Unexpected Item in Bagging Area

I was in Tescos today, I had been dragged in by my friend, Suzie, because she wanted to buy bread. Thinking it would be a quicker method of payment we went to the self service checkout section, but we were wrong.

It was not quick, at all.

It took us ten minutes, TEN WHOLE MINUTES, to scan a loaf of bread. Then when it had finally scanned, the machine told us to wait for assistance. FOR A LOAF OF BREAD! Then when we received assistance the machine told us that there was an unexpected item in the bagging area. IT WAS THE LOAF OF BREAD. We were trying to buy bread so, the item wasn't really that unexpected!

Oh my good lord.

That is the last time I'll use the "quicker" method of self service.
And when I got home and spoke to another friend on the phone, she told me she had needed assistance this afternoon to buy cat food.

Quicker method my eye!
Stick to humans.
Machines think too much.

Feel it in My Bones....

This is what happens when super talented musical geniuses collaborate.

I think it's quite possible that I really do feel this song in my bones!

Work Work Work Holiday!

Goodness have I been busy these past few weeks? I'm known to my friends to love a little bit of DIY and home improvement, so in between work and play I have been lending myself to my friend, Suzie, who is currently trying to make her flat more presentable. It's understandable considering the people who lived there before her weren't very.... house proud? That's a polite way of putting it.

But now I have a whole two weeks off work to wander and potter and laze around in. I was supposed to be going to Lanzarote yesterday, the trip had been booked (thankfully not paid for) but my uncle and I aren't exactly getting along at the moment. I'm actually alright with that. Sometimes people grow apart, I think. He's my uncle, he'll always be in my life, but at the moment we need to do our own thing and live our own lives, and he need to make his own mistakes without me having to resist the urge to say 'I told you so', because usually I did tell him so!

A whole two weeks off work.
I'm excited at all the lie-ins I'm going to have.
Small things....

Enduring the Rain to See the Rainbow

Driving home from spending the day shopping in another city, the rain had slightly dampened our spirits, but this beautiful rainbow made enduring the bad weather worth while. It was breath taking.

Waiting and Sighing. Sighing and Waiting.

I hate Doctor's surgeries. OK, I know, who doesn't?

I was sitting in the waiting room this afternoon, waiting to see the Doctor, of course, and this old lady kept sighing. Just sighing. There would be two or three minutes of silence then, sigh.

I looked at the woman sitting opposite, she looked at me, and I'm assuming we were both thinking the same thing.

LEARN SOME PATIENCE, YOU OLD BAT!

Alright, maybe I was the only one thinking the 'old bat' part, but honestly! Everyone in the room was doing the same thing; waiting!

Which leads me to another thing.

When you phone somebody and they don't answer after the fourth or fifth ring, PHONE BACK LATER!

If I'm in the middle of doing something important at work and the phone starts ringing, I'm obviously not going to pick it up, but if it continues to ring even after I've finished doing what was important. I'M STILL NOT GOING TO PICK IT UP.

And here is why....

IT'S RUDE TO LEAVE THE PHONE RINGING! Honestly, seriously, it's just bad manners. Because if the phone isn't answered after four or five rings then whoever you're phoning is.... BUSY?!


BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSY!


Wow! I ranted. My apologies.
I guess I needed that.
And beathe........

Photogenic Kitten

I'm afraid I'm just one of those people who dotes on their cat so much that they feel the need to take pictures and share them at every available opportunity.



It really isn't my fault if Doris is photogenic.
I hope I don't become one of those crazy cat people when I'm 80 and treat my cat like it's my baby.

That's a scary thought.

Chewing Gum?

I have to admit, when people offer me chewing gum I take it just in case they're telling me, in a very subtle manner, that my breath stinks.

I mean, it's funny how someones breath can smell like a porta-loo but they themselves never smell it, especially as the source of the honking breath is directly beneath their nose.

I've never actually been accused of having foul breath, but one can never be too cautious.

Actually, I'd say it's less cautious, more paranoid.

Just one of my 'quirks'.

It's in the air!

I really do believe there's something we're all inhaling that's making us crazy. This week all I've heard about is how people are unhappy/falling out with friends/having problems at work, and I know where they're coming from.

I have to say, it hasn't been one of my most enjoyable weeks, and the only thing that has kept me going is the knowledge that soon I'll have two whole weeks off.

Or maybe it's the weather? The pending change in season? Astrology? Is Venus too far up Saturn's arse?

I don't know. But I hope it sorts its self out soon.

Molly's Off Her Trolly!

I stayed at my mum's last night because she went away, effectively I was kitten sitting Doris, she gets lonely apparently, but what my mum didn't tell me, until I walked through the door, was that her neighbours had gone away for a week and mum was looking after their house and the cat that lives in it.

So off mum goes to visit her friend for the evening, and off I go to feed next door's cat. Only thing is, this cat doesn't wanna be fed, in fact, this cat doesn't want anything except a valium.

The cat, Molly, hissed and threw a kitty-fit when I walked through the door, but I couldn't just leave it without food or water and with a poop-filled litter tray, so I went about doing these tasks and tried to ignore the terror rising in my stomach.

Finally I finished these tasks, but as I turned to enter the hallway and make a run for the door I realised that Molly, who is completely off her fecking trolly, was blocking it! Uh oh.

I was trapped.
I was trapped for thirty minutes and just about to see if I could climb through the window when the cat finally realised that I had filled it's bowl with food. But for those life-threatening thirty minutes (not my life, Molly's) I had planned my speech to the neighbour of how exactly Molly's life had come to a tragic end, because if I hadn't been able to get through the window, it would have been a case of 'it's me or the cat!'

I went home and told Doris that if she ever became so aggressively grumpy, she'd end up in a stew.

Scary shit.
The End.

Which twin is Which?

I was in a shop yesterday buying grass seeds for my front lawn, when someone I vaguely recognised walked by. She walked by at least two more times before finally stopping and asking me how I was doing.

Then I remembered! I knew this girl from school, eight years had passed since we last saw one another.

So we spoke for ten minutes, then we said our goodbyes and see you soons and continued on our merry way. Only thing is, this girl is an identical twin. I had no idea who I was talking to, and she had no idea that I had no idea.

Awkward!

Doris's Story.

So Doris is twelve weeks old and a little bundle of PAIN IN THE ARSE! She previously lived with my auntie Debbie. Debbie has a grandson and this particular grandson thought Doris was a Frisbee, as witnessed by me on Tuesday.

I was sitting in Debbie's kitchen and instructed the Devil-Child to be careful when picking Doris up, a few minutes later, when he thought I wasn't looking, he threw Doris across the kitchen. It was a muster-all-your-might-and-throw kind of throw, and I was disgusted!

I scooped Doris up and told Debbie I was taking her home. Debbie thought I was joking.

It was a punishment for the Devil-Child.
It was an intervention for Doris.
It was a surprise for my mum.

Seeing as it was my mum's birthday the same day, I took Doris to my mum's and it was love at first sight. Doris will no longer be thrown across the kitchen and mum will have a snuggle buddy.

Win win.

In case you're new and are wondering how Doris acquired her name. This Link might help explain things.

The name Doris is better than Gertrude, that's fo' sho'

Appropriately Named

Please welcome


The appropriately named


DORIS!!!!

Texting Manners

I was out on Saturday with my friend, Suzie. Suzie and I have known each other for quite a while, and, as it always seems to be the case with lesbians, we are in fact ex-girlfriends.

We met up in the town center, shopped around, had a coffee, shopped around some more then upped the anti with an alcoholic beverage. This was all good and well, but I think I could safely calculate without exaggeration that her mobile phone beeped a million times. A MILLION TIMES!

I wondered, if Suzie was so intent on having a conversation with whomever it was she was texting, why she didn't a) ring them or b) go shopping with them instead of me!

Now me, when my phone beeped on one or two occasions, I texted the person back and explained that I was out and would phone them later. This was reasonable, yes?


I just think it's rude to keep texting when you're in someones company.

It's basic manners, lady.
Basic. Manners.

Colour Coded Neurotic.

This is how I eat my M&M's. It's also how I eat my skittles, Starburst, pretty much anything with colour.

First, I separate them into colours, then I eat my least favourite colour, which is usually green. I always save blue for last, I don't know why, it's a neurosis, and there's very rarely an appropriate explanation for neurotic behaviour.

Admit it, your opinion of me has just changed completely, hasn't it?

In that case I'd better not tell you how I like to eat my sandwiches....

Crack of Dawn!

Sitting in the bar at the cinema having a beverage before the film was due to start, my friend nudged me with her elbow and nodded her head to the side. I looked in the direction she had nodded and was greeted with this.

Arse crack.
Major arse crack.

Ladies. This is extremely unattractive.

I'm not the fashion police. I've never been a style guru, but this? This is beyond disaster and is in the territory of 'abandon ship'.

The problem is that this isn't an uncommon sight. It should be, but it isn't. If I'm not seeing chavs with their trousers hanging low (for fashion purposes), then I'm seeing builders without belts. It just won't do!

The boob like nature of the arse in this picture haunts me.
I'm traumatised!