All By Myself

I live on my own, well alone with a cat, but anyway...
I genuinely enjoy living on my own (with a cat).
Have you seen that quote...the one that about anyone wanting to be with you isn't competing with anyone else, but with your comfort zone? I totally get that.
Actually, I'm going to have to see if I can find the actual thing, because I suspect I butchered it somewhat....

*after googling*

There it is. See how much more eloquently put that was. Well done Mr Jones. I commend you.

Anyway, I had a point that I was getting to, sort of.

I was saying to a friend that not only do I chatter away to myself when I'm home alone, I also make myself laugh on a daily basis. I find myself hilarious.
Not that I'm actually funny, I just amuse myself easily.

And therein lies a tale.

The other night I go to curl up on the sofa and tuck my feet up under me as I do pretty much every day. Except my right knee has decided it doesn't want to. In fact it explains its decision by causing a pain similar to how I imagine it would be to become impaled, through the knee on something both sharp and hot. It was that kind of pain that almost feels like you've been winded.
I attempt the move again and it repeats its decision with the same astonishing pain.
When the knee is straight zero pain, no hint that the knee is in a bad mood.
 
So I stop bending it.

Because life is about making smart choices.

I retire to bed, I keep my grumpy knee unbent.

The next morning, I sit on the sofa and decide to test bend the knee.
It is less grumpy than the night before, but still uncomfortable.
I rub my knee and say to myself "gosh my knee is sore.....it's agoknee".
Ha! Agony...agoknee...see what I did there?
Yeah, I realise this is not really funny.
I appreciate it's a terrible pun.
But oh. my. god. I laughed.
Then the fact that I was laughing made me laugh.
My ribs hurt.
There were tears.
Every time I tried to stop I laughed again.
Typing this I'm having a chuckle to myself. 
Honestly, I actually just snorted.

I guess part of my comfort zone is being able to laugh at my own jokes. Isn't there another quote somewhere about laughing at your own jokes not being cool? Probably. Well screw them, I'm laughing over here and I like it.


On an unrelated/related note...

I used to work for BT (British Telecom) I was a Diagnostic Testing Officer. So fancy.
Well, I answered the phone and diagnosed faults on phone lines. Not so fancy.
During training the trainer was explaining the difference between faults and said you would know a specific fault wouldn't be caused by overhead lines rubbing in trees because trees don't make calls.
I leant into my friend and said "unless it's a trunk call".
Again, it wasn't really funny, but you know how bad jokes are just hilarious? We lost it, we tried SO hard to keep it together, but failed.
We were told off and told to leave the room.
I'd never been chastised like that as an adult before, which just made it more hilarious to me.

Telling that story just reminds me of another one....
Maybe I'll save the story of the shadow for another time.

Oh the suspense!

Further Farce

It is, I think, commonly understood that my life is pretty huge farce. Today was no different, just another ride on the farce train.

I didn't sleep well, so rolled out of bed and decided to head into town.
A spot of shopping later and a couple of huge bags of fruit & veg in the car I made my way home, as I drove down my street I noticed something in the road, just a short distance from my home. I parked up and wandered back to find a collared dove sitting in the gutter. 
It made no effort to fly away so I gathered it up in my cardigan and carried it home.  
As I got to my front door, I noticed a large box - I'd been sent flowers!
I love being sent flowers and it doesn't happen nearly often enough sadly!
So there I am, dove under one arm, trying to unlock the door with the other hand and then also trying to take in the flowers, with my tennis elbow screaming that I've made a poor decision.
I make it inside, I thank goodness that I happen to have an empty box in the conservatory from a delivery yesterday and in goes the dove to recuperate.
I carry the flowers through into the house, make it to the lounge where Kini has decorated the carpet with partially digested cat biscuits.
Awesome.
There's nothing I like more than when my cat has guffed everywhere.
On top of this, Kini was apparently livid that I'd had the audacity to leave the house and thus leave her alone, so she yelled at me almost continually until I fussed her (after I'd sternly advised her that if she hadn't guffed everywhere then I wouldn't be still ignoring her!)

Cheese on toast with mushrooms and pickle for lunch, before popping off to the doctor to get my beloved injection of Vitamin B12. 
I love my B12 injection so much, it's like coming back to life after being utterly exhausted.

After that...I went and collected my Dad, who's finally home after his accident on December 23rd.
He still has memory loss and needs carers to visit thrice daily, but hopefully his being back in his own home will give him his confidence back and he'll get his brain working again!
It'll take time, but he's just thrilled to be sleeping in his own bed tonight.
 

Popping Corn

Let's picture the scene, for weeks and weeks I'd fancied popcorn but not got round to making any, but the evening in question I finally got round to it.
The pan was on the hob, the kernels were in the pan, the heat was on, popping was due to commence at any moment.
And it duly did. There was popping aplenty, I regularly lifted the pan from the heat, held the lid and shook the pan to move the kernels around.
And then it happened.
It turned out I didn't have a very good hold on the pan lid.
I shook the pan and the lid shot off, coming to rest at the back of the hob with the handle facing away from me.
Popcorn was popping wildly, shooting off around the kitchen, I held the pan off the heat, but the heat in the pan was keeping it popping, it was going everywhere!
I reached for the lid and my brain screamed Don't be a bloody idiot that's going to be hot with your bare hands! for of course I couldn't reach the handle of the pan lid.
I realise I can't get my oven glove on with only one hand so I grab for a towel.
All the while the popcorn is continuing its avalanche into my kitchen.
For some reason it doesn't occur to me to simply put the pan down on the kitchen counter, no instead I continue to hold it in the air with my left hand, aiding the spread of the exploding corn.
It's safe to say that my hysterical laughter, interspersed only with my utterances of "shit! shit! shit! shit!" aren't really speeding up the proceedings.
Towel grabbed, lid grabbed, lid deftly manoeuvred into place.
Popcorn eruption finally controlled.
I survey the scene. Popcorn has travelled a distance of a few feet. It's over the worktop, it's over the floor, it's in pretty much every nook and cranny.
Oops.
It's hard to believe that any of it has succeeded in remaining in the pan, but it has and for the record it was delicious.

Reviewing Guffaws

Whilst I may be proud of my review of my hated printer, I have not managed to be as brilliant as these reviews of Amazon products...

Sugar Free Haribo Gummi Bears - as a warning, I am still nursing the aches from my guffaws at this one, I actually cried with laughter. Real tears! 

Kleenex Tissues. And you thought it was impossible to review tissues!

Veet for Men Hair Removal Gel Creme. I made some noises that can only be referred to as 'snortfaws', I have successfully managed to splice a snort with a guffaw.

Hutzler 571 Banana Slicer. So I may not have snortfawed but I was tickled!

Novelty Toaster. I'm not entirely sure if this one should have a NSFW rating....

Baker & Chefs Chocolate Pudding. I probably just enjoy The Walking Dead in-joke, because I'm a big kid.

For a wealth of delightfully funny Amazon reviews, you should also amble over here to tumblr.

Astronomy

I got a phone call from a friend:
"Do you like astronomy?"
"Well it's interesting but I'm not really bothered really, why?"
"I'm doing this night school course and they need a couple of extra people to be sure it'll run and I wondered if you fancied it."
"I don't have anything else on on a Wednesday so why the hell not".

And thus began my introduction to Astronomy, which, for the record is really bloody fascinating.
I MUST buy myself a Planisphere - which is quite honestly the best invention, and not since sliced bread, just simply the best invention. Ever.
Any argument against this statement is invalid.

However, there is one problem with astronomy. I will admit I am now a 35 year old woman. I'm a grown up. With the sense of humour of an adolescent boy.
On my very first night the tutor said Uranus. Seven times.
Seven times I had to control my desire to burst into uproarious laughter.
"I'm sorry it's cloudy tonight or we would have had a clear view of Uranus".
It doesn't help that he pronounces it 'your-anus'.
Seriously. How is that ever not funny?

I'm not sure a week has gone by that he hasn't said it. And every damn week do I have to fight to control my snigger.
It's one of those laughs that is in your nose, you know what I mean? It starts to come out as a snorting noise that you can't control. Or you get the silent shoulder shake kind of laugh, either way, when there's only a dozen of you, you single yourself out as the immature one. Which is pretty fair and accurate.
I have a puerile sense of humour. It is out of my control.
I might have to search out who said it but they were wise: "Growing old is compulsory, growing up is optional."
I'm opting out.

Anyway, tonight is astronomy, it's cloudy out there so the observatory will be shut and the telescope locked away. Classroom studies it is then, so I can come away and for the next week go on about the size of Venus' moons, or the size of the red spot on Mars' surface, or what they believe Venus to be made of, etc., etc., etc.

On a final, puerile note, I don't recollect where I first saw this and I don't have a source to who created it but by crikey it makes me snigger:

Laughter

I was discussing with someone the kinds of laugh we all have, from the polite chuckle to the full belly laugh that you can't hold back until it takes on a life of its own and which you are powerless to stop.
In discussing that I was reminded of a couple of incidents and as I'm getting back to my blog world I had to come back with a chuckle or two.

A few weeks ago my niece, Chloe, and I decided to have a picnic. We couldn't decide where to go but eventually opted to chill out by the river at Newark Castle which also meant a quick trip for delicious goods from Waitrose. So we picked up some goodies, laid down a blanket and munched.
After a while, upon realising I was the second oldest person in the entire park I thought about jumping into the river to end it all but my fear of water saved me. Then Chloe realised that made her the third oldest.
At this point the snort of laughter was released.
After a couple of hours of lounging we got ready to head home, gathered up our food remnants and started to pick up the blanket. That was when we noticed it.
A piece of chocolate cake, or rather the mousse part of a very delicious slice of chocolate & raspberry cake.
But this piece. It didn't look like cake.
It looked like someone had taken a tiny, perfectly formed poo in the corner of our blanket.
Chloe and I made eye contact, looking from each other to the chocolate poo.
We knew it had to be moved.
Laughter ensued.
The blanket could not be folded with chocopoo in the corner.
I started to head towards what can only be described as the donkey laugh.
I found a tissue and reached for the chocopoo.
I didn't get it all, now it looked like a really sticky chocopoo.
At this point the laughter had reached hysterical.
There were tears.
There was pain.
There was a serious inability to breathe.
And a serious concern about bladder control.
And the donkey laugh was full blown. Eeyore on ecstasy.
Snorting. Squeaking. Squealing.
Desperately trying not to draw even more attention to ourselves. Although it might have been too late for that.

I cannot even begin to think of chocopoo without the giggles setting right back in.

To Kill A Mockingbird

A couple of weeks ago the kindly Lovefilm sent me 'Failure to Launch'.
I expected a pretty standard romantic comedy which would be lighthearted, easy to watch and that I'd forget it pretty soon after I watched it.
What I didn't expect is that I'd find myself randomly giggling after recalling a specific scene.
Actually, I have to admit to laughing, loudly at frequent intervals throughout the movie, but, no matter how many times I see this scene I find myself giggling.
The actual scene starts about 2 1/2 minutes in, but I like the way this little clip sets it up:

"Walk away from the light little buddy!"

Jumble's A Dog

I went to see my friend Harriet today, she was ready to leave when I arrived but I resisted and urged her to chop my hair before we left. After a brief panic and my assurances I was sure it would be fine, she dutifully trimmed the back of my hair, I just can't do that part myself, no matter how I try.
I asked for the dustpan to clear it up and she refused, assuring me she was coming home to hoover the whole downstairs and she'd just do it then.
So off we went, when I returned her home, she went off to collect her son from school.
Apparently on returning home from school, her son wandered into the house, pointed at the remnants of my hair on the floor and said "What happened? It looks like Jumble ate Stephanie!"

Miscellanea

I have to note two things.
Well maybe three.
The first is that it's only just gone 9.30am and I have already had two achievements.
I'm a high achiever. For today only.
Anyway, I went for a blood test this morning and you know what the nurse got that vein first time. First time I tell you! That never happens!
Normal events are like this:
"Sharp scratch coming up, oh no, I didn't get it/the veins collapsed/I'm sure I felt it, etc, etc, etc"
Repeat 4 - 5 times per arm.
Then attempt back of the hand.
Then send to County Hospital to let the phlebotomists there have at me.
See 1 or 2 or 3 (occasionally more) phlebotomists who attempt to take blood.
At this point I think they start to believe I am some kind of scientific miracle that exists without blood. (If only I didn't have so many injuries to disprove that theory!)
The worst, worst, worst place for a blood test - the inside wrist. Horrible.
Anyway, first bloody time! I'm so happy.

So happy in fact that I came home and the second thing was achieved.
I went up a ladder.
Nothing major I know, I mean people are up and down ladders every day!
It's just that since the time I went up a ladder and came back down without using the rungs, I have been a little afraid of them.
I did break into a cold sweat it's true, but I did it.
Check. Me. Out.

Word to the wise. Always use the rungs. Don't land on the ladder after it slips and leaves you to fall from the attic. That shit hurts. And breaks your ribs. I got a totally awesome ladder-shaped bruise though!

~

I have some things on my mind as well. Not important things, but maybe if I share them they'll stop going round in my overstuffed mind.

Mascara adverts. Somewhere in fine print during the ads are the words "Filmed with lash inserts and enhanced in post production". What? Why? Is your mascara so terrible that the product on its own is not worth seeing?
This bugs me. I mean I can't be enhanced in post production. Oh, I wish.....
But seriously. I don't have time for lash inserts, I want mascara that doesn't need lash inserts damn it.

I bought some drawing pins the other day, when I got them home I noticed that the back of the packet had this note:

Apologies for the terrible photo, but really, now we're being told drawing pins have sharp points? How idiotic as a society have we become that we need to have this spelled out to us? I'm only surprised some of those words have more than one syllable.

Yesterday I logged on to AOL and was greeted with the headline "Wildcat strikes set to increase".
I thought it was referring to incidents like this but was disappointed to discover it actually meant this. Which is not nearly as exciting.
I mean it's serious and all, but it's just not as exciting.

Lastly, I wanted to illustrate why so many think I am a picture of elegance and grace.
Mum & Tim were packing up ready to leave their house in the village and as I had a sudden unexpected free day I went to help. I found a number of small poles and I thought it would be a good idea to keep them all together so found some elastic bands which I placed round my wrist as I gathered the poles in my hand. Now, these were quite large poles and I could only just hang onto them, being small of hand. I carefully held them with one hand whilst (cleverly) slipping the bands from the wrist over the poles, in what was designed to be one fluid motion.
Except I had the poles a little too close to my face.
And gathered a good portion of my hair into the elastic band, thus joining the poles to my wrist, hand and hair.
Oh yes, this is no simple skill.
I'll have you know, in my time of need, Tim laughed from the back of the trailer.

Wait, this is the last thing. I've started chitting my seed potatoes.
Oh yes, check me out, I know the lingo and everything.

Bangs And Sadness

It's been a strange start to the year. Since Christmas, whilst I haven't personally received any bad news, a number of my friends have. It's difficult to hear of people having tough times and it leaves you feeling very helpless, for there are never the right words to make it better.
So, I'm sending out all the good vibes and wishes that I can muster.

On Saturday I killed a pheasant. I didn't even see it as it ran straight to the side of my car and underneath it. It breaks my heart, there are so many of them around and I've always been a little amazed in all my recent years in the country I've only had close calls.
I'll always feel a guilt about it that I can't shake.
All the way back in 1998 I ran over a squirrel and I've never forgotten.
A few years before that, a rabbit.
I remember each incident vividly and probably always will.
What's curious is that whilst I do feel guilt, it's swift and less severe if I kill ants and flies. Is it the fact of their numbers, their ability to annoy without even trying? The same is true of slugs and snails, I avoid killing them if at all possible, I don't want to kill them, I'd prefer to live and let live.
Maybe I'm sensitive or maybe it's the vegetarian in me.

On a sunnier note, I was watching TV earlier today and a scene made me laugh so hard I cried. Watching Ty Pennington (another Celebrity Crush - of course) insert a detonator into a stick of dynamite, under careful supervision, before placing it in a hole so that he would be able to blow some granite away from the wall of the mine. He was visibly nervous and not keen on the idea as he slowly slid the dynamite into the prepare hole, at which point his supervisor leaned in and very loudly shouted "BANG!". I swear I've never seen anyone jump like that, I sincerely wish I could find it on youtube. I'm giggling now, just remembering it.

Some years ago (more than I like to admit) my best friend at the time, Sarah and I arrived at my house after school. No one was home, we went into the hallway and I stopped her.
"Shhh, do you hear that?"
Sarah: "What?"
Me: "That!"
Sarah: "I don't hear anything"
Me: "Shh, listen carefully"
Sarah: "But...."
Me: "Shhhhhhh"
We descend into absolute silence. I scream "BANG" and proceed to fall about laughing till I hurt as Sarah nearly collapses from terror.
I'm a little evil sometimes.

Happy New Year!

2009 has begun.
I can't believe that nearly a decade has passed since there were cold sweats about the millennium bug.
Time flies whether you're having fun or not!

I went into town and into one of the pubs there to celebrate New Year, the as it got after 11pm I started to wonder how warm my cottage was at that moment. My mind wandered to my bed and I remembered how terrifically warm it is under my duvet.
Finally midnight rolled around and I, very lethargically, didn't rise from my chair, but watched a small crowd gather in front of the TV and cheer as they counted down into the New Year.
I'm like Scrooge, but I didn't mean to be, I was just tired!
Which reminds me, back here I said that my lovely doctor wanted to do some blood tests. I was quite convinced I was fine, turns out I was wrong.
I have pernicious anaemia. Which I'm perversely pleased about, not that I want to have something wrong with me, but I'd just been feeling so tired, cold, lethargic and lacking in any motivation that it's good to know there's a reason for it and they can fix me!
I'm actually looking forward to getting my injections of B12 to sort me out and regain some of that energy!

I haven't made resolutions, but have resolved to have changes.
Which isn't quite the same thing, at least not in my crazy mind.
There are a lot of things I'd like to do, one of my local venues is having some brilliant gigs and showing some world cinema films, so I'm trying to decide if I'm going to be brave enough to go on my own.
It's easy to say it here, but I'm quite a nervous and shy soul at times, so I might eventually balk at the idea. It just seems such a shame to miss out, for lack of accompaniment.

Oh! I must mention this, last night my computer refused to play ball and got stuck halfway through a shutdown so I pressed my finger to the power button, at which moment Mifford got up from rubbing herself into the carpet and pressed her nose to my finger. She was obviously a bit full of static from the carpet rubbing and we both got a shock and both shot back at speed. I felt a little guilty as she looked up at me with a "what did you do that for?" look in her eye. A shock to the nose must really smart!

My bathroom radiator is boiling hot at the base and lukewarm at the top, so I have been trying to bleed it. I have bled every radiator in the house and they are all fine, but this one refuses to play ball, so I frequently open the valve just in case a little air escapes. This morning I opened the valve and it made a funny noise, not quite like air escaping, so I leant in to put my ear to the valve at which point a loud miaow escaped. I naturally swore and leapt back before peering in to discover Mifford at the base of the radiator hidden under a towel. Of course.
She does it on purpose.

Gratitude

I have been across the border.
I went to a new country.
For the first time in my life.
I went to Wales!

Anyway, more on that later, but I had a little tale to tell.

The other day I was wandering around Sainsburys, I was in the fruit juice aisle and noticed a young lad of about 11 standing with his mother in front of the juice, hands clasped as though in prayer whilst uttering the words "Please, please, please."
His mother reached out, selected the Pomegranate & Blueberry, at which the lad fell to his knees, reached his arms to heaven and fairly yelled "Yes! Thank you!"

I really have to try that Pomegranate & Blueberry juice.

Who Me?

I'm sure I don't know what you mean...

Talking Cats

Ok, so I was morose yesterday. It happens. Sporadically.
So, to lighten the mood and your viewing pleasure, behold:

It kills me, I mean makes me laugh so hard I fear for my bladder control.

Die Hard 4.0....

I love the Die Hard series. I do. I make no apology for it.
However, it's taken me ages to get around to watching the most recent installment but lovefilm thoughtfully delivered it to me at the weekend so I managed to find time to curl up on my sofa and watch it.

I liked it. I'm no movie critic, but it entertained me and that's what I want from a movie. Sometimes I want to be moved, sometimes made to think, sometimes to laugh, but always be entertained.

After the movie ended I hit the special features and found this:

I laughed so hard. And at about 3.15 when they do the Brokeback skit.... well I still chortle. Bruce Willis is funny! I had no idea!

Hours In The Day

I've realised it's not that there aren't enough hours in the day, it's that there are so many things to distract you from what needs to be done.

I may have spent more than a wee while chuckling over someecards this morning and I'm beginning to feel that a theme may be approaching. There are just so many great cards, so many hilariously offensive jokes that I can't keep them to myself. Not that I'm the only one with access to the site, obviously... well, you know what I meant.

And by the way, if I'm ever murdered and AM inspiration for a Law & Order episode, I only pray that it's actually Law & Order: Criminal Intent. That programme may hold another of my Celebrity Crushes in the guise of Vincent D'Onofrio, although I think it's his character Robert Goren that the crush is actually on. I'm attracted to his intelligence and quirks. So it would be great if he could investigate my murder.

Not that I'm looking to be murdered you realise, I'm hoping to live to a ripe old age, to have many cats and scare the local village children who will run past my cottage screaming "Run from Scary Cat Lady".

But, if I were to be murdered, look at the fine detective below:

Ahhhh, delicious. I know he'd find and successfully outwit the fiend who killed me.

Marton & Hegley

Last night it was the turn of Marton for my latest excursion with the walking festival. Rachael and I were joined by her sister Helen, for her first and only outing with the festival. We drove into the village and looked out for fellow walkers - easily distinguishable by their shoes and rucksacks. We were supposed to be meeting at the cemetery churchyard and as we turned into the designated road we saw a collection of walkers and their cars. We found somewhere to park and joined the huddle. We waited. It was 7pm and no-one seemed to be about to set off. There was no-one that looked like a leader. We all stood around.
We murmured that perhaps we had been forgotten.
Perhaps we were in the wrong place.
It turned out the latter was true.
There was a graveyard at the church and another further along the same road.
Luckily the walk had needed to pass myself and the fellow stragglers, otherwise we'd have been a little lost!
The walk set off at quite a pace. So fast I only managed to get one photograph as we headed onto the riverbank.
It was really quite cold and that made me quite glad of a quickened pace, but I knew I'd feel it in the morning. (Although in actuality, only my left knee is a bit sore).

We strode single file along the riverbank, Rachael said later she felt like she'd been frogmarched!
It did feel a little like there should have been a chorus of "I don't know but I've been told, It's lovely walking in the wolds".
It was supposed to be a two hour walk, taking in the breathtaking scenery. The only thing I saw was the grass around my feet as I watched carefully to make sure I didn't fall down any holes. There just wasn't time to pause or look around you, even when we stopped briefly to cross a stile it felt like a quick march, I almost expected people to start vaulting over.
So we managed to cut the two hour walk clean in half.

The women directly behind me gave excellent eavesdropping opportunities too. I was able to have quiet little chuckles to myself.

Woman 1: So are you missing Weightwatchers tonight for this?
Woman 2: Yes.
Woman 1: I saw X the other day, she's lost a lot of weight hasn't she?
Woman 2: Yes, she's done really well. And lost it really evenly too.

How do you lose weight unevenly? Does it all go from your big toe?

Woman 1: There are two things a vacuum cleaner needs you know.
Woman 2: Really?
Woman 1: Yes. One is a high powered motor. I don't know what the other is. But Dyson has it.

Our vote went to the second thing being suction.

Running Total
Miles Walked: 4
Miles Walked This Festival: 11


On Thursday last week I went to see John Hegley with Gary.
I am at a loss to remember where and how I first discovered John Hegley, only that I'm really pleased I did. I adore his poetry - I'll be sharing some of my favourites in a wee while.
We went to take our seats and discovered that we were in the back row of the front four rows and also in the exact centre. We contemplated climbing over, but being miniature in stature I wasn't sure I could make it without causing concussion to a fellow audience member. The gentleman next to my seat heard my worries and held down my seat, to aid my climbing and keep safe the rest of the venue. I applaud you Sir.

Mr Hegley took the stage and was suitably brilliant. Before too long I was shaking with laughter, I could not stop the giggles and holding them in just made me shake. At one point the giggles erupted into a terrific snort. It wasn't pretty.
He said he was going to talk about Newcastle, and did anyone have a connection with the place. A lady in the front row shoved her hand into the air with an exclamation of 'I was born there'.
"Anyone else?" he asked.
Beside me I saw Gary's hand shoot into the air.
I turned and looked at him quizzically, I didn't know he was connected.
"Yes Sir?" said Mr Hegley.
"I've been there" said Gary
The lady in the row in front thought that was hilarious.

He rattled through poem after poem, he showed us his drawings on the overhead projector and caused much hilarity.
Just before the interval he did Owl acrostics, holding up his drawing of an owl. We all had to shout the letters as he shouted back his word for each. Then, lucky people that we are we had the opportunity to purchase one of such drawings... as beautifully illustrated below.
Gary had his signed first, but I demanded mine be signed in the jowls. I don't know why, I just liked the way it sounded.
There was some singing, which was brilliant, when he did The Amoeba Song he said we would be in three groups. He pointed to the right hand side of the auditorium (my right) and called us Section A. Then to the left, Section B. Folks in the middle had to make their own mind up. And as for section C, he pointed at the gentleman directly in front of Gary and called him Section C. Harsh.
Section A had to sing 'amoeba, amoeba, amoeba, amoeba, amoeba, amoeba, amoeba, amoeba', Section B had 'meeba, meeba, meeba, meeba, meeba, meeba, meeba, meeba, etc'. Section C had to thrust his glasses into the air and yell 'amoeba!'.
It was hilarious, but you might have had to be there.

Anyway, I had a fabulous time and am demanding you check out some poetry - you must click the link for the amoeba song up there, then click the link right here for the Love Cuts poem.

Here are a few of my other favourites.

Electric Chair Poem
The Volts
The Jolts
The End.

Pat
I said Pat
you are fat
and you are cataclysmically desirable
and to think I used to think
that slim was where it's at
well not any more Pat
you've changed that
you love yourself
you flatter yourself
you shatter their narrow image of the erotic
and Pat said
what do you mean FAT?

From another age
What looked like a broken window
in the phone box door
was actually a very small, lone,
levitating dinosaur.

My doggie don't wear glasses
My doggie don't wear glasses
so they're lying when they say
a dog looks like its owner
aren't they.

First sex
I was about six
the first time my mother told me
how it was bad to play with myself,
but I think she preferred it
to me playing with my sister.

Oh I think that will do for now... Absolutely brilliant.

The Official Beginning

There are a couple of real milestones that really tell me Summer is coming. Or at least a British Summer.
On Sunday I wore flip-flops, without the risk of frostbite. No mean feat. This is a great achievement. In England anyway.
I love this, it just feels so good to know that soon you won't want to be wearing coats, that a t-shirt will suffice. Heaven.

The sun and I don't really see eye to eye. I like to enjoy its presence, it likes to enjoy turning me various shades of scarlet - always managing to time it when I've forgotten sun cream or finding the exact spot I missed with the sun cream.
And, during summer, one should should always avoid having a parting in the hair - this is an open invitation to have your scalp scalded. But you will forget this until you brush your hair and alert the surrounding neighbourhood to the aforementioned burn with you wails of agony. Oh the fun.

The other milestone that tells me that Spring has sprung would be the corpses on the path. I don't look forward to the naked dead baby birds as much as I do the flip flops. Whilst walking on Sunday I thought I had managed to avoid this particular milestone, but no. The pink misshapen bubble gum on the path, was unfortunately not bubble gum, but fortunately unchewed, yet still distinctly unpleasant.

On Saturday night I went off to a party with Gary, he'd informed me that it was a fancy dress party, but I was a little without any sort of costume, having to resort to a bit of denim and a bright pink stetson. Gary has the photo of said outfit so sadly (ha!) I can't share it with you. However, I do have a photo of the cowboy outfit we managed to throw together in about an hour of shopping. Impressive, non?
A super checked shirt - charity shop bargain.
Bandanna - vintage clothing store.
Leather waistcoat - vintage clothing store.
String tie - party store.
Six-shooter - different party store.
Hat - mine, with some funky stitching it made a good little hat as the shops were sadly lacking anything big enough to fit a normal head.
Jeans - cowboys own.

We were a little hungry as we headed home and decided that it was essential to visit Chez's for Chips, Cheese & Mayo. Sadly Chez is no longer present, and has been replaced by someone inferior.
His name wasn't Chez, the place was called Chez Radwan and in a drunken state it was easier to call it Chez's.
It was always an experience, you'd concentrate on issuing your order to Chez and then he would literally bellow your order to the minions at the back. The night always resounded to the tune of "CHIPS! CHEESE! MAYO!" Never had that? Don't knock it till you've tried it!
Anyway, the chips, cheese & mayo wasn't as good as Chez's.
Chez always had proper Hellman's damn it.

Anyway, some youngster in the inferior chip shop asked if we were in fancy dress. I ask you. She said she was worried about offending us in case we always dressed that way. Crap, I knew I looked bonkers most of the time, but now I look like I dress like a cowgirl 24/7. Excellent.
She asks to try on Gary's hat. She borrows the gun.
Only she borrows them permanently. Little bitch ran off with both. That was my hat! Oh well. I still have the pink stetson, which rocks. And a gentleman earlier in the evening informed me it was sexy. Oh yes. I'm a sexy cowgirl. Ha!
Oh wait, I do have a blurry pic. Don't get excited now.I did warn you not to be excited.
If I'd had longer to prepare, I'd much prefer to have been a Saloon lady. I have a fascinator and corset and everything. Apart from those boots. I must have those boots.

As an aside, I'm really pleased Gary and I got the genuine information about what the fancy dress theme and that I wasn't one of the two that turned up as Spartacus and his wife. Oh and their child was in a toga too. That's just mean I tell you. And yet absolutely hilarious for the rest of us. I must get photographs from Gary.

For My Own Pleasure

This is here for no reason other than the fact I found it on my PC this morning and it absolutely kills me.
I know, I know, I'm puerile. I can't help it.
But damn, it's funny.

A Guffaw

To add to the plethora of posts today I have to add this.

Following a 'conversation' about this scene, I had to post it, it makes me laugh so hard in a manner not dissimilar to that seen here.
Many moons ago, when I was a nanny, the kids referred to it as my donkey laugh.
Which is just as attractive as it sounds.