Sunday is sponsored by The Lakes Gin

https://tinyurl.com/y98mkw9b

Sunday is sponsored by The Lakes Gin. I normally Wiron on a Sunday but today we have had an epic battle of wills and I have won, so im celebrating with GIN! I can’t think of a word for ironing with gin but I’m sure that I will.

The Lakes Gin is very nice gin, in the prettiest bottle that you ever did see. I get paid a tiny little commission if you buy some – so we really are sponsored by The Lakes Gin.

I have always dreamed of having a Gin sponsorship deal and I’m now ecstatic.

Dangerous is cleaning my car out. He has never cleaned my car out, EVER!

He has never cleaned his own car out, EVER!

He asked me how he could help out since he went to a stag do last night and I had to take the boys and Trevor to football this morning for two whole bastard hours. When I asked him to clean my car out, he went a very pale, ill colour. He agreed to it and then spent the next two hours trying to wriggle out of it.

To give you an idea on Dangerous’s attitude to cleaning cars out, I once cleaned out his car and realised that the last time that it had been done was approximately two and a half years before when I last did it myself. He doesn’t even take it elsewhere to get it done, he simply waits for me to offer to do it. The only reason that I offer to do it is because I feel physically fucking sick travelling in it.

Last night we had a sleepover for four girls that turned into three girls. The last time that I went up to see them, it was 1.00am. I am knackered

Yesterday we had a party for 17 six year olds. One of the guests got lost and went to another party at the same venue but I rescued him despite looking like a child snatcher.

“Do you see that child there? I think that he is supposed to be at Teds party”

Said the weird interloper trying to see a child’s face who had his back to her and was tucking into some chips at another kids party.

Eventually once I had sulked so much that even Dangerous realised, he said that he’d clean my car out.

I had a face like a slapped arse. I had kept it like that for the whole two hours that he had been trying to get out of cleaning the car out. It took him 10 minutes to clean the car out and I had to tell him that he’d need a hoover and take the cleaning products out to him.

I clean my car out about once a fortnight but it looks like I do it once every bastarding two years as I have three little shits and Trevor the Thug Pug.

The lakes Gin, It’s fucking lush.

Dangerous might be dead when I see my apparently clean car.

Chin chin fashion forward bitches. Up yer bum.

Today has all been about things going tits up apart from our run.

Today has all been about things going tits up apart from our run.

We had to cancel a play date for our middle child because he decided to go and play out by himself without telling anybody. I caught him just outside the front door, which was very lucky. Much Shouting and screaming ensued, mainly about getting murdered or run over. Now, any parenting guru worth their salt knows that in this situation, you need to stand back, gather yourself together and just shout fucking louder. Things escalated quickly as they are prone to do in our house until Oscar jumped on my back in a rage like a cowboy in a bar room brawl. I tried to get him off and hit him in the family jewels by accident. The screams were probably heard in Birmingham.
I put him to bed and told him that you can’t jump on your mummy’s back if you are a bit cross with her because she said that you’re over tired and tried put you to bed. Not to be outdone and wanting the last word He reasoned that he understands my points however he hates me and is going to shoot me. #parentinggoals #makingmemories

I went to Aldi but got waylaid in TKMaxx forgetting that it was Sunday, I returned home with a new handbag (concealed in the car), a packet of chicken breasts and some booze as Aldi was shutting as I sauntered up the first aisle. They mean business as well. They don’t fuck around in Aldi. It’s ruthlessly efficient. Shutters actually came down on the refrigerators as I grabbed a packet of chicken a la Harrison Ford in Indiana jones just making it out of the tomb as it shuts. I actually ran round the store to try to procure food befitting of my murderous little family.

I found the two loads of washing that had been dry on the line on my departure, now piss wet through.

I got stuck into the Wironing to cheer myself up, occasionally cuddling Trevor who is very unwell with a cold. Dangerous told me that Oscar hadn’t actually slept despite World War III and was currently loading his weapons to get vengeance for the pain that I had caused him. Thank fuck we don’t live in the land of the free so he hasn’t got access to real machine guns.

“We need to talk about Oscar”

Chin chin and up yer bum Mofos

Wironing for professionals

Wironing for professionals. I’m fucking world class. Mo Farrah and Usain Bolt have nothing on me. I’m gold medal standard. I’m going to be on the BBC receiving my gold medal, head held high on the podium.

“And in first place, Totes – excellent Ironing whilst pissed up on wine.”

But I’m a bit sad….. I joined a new club yesterday because lots of people recommended it. It was a running club for mummies. I was so hopeful that I’d be welcomed but I’ve been ostracised already. I‘m not welcome. They deleted my first post. I was bewildered and hurt. Why would the fuckers do that to a world class athlete?

The twats don’t allow swearing on their page.
Miserable arseholes. What’s the world coming to? Wankstains!

Anyway – if you’d like to post anything about running with lots of swearing in it, you can do it on my page. You are also most welcome to post pictures of running injuries. The bastards don’t allow that either. I love a good wound.

Actually I’ve got a brilliant wound – it’s a chafing of my inner thigh. It bled and everything. I’m tempted to post it on the page that doesn’t allow such things.

If you want a good laugh, you could post pictures of blisters with caption like “that fucking hurts” or “mother fucker – what a blister!” On a page that encourages mummies to run but not swear. That will keep the bastard admin fuckers busy!

I just wanted to be accepted…….

I’m going to make a new page called “Run bitch Run”

Big shout out to all the bitches wironing tonight

Big shout out to all the bitches wironing tonight. Good on you, I’m fucking broken. I’ve Not even got any lipstick on.

3 is the magic number

If Totes Towers were Sesame Street today would be about the letter W and the number 3 which is magic according to De La Soul.

W is for Wironing at which I’m World class. I ironed 3 garments and lost the fucking Will to live.

W is for whining which I did plenty of on my 19 mile run this morning. There were 3 of us.

W is for Weekend which is the time allotted for houseWork. I have cleaned 3 bathrooms, two cars and clipped many bushes.

W is for Wembley. Did you know that City were playing at Wembley today? There were 3 parts to this, the commentators talking about it before the game, the game itself and then the Wazocks talking about it after. There were 3 goals scored during the match.

W is heard twice in World War 3 which happened at Totes Towers today.

W is also for Witch. Totes is feeling a bit like a Witch today. I Wonder Why?

A Womans Work is never done Whilst a mans stops at 3 on the last day of the Working Week.

W is for Wankstain.

The number 3 was brought to you today by 3 glasses of Wine and the letter W was brought to you by Wironing.