Wednesday, October 29, 2008

My cups runneth over

My husband, who likes to keep abreast of the latest research on women's breasts tell me that a Swedish boffin called Helena Jernstroem, from Lund University in Sweden has just done a study that concluded that drinking more than three cups of coffee per day shrinks women's breasts.

I think this was his way of telling me I should drink a maximum of three cups of coffee per day because he doesn't want my breasts to deflate. And sure, I could do that, but then I would want to kill myself. So what's it going to be, big man, ample breasts or a very cranky wife?

Jernstroem claims that "Coffee-drinking women do not have to worry their breasts will shrink to nothing overnight. They will get smaller, but the breasts aren't just going to disappear."

Thank God for that!

But I mean, come on, which woman is going to take breasts over coffee? Not me, that's for sure. Caffeine is the only legal drug I'm allowed and if that means I end up flat as a pancake then so be it.

What do you say ladies? Coffee Cups or D Cups?

Monday, October 20, 2008

You will hear her screams

I really do adore my friend Daisy, but her daughter, who I will refer to as Child X (age 8) is now so off the charts crazy that I don't know if I can bear to be around her anymore.

Last night my husband, Daisy and Darren, Child X and my two kids were at a restaurant. My kids order chicken nuggets and french fries. When the waitress asks Child X what she wants, she says:

"A New York Strip."

Daisy anxiously: "And no salt and pepper on it or she won't eat it."

Darren: "And no sauce."

Child X: "And medium rare. If it isn't done right you will hear my screams!"

The steak arrives with mashed potato and asparagus.

Child X: "I won't eat that because there's vegetables on the plate."

Me: "So what? The meat isn't even touching the potatoes."

Daisy and Darren remove vegetables onto their plate then proceed to cut up the steak for an eight year old.

What else does Child X eat I hear you ask? Well, believe it or not, Child X only eats steak, strawberries, ice cream and maybe bread?

The father Darren, who is nuts, I believe either forgets to put anything in her lunchbox or just can't be bothered, knowing she won't eat it. So recently the school phoned up and asked why they weren't giving her lunch and Darren replied: "Oh we have a great deal of difficulty thinking of what to feed her."

I believe the school now think they are deliberately starving Child X.

Child X also sometimes eats ice cream for breakfast and screams for up to half an hour until she gets her way.

My point is Child X is a tyrant who has her parents wrapped around her little finger. Child X is also totally selfish and my kids don't like her anymore. I just don't want to tell Daisy directly that Child X is a nightmare, or maybe I should.

I would so like to put Child X into some kind of boot camp for spoilt brats where they make kids eat generic chicken nuggets. I would love to hear her screams .... She needs sorting out that one does. Do you know any annoying spoilt brats and do you dare tell the parents they've raised a Little Hitler?

Monday, October 13, 2008

Miss DIY


So, we live in a funny quaint neighborhood where neighbors are always putting out stuff with a sign saying “$5 or Nearest Offer” or “Free” and then you lug home the one ski or a fax machine from 1974, and when you have amassed all the crap at your house you wonder whether it was really a fondness for recycling and philanthropy that made your neighbor give away 600 issues of Knitting Monthly or Scrapbooking for Wierdos or whether she was merely a sadist?

Well, the other day my husband and I were driving home at night when we came across a huge fish tank out on someone’s lawn, glowing neon green, with goggle eyed goldfish swimming against a backdrop of psychedelic coral.

“Whoa,” I thought. “I must be tripping.” But I couldn’t have been because I hadn’t taken any LSD (as far as I know). So this was real. As soon as I saw that fish tank I thought, I’ve got to have it. There had recently been some long discussions about what hairless and odorless pets the kids could have and now my prayers had been answered in the form of free fish. To my husband I said, “Do you think it’ll fit in the back of the car?” (It was a 46 gallon fish tank).


“Stop the car and help me get it into the trunk.”

“But it’s full of water and we’ll never be able to lift it.”

“Kill joy.”

In any case, when we drove up to it, I saw a sign in the gloom which said ‘$160.’

No such thing as a free fish, apparently. So the next day we went round there. There was a red van parked outside with a logo on it that said Miss DIY. As a crazed ruddy faced woman with a head full of wire wool came out of the house, I said to my husband, “Do you think she teaches women how to masturbate?”

He said: “Why don’t you ask her?”

Me: “Hello Miss DIY. We’re interested in your fishtank.”

Miss DIY, wearing a ratty grey t-shirt with sweat stains under the armpits and smoking a cigarette replies, “Well that’s great. But, you won’t believe what happened at two am last night. I looked out the window and saw these two black fellas just lifting up the fish tank and trying to put it into the back of their van. I hollered out at them: Excuse me sweetheart but that tank ain’t free!”

Me: “Some people!”

She rambled on for half an hour, at which point I wondered if she actually wanted to sell the fishtank or whether putting it out on the lawn had just been a ruse to make friends outside of the DIY communitee.

Me: “Look, we’re in a bit of a hurry, can you deliver it to our house tomorrow morning at nine?”

Miss DIY: “No problem. Absolutely. The kids will love it!”

The following day, Miss DIY did not arrive at nine. I wouldn’t have cared, only my husband’s relatives are staying with us and we wanted to drive down to Ocean City and everyone was itching to be off. So at half past nine my husband drove around to Miss DIY’s house and the tank was still on the front lawn. So he knocked on the door, woke her up, loaded the stuff into her van and then she set up the tank in our house. As soon as she arrived she started apologizing about how she was sorry she hadn’t arrived at nine but she had not slept well last night etc etc. Again she would not stop talking. She said she could build us a shelf onto which we could put the water pump etc etc but I think that was going to cost extra so I declined the offer. My daughter Sausage said: “Why is your face red and why are you sweating?” to which she replied “Because I am fat and I smoke and I sweat a lot.”

When she eventually cleared off I thought: there but for the grace of God go I. A friend once said to me before I was married, “You’re too fussy about men. I have a feeling that you’ll end up living with your mother when you’re middle aged.”

I cried for three days.

After I stopped crying, I started to give some serious thought to the idea of getting married, as well as the more practical aspect of marriage i.e. finding a man willing to get hitched.

I don’t think people should necessarily get married, but let’s face it, have you ever met a fifty year old unmarried woman who wasn’t a raving fruitbat? The problem is, okay, so Miss DIY could probably build a kitchen cabinet standing on her head or unplug the toilet with one of those drain snakes, but she was as nutty as squirrel shit. And finally I came to the conclusion that marriage and kids save you from going mad simply because you can only stoke your own raving insecurities and bizarre hobbies for about five per cent of the time. Do you agree?

I REALLY NEED YOU TO VOTE FOR ME IN THE CATEGORY OF HOTTEST MOMMY BLOGGER HERE (kisses, hugs, virtual donuts for all who vote):

Thursday, October 09, 2008

Penises can be funny too

Hey dear readers,

Before I talk about celebrity penises, I just want you to know: I love you. I have very much enjoyed tickling your fancy via my blog on many an occasion. And now I need you to scratch my itch and vote for me in the Bloggers Choice Awards here!

Why do I need you to help me out? Well, I'm working on a book project which I'll need to get as much PR for as possible, and I need you to be publicity whores for me. So please pop over and vote for my blog in the category of Hottest Mommy Blogger. Thanks so much.

And now, I can reveal, Arnold Schwarzenneger in rubber. In a new HIV campaign, these lovable penis personalities will be sure to make many women and men rush to the shops! I wonder who the models were for this Belgian ad campaign?

John, or maybe Yoko?

Ice Dick

A Penis with a large afro

Senator Arnold Schwarzenegger

Bill is funny for once when he says "I finally discovered an efficient antivirus!"