Sexy Pink Pyjamas and a Happy Dance

Hellooooo, world, I’m here! *Waits for the cheers to subside and then does a Happy Dance* Well, it’s more of a slow shuffle, but you get the idea.

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How are you, peeps? What’s been happening in the Wonderful World of Blogging? I’ve missed you! But I so needed to take a break and then I kind of got out of the habit. I will do better. I will do better. I will.

Let me bring you up to date: I’m loads better and have a new job. Now, don’t get too excited; I’ve not joined a team about to find a cure for cancer. I’m not running for parliament, and I’m still not Jason Statham’s salaried sex-slave. (Yet. But I remain optimistic; I just need to work off all those Christmas mince pies and Quality Street chocolates that cling stubbornly to my lardy arse and I’ll be ready for a wild, animalistic, hotel-room trashing, chandelier swinging romp a grown-up, deep and meaningful relationship.)

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Anyway, my new job… I’m now a Housekeeper at a small holiday lettings company. It’s about 12-16 hours a week and I can pretty much keep my own hours as long as I’m there for Friday changeovers. I just hope I can keep it up during the summer when I’ve got twenty cleaners and thirty cottages to manage on one day! At the moment I’m just happy to be well enough to work. This time last year I could barely get off the sofa and had to crawl upstairs for a pee.

C0mpletely random, but here’s our dog:

He’s not new, in fact in doggy years  the silly sod is now entering middle-age, but he still thinks he’s a puppy. Poor thing, he’s always had Special Needs. He’s called Deefor, as in A for Apple, B for Ball, D for Dog, but we just tend to call him The Dog With No Brain. Bless!

And then, there’s the new hat I bought myself, ready for the predicted mini Ice-Age. It’s January and it’s been the mildest winter on record, but hey! There’s still time for the snow.  I proudly present Youngest Son modelling Tiny’s New Furry Hat, comeplete with built-in ear-flaps and nipple-warmers:

That's my boy!

Ummm, what else? Oh, I know! I had some pretty cool pyjamas for Christmas. I’m tempted to post a photo, but I’m not sure I should. I mean, they are pretty sex-kittenish. I wouldn’t want any of you getting over-excited and drooling over your keyboard…

Hey, I know – we’ll compromise – I’ll post the picture if you go and grab a paper bag. That way, should you be so sexually aroused that you start hyperventiliating, you’ll have a handy bag to breathe into. And it also doubles quite nicely as a sick-bag.

Okay, here I come, but remember I did try to warn you…

Take me, Jason. I'm yours!

How cool? And they’re not just fleecy, they’re soft and  furry! Furry, I tell you! Like a silky pink cat. I put these on in the evening and can’t resist giving myself a little stroke, and out of my mouth pops a perfect purrrrrr.

And they’re even printed with a little message:

Purrrrr!

Are they not THE perfect present for me? Pink, furry jammies, Eeyore slippers and a snooze on the sofa. Could my life be more complete?

Actually, there is one thing missing: a man. And not just any man – oh, you so know where this is going… The Christmas Fairies gave me a four-film JS DVD set. Actually, I probably shouldn’t call my two 6 foot sons fairies, should I? Anyway, that’s 7 hours of back-to-back, action-packed Jason. Just think if it were front-to-front  – oh, be still, my twitching knickers…

My favourite one in the box has to be Chaos, where he plays a maverick detective trying to solve a bank robbery where nothing was actually stolen. He’s a gorgeous, walking sex-machine at the best of times, but in this he wears a bullet-proof vest and he’s just Phwoarrr!

Ooh, and here’s another mean ‘n’ moody one:

And the last one:

Who’d have thought a woolly hat could be so sexy?

Now, normally I’m careful about the images I use, making sure they’re copyright free, and linking back to the owner, but this time, I’ve just posted. My next update could well be from sent from prison, but I’d be proud to say I went down for Jason.  😉

How I Spent My Holiday…

See what happens when you have a major meltdown and take some time away from your blog – the bastards go and change it all! I’ve spent twenty minutes just finding the New Post button. If this post ever goes live, it’ll be a bleeding miracle…

Okay, so it’s safe to say the past year hasn’t been one of my finest. In fact it’s been pants. I’ve veered away from Funny Internet Dating and blundered into Whiney Doctors-Really-Get-On-My-Tits territory, but hey! I’m still here. I’m still breathing. I still have a stupid sense of humour. Life is just great.

In the last six months I’ve experienced just about every emotion known to man – well, to woman, because we all know that blokes don’t have emotions. Except maybe joy when Arsenal score a goal. Or envy when they spot someone with a bigger willy. But my mind’s wandering again…

I guess it’s normal to go through an angry stage when you’ve just been landed with a life-altering illness. I think I’ve come out the other side, but who knows. Maybe morphing into a pre-menstrual monster is something I’ll do regularly from now on. Mind you, if you spoke to The Ex, he’d say I’ve always been one…

Aaaaaarrrggghhh!

But enough of my madness, I really wanted to share all the things I’ve learned or discovered in the last six months, things that may help you if you’re ever find yourself laid up on the sofa with a horrible illness:

• Wearing pyjamas, a dressing gown and slippers outside of the house,  at any point during the day, will elicit strange looks and laughter. Really, what’s the problem here, people? I’m talking fleecy jammies, a towelling robe and – well, you’ve seen the slippers. It’s not as if I’m parading through town in a Babydoll nightie or crotchless knickers and a peephole bra. And I usually slip a jumper over the top if I’m going shopping…

• Four days and three nights is the absolute maximum you can spend in the same set of clothes before you start gagging on your own stench. Three days is pushing it to be honest but, you can just about stretch to a fourth if you keep squirting yourself with air freshener. Although this masks your odour,  unfortunately  it does absolutely nothing to keep the flies away.

• When a crop of cold sores break out on the end of your nose, you really do look like Rudolph. Yeah, I know he looks kinda cute, but believe me,  it’s not such a great look on a middle-aged woman in a clashing fuschia-pink dressing  gown.  I think it’s something to do with the way ME affects your immune system, but I seem to always have cold sores – on my nose, up my nose and around my eyes. And people are so rude; they stare and make grimacing faces as they step away from you in case it’s contagious. I’ve found the only way to deal with this situation is to step closer, as if you’re about to confide a delicious gossipy rumour, and say, ‘Yes, such a shame. I’m absolutely riddled with herpes.’
                                                                                                                        

• The body is a wonderfully skilled feat of genetic engineering. Until it goes wrong and then it’s about as effective as a man trying to find your G-Spot. Even I can’t believe how you cannot have the strength in your arm to lift a cup a tea or chop a poxy vegetable for dinner, or how, at the end of the day, you really do not have the energy to get undressed, and just collapse into bed, shaking with the effort of getting your fat arse upstairs. It is truly incredible, but it’s true! As evidence I should have kept a vlog of me looking like Rudolph in a tea-stained, fushcia-pink dressing gown and Eeyore slippers, crawling up the stairs to have a pee. Amazing.

• Underneath all that chemical dye, my hair is, in fact, white. I haven’t been able to dye my hair since Christmas last year because I just can’t keep my arms up long enough to do it. So I’m now sporting about eight inches of grey roots – Wrong! Underneath all that Auburn Sunset hair dye, my hair is pretty much all pure white. I don’t know whether it’s been this pale for a while or whether I’ve literally gone white overnight from the shock of not being able to reach my tea cup, but one thing’s for sure, if I ever manage to dye it again, the colourant is gonna react reallywell on white hair: Auburn Sunset is going to be more like flaming flourescent orange. It’s gonna cause a major clash with my dressing gown…

  

  Arrrggghhh!

• Chronic Fatigue or ME is ‘all in yer ‘ead, love!’ I don’t know if this is the same overseas, but in the UK, ME is very much an imaginary condition. In true British-Stiff-Upper-Lip fashion, we are often told, ‘Pull yourself together, chaps! A jolly good dose of psychotherapy and graded exercise routines will have soon have you back in the trenches!’ Despite the fact that 250,000 people in the UK suffer with this illness – a quarter of whom are pretty much bed-bound for decades of their life – our government spends less money each year researching the causes and possible treatments, than it spends on researching hay-fever. True, dat. And in the meantime we have no effective treatments or even the sniff of a cure. I won’t go on (too much) but it’s pretty much the only illness that evokes no sympathy or understanding from our society – and that includes the medical profession.

•  Twitter is God. Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve slagged it off in the past, but it’s been a real link to the outside world while I’ve been ill. I haven’t been able to spend more than about 20 minutes on the computer at a time, so I couldn’t keep up with my blog or your fabulous blogs and I was missing the company. Because the messages are so short I’ve been able to keep in touch with you wonderful peeps on Twitter. You  do find out who your friends are when you hit a crisis, and you lot have been stupendous (posh British word for awesome)     😀

Follow Friday Four Fill-In Fun #6

Yay! It’s Friday again! I’ve had such a busy week decorating for my neighbours and messing up my blog, I’ve hardly had time to post! And it’s Eldest Son’s 19th birthday today. Hurrah! Happy Birthday, Nigel Penisworthy! Poor kid’s an April Fools’ Baby!

Each Friday Hilary from Feeling Beachy posts four statements with blanks. We fill-in the blanks on our blogs, link-up and go read other people’s answers. Got that? Good!

1. If I don’t guzzle at least four cups of hot, strong tea  in the morning, my day feels off. My routine: Get up, stumble down the stairs, put kettle on, smoke, make tea, shout at Youngest to get his arse out of bed, drink tea, cobble together a packed lunch, shout louder at Youngest to get his arse out of bed, make more tea, throw breakfast at Youngest, drink more tea, smoke, make more tea, drink more tea, argue with Youngest about the importance of education, make more tea, remind Youngest that attending school is a legal requirement, drink more tea, cringe when Youngest slams front door on his way out, make more tea, check Facebook, drink more tea, open eyes.   

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2. When someone walks into my house for the first time, they usually say, ‘Wow! You’ve got so many books! It’s like a library in here!’ And the second comment is, ‘Have you really read all of these?’ Yep! Several times over. I love, love, love reading anything except sci-fi; I really can’t suspend my disbelief long enough to keep me reading. I’ve got chick-lit, romance, thrillers, classics, poetry, horror, supernatural, adventure and even – shock horror! – a certain vampire series…

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3. Every time I see the movie My Sister’s KeeperI cry like a baby! That poor, brave girl, fighting leukaemia, and the sister who’s constantly given blood and bone marrow, and Mum, who’s so desperate to keep her daughter alive that she can’t see anything else! It’s tragic! I howl whenever I watch it!   

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 4. My feet feel best when they’re all warm and snuggly in cosy, woolly socks and Eeyore slippers. I’m an old lady; I choose comfort every time! 

 

Head on over to Beachie’s to join in the fun!

 

Anyone for a Quickie?

Umm… just a quick one…

If you look to the right of my blog, you’ll see me in some sexy socks and slippers.

Don’t panic, I’m not asking you to linger on that particular image; I’d hate to cause you recurring nightmares.

No, if you scan down

the page

just a little,

you’ll see,

all that Twitter shit.

And then,

down just a little bit more …

and you’ll come across some riveting archives.

Feel free to have a rummage

in my history.

If you look closely,

you may even come across

a Hot Date…

But for now,

carry on scrolling down,

and down,

and just a little bit more,

right around

here       ——————————————————————————————————–>

you’ll see a Friend Me on Facebook button. Please, please, please, please, please, pleeeeeease press it! I won’t make you read my stuff, in fact, you can hide me on FB, I won’t mind! Just pleeease don’t leave me friendless and alone, looking like a right Billy-No-Mates prize tit!   🙂

Thank-you, Bernie, Irene and Coupon Queen for showing me some love  🙂

Image by duncan via Flickr