I’ve had a shit day but I’ve pulled it around.

I’ve had a shit day but I’ve pulled it around.

You’d think that I’d learn that putting yourself out there can result in people thinking that they can write whatever they like about you.
So I woke up to this comment from somebody who has taken offence at a post being deleted from somebody saying that they were leaving the “fashion forward bitch” group. The woman in question refers to my post last week when I
Mentioned how anxious I was at leaving work to write a book and try and make a go of blogging.

Now, there’s some things that I will tolerate and some things that are just below the belt.

I won’t tolerate people throwing my being honest in my face and I won’t tolerate people saying that my parenting is lacking because I swear and have the odd glass of wine.

I can take people saying that my clothes are horrible and I can take on board that some people will have a completely different view point from me. I can take banter but this comment is just vicious and goes for the jugular. As I said, you’d think that I’d get used to it but I’ve no idea why somebody would stoop quite so low as to mock somebody when they’ve mentioned that they are really worried about something.

“Hey I see your vulnerability and I’m going to use it against you!”

This is over a post being deleted on a fashion page…….I still don’t get that people don’t think before they write the most horrible things on social media!

And it’s not just me. A poor lady who had her shop burgled the night before put a video out on Facebook showing her shop with no stock in it. In the video, she cries. Her shop had only been open three months. The rails are empty…..some dickhead comments “she’s lying. That’s fake, it’s an insurance job!” WTF! Why? I can’t comprehend why somebody would say that to anybody, never mind a local
Woman who’s just lost her livelihood.

I got over it by starting my Xmas shopping in TK Maxx. Whilst there I took a phone call from a delightful man called David. David is an admin on this page because he’s a social media and digital marketing clever clogs. This is how he makes his living. Occasionally he’s looked at things for me because I’m a Luddite and he’s very kind.

You won’t guess the conversation…..

David “so yeah I’m locked out of Facebook and Messenger! It’s something to do with Facebooks community standards and a post that you did. It’s asking me if I want to delete your page!”

Me “oooooooh David I’m so sorry. That would be because I posted a picture of a man wearing a kilt whilst bending down last night! It was for Sunday Night Slut. You could only see his cock a little bit! I mean it wasn’t full on nudity. There was just a hint of a knob skulking beneath the kilt. I didn’t realise that a hint of a flaccid cock would get my post thrown off. It was so innocuous that I found it on google images on the first page when I searched for hot men in kilts. Sorry David
I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise that you’d be thrown out too. Sorry…..”

“AaaAaaah well never mind. At least I can tell all my clients that I’ve been thrown off Facebook for posting dick pictures now!”

“Sorry David” I muttered as I realised that every person doing their Christmas shopping on my aisle was listening to my story of kilts, cocks and Sunday night slut!

I got some very odd looks as I picked up a Christmas jumper for Trevor the Thug Pug.
No doubt they wondered what the little knitted jacket was for…perhaps a willy warmer for a man wearing a kilt.

I have removed the woman’s name from the picture so as to hide her identity. I’ve no idea why. I’m still cross with the bitch.

New faux shearling jacket from Edit in Hale – bloody full price £68

Skirt and polo both from Zara recently £19.99 each and boots Zara too.

Behold! Not only have I done a chicken casserole for dinner


Not only have I done a chicken casserole for dinner (that no fucker will eat) but I have also cleaned the bins and invented a new Facebook group for people just like me. It’s a new group for people that like shopping, boozing and swearing (there’s a theme appearing – I know!)
The group will become what it will become but essentially it’s a group for women (and men if they want) to swap tips, swap clothes, and be fashion forward. Obviously boozing and swearing are encouraged but I also thought that small fashion businesses could offer their wares.
No doubt it will all go wrong at some point but I am a trier and “god loves a trier”

It’s a closed group so that your husband doesn’t find out about your purchases!

It’s sort of Run Bitch Run for people that shop a lot……


Dear Facebook. What the fuck is going on?

Dear Facebook.

What the fuck is going on?

My reach (amount of people that see my posts) is down about 80%. My likes are actually going backwards even though nobody has unliked my page, my likes have gone down by 130 and in the meantime I’m being asked daily to advertise which would be fine if I were a business but I’m not.

I understand that Facebook is a business and it needs to make money but I’ve got 109,000 followers that don’t see my posts in their feed.
I understand algorithms. I understand that Facebook just wants to its users to see things that make them happy but overnight about eight weeks ago, my reach dropped off a cliff.
I’m sure that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea but I don’t see that, that many people have decided that they no longer like my musings over night.

So, if you like my page, please can I ask you to go onto my page and press the following button. If you press it, you will see a choice. Please pick “see first”.
You will need to do this with all the pages that you want to see posts from unless they pay to advertise.

Please share.

I have tried to come to terms with Facebooks new rules

So today after a very muddy start and a visit to McDonald’s (in which I ate nothing) I have tried to come to terms with Facebooks new rules on sponsored content. I’d like to point out that I have never made any money advertising anything but I have had lots of freebies. Apparently you aren’t allowed freebies without it being all above board so I have got myself a tool. It’s a sponsored content tool. I just have to shake it at things and magically Facebook won’t ban my posts. It’s like a magical tool. The only reason that I know of this shit is because I had a note from the computers that be to say that they didn’t like my Gin post. They Banned it……. fuckimg hell why?

Naturally I had no fucking idea what I was doing wrong so I had to message my friend David Trott who sent me lots of articles and a link on how to get my tool. I love the word “tool”
Now I can affiliate market on products as diverse as gin, shoes and dresses without getting told off and it’s all down to David at Impact Business Advisors who generally knows lots about digital marketing whereas I know fuck all.

Why do things need to change and why does Facebook need new rules? How’re luddites meant to keep up? I’m fucked if I know…..

Anyway bake-off…….

I believe that I need to tell you of the essence of my relationship with Impact Business Advisors. It’s strictly platonic and no money changed hands…..I just message David when I don’t understand something about social media.

Chin chin and up yer bum.

Gosh this half term is long.

Day two of our big Wales adventure has seen sun. Sun and sulking…….

Day two of our big Wales adventure has seen sun. Sun and sulking…….

Everywhere in this beautiful United Kingdom of our is better with the sun out and Beaumaris is no exception. After crabbing we have had the obligatory ice cream. We are cramming as many cliches in as possible. We have done Fish and chips on the beach, ice cream cones, crabbing from the pier and had a row over whether the little shits needed a nap. Dangerous won the argument as he let them get up again when I went to get kindling and firewood in a wheelbarrow. I have taken well to glamping but FatFace was a step too far. I went into the shop today as I haven’t brought any warm clothes. I thought that if they had anything warm that was in the sale, I could use it for dog walking. I was thinking a gilet or nice sweat shirt. The trouble is that I’m so fashion forward that I don’t even think that I could dog walk in that stuff. Imagine if anybody saw me! They’d say “ooooooh is that Totes walking Thug Pug?” Their friend would reply “Fuck off she’s got a middle aged sweatshirt on. Totes wears PVC trousers and slogan tees!”
Never mind, I’ll just get pissed in the hot tub whilst I sulk and the children argue because they are so over tired. The little bastards got up at 6.00 after going to bed at 9.30…..

Holiday…..a holiday for who? Fuck me and pour me a large gin.

Chin chin fashion forward bitches.

My bastard battery pack for my phone worked this morning so that my phone was charged to 30%. It’s now dead. 10 fucking hours that took to charge.


I’d like to point out that I’m not being paid to promote this enterprise but it’s so nice that, it would be rude not to give them some nice publicity. Apparently it’s hard to make money from farming these days so the farmers have to think of clever ways to make money. What’s cleverer than glamping? Clever bastard farmers.

I’m going running with our host tomorrow morning.

Holiday in the U.K. Because the pounds fucked.

It’s like the real housewives of Cheshire

It’s like the real housewives of Cheshire. Get a load of my mutton dressed as dog bikini!

Does anybody know how to make my text go smaller on the stupid laptop please? I have accidentally made it massive. I have tried closing it and then reopening it in the vain hope that it would help but it didn’t. I have no idea how I did it.

I fucking hate this computer

I fucking hate this computer. I hate it so much. I can’t do anything on it. It took me 4 attempts to open my Emails. I had to phone Dangerous to ask him for his ICloud password.

I need to open a specific email. I scroll to where it should be and it’s not there. I then search in the search box for the person that sent it to me. It denies that they exist. Ha you twat, I will forward it from my phone. I have now forwarded it from my phone but I can’t see the attachments.

The email seems to end mid sentence as though I have only forwarded part of it. Can you actually do this? I think that this laptop is possessed.

It’s making me so angry. Every time I get it out I end up in tears of anger and frustration. I just can’t use it. It outwits me at every turn.

It has now split the screen in two. Ginny told me how to sort this out but I can’t fucking remember what she said.

I’ve got important shit to do.

Do you think that the insurance would pay out if it got attacked with a hammer? Actually what if it fell out of a window by accident……..

Hostilities have ceased within Totes Towers

Hostilities have ceased within Totes Towers, at least for a couple of days. I have got my period. I remember the good old days when a period was just a bit of an inconvenience for a couple of days preceded by a bit of a grump but nothing too bad. These days though there’s at least 7 days notice in the form of night sweats. I wake drenched at varying points thoughout the night. I start with a pyjama top on and wake to find that I have clawed at it so that it’s now wringing wet and my boobs are exposed. The top is wrapped around my neck. At this point I usually take it off and throw it across the bedroom to add to the pile of sweaty smelly washing. Then I get cold. I’ve kicked all the damp covers off that will also need washing (because I need more fucking washing to do) and then I begin to freeze. If I’m particularly lucky at this point, I get a wriggly 5 year old boy in the bed with me as well.

As the time comes closer to the first day of my monthly breakdown I get more and more tired and have even less patience than usual which is hard because I have very little on a good day. Yesterday morning the poor little shits were told at least 17 times that “mummy has no patience today so please do what I ask before the 29th time that I’ve asked you. They didn’t actually heed my warnings and were very surprised when I went beetroot red and actual steam started coming out of my ears. They know things are bad when they all have IPads and phones confiscated by a demented hag that’s charging around the house issuing a frenzy of demands followed up by confiscation of beloved objects whilst stuffing chocolate into her gob.

“Are you ok mummy? Have you got hormones”

“Yes darling, I’ve got hormones”

And Dangerous doesn’t help. “Aaaaah I see. It’s that time of the month”

“No – I’m always to be found weeping and swearing at my laptop because it’s fucking uploading or downloading or whatever the fucking term is fucking photos fucking sideways”

“Well I won’t help you if you talk to me like that.”

“Just make it fucking work before I smash it up with a hammer. It’s out to fucking get me. It’s possessed”

At 10.00 last night I accidentally ate a whole packet of granola cookies. They made me. They looked at me. There’s also going to be an inquest into who ate the Easter egg out of the fridge. I got my whole upper body inside the fridge whilst I ripped at the packaging in an orgy of greed.

This is Dangerous’s idea of what my mood is usually like due to hormones.

Week 1 whist having period – mental – fucking doolally. Could quite possibly be sectioned under the mental health act due to irrational behaviour.

Week 2 the week after is known as post menstrual tension. A new term invented by my husband to excuse anything that he says or does. I often point out that there is no such thing as Post menstral syndrome. He just snorts with derision.

Week 3. There are a couple of days when the mad cow is normal.

Week 4 – pre menstrual mentalness again. Hide all chocolate and take cover.

Dress Zara last year £15ish – it was in the sale. It may have even been 2 years ago.

Trousers Zara sale £6.99 in January

Shoes about £25 from Office last week.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter. We got up at 5.20. The Easter fucking bunny has a lot to answer for. It had literally shat chocolate everywhere.

My bloody Pages app on my phone is broken so that I can’t upload or download (I’m not sure on the correct terminology) photos from my phone.

I have been swearing all morning and I demanded that Dangerous look at it. We have done all the obvious turn it off and on again, reinstall shit but its still fucked. Maybe its the universes way of telling me to use my laptop that I’m scared of.

I have taken lots of photos of the little shits running around in a frenzy of chocolate lust and now I’ll have to Email them to myself and use the laptop………….arrrggghhhh fuck.