Everybody squirts, sometimes

This week, and I'm only telling you cos I know you care, I've been mostly busy doing feck all.

I've been driving round the place like a maniac dropping people off and picking people up and still haven't put the much needed water and oil into my car, although I did put air in the tyres and diesel in the tank so it really ought to be grateful. And stop encouraging birds to shit on it. You'd think three layers of muck and bird shit would be enough for any car but no, mine wants more, the tart.

I'm not getting a great amount of time alone so I'm having a bit of a manic. Can't see this abating anytime soon cos tonight is my nephews 18th birthday party, tomorrow morning is a karate seminar (hangover dependent), tomorrow afternoon is a meal out for babygirl's birthday then tomorrow evening is the blogblast. All these things will be fun but I'm very aware that I'll be in public persona for all events and it's bloody tiring sometimes. Especially when I'm this fucking fat!

Still, Sunday afternoon will be just me. And the 2 litres of water. And the painkillers. Cold as ice cream but still as sweet, that'll be me. Ding dang doo.




The title came from my silly head as I was chopping salad for lunch and a tomato spat juice all up my white tiles which made me think initially of the money shot and then start singing sad songs replacing the word hurt/s with squirt/s which made them much less sad.

Blah-dy hell!

Just had word from Vi to say she's spilt wine on her laptop and, understandably, it's not best pleased!

So if she doesn't manage to blog from the library don't panic, she's fine. It's the laptop that's pissed...

Bloody hell

Mary Whitehouse may be long gone but there's always someone getting their knickers in a twist...

Don't get me wrong, there are some things I don't want to see plastered all over adverts but this really does seem ridiculously over the top.

Whinging poms, indeed.

ps. I am a dippy bint

Saturday morning, babygirl and I are chatting as I tidy up and she totters after me wearing my shoes

Mum, did your feet hurt yesterday?

Yes, babe. Good job I didn't go dancing in them, eh?

Was it really bad at the front?

Yes, I think it was worst there. Honey, take them off if they're painful, you'll do yourself a damage.

I think they'd be better without this in...

*holds up piece of cardboard retrieved from toe of right shoe with look of resignation at daft mother she's landed with*

Tickling my feet

So, after all the whining and bouncing of plans me and my fabby pink shoes finally got onto a train and made the date/meeting thingy on Friday. Which was lovely. Yay. Nice bottle of wine, some gentle flirting, all very civilised apart from my getting slightly squiffy due to not eating anything.

He's sweet and interesting and nice looking and, as I discovered when we popped into his apartment to sort out some work stuff, absolutely fucking loaded. Like, millionaire minted.

And there's me, all bargain shoes and designer copy handbag. Eep. Something tells me this isn't going to be a long term thing.


But all is good cos we have nice chemistry and I've agreed to do some work for him and it's always good to have a boss that fancies you when it comes to bonus time.

Discovering I was, literally, up the road from where Miss Tickle was I stuck up two mental fingers and walked to the pub. This was very good for my psyche but not for my feet cos those shoes were meant for mens shoulders not mean streets.

Being too late for the first performance gave me a chance to sit on another lovely sofa and drink the pain away. Which I did till I heard lots of applause (the audience obviously liked my word) and found myself surrounded by the arms and smiles of lovely tickleness. I should hate her cos she's so young and gorgeous but you just can't cos she's so joyful and lovely and sweet you could eat her all up.

By the power of blog she knew who I was and we had a lovely chat before she tickled off and did important directorial things. The second play was great and I forgot that my feet hurt while I gazed at the rather handsome in a surfer dude way blonde actor. And then remembered they were killing me the instant I walked outside afterward so I flagged a cab down.

Cabbie laughs when I moan about my aching feet and mentions the impracticality of the shoes then tries to get me to use the cab all the way home stating a fare of £75. I'm stunned and say 'do I look like I have £75 to spend on a cab?!', his reply was 'Come on, how much were them daft shoes? And that bag must have cost twice that'

Maybe it's a better copy than I thought...

Bum, bum

...and ten bums in a row.

Mice, men, meh. Babygirl has tonsilitis but I've called in the backup, i.e. her father, to take over nursing. She's chuffed to little mint balls cos she'll be spoilt rotten and I'm chuffed to little bint balls cos I get to my date/meeting thingy, albeit later than planned.

Dunno about seeing the plays either now. Ex hubby sucked his teeth and gave one of those 'you don't wanna be walking round there on yer own, love' looks when I mentioned where it was. Part of me doesn't actually feel like seeing it on my own but the rebel in me wants to go just to stick two fingers up to the ex and his acting like an overprotective father. Nnnggg. It's south of the river not south of fucking Gaza!

On the other hand he is correct in that I'll probably get lost and if I don't have people there that I know to call and direct me to the pub I'm more than likely to spend hours wandering away and getting nowhere rather than pondering a play and getting sloshed.

Again I say, bum.

Whine and cheese

Why is it when I plan to go out something always happens to make things difficult? Nngggg!

I thought it was all too convenient when a sort of date/sort of work meeting turned out to be not too far from the play I wanted to see in the evening. I thought it was too good to be true when the meeting was arranged for the very same day.

Today, instead of finalising my outfit and painting my nails in a well planned timetable of getting ready, I'm nursing a sick babygirl who may or may not be better tomorrow.


Bum.

Bum.

And ten bums in a row.


(But thank you to a certain blogger for the silly giggles that brightened the day)

For lover, read mother

May I have my inch back please? It's right there, see? At the beginning of that mile...



I am a cold, heartless, evil bitch. I've learned to love it.

Court out

*insert your own big long run-on swearword here cos I really can't be arsed*

Once again the case went to court for a plea and directions hearing. Once again the lawyers fudged paperwork and got a two week adjournment so I still don't know if I have to testify or not later this year.

When they (you know, them what say all the sayings!) say the 'long arm of the law' in future I'm going to hear the 'long, drawn out, stupid fucking non lawyer-proof process of the law'

Only 4 inches but I'm in love!

Sometimes 4 inches is enough. Any more than that and calf muscles can shorten which is no good for me and karate. Aren't they beautiful?



I don't want to take them off! Luckily they even go with my pj bottoms.

From vaginas to visions

This is my Visual DNA, as seen on a blog I have since forgotten the name of because I've been random surfing for an hour or so. Oops. Thanks to whoever I nicked it from anyway, good blog-karma points to you.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Go on, go do your own and see how interesting you are, you know you want to!

Conversational cunts

I can't write reviews so I'll just say this; if you have a vagina or even if you don't have one but like to play with them, go and see this! Absolutely brilliant acting by three fabulous women really brought the funny, poignant, heartbreaking truth of the words to life. The women (and the handful of men) in the audience cried so many tears of laughter and rage and empathy and more laughter I thought the flood featured in one performance might be recreated right there.

Sitting next to my sister sharing knowing smiles and loudly shouting 'Cunt!' in order to reclaim the word seemed massively appropriate and very emotional what with the court case and everything. Sitting on my right was a lady in her eighties, separated from her group of friends due to booking issues but connected to a stranger by my quick, impetuous squeeze of her hand and our shared, sad smiles as we listened to the story of one of her peers.

I came away feeling angry at the fact that gender is still used as a weapon in war, sad that it is illegal to sell vibrators in some US states (where you can openly buy guns, of course), uplifted by the wonderful way women have of becoming sisters, given the right environment, and humbled by the women who went before me and struggled through shitty, hard lives without so much as an orgasm. Oh, and wanting a Bob of my very own!

See it. You'll love it.




In other news, Harley is fabulous in bed but an old-fashioned bastard of a man. After the 80 year old lady I mentioned patted my hand back and said "you enjoy, love!" I decided that as long as my eyes were open so could my legs be. Because it's 2007 and I can.

See my big red one

The book was made on time (with 45 mins to spare, actually!). I didn't make the selection but buy it anyway cos that alone must mean it's really quite very funny.

Much funnier than this daft picture of me.



Happy red nose day, everyone!

Invisible

It's not the safe option anymore

I'm not hiding now so

don't act like I am

don't brush past my thoughts

don't forget my feelings

don't talk over me

don't make me have to scream for basic attention

or remove myself

so you feel my absence

rather than not feel my presence

hear me when I speak in normal tones

see me when I wear normal colours

how can I ever show the depth

my tones and colours can be

if you never acknowledge

the normality?



It's not the safe option anymore

I'm not hiding now so

stop

fucking

ignoring

me

Ah, that's better.

Real mums piss themselves laughing

And sneezing. And coughing. And running. And all the exercises in the world are useless if the sneeze or cough hits you before your clench reaction kicks in. Ladies, you simply have to keep practicing these things (try this to make it less of a chore!). It needs to become a reflex.

Which is not all bad what with the clench being so good for your sex life, especially when you're too knackered for a full on session with the man who actually caused your pelvic floor to need a damp-proof membrane. If you can clench it hard and rhythmically enough you need not move your arse at all to bring him off, roll him off then get some sleep before the baby takes his place pawing at your boobs.

If you never quite got into the 'riding the elevator' at traffic lights habit then fear not. There are now an array of female incontinence aids that you can just pop in with your weekly groceries without embarrassment. Seriously, this is the one that Tena call 'discreet'...


So discreet that no-one in the supermarket will ever notice that you need a whole extra trolley for a weeks supply!

With thanks to Emma, my mucky minded martini loving mummy mate for the tag (bitch!)

I'm tagging OG, Vi, and LiR (I know I'm meant to tag five but I can't think of any other mums on my blogroll!) Basically you write a blog post on a deep dark truth about mums. Start with Real Moms [insert the deep dark truth here] and add a picture.

IdonotobsessIdonotobsessIdonotobsess!

This morning I downloaded ten remixes of The Killers Read My Mind and I'm currently playing them all, on repeat.

Poke her face

It's grading day so there are lots of nerves for me to soothe. Not just my students but A's too, being I took his latest class. I'm going through some last minute talks when I notice Julie out of the corner of my eye. This will be the first time I've seen her since, you know, and I find myself talking really fast to the very students I'm trying to calm as she gets closer to where we are.

"Hi guys, you're looking good! Angela, Sensei would like your help with the admin desk. I'll walk over with you"

"Oh right. Ok you lot, you know I've put my faith in you so dig deep, show what you can do and if you feel like falling over let me know quick so I can kick your arse!"

Pep talk over, I leave my students with a smile on their faces and fix my own expression to 'polite interest' as I hear Julie say,

"You'll never guess what Pete told me last night! There was me thinking I'd knock his socks off with my threesome fantasy and he's only bloody topped me! Been there for real - with four of 'em!"

I'm actually a little bit ashamed at just how convincingly I stopped in my tracks and stared at her with my mouth open.

I really need to learn how to play poker.


ps

All my students graded. And all of A's students that I made sure to support as soon as I was off of admin duties.

I have fabulous students.

Think you're funny, do ya?

Be funny for a good cause then. Mike at Troubled Diva is co-ordinating a collaboration of bloggers and it's all fer charidee, mate!

Have a look, buy the book!

Two couples and a camera...

"Hi, is that Angela?"

"Yep, who's calling?"

"It's Paul, Julie R gave me your number. I've got a bit of a computer problem and need it sorting quick cos I can't get to my work stuff, to use her words she said you were shit hot at this crap! *laughs*"

"Well then, hello. Can you specify your problem to me? Has it been nicked? Cos, you know, that's a computer problem but not one I can do anything about"

"Yeah, she said you was a funny cow an' all. Basically it takes forever to turn on, some things won't work at all and the ones that do are slow. A bit like Julie! Ha ha!"

"Hmm. Can't think why she never told me that you were funny... Look, gimme your address and I can give you a couple of hours later today"



Julie is mad sweet on this bloke. Julie is a mad sweet girl all round, actually. Julie deserves to be happy, she's done her share of shit. I love Julie. Oh, and...

I FOUND PICTURES OF HER BOYFRIEND INVOLVED IN A FOURSOME ON HIS HARD DRIVE AND I DON'T KNOW WHETHER SHE KNOWS OR NOT!

Don't get me wrong, she's neither virgin nor nun herself but the thing is I don't know whether he's told her about his prior shenanigans so that she can make sure to protect herself in whichever way she feels necessary (there's not a condom to be seen in the pictures I found) or whether she'd truly thank me for telling her the reality of where he's been (and obviously enjoyed!).

For a start it's not the stuff of carefully lit and edited porn, it's real and involves non-surgically enhanced people over the age of 35. Part of me wants to tell her this so she stops worrying that she's not sexy/slim/young enough for him (nice as he may be, he's no Adonis!) and another part wants to hide my brain in a cupboard and never again have to think of him as a sexual being.

The other thing is, I honestly don't go looking for this stuff when I sort out peoples computers but how the fuck do I make that sound like the truth to Julie now? I know full well she has some juicy pics on her hdd but didn't begin to think of searching for them when I dealt with her infestations of virii and spyware. How the fuck can I expect her to believe that I respected her privacy when I've come across these not very well hidden, numerically named files?

Ok, it's become clear to me as I type: I simply can't tell her. Not ever. Not if I want to retain her friendship, which I do.

Surely, getting pissed and dancing in the street singing a very old song word for word but out of tune can never be the same once you've seen your mate's boyfriend with a raging hard on? Even if that hard on is obscured by some random female's arse cheeks or a middle aged husband and wife tongue duo (she had more tattoos than he did which I found, er, interesting...)

No news is...

A pile of steaming shit, as it happens.

Thanks for all your thoughts and good wishes, it really does warm my cockles.

Non case specific advice from a policeman friend of mine says that he'll plead not guilty simply to buy time but I still don't know the result of the court appearance for certain and these tenterhooks are making my feet bleed.

The good news is not once have I felt like having a cigarette.

I'll update properly later, with luck. I did do some comments over the last couple of days but that's all my goldfish sttention span could manage.

But thanks again, you're all so lovely.

*group snog*

Hear me moan, baby

What a bloody week, between babyboy being off school for two days and having the windows and doors replaced, I don't feel like I've had a second to myself. I don't do well when I'm denied personal space so I've had a few manic, hand-flappy episodes. The kids find these laughable, as do I when it dawns on me that I'm talking nineteen to the dozen about something that really isn't as important as my extremely urgent and excited tone would imply.

It's not just that I've not had 'alone time', I know I won't calm down properly till I hear on tuesday whether we have to testify at a crown court trial or not. It doesn't help that I wanted to get to the gym every day this week to work my nervous energy off but have been surrounded by people asking stuff of me all day every day instead. Oh, then I looked up the website today to check class times and one that I was interested in is run by a guy with the same name as step-dad ffs. Coincidence is a cunt.

Not getting to the gym doesn't help with my crappy body image since quitting smoking/gaining weight again either. I've been a total yo-yo for the last five months now and it's killing me being back in size 16 jeans. Nnnggggg! I'd deliberately not eaten a load of crap since quitting but still gained loads (I know it's a metabolism drop thing - it still equals a bigger arse!) so this week I've eaten anything around, anytime I fancied. Cos that's such a sensible thing for me to do when my mood is so up and down, mess around with my blood sugar too. Go, me! I remain the thickest intelligent person I know. Not to mention the most stubborn. I spent two days and nights metaphorically giving Harley the finger and not texting him cos he'd not texted me one morning, he spent 48 hours thinking I was no longer interested. Doh.

Still, the sun is shining, babyboy is back at school, my window boys are finishing off today and Harley and I are communicating again. I will actually get an hour or two to myself before I have to run around doing lots of pick up/drop off things later on today - huzzah! Ooh, the excitement of choosing whether to wash up or tidy the garden might just blow my fragile little mind!