Yet again I neglect you for ages and expect you to still love me bloggy.

So what to tell you……

 

Lets start with Big Brother which is sweeping the nation with all the effect of a wet dishrag despite the tabloids best efforts.

 

I myself am a big brother contestant, albeit a e-big brother contestant. Its fun and if you want to see me make a complete fool of myself (like I don’t usually) go here.

 

Now the thing is that there is a fault on my line which hopefully will be fixed by the   time I post this, but the fact remains that I may be evicted from the big brother board as I cannot make my posts.

If by some miracle I remain I will not be upset if you guys sign up and support me ‘unconcerned’.  http://www.createphpbb.com/phpbb/index.php?mforum=csbb

 

 

What else to tell you……pretty much nothing so lets talk about getting older.

 

I would ask you to guess how old I am, but given that it is in my profile, you are hardly going to win a dishwasher for getting it correct. This is the bit where you tell me I don’t seem 34 by the way.

 

A few things have got me thinking about the mixed blessing of age lately. I have begun thinking along the lines of moisturiser, haircare products and anti-wrinkle   cream (Damn you Avon lady).  The onslaught of age is occurring despite the fact I am trying to ignore it.

 

But then I get to thinking….whats so bloody bad about it? I am more relaxed, a hell of a lot more fun to be around…..a damn sight sexier because I finally get what the whole sex thing is about……and generally tend to read a book!      Nobody would like me more for getting in to positions usually reserved for a contortionist…..and better still I don’t want them to! I watch those in their early twenties go through what seems to be hell in order to gain the attentions of someone I wouldn’t trust with a pot plant.  

 

The best thing about being in my thirties is the freedom to finally be me, irrespective of what others may think. I am more relaxed as a mother, friend, employee and frankly I would not be 24 again  if you paid me (would like the boobs without the support bra though)

 

For Molly’s party today I had bought the two hostess’ a piggy bank and a kitty bank. These were white ceramic jobs that the kid gets to paint with poster paints.

   

Anyway, I decided in my infinite wisdom that in order to shut brats up then I would allow them to have said banks and decorate them yesterday. How wonderful to have something useful that in later years would serve as a reminder of them when they were 2 and 3.

 

Yeah right.

 

Piggy went to Molly and the kitty to Jack. Paints were produced and rather   psychedelic animals resulted. I managed to put them up to dry with little in the way of tantrums before handing the proud artists their £2 in ten pence pieces to ‘feed’ their animals.

 

  Naturally they wished to show the neighbour the results of their labour and talent.

 

  At this point things began to go awry.

Jack tripped up and the kitty bank miraculously transformed itself into a 100 piece death trap. Molly bent to save him and in doing so dropped piggy who promptly broke in half. Our new livestock had a life span of less then three hours.

 

Guess who is buying new ones today…for FOUR children?

 

By the way if you want to know guilt…..the last words my angelic looking son said to me last night was a plaintive ‘My cat is bwoken’.

 

 

Well Molly finally got to go to the party. Better still Jack and I were able to stay. Jack is showing definite signs of becoming a ladies man, and the two year old horror pulled a lot of 4 year old girls, despite being the campest dancer at the do and having no clue as to the ‘statues’ part of musical statues. So thirty fresh faced 3 and 4 year olds trying to be perfectly still, whilst two year old nutter keeps running up to them and pushing them to get a move on



Molly was her polite self, remembering to say ‘Thank you to having me’ to Ellies mum at the end. How proud was I?

All in all a good time was had by all including me. (Course it had nothing to do with the fact it was held in a function room of the pub!).

I still cannot get used to not working on Mondays even after all these months. I feel guilty about it, but then at the same time the four days solid with the brats is priceless. Today they attended nursery for just two and a half hours so I got to sit in the garden with a latte and read a gardening magazine. I am such a party animal. It’s no good though, after half an hour I had to get up and clean the kitchen floor.

Window boxes are still in place…it’s a minor miracle.

Ok Bloggy I have an embarassing confession to make.

I think I may be going senile.

Remember the party is told you about that my daughter was going to? Well its today not yesterday. That cost me a fortune in making it up to her pressies.

Also the broadband connection is next month not this one.

I think it has finally happened and I am sandwich short of a picnic. I think some people won't even notice the difference.

Catch you later. I now have to convince Molly that there really is a party today as she has lost faith in her mother

My daughter is about to go to the first of two parties this week. Presents are bought and outfits ironed ready for the big occasion.

Why is it she goes to so many parties while I stay in every night? I know I am pretty sad when my daughters life is one social whirl and mine is sat down with a curlywurly and the odd glass of wine. At least I get to cuddle a gorgeous young man who tells me he loves me every day.....my two year old son.

Yet again I couldn't pass a market without buying yet more plants. It's bedding season, so its out with the old pansies and bulbs and in with the petunias. I may even take a pic of the window boxes when the blooms are finally out. Aparently the village comitee has decided that on pain of death all window boxes etc mist be blue and white 'with a hint of red'. I am so tempted to see if they will stone me if I went for pinks and yellows, but disgression being the better part of valour I have complied. The thought of being ostracised by a bunch of pensioners does not appeal.

Welkl I must go as I have tall blondes to beautify and short blond men to molify.

Catch you soon Bloggy

Hello Bloggy.

 

Sorry I have not been around much. I got a dose of spring fever   and started going out a bit with the brats.

 

I should have lots to tell you, but to be honest as things become part of the past I tend not to dwell too heavily.

 

I have been wondering how much of our lives can get caught up to the extent the net becomes more of a reality than the world around us. Once work is finished there are always the brats to deal with, so I don’t mind saying that going out opportunities are extremely limited. In that respect a lot of my social life revolves around the boards that I post on and the people that I talk to online. Before you realise it there is an investment in these people. They are more than merely pixels. It is similar here in the journal world. I read about other people’s challenges and what is happening in their lives and I do care. I care enough to make a comment or to check back and read again to see if the situations they have are resolved.

 

Some of my friends that come and visit my home are those that I met via the internet. This reminds me on the 27th of this month I am meeting a friend from a board I have posted on for quite a while. We get on like a house on fire and I am so looking forward to seeing her. Also another person from that board is coming too so we can all have a coffee and a good natter.

 

Some people like to keep a distance from the people they speak to online, but for me although it is a virtual place it is filled with real people. Just like real life, I think how much you get out of it is dependant upon how much you invest.

 

That’s the first of a few posts that I shall be making today. I feel terribly guilty about the neglect Bloggy and apologies to those who emailed me telling me to get on and post. It really shows shockingly poor discipline. I shall address the other element I have neglected in a little while.

 

Catch you soon bloggy old pal.

I ignore you for weeks then bombard you with posts Bloggy.

Some fuss has been made recently that we are taking our computers etc into the bedroom and it is no longer a place for relaxation and seduction. Why should this be viewed as so shocking? Are all couples supposed to be ‘at it’ night and day as the adverts and media seem to imply? It’s a wonder the lawn ever gets mown if people are busy hanging from the lampshades and diving off the wardrobes at every opportunity.

People are seeing the bedroom as a place to relax in their own way. They like to relax by watching television, listening to music or going on their computers. (Don’t forget the media has also stressed that sex shouldn’t be confined to the bedroom, so perhaps people are grabbing a quick knee trembler in the hall or turning the kid’s playroom into an adult dungeon at lights out.)

When did everybody else’s sex life become something that should be discussed at every opportunity and preached about from the rooftops? I don’t remember the future of the world population being in Jeopardy so I assume some people are switching off long enough to pro-create.

Perhaps the best advice on what to keep out of the bedroom is other people’s noses and the tabloid newspapers that come up with all this rubbish.

Todays post was inspired by Joe. Something that he wrote on my tag board got me thinking about the way we use our language dependant on where we are.

 

Lets start with sex (Don’t start worrying now, its not a ‘come on’)

 

bang v. Banging can be used in the UK to refer to the beautiful act of procreation. A gentleman who is particularly impressed with his lady-friend's abilities in the beautiful act of procreation may use a phrase like "she bangs like a barn door".

bender n. 1. A big drinking session. 2. Be careful, because this word is also a rather derogatory term for a homosexual. I believe it derives from the phrase "gender-bender", though a contributor points out to me that it could equally easily refer to the, erm, position adopted.

boff v. A slightly upper-class version of shag

bonk v. In the UK, bonking is, well, the act of reproducing. Well, unless you're using some sort of contraceptive device I suppose. It's the act of practising reproduction, maybe. Oh, hell, you know what I mean. We do also share the US definition (a clunk/bash).

cop off v. Copping off with someone is snogging them (usually for the first time). I am told that the phrase is derived from a contraction of "copulate".

 

fancy v. As well as the standard meaning, Brits use the word fancy to refer to being keen on a particular member of the opposite sex. Seen in the contexts of "I really fancy that chap from the coffee shop" or "Hey, Stu, I think that bird over there fancies you!"

fit adj. To describe someone as fit is very similar to describing them as tidy. A fit bird is a fine specimen of the fairer sex, and one described as "fit as a butcher's dog" might be particularly nice.

get off v. In the UK, getting off with someone involves snogging them. This must not be confused with the US term "to get someone off", which means, well, rather a lot more.

 

leg over n. Yep, more sex. To get one's leg over does indeed mean clambering over another person with the intention of prodding at them.

 

poof n. This is a mildly derogatory term for a homosexual (I say mildly primarily because the rest are even worse).

poofter n. A simple derivation of poof, with exactly the same meaning.

pull v. The art of distracting the opposite sex. Pulling is conceptually very similar to hooking up.  . Single males and females are almost all on the pull but will deny it fervently and pretend to be terribly surprised when eventually it pays off.

randy adj. One way of ensuring that Brits laugh at American sitcoms is to put someone in the program called Randy. This is because randy in UK English translates very well as horny in US English and, because we all have such a simple sense of humour, sentences such as "Hello, I'm Randy" have us doubled up on the sofa.

rodger v. Yes, verb. And I know it's a name, but then so's Randy  As this is a family dictionary and I'm a repressed Brit I'm going to tread gingerly around the meaning. Rodgering is, well shagging. I realise that this is not going to help much if you don't know what that is either.

romp v. Having a romp is yet another term for the loving act of procreation. It's a bit rough-and-ready - you would be much more likely to have a romp with your secretary on top of the photocopier than you would with your wife of thirty years in the marital bed. Not you personally, these are just examples.

shag v. Used in very similar contexts to the US term lay, shagging usually refers to the act of intercourse itself, except when used by a bloke giving his mates the details about what happened with that tidy bird He pulled in the club the night before. In this instance, shag can be interpreted to mean anything between a peck on the cheek and a punch in the face. As American readers will know, the Carolina Shag is a dance and this amusing contradiction provides endless hours of simplistic amusement to us Brits. Even more amusing for UK residents, I am told that running for catches on the sports field is commonly known in the US as shagging balls and that the phrase "go shag some balls" is not uncommon. And yes, we in the UK do have "shag carpet". And I'm pretty sure that all available jokes have already been made.

 

slag v. 1. To slag someone (or in more common usage, to slag them off) is to "have a go" or pick on them. This is in pretty wide usage in the UK. 2. A woman with very loose morals, very much on a par with "slut".

slapper n. People who are on the pull for anything they can get. Anything. The word is applied more often to females (arguably because it is a built-in function of blokes and doesn't deserve a separate word). Slappers wander around the dance floor looking for the drunkest blokes and then, when they've found them, woo them by dancing backwards into them "accidentally". The are invariably spotted at the end of an evening telling the bouncer how lonely they are and trying to sit on his knee.

snog v. This may or may not be a verb, depending on who you are snogging. The closest equivalent to snogging is making out, which is a terrible phrase and as far as I can see describes anything on the sexual scale which can be performed on a couch. Snogging translates to playground-speak as kissing-with-tongues and I suppose is French-kissing, which is another appalling phrase.

tart n. 1. A tart is much the same as a slapper,But is slightly less extreme and a little more omnisexual. Tarts spend hours perfecting make-up, hair, clothes, etc. before going out and waiting at the side of the dance floor to be pulled Be warned, though - at the end of the evening, tarts tend to turn into slappers just to make sure all that lip gloss doesn't go to waste. Back, erm, on a more literary tack, the word may or may not be derived from "sweetheart". 2. A small cake - perhaps a jam tart or a fruit tart. So when in "Alice Through the Looking Glass", the rhyme goes "the knave of hearts, he stole the tarts" he wasn't leaping off with his arms full of easy young ladies. We do also share the third meaning of the word, when it's taken to mean "sour".

tidy adj. A fine example of his/her gender. 99% of the time, though, it applies to females rather than males. Tidy is a fantastic word and, unlike almost any other adjective used by males, is regarded by females as a compliment. It's never used directly in conversation; the way a female will discover she is tidy is through her best friend who was told by a bloke who knew she'd pass it on. Blokes rather like this word because it has a definite subtext suggesting dusting and hovering (vacuuming).

toss v. "Tossing" in the UK is masturbating. Coincidentally, to call someone a "tosser" is to suggest that they have an overly intimate relationship with Pam and her five sisters. The word was originally in use as "tosser" or "toss-pot" to describe a drunk (tossing one-too-many drinks back) but, as with most things, has become more gloriously sordid.

totty n. I'm not very sure whether this is a collective noun or not. Totty is really a word referring to fit birds in general - you'd catch it in a phrase like "Well, I'm definitely going there again. Wall-to-wall totty." Not said by me, of course.

 

  There you go Joe. Now you will know for certain if some fit tart tries to pull you.

 

It may possibly be telling that I first used the terminology referring to sex rather than say clothing (the whole pants thing to be dealt with). It is possibly even more telling that tomorrow (or later)  I shall attempt the subject of insults. Fortunately not being an American nobody will refer me for counselling, so my Freudian nature can remain between you and I Bloggy.

Catch you later Bloggy

P.s Dont forget its international honesty day today

I confess that I am mad about Forums. I have tried chat rooms, but message boards seem to suit me better. I like the ability to think before I reply, the issues are often better and I also like to re-read what people have put to make sure that I understand their point. In chat the type is flying off the top of the screen and the topic has moved on before I get a chance to reply. Also in chat rooms there seem to be more arguments and name calling.

 

This is not always the case as I discovered yesterday. There are message boards especially created for people who like to argue. The topic of the thread is often unimportant as it is merely an excuse to fight with total strangers.

 

Now this may sound pretty dumb to you Bloggy, but it was actually quite interesting reading. The arguments were often sound and coherent, and the attention to detail was quite astounding. I should imagine these people who vent their anger in this manner are those that rarely if ever resort to violence.

 

  I have to say though, the language was frightening!

 

 My cousin’s eldest is 13 and is going through the terrible teens. Last night she had a massive row with her step father and her mother. I spoke to her on msn and got her to calm down and promise to make it up today, but it did make me think a little. My cousin is extremely strict about the children’s bedtimes (she has 4), but her daughter was on the computer at midnight. Now should I tell my cousin that perhaps its is time to move the computer downstairs? I think I should as I firmly believe that all internet time with children should be monitored.

 

The Moral Maze

 

I like to think up moral dilemmas in my head so here is one for anyone who wants it:

 

One of your best friends is going out with a woman/man you have liked for a very long time and you know for a fact that he/she is cheating on them. Their girlfriend/boyfriend makes a pass at you. What would you do in that situation bearing in mind your friend has said some terrible things about him/her and has said they are thinking of ending the relationship.?

 

I am the adoptive mother of a Bonsai

and a venus fly trap. 

 

Although I have many plants in my home I would have picked neither of these for myself as the Bonsai is just too tricky and the flytrap…..well It aint the prettiest thing in the world.

 

Looking after Neils plants has become a terrifying experience. The Bonsai started to drop all its leaves, and now the new ones growing seem too big. I have stuck it in the garden on a what I don’t see cant worry me basis, but if anyone has any tips I would be grateful.

 

The Venus flytrap is a different matter. It is thriving although I swiftly had to read up that they die back in winter as was a bout to throw it out as a lost cause. It has now come into flower. Now who would have thought that such an ugly brute of a plant could produce such a lovel;y flower?. I have however been told that they weaken the plants ability to produce new traps so I shall have to execute said flower head.

 

 

Apparently today is international juggling day, not to be confused with World juggling day which is in June. Now is it just me or wouldn’t international refer to the world in this context? So heres the deal Jugglers are attempting for world dominiation in 2005. Don’t let these evil people have their way as it will only lead to a huge war with the mime artists who we all know are renown for their power hungry nature and vidcious torture methods involving incarceration within invisible boxes and the silent treatment.

 

In fact it is little known   that I myself am an accomplished juggler:  

 

 

On a slightly different note I saw this link on a message board

 

Camilla Queen

 

I know it's irreverent but it had me laughing my head off.

 

Thats it for now bloggy. Might catch up with you a little later if not see you tomorrow.