveyard in the sky. Which left me with the bright orange flat shoes that shouldn't be worn in public, no other shoes for this outfit problem. (I resolved this by finding a local supermarket and buying a £4 pair of black flats). So I drove along to work picking up my super yummy prepared in a travel mug cup of tea and starting drinking it thinking how cool and calm and efficient I am and aside from the shoe disaster thinking that things are going considerably well... Now I drink a lot of herbal tea (that's not a euphemism people) so some of them taste a little funky... but this one being my fave in the world (licorice if you are interested) I know how it should taste. It was bit off but I couldn't put my finger on it, I thought it was maybe the just brushed my teeth thing, but half way through drinking it when I'm trying to work out what the familiar taste is that I haven't tasted before but definitely smelt before. Which is when it dawns on me that I blindly took the cup off the side not thinking to like rinse it or anything and that in fact I am drinking bleach (Zoflora to be precise) mixed with herbal tea. Needless to say I stopped drinking and started worrying about the side effects of this kind of poisoning and just how embarrassing it would be to either vomit at work on my first day or drop down dead from bleach abuse. Decided to detour to buy bottle of water to hopefully wash the toxins from my body.

I forget to mention that while I had socially acceptable hair for once (by which I mean it actually stayed in the grip) that I regret that bloody fringe I was so proud of a few weeks ago. Would the damn thing stay flat? no it decided to do the little girl with a little curl thing but all over the place... I tried to tame it with bobby grips and spit (no point pretending otherwise) but that damn thing wasn't having a bar of it (note to self: wear hat next week)

So I arrived at new new job, supposedly in one piece but because it wouldn't be me if I didn't finish off all of the disasters by splitting my leggings wide open (wouldn't have happened if I had the boots) so basically despite all my planning and organizing I arrived at work looking like in fact me.. crazy fringe, big legging split, half delirious from bleach and with cheap shoes, so much for a first impression... but as my mate says at least they won't get a shock when I go in on a REALLY bad day! Anyhow I've been there a week and so far I love it in a getting my head round it kind of way, but I'll report back and let you know.

So in other news....

I did post this already on facebook..

WHO is responsible for this genius sweet branding. I mean I realize I am a completely dirty minded cow, but no matter how many photo's I took they all came out like this, boy child couldn't see what all the fuss was about, but lets just agree that I won't be letting him buy this particular brand of sweet again... I mean REALLY?

Girl child suggested that this should be my new professional pen, but I had to explain that my job is hard enough and most people are frightened of me as it is, so can you imagine me with my reassuring I'm here to help you face and then whipping out a frankly anemic head on a pen? Nope I don't think so, but it did lead to much mirth when we tried to work out what to do with the rest of her body. 

Since it's that time of year:



ITS SO PRETTY! I thought that I ought to do the whole trying to be frugal and friends with nature thing again...

So I made a mini greenhouse (pinterest people pinterest) 

and I decided to start building my red neck (their words not mine) container garden (trust me it's going to be epic) which is not unlike last year going to reveal just how much Pepsi (other brands are available) goes into my Vodka habit. It's all good though and going to be very cool and vegetable (I was going to say fruitful but I'm growing veg people) plus it means when it all goes right that I might achieve one of my 33 things before I'm 34 (see I do remember what this blog is supposedly for). I did dig up the allotment again and stroke my seedlings (they have feelings too) but the weather decided that it was still April so opened up a shed load of rain and wind so my babies are not ready to go out just yet.

Also thanks to google have a whole bunch of amazing gardening ideas that involve a lot of buckets and hanging things of my fence... hubby said no, but mum said we'd just wait until he's out and do it anyway (and you guys wonder where I get my traits from?)

Also made Sunday lunch, by which I mean I stared at the chicken until mum came in the kitchen and started being a mum which meant that I didn't do a whole bunch. Eventually because she got fed up of me hovering in a I'm trying to help but actually want you to dismiss me kind of way she handed me a peeler. This was a mistake and those of you who pay ANY attention to my Facebook feed will know what's coming next. So I saw this great thing on Facebook where a chef basically used a drill and a peeler to make peeling veg / fruit easier and faster... so in the way that I do when I have to try something, I marched into hubby demanded his drill and proceed to drill potatoes... Turns out that the only thing that happens when I try to drill / peel potatoes is that there's a lot of starchy potato juice (and not the vodka kind) all over my tiny kitchen and that all my roast potatoes have a succession of holes in them.... not entirely sure what went wrong but am going to purchase a number of different peelers in the week and try again.  Hubby did the "you are an idiot but I love my drill" face so I gave him his drill back before I could do any further damage. At this point I gave up on even pretending to help and left mum to it. 

Hubby is experiencing some kind of spring mania as I went for a catch up with one of my friends today, and I come back to find out the ironing has been done without my input (meaning a week of crumpled clothes but lets be fair I didn't set the bar that high) and is now "bored" and so has decided to trash (I mean reorganize) the living room.... it looks fifty times worse now but I'm just leaving him to it...

LDOW (last day of work) no parade no celebration of me and cotton bud aversion...

So on my last day I actually made an effort, and by effort I mean I allowed both girl and boy child to stand by my bed chanting ridiculous songs and rantings and possibly enchantments about HOW and WHY one should get her ass out of bed on a Friday... Did official body check (limbs in tact still not dead) fell out of bed (loudly) and chuntered about the damn unfairness of it all. Spent 20 mins checking self out in mirror (17 minutes of which checking out zit and deciding to just leave it alone since it clearly intends on world domination and the less I know about its plans the better) remaining 3 minutes spent working out whether I could lob (real word) talc into my hair call it dry shampoo and rock up to work - note to self epic failure just went grey and Einstein looking but without the Eureka moment.

Being deaf sucks, I don't think people realise how much stuff happens when you can hear, my driving which is abominable at the best of times (just ask my previous students) is well completely off if I can't hear what's happening on the left side of me - even worse when it's taken me more than two days to work out that actually it's the right side I can't hear.... Seriously you people the things you take for granted like walking in a straight line, understanding anything any one says and other hearing related issues...I have no idea what anyone at work said to me today but given that there was no parade no party no celebration of the me I don't really care.... I spent at least an hour reading RED magazine in which I learnt that in no way am I a) thin b) young c) fashionable or d) Middle class, what I did learn was that journalists make apologies when they become mums, that it's okay to be frugal so you can spend triple figures on a pair of jeans (nah ah) and that it's okay to start the month with the posh stuff (fish fingers and peas) and to be  down to the 11p noodles by the end of the month (turns out this is a posh persons dilemma too,,, in fact they only go to waitrose ((other supermarkets are available))) for the free coffee,,,)

Home life is completely disastrous and I would discuss it further if I didn't live in fear that some professional other than me would swoop and abduct my children (message me if you know anyone stupid enough to do so) let's just say that the King household is not the funhouse one would expect it to be....but one plus note I can't hear half the arguments that are going on.... Proof of this is when I thought mum said to look for the blackboard but actually she meant gauze.. Bad news is that when watching ones favourite program (goggle box) one does not have a clue what's going on and I have it in good authority from both girl child and hubby that the subtitles replace rude words like bollox for ball testiclres and fuck for poop (I intend to test this when hearing enabled) 

Went to chemist and it's a and sign when the woman laughs and says wow your becoming a regular... I wanted the ground to swallow me up... So then I have to explain how I made myself deaf, while possibly yelling at her because I can't hear myself let alone anyone else which kind of makes me want to wilt away to nothing... To be fair if she laughed I don't have a clue so she must have done it quietly until she shouted that I was clearly so far gone that olive oil wasn't going to save me and sold me some devil / satanic brew that came with warning and toxic radiation labels. I made mum administer this but so far aside from the weird my brain is falling out my head sensation nothing actually happened... Well aside from getting closer to my mothers lady garden than a 33 year old woman ought to and demanding that girl child read aloud to me.. (I love her but big does she have monotone out loud reading)  apparently  when the fizzing starts this is good...

Not a lot else to say today...

Insommnia related disney sing offs, self inflicted deafeness and cards that made me chuckle.

So after yesterdays blog entry for some reason I decided to clean out my ears, why in gods name I decided to do this I have no actual clue, it was just one of those seems like I should do it moment. Now I do admit that I laugh in the face of health advice and warnings and I am a cotton bud user, you would think that seeing as I have actually made myself deaf doing this at least twice that I would know better... turns out not so much. I will save you the graphic details of this activity by only giving you a snap shot of how I envisaged said ear cleaning:

So of course there I am digging away just asking for trouble with the cotton bud from the ear factory of death (or deaf pun intended) when next thing you know I can't hear a bloody thing. Which then leads me to all manner of behaviors including weighing up the putting the ear bud back in, banging myself on the other side of my head like I expect my hearing to be resumed, blowing with my nose closed and just generally trying not to have a oh god I made myself deaf again panic attack. The last time I did this I had to go to work and spent an entire day agreeing to things that I still don't know what they are... this could only lead to disaster.. I decided and this won't surprise anyone to get drunk so that I wouldn't notice the hearing loss. Eventually I announced it was bed time in which I noticed in my habitual best check on the world (read facebook) in case I actually missed out on something and noticed that Bombshell grey girl was unusually (for the time) not gone sleepies. Of course in my drunken and deaf state I felt that I should extend the hand of friendship one non sleeper to another so I send her a whats app (because I'm down with the kids and all about the technology) to see if she was ok. Clearly she was in an odd mood herself because rather than engaging in conversation with me she sent me a series of photo's about how she was in fact in bed and misty but not sleepy... turns out she can mist the bed send me a photo of how I'm not in the bed and then instigate a text "chat" session for the period of an hour and a half. I'm telling you next time hubby complains about my need to chat when going to bed I shall point out that I have nothing on BSGG!

Proof that she sends me guilt pictures of pillow mist and my absence (also spot the grey room and red and black and white picture that shows that I do not make this stuff up!

Naturally because neither of us are good at normal adult conversation this resulted in a guided tour of my making my way downstairs using photo imagery and walking head first into the kitchen door, BSGG sent me her recordings on her inane giggling that I am now setting as her ring tone.

Now I've been through this entire conversation and somehow we got into a who knows the most disney songs sing off which involved sending one another recordings of our personal take on several films, I think I won when I made her ears bleed with my kiss the girl interpretation. WAHHHH WAHHH WAHHHHHH WAHHHH



We did get somewhat stuck on the little mermaid which led to a whole bunch of inane giggling and even discussion of puppetry of the penis (to be discussed in a whole other blog post)



Dinglehoppers featuring heavily throughout the discussion...



and then just went on a whole other adventure. The discussion ended with a nice round of goodnight from the sound of music and because I was feeling competitive I left her a morning song of The sun has got his hat on to make her giggle in the morning. Turns out my singing is not improved by being deaf...

I *may* have blown up the home computer last night which meant that me and mum having no combined social skills at all had nothing to do all day, so she insisted that we go out shopping and bond. This may sound like a nice idea but if you can't hear out of one ear and have to keep saying WHAT? and realise how loud the world is normally while trying to stay upright in the wind (turns out you need your hearing for a lot more shit that you realise) its just not the bonding experience we had hoped for. Plus if you lose your mother in the pound shop you can't hear yourself yelling "mum, mum, mum" but the rest of the store can and if your my mother then you pretend not to know me and instantly disassociate yourself from the crazy lady who didn't brush her hair this morning.

So throughout my shopping I pondered doing some gardening again, since this appears to keep me out of trouble, helps my mood and means I get to make people eat stuff that I grew and they aren't allowed to complain about it. So one purchased a lot of seeds and garden related paraphernalia and felt in general smug about my self efficiency. Did not feel as smug as me and mum returned to the car buckled at the knees under the weight and each trying to work out as the arthritis twins how to actually carry all this crap. This led to a mass discussion about the morals and ethics of stealing shopping trolleys and how its not really stealing if you paid a pound for it, I did point out on this basis that if you were going to acquire a trolley for a pound that it made sense to have the larger one on the basis of frugality.

By this time I was already to go home  but since she was clearly giddy from leaving the house mum insisted that we stop at the garden center since we had to drive past it anyway so it was only right. I agreed but only because their was discussion about a nice sit down a cup of tea (she lies people she lies). Taking my mum to the garden center was a mistake since I forgot about her sensory need to touch, smell and taste anything, which makes most outings last longer than the average day out. We were admittedly impressed by bacon jam and mum announced that was hubby's fathers day present sorted.

One of my favorite part of the shop is their selection of highly inappropriate cards because I am THAT immature. I was tickled by the stores need to cover this particular card with a warning post it note:

which revealed this:

But didn't think that this needed a warning...

Leading me to the only conclusion possible sluts are not good but tiny penises are acceptable. I'm sure this is some kind of middle class value that I am yet to learn.

And the best card of all (which may end up being my mothers day card)

kind of doesn't need any further explanation. I would have stayed longer but mum started looking like she was going to eat the stores new body range (although to be fair the violet cream products were totally edible smelling) so we left, minus the tea and food.

This afternoon I decided to start planting things and getting all down with the nature. Now sometimes I forget I am an adult and that my mum lives with me and not in fact the other way round (I know I protest about this too much) so there I am all dressed in hubbys clothes (well I'm not going to ruin my own am I?) pottering around flinging mud and talking to my peas and broccoli like some kind of green guru goddess when the chuntering starts...

" and where will you be putting those?"
"errrm in the airing cupboard?"
"wrong, its too hot in there and we need the space for the towels"
"sigh fine I'll put them in the windowsills"
"nope you cant do that can you the cat will knock them over and I'll be hoovering mud for days"
"then I'll clean out the porch and put them out there"
"SNORT sorry clean?"
"fine shuffle things around and make space"
"how can you make space where there isn't any"
"I'll clean off the shoe rack and put the seeds on there"
"and where will all the BLOODY shoes go... I ask you, seeds for shoes what is the world... mumble mumble (please note I had to guess some of this with the whole deaf thing)
"on the floor?"
"on the floor oh please... no they can go in your bedroom"
"the shoes?"
"no the seeds that way they won't be in the way, of course you'll have to keep it tidy in there plants don't grown under mountains of clothes you know"

I gave in and put them in the bedroom only for hubby to come home and announce

"I am not sleeping in a  bloody green house, they aren't staying in here"

Which just makes you wonder why I even bother in the first place.

A catch up on events, my teenage self reflected in girl child and othertime wasting stuff

Realise that my recent blogs have been full of woe and misery as well as few and far between. I was driving to work this morning, which in itself a bit of a shocker, and reflecting on why exactly I talk about having and writing a book so much that I haven't actually got one? This of course led onto the kind of terminal thinking that one of my particular friends accuses me of over doing, my psych says I don't do enough and my other friend allows me to do because as yet I am not a full ass hat...



 is it any wonder I'm confused? Anyhoo thats by the by, so I was thinking thoughts on thoughts and feeling that kind of manic inspiration that I often get about the 400 voices errr I mean books that are actually contained in my head and how well I am doing in the fact that I am writing at all which when you realise what an achievement that is so I came up with a whole bunch of titles and ideas based on the write what you know theory... which could either get me de-registered in my career and make me world famous, or make me infamous and deregistered... whether there is a difference in the two I will never know until I actually do it and stop talking about it...

Why is it I always start at the end and never at the beginning? I can't remember how much ranting I did in recent weeks so I am admittedly using photo prompts to get me talking...

Which would mean we have to deal with the mother situation, so I took her to my favourite place in the whole world on her request (seriously if I write nothing else that damn hospital tour guide is looking more and more like a reality) to the hospital to meet with the OT. This was alarmingly real, as in the kind of real that it took me a lot of effort to process as being funny in anyway... but fortunately my mum as the kind of humor that I can borrow. So we met with the student OT who spoke so quietly we had to guess what she was saying and talked to mum about how she was feeling and her limitations etc, that was pretty sad (and I know she will kill me but its my blog my words) because I realised that my mother was a) human and b) vulnerable which is a pretty eye opening experiencing when you spent most of your life putting her on a pedestal and thinking that she's a super human and it turns out that actually shes like the rest of us. My mum doesn't do uncomfortable unless it involves makings some other sucker miserable and she does do pride like a lion in that you are never too poor to have a clean house or to afford soap. I think her saving grace that stopped me from having some kind of break down (let alone her) was her childish immaturity when they cast her resting splint and offered her equipment in the house.. in which she got the giggles imagining her short ass daughter (me) with my legs dangling off the toilet as a result of said equipment.

(I did suggest hubby could use this as a ball scratcher which is when mum both hid and locked this baby away)

So she got some uglys and the first thing we both thought was how the hell we could craft these babies up with some bling (suggestions welcome). Now I hate to be negative (OKAY I LIE) but jesus one night of wearing a rest splint and the next day shes all lets clean the house from top to bottom, lets hoover out the sofa (errr why?) lets dust stuff that I didn't even know needed dusting and she was all Mary Poppins on speed and LSD combined (note I am guessing about the drug use and have no actual experience of this) which probably would have been okay if my mood hadn't decided to drop below zero and tell me that having my eyes open in itself was an achievement... it got so bad that I had to in fact send out an sos:

As you can see hubby was about as supportive as an un-wired bra...

She even made me clean out my social work stuff....

Then boy child who entered the Housman Poetry Competition for something to do since he was grounded decided to go and win the fricking thing, queue excited teacher entering my house without an actual invitation and announcing that the trophy was worth 2 grand but not to worry it was insured (and watched me cringe while buy child smacked it against the radiator) she added that she would pick it up in the morning to ensure it's safety, and then corrected herself and meant she would pick up boy child, but given that that trophy is worth 17 times as much as anything else in my house I knew what she REALLY meant...

 

Was very proud of boy child but highly annoyed that yet again he manages to be brilliant when he is in trouble... it really goes against my parenting ethos and confuses the hell out me, plus I'm a sucker for his humour "so whats it like to live with a celebrity?" and a high five.



As a result of recent events I have been forced to rename the children beauty and the beast or the lyrical genius and liver girl.... they actually decided they preferred the more derogatory girl child and boy child...

So we had another fantastic trip to the children s hospital only to have an entirely different experience... seriously the children's out patients clinic is like a holding pen for sick kids and is pretty depressing... especially when you get processed and colour co-ordinated, if I had known we were going to be in the orange zone I would have dressed more appropriately so that I didn't clash with the chairs quite so badly. To be honest I'm pretty fed up of talking about livers and gall bladders and blah blah and also of collecting more pictures of insides although this one is pretty artsy in its own right:

I'm not going to explain this one, because a) you need a PHD in both ART and SURGERY so just accept that we are going with the keep plodding along until someone tells us differently approach...

It is clear that I am spending a serious amount of time with girl child since my face has decided to retaliate in some kind of teenage hormone attack. I have the world's biggest zit on my cheekbone and I would take a photo but my lens wasn't big enough... so last night under the advice of both girl child and mum I put toothpaste on it to help remove the... something. This would have been fine if when having a shower I had remembered to wash my face or even look in a mirror before leaving for work. But NO this is me and my life, so I spend a good hour feeling paranoid and trying to work out why people are looking at me before going into supervision in which my poor supervisor was left with the question of whether I had been engaging in some morning delight based on the white gunk on my cheek... Normally I would have brushed this off... but being my first and last supervision I kind of wanted the ground to swallow up and eat me... anyhoo I leave this team in two days which I am grateful for because I have no desire to be know as the girl with questionable gunk on her face for ever more!

As you can imagine I decided to work from home for the rest of the day in which girl child introduced me to the joys of the sims hunger games in which we watched (actually watched) someone else kill off their sims on the telly for approximately four hours, I'd like to say that I was mature enough to not get suckered into this culture but apparently I am more child than even I admit.

Finally girl child decided to apply a face mask using home made ingredients (I had forgotten how much fun this stage of girl teenage-hood is) you know the kind of thing jackie / bunty and just 17 insisted would make you beautiful, which resulted in her pouring sour cream, bananas and porridge oats all over her face, I was going to intervene when she got the cucumber slices out (fine I SO wasn't but I can pretend) but based on the kittens response to her face decided to leave well alone and just take a photo instead...

In the interests of full disclosure I forgot to add that I ended up in one of THOSE conversations with my dad while drunk and ended up getting drunker and telling my mum why she needs to stay in the uk....I will gloss over this point, but felt pretty shit the next day :(

Pies, Low Fat, Bodily functions and a general round up...

It had admittedly been a few days, maybe even a few weeks, I have reached that point of mania where I do not know whether I am coming or going or I am happy or sad, but I do still know a number of things:

1) All about livers, bile, wounds, RA, OT's, assessments of a non social work kind and hospitals... I am not kidding when I say I could publish the official guide to hospitals and not be sued based on my collective knowledge.

2) other things I know about and intend to discuss (SPOILERS) is poo and wee, no heaven forbid I should be grown up and discuss it in terms of urine and faeces this entire section of the blog will be poo and wee (DO NOT EVER SAY I DIDNT WARN YOU because THIS IS YOUR WARNING)

3) Low fat diets and the fact that they suck..and even though its one of my 33 three things I cannot cook or in fact cook without giving myself a serious lady garden wound (TRUE STORY)

4) How to be one of THOSE PEOPLE... I came I saw I moaned... I am THAT person and I have a badge and everything.... it says "ask me about poos and liver I'm your gal"

5) Anything else I declare that I have knowledge on for the remainder of this blog post....

SO in no particular order (or because I drank vodka, have a raging cold and am drugged on drink a cold remedy cures) I decided to create one of my amazing diagrams (see below or wish you were blind:)

This diagram pretty much (although not to scale) sums up my current life.... I ended up rushing girl child to hospital on Sunday because she was so ill, only to feel as the eternal Atheist incredibly bad when she announced that maybe this is all her fault because she asked god to get her through her op and then he could do anything to her which is why she is still suffering (I do not have enough words or emoticons for the stomach dropping heart stomping feeling that this invoked (((insert noose / epic parent fail HERE )))) but I do love pie; the kind with the crusty top not the numbers kind...

Turns out little miss girl child who could give thumeblina a run for her money can't handle the amazing knock out effects of a) FAT (which makes everything taste amazing - DO NOT get her started on this unless you can deal with tears, anger and throwing shit that you probably like) and b) knock out pain killers that make you vomit / not know who you are... I did try and explain that this is what mummy feels like everyday but for some reason when she was throwing tardis' at me she did not find quite so amusing...

So because I change topic more than my underwear (FOR THE RECORD IT IS DAILY) I got up this morning to find that mum had the cranks... for once I do not exaggerate, there was door banging, throwing toast at people and generally being a bit of an ass (Mum not me) , I did try all of the what works on me (if its not about me I'm not interested) including stealing her lighter, trying to make her laugh, eating said toast and offering cups of tea... there is only so much growling that a clinical depressive can deal with before she passes the task on to her husband.... turns out after girl child confesses that she kept my mum up all night by making her laugh about having her ear replaced instead of her liver... which made the bed shake which meant they could feel the springs and something about cakes that made my mum MAD (all day if you are wondering)

I digress and if I could be bothered to photo edit:

My mum's nose looking angry and.. (which is going to make her crankier)

my mum just having the cranks all round...

In other more relevant news (WARNING ABOUT POO) being a liver mum means being obsessed about 't poo, runny poos, smelly poos and just poo that isn't eeyore or piglet related. Girl child does not enjoy these conversations (understandably) but it was only on arrival to work (for the first time in like forever) that I finally understood where she was coming from. People do not talk about POO any more than they talk about prostitution or in fact HERPES.. yes I really went there (insert funny story about pulling a sickie by convincing my boss I had syphilis - true story). I'm going to shorten this story because as always I have plundered new territory and am happy to humiliate myself but can only reasonably go so far... So I had that moment when I needed to poo at work of all places, and I have this getting paid to poo but still not being comfortable enough to poo anywhere but my own toilet... there are a few exceptions that have taken me a number of years to build up to pooing in their toilet but PUBLIC POOING is in general a no no for me....  However after asking an expert and also closet pooer (real word people) I had discovered the joys of the basement toilet, so lost and dark (think twilight zone) that NO ONE human poos in there... until the day that I need to poo so bad I am probably going to experience death by explosive bowels.... 45 minutes I wait outside that toilet trying to pretend Im waiting for a client / important meeting or am in fact a cleaner... Eventually I admit it I gave up, drove home broke down the front door without speaking to a family member until my movements were satisfied.... my solution... basement toilets to be installed everywhere....

To say that girl child is a bit pissed off with having X amount of bile ducts, a miss functioning liver and cysts left right and centre would be putting it mildly... the poor girl just wants to eat her Ben and jerry's name sake (baked Alaska) in peace without having to seek out an aforementioned basement toilet.. so we have had to resort to cooking low fat... which kind of works for me as one of my 33 things to learn to cook:

It's easier for me to summarise and you reach your own conclusions based on my previous attempts:

Slow cooker chowder (I do not own tin cups) according to the book ^^^^^

^^^^^ and according to my slow cooker.... results pending

^^^^^ Italian bean stew

^^^ The real stew... but girl child ate two bowls full so maybe not that bad...

Throughout these two cooking attempts I did learn some vital lessons about chilli... YES we all know I am that woman.. and please bear in mind I have a raging cold.... I'm like man VS food, like MAN vs JAWS or man versus anything they will lose against... so I cut that chilli all naked and confident like (I laugh in the face of  heat) and I washed my hands with something approaching scorn afterwards....

Things I learnt..

DO NOT go for a wee... with naked hands... my lady parts are having the kind of party that NO one wants to be invited to... I'ma  firestarter 

pretty much covers it.... also do not put your fingers into any orifice of your own or others unless you are into S n M or really hate the other person...

How to be a member of my household, health care, tears, and kissing girls...

I have decided in order to summarise what is going on in this household to develop one of the many popular flowcharts that are so popular on facebook right now... yes you got it, this is your one opportunity to work out which member (if any) of my household you could really be... if you rank of any of these then please accept my apologies and if you are a hunger games fan a nightlock pill to be used at your discretion.


I appreciate some of this will require some explanation... but for a guide pre explanation I also created these helpful and somewhat accurate images:



^^^^^ a guide to choledocal cyst pain



^^^^ Rheumatoid arthritis (RA) VS broken toes



^^^^^^  How to be a member of this household

^^^^ How to be a FEMALE (or strong person) of my household...

Explanation or in the style of an science experiment in high school:

Introduction:

In this blog post I shall highlight the various symptoms and health problems of the King Love household and the reasons that 2014 has thus far sucked. I shall do this via photos / drawings and explanations

Hypothesis:

I predict that you cannot be a member of this household without a) developing some random or multiple condition and that b) you will be able to learn about health / treatment / medicine by osmosis

Method:

I shall observe and treat all five members of my household including and not limited to myself and report my findings over a two week period.

Findings: (Al la David Attenborough)

Man Child / Hubby: Has serious addiction to the US series of the office. Decides to watch the episode in which they develop their own personal styles of Parkor Gossip. He thinks this is hilariously funny and decides to parkor his wife (AKA me) around the bedroom... I will confess that in his random act of fun that this was both hilarious and dangerous since I nearly wet myself laughing when he all but knocked himself out on my shoe chest. Following day in which he was due to fly to Scotland (yes he is too posh to drive) he announces severe back and shoulder pain - four days later he is still best friends with the supermarket trolley and any pain killer he can get his hands on.

Boy child: Has girlfriend who is apparently far more interested in him that he is her. She actually goes as far as to buy him chocolates and an anniversary card after one week of them dating.... today he has coldsores... which he is miserable about when I told him no more kissing... word to the wise do not use any towels in my bathroom at present..

Nonna / Mum: Not content with girl child receiving all of the attention has decided to fully embrace Rheumatoid arthritis condition by developing cankles, swollen legs and apathy. Insists that she is a fully independent lady while singing "should have put a ring on it" 

Which when you know she can't in fact wear a ring on it is ironic. Also insists that I measure every single part of her body so that we can keep a log. Apparently I am not allowed to take the piss out of her fat legs and cankles.. but in the interests of science...

Also has broken own toe in bid to not work and illicite more sympathy (get out of the tea rota) current mood agressive / dragon like avoid at all costs.

Girl child: 

Generally pissed off after night of excruciating pain and possibly sleeping with my mother who farts as well as snores (sorry mum but I have to record fact in the name of science) Still has weeping sores (ewwww) and generally pissed off with the medical profession. Despite being worlds healthiest eater is cross that now has to follow low fat diet and cannot eat ice- cream (insert rage here), feeling angry enough to write a self help guide for teenagers. Made me cry because she was so sad / angry / pissed

Me: Apathy and full education in nursing. Have discovered that previous blood phobia is singled down to just gushing blood. Have learnt significant amounts about wound care, pus, arguing with health professionals, not retching and basically being a grown up. Bi-polar / depression put on back burner because when 2 out of 3 females in the house cry its hard not to join in. Also medication expert. Has to avoid current pharmacy for fear of suspected hypochondria  / munchausen's by proxy.

Have been forced to abandon single bed status by sleeping with girl child - this is both fun because we watch the hunger games in bed and say how it is so not the same as the book and not fun because I am frightened to move for fear of busting open girl childs stitches



^^^^^ yes we really are this glam in real life (we do autographs for a fee)

hubby had a birthday in which mum and i had to put together an emergency cake - trust me when I say that we googled easy birthday cakes for boys (LIE) and it came up with lego cakes... we spent an entire DAY swearing - well ok mum ate all the chocolate fudge and I smoked more than the government allowance to create this:




No it wasn't our finest moment but we reached the dont give a shit quota by the time we presented it to him:



Hes not usually this blurred but actually given the state of his cake this is probably an improvement on the fake "I LOVE IT" face he was forced to wear...

In conclusion for the whole month it is apparently SOCIAL WORK month, which I am proud of and love the below image since 99 % of my family and friends say "dont social work me"

BUT... I am supposed to be starting my new job in two weeks and right now I just don't see it happening....