Sunday, May 29, 2011

A cheap drunk or a miracle mum?

Beloved and I went to a party last night. The drinks were flowing but I was sticking to my ginger beer. Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm not especially fond of the plonk. I've never liked the taste and anybody who knows me REALLY well knows what happens if I even attempt to sniff the stuff. Half a glass of water with a packet of wine gums and I'm under the table. Beloved on the other hand, doesn't have a problem with the occasional (large) tipple so we're well matched with me being the designated driver and him being one who drinks everything that's on offer.

So our hosts offered me a frozen, slushy type thingee called a mackerie or a duckarita or something (heck, what do I know about this stuff?). They were generous people and thought I was just being polite when I declined so eventually Beloved had to explain that I "CAN'T drink.

"Great!" I hissed at him, under my breath, through gritted teeth "Now they think I'm an alcoholic!" Beloved found this amusing.

I was telling Zeeb about this tonight and she added another thought to the mix:
ME: "Now everyone there will think I'm an alcoholic"
Zeeb: "Or pregnant"
Me: *stunned silence* "Ummm...I'm...unmentionable years old!"
Zeeb: "If you were pregnant at your age you could write to a woman's magazine and get paid for the story"
Me: "Hmmm..."
Zeeb: "What about those people who don't know they're even pregnant until they go to take a dump?"
Me: "That would be pretty cool!"
Zeeb: "Why, because you end up with a baby instead of a poo?"

Not really anything to do with what I'm writing about but when I stumbled on this pic just now it made me laugh out loud.

 The discussion deteriorated a little from there (as if it hadn't already) and I started thinking about baby names.
If I gave birth to a girl on the loo I could name her "Louise" (get it? LOO-WEES! Huh? Get it??)
Zeeb asked what I'd call a boy born on the bog: "Lewis" (as in LOO-WHIZZ) or PEEter.
Oh, I am on a roll tonight. A TOILET ROLL that is! :-p

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Don't give up your day job

I may have mentioned once or twice that my friend R and I are athletes in training. Once a week we head off for a brisk walk around the local streets of South Auckland and then once a week we head off to Denny's for our carb intake of banana splits. This afternoon we worked the pavement around R's "hood" (apologies for the abbreviation but I'm from South Auckland and we're just gangtsa like that). Something I've  learned about R is that she has an abysmal sense of direction. This was evident today when we realised that we were passing the same hibiscus bush repeatedly. The autumn sun was fading fast, R's feet were throbbing (not mine of course because I'm the more sporty one) and we had completely forgotten our way home.

I disagree. If you go walking with R, one of these gadgets would come in handy :-p
Eventually we found our way to the main road. We were relieved but sore (all right, I'll admit that I was a teensy bit tired after walking around and around that hibiscus). As luck would have it, we spotted a certain courier van belonging to R's husband. Since it was dark by now, he was clearly visible in one of the shops so we thought we'd pop in and say hello. Actually, we were desperately hoping that he'd insist on driving us home because he's such a gentleman, but once we snuck up on him I instead found myself challenging him to beat us back. Although I did concede that if he should happen to see us on the street, we might allow him to pick us up. Probably not one of my better plans.

We got as far as the street corner before deciding to stop and wait for a ride from our handsome knight in the shining van. That seemed like a good idea at the time. But I hadn't counted on R not being able to recognise her husband's headlights in the dark so I found myself enthusiastically flagging every diesel vehicle headed down the main road of Papatoetoe.  Umm...anyone familiar with the main road of Papatoetoe? It hadn't occurred to me until we started to get a few filthy stares but let's just wasn't a good look for two middle aged ladies to be soliciting vehicles to stop and pick us up.
A couple of "Old Tarts"
I'm not sure if I'm more offended that people might have thought that we were soliciting on a street corner, or that nobody stopped. Am I losing my appeal? Surely things haven't sagged that much? Maybe it was the trainers that we wore instead of thigh high boots.  Anyway, we did get lucky eventually because D spotted us and pulled over. Told you he's a gentleman - although I can't be certain that the rest of Papatoetoe thought that at the time...

Ahh well. Banana splits tomorrow night.
Dramatization of completely different situation.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

"SOMEONE" has some explaining to do!

So I'm back from shaky Christchurch where I played with kids, dug a trench, smashed concrete and shovelled silt. Oooh, it was so much fun!

Meanwhile, Beloved is back from Ashburton (about an hour from Christchurch) where he cooked dinners(!??!!?! He can COOK???), sold junk and spent some time with friends. It's the spending time with friends bit I'm mostly curious about. While I was sorting through his laundry once he got home, I found something unusual:

Black granny undies. Size Large. I'm a size SMALL.

I grilled Beloved for further information relating to this discovery but he remains firm in his denial of any knowledge of how they came to be in amongst his things. For a moment I wondered if he may be trying an "alternative style" but the knickers aren't his size either. I asked if they could belong to a certain lady I know of but he had an answer for that one too:

"They can't be hers. They don't have any frills"
Ahhh the naivety of a man.

I think I know who they belong to. Some friends from church were staying with Beloved and his brothers at the time to avoid accommodation costs. The style suits and I suspect the size fits. Trouble is, how do I go about returning them to their rightful owner? It's a delicate matter...

Thursday, May 5, 2011

The most fun I've had with ten bucks EVER

Some people call it a fetish. I call it an "affinity". Whatever you call it, I love costumes. I love dressing up. I love sparkles and pretty colours. I love trawling the costume ads on Trademe and I have probably spent far too much money by now. I have quite an extensive collection, for no particular reason. I have a room with two wardrobes, a couple of chests of drawers and a few boxes stuffed with interesting outfits that might come in handy some day. I have...
2x blue and gold mermaid costumes
Superhero (generic)
Ball gowns
Traditional Korean Dress
Wizard cloak
Delux Santa suit
Elf suits
various hats, gloves and accessories

And that's just in the adult range. There's a whole wardrobe of kids animal suits and goodness knows what else.

This week I scored a BARGAIN!
TEN BUCKS! I're impressed, I can tell. Here's a blurry little film clip to make you even more jealous.

And just in case you can't quite see what's happening in the movie clip...
Running upstairs is one thing that is very difficult to do in a Liquorice All Sorts costume.

And something else that is difficult:
Since I have two videos, I'm open to a trilogy. The third movie - River Dancing in a liquorice all sorts costume whilst wearing a Nubrella Remember the Nubrella? . Watch this space!