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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.

Deutsch: Dies ist der T-Step, der Shuffle aus ...

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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:


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.  😉


Just My Bloody Luck!

Cool policecar.

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Oooohhh! *Tiny squeals* I must tell you about my latest encounter with a member of the opposite sex!

Last night, around midnight,  I took the dog for his bedtime walk. And guess what, peeps? I was kerb-crawled!  By an officer of the law, no less!

Now, whenever I see a policeman, two things simultaneously flash through my mind:
Oh, God! What have I done? What have I done? I feel so guilty! What have I done?
Corr! A bloke in a uniform! I wonder if he’d let me play with his truncheon…

It’s not my fault. I don’t get out much.

‘Evening, love.’

‘Hello! Just walking my dog!  And look! I’ve got pooper-scooper bags – I never just let him dump in public, you know! Oh no, ‘cos that’s against the law! Has somebody complained? Is that why you’re here? Ohmygod! Are you gonna arrest me? Don’t arrest me! I’m a single mum! I’ve a child at home, asleep, and there’s nobody else to look after him!’

(You probably didn’t notice, but I put a slight emphasis on the fact I’m single…)

‘Oh well, at least you’ve got the dog for company.’

Yes. Thank-you for that.

‘Just walked up Fore Street, have you?’

‘No! Not me! I live in Pauper’s Alley! Why? Is there dog doop all over the road down there, then? It wasn’t me, honestly! Well, of course it wasn’t me! But it wasn’t my dog, either! Honestly!’

‘I’ve just had a call about a disturbance outside the pub. Were you in there, at all?’

I looked down at my fuchsia dressing gown and baby-pink I Love to Sleep pj’s, and shook my head. ‘Nope! Even I don’t go for a pint,  dressed in pyjamas.’

‘So, you didn’t hear raised voices? See anyone fighting?’

‘No. So you don’t wanna arrest me, then? Are you sure? My son’s fifteen. I’m sure he’d be okay on his own for a while…’

‘Well, I suppose I could take you in for public indecency. That dressing gown’s a shocking colour…’

‘Oooh! Yes, please! Would I get to wear handcuffs?’

Just then another call came through on the radio. Something about an argument at the other end of the village. Can you believe my luck?

He was chuckling as he drove off, and I was standing there, wailing ‘Come back! I’m the public! You’re supposed to serve me!’

Stylized arrest.

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