What I’m wearing…
We are live from the leisure centre. We were only two minutes late prompting a high five from Sue…..
Wait for it… I have no hangover. I’m so ill that I can’t face booze. I had one gin and tonic and a small glass of wine and then couldn’t face any more.
I believe that humans are 88% salt water. I have evolved – I am super human. I am not salt water, I am equal parts catarrh and mucus, 44% green gunk and another 44% just normal snot. If I was a super hero, I’d be snot girl complete with green outfit and a weapons arsenal that included snotty tissues that I could fire like bullets at my foes. If somebody were making a hasty getaway I could sneeze over them thus rendering them stuck and helpless in a glaze of sticky green slime.
My deafness has reached new levels too. It is now so profound that I’m having to lip read. We watched “I, Daniel Blake” last night. By the end of the film the neighbours were banging on the door asking us to turn the volume down on the 52-inch fuck off massive telly. The door opened slightly and they were greeted by a pile of green oozing slime that seemed to be sobbing. The sobbing had started 20 minutes from the end of the film when i started exclaiming “he’s going to die isn’t he?” And demanding tissues. Dangerous’s stoic approach to this was to drink himself into a coma.
Dangerous arose this morning to cat jumper. I carefully explained to him so that he fully understood the full implications of cat jumper. Cat jumper means that Totes isn’t happy with Dangerous. Cat jumper is two fingers up to Dangerous. Cat jumper means that Dangerous has had too long a lie in and he better pull himself together and get on with it now.
Dangerous professed that he hadn’t understood the full implications of cat jumper. He thought that I was just doing kooky.
At this point I did the fuck off dance. This is a contemporary dance in which I jump up and down whilst giving him the two-fingered salute with both hands.
Later I’m hoping for a run in my new running kit whilst Bella is at gymnastics. This is the only thing that seems to help my malaise, that and steaming my head over a vat of Olbas oil.
Please be in your running kit Georgie. I need your participation in my “new running kit special”. Running just isn’t as much fun without somebody to whinge at.