Skip to main content

Why so serious? And other things I've yet to be asked.

 * Written in retrospect due to lifestyle acuity *


As heading pics go, there is zero point to this. I binged Killing Eve.

Begin retrospective note call it, 2019 maybe?


Well that was a marvellous shitstorm wasn't it? Since the long-since penned journey of our Turkish misadventures, at least. I think I'd rather be navigating those elegant headless mannequins, having actually had to adult once more. It leaves a peculiar taste in one's mouth.


What's happened since?


1. I've proven myself worthy of having responsibility to be registered with a certain governing body.

I mean, really it was primarily about having the opportunity to dress like a drunken Scottish rainbow had thrown up over me, had a fight with the reflection then sent me on a crash course after tear arsing it across a platform shaking a Dean’s hand, to what can only be described as finishing school dressed in blues. I didn't deck it this time; the graduation, not the latter (depending on who you may ask).

2. I've definitely managed to piss a lot more people off than actively having tried to, but more on that at some point later. Not (exclusively) paid adulting related, may I (blatantly self-disclaimer) add.

This wee point barely necessitates a discussion, it's more or less a given. Presenting to you the love child of an angry opinionated gobshite centaur with the goddess of the social foot-in-mouth. Typifying the good grace with which I perpetually navigate the social nuances of barely giving a shit about exchanging pleasantries. In fact, that's probably enough on that.

3. Made a splendid decision to professionally adult on the moon. And other equally as well thought out life changing decisions.

I'm being dramatic. A tad. Safe to say I think I was good a fit as that dress that I last fit in aged 20, and held onto for the succeeding 12 years. Just to be sure. The kind of dress that would raise more than an eyebrow were you to be stopped by the plod, only made for the BMI that didn't break the hearts and souls of generations of Boots weighing scales patrons (those fecking machines!). Made for the actual BMI 18s, rather than the backwards body dysmorphic “it'll fit me again I'm sure”.  Yes, quite like that dress. Only it was with sadness I ditched my daily moon commute, due to having some very fond times. I met some corking souls with belly laughs bigger than both my belly and my laughs, and you don't ever lose touch with those beauties, especially the ones that have nailed your brew just so. The dress just did not quite fit.

Things that didn't make it onto the 2019 list, but still happened:


• I did an actual human relationship.
•70 more unanticipated house plants, total count 200ish
•Michael the creepy charity shop baby bust
•Small still alive, go me!


More on my discoveries, delights and shambolic decision making in my next post. You lucky wee prawns 😂

*end retrospective note*



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Covid jail day 4- Bush fruit and shit puns

Hearing the gasps of shock upon stating that Small has been foraging for raspberries outside, gave it a fair 5 minutes before admitting that the fruit picking was from our garden. It would appear that in the 15 years that some previous owners lived here, they developed a penchant for bush fruit -snort- including gooseberries, and what I discovered following a very bitter mouthful wasn't lethal but in fact blackcurrant. What do I do with a fuck tonne of blackcurrants? Periodically affirming that I'm not the shittest Mom in a 50 mile radius as she's feeling incredibly smug with the haul, I had to force myself not to laugh in her face as she badly washed then wolfed more than a couple of aphids along with these garden jewels.  Day 2 of covid jail saw me in more than a small tangle. Who knew covid would give me the coccyx of an aged Chippendale and ankles of a hockey player? Maybe that's just too much enthusiasm demonstrating weird and wonderful birthing positions. In any s
Post a Comment
Read more

Day 3: Gin, shit, and jelly snakes

I thought my luck was in.... there being a distinct geographical anomaly of the GPS Reg-tracker of the Facebook to TripAdvisor continuum. Enough to have thought the stars may be shining on me and that he could have another bar 2 streets away. Wishful thinking but spurred on by the thought of a strong wifi connection AND baked beans for Small, I set off. He did reply to my message, and Facebook post, and friend's email. I shall put le grand opening in my diary, for 83 days' time. Good old Reg. But all was not lost! Hark! English people in the hotel! I lurked over the neighbouring table like a vulture circling over it’s next dying meal, spotting a gap I put my big girl pants on- ‘are you English?’ They are. And are visiting a relative for Christmas and eating in the restaurant for the night and about as sympathetic as. Bet they’re Brexiteers. But Christmas songs are playing, there’s the fancy table clothes laid out, maybe they’re ramping it up for the Big Day, and I’ve ju
Post a Comment
Read more

A third round the world: sticking pins in my eyes

You'd be forgiven for thinking that in paying a small fortune to pamper her, that I might have placated [bribed] for some decent frolics in anticipation of over 24hrs of being on the move. Fools.  (That was fine as it goes, for the first 2hrs at least, after hissing my way through security) however- It wasn't her this time. When did she stop frothing at the chops over a mispronounced kids tv character and start reminding me "you've only yourself to answer to mummy, when you think about it properly"? When? ...  Never will I ever get cross at Small for saying "are we there yet?". My arse is on fire, my back is grim and we're not even halfway there yet. Fuck you, Putin.  I've been up since 3am and I'm yet to get comfortable. It's not the plane, that's stunning and perfectly equipped comfort wise for what you'd expect in economy travelling a third turn rouund the world. It's me.   Pressure areas checked a
Post a Comment
Read more