Thursday, November 26, 2009

I'm in love with Arnold Schwarzenegger! Damn it, his butt is goood!

I'm so excited because a few days ago my preordered copy of Terminator 4 arrived and this weekend I'll be settling down to watch it. Hurrah! Yes, one of my guilty secrets is a love of sci fi movies so even though it's a major disappointment Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't in the movie I'm still gonna check out this latest release in the Terminator series.

I wonder if Arnie has any guilty secrets? Hmm... maybe. In fact you might have seen the letter below circulating in the press which apparently Arnie sent to San Fransisco politician Tom Ammiano. Now Ammiano had been a little rude to the lovely Arnie and apparently walked out during a speech Arnie was making saying "Kiss my gay arse. " Now that's not very polite is it? In fact it's very, very naughty! Anyway Arnie sent Mr Ammiano a letter which not only rejected Mr Ammiano's legislature but carried another subtle little message;

Yes those highlighted words do read something a little saucy! Was it intentional? Only Arnie knows for sure. But personally, I believe it was deliberate. So what can I say but......

Gez, Arnie's got style! Boy, I love that guy! Not only has he got a well hot body, stars in fab sci fi movies but he's probably got a decent sense of humour! That's a winning combination for Mrs T! What I want to know is... what the hell is he doing with that Kennedy woman? What's she got that Mrs T hasn't got? Apart from the nice figure, pretty face and the massive bank account? Those things just aren't important! What Arnie really needs is a nice hot young Brit Chick like Mrs T. Yep, I've been practising that strip routine in True Lies for at least a decade and I feel sure I could win him over. Indeed, I regularly tip my daffodils over my head, rip the trim of my pinny, strip down to my bloomers and practice pole dancing with my broom. I mean, what man could resist Mrs T showcasing her bloomers?!

Right, better get back to watching Terminator 2. It's been on "pause" a bit too long. No reason.

Arnie's got a nice butt hasn't he?

Ps: Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends. I just love that accent and all those crazy sci fi movies. Keep up the good work!

(I'm excluding War of the Worlds with Tom Cruise by the way. No way can a pint size guy save the world all by himself. Fact.)



Friday, November 20, 2009

The Cliff Walk

There's not a lot of culture on my blog so today I thought it would be nice to post Easterland(for Mary) a slideshow from someone who does know a bit about culture and that's Eddie Mchugh whose photography blog is a long term favourite of mine. The Cliff Walk can be found permanently on my sidebar. You can also check out Eddie's work at The London Photographic Association where his work has received recognition for its artistic merits.

Eddie is largely self taught in the area of photography having previously spent 30 years or more painting. However he now exhibits his photography in exhibitions as far a field as London, Canada and the United States. Based in the US, Eddie's pictures are an an eclectic portrayal of his life in the Pacific Northwest. His pictures range from portraits and scenic shots to the quirky comical and bizarre.

For someone like me who isn't well travelled discovering Eddie's blog was quite a revelation. So much of what we see over here in the UK of the United States is dictated by what we see in the media. I see plenty of shots of Washington, New York and LA and all of it flavoured with either the lights of Hollywood or big shot politicians. It's all the glitz, glamour and the intrigue of shows like Friends and Miami Vice. What I like about Eddie's blog is that it illustrates the other side of the US which reminds me of childhood programmes like The Waltons and The Little House on the Prairie; a simpler less urban existence.

And of course, it also shows me how beautiful a country the US is and who knows, with any luck, one day I might get to see it in the flesh.

Ps; You won't pick up this slideshow by feedburner as being so incompetent I don't know how to embed it within a post! When I've figured it out I'll do it! (About 2015 going by my previous track record.) In the meantime please come over and view it underneath my heading!
26.11.09
Thanks to all you folks who viewed Eddies slideshow whilst it was here on my blog. You can now view Easterland (for Mary) and two of Eddie's slideshow's in a bigger screen but clicking this LINK

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

A Pussy Update...

It's about time I gave you all an update on my pussy.

Well my pussy likes sausages. In fact sausages are a real favourite. A bit of beef doesn't go amiss either. Yes, my New Pussy likes just about everything; pork, chicken, left over spaghetti bolognese, mouldy lasagne that's been hiding out in the fridge for a month but he especially likes Miss Cleo's chicken.

I guess Pussy is making up for being famished for a few months but since he's settled in he's started stalking my elderly pussy, Miss Cleo. Well stalking Miss Cleo's food anyway. For the first week or so he was happy to lie spreadeagled, replete on Whiskas, on the downstairs sofa but then he discovered that Miss Cleo has tasty little chicken treats in my study. Well....actually.... she has entire meals of chicken.

Yes, I know that sounds overly generous for a cat - but how the hell was I to know I would inherit the world's only cat with colitis?

It's just not fair! Not only have I been wiping small boy's botties for years but I have a cat with no bowel control. Once, when it was really bad out of desperation I put a Pampers nappy on her but unfortunately one of the neighbours reported me for cruelty. Personally, I thought I was being kind - isn't it bad enough cleaning your derriere on a daily basis without having to get your paws muddy in the back garden or soiling your owners shag pile? Besides, I think Miss Cleo looked kinda cute in her nappy. Although it was probably the bonnet that gave her the real street cred.







Yep, anyway I discovered a while back that the key to avoiding an "Emergency Carpet Situation" was a diet of chicken. The trouble is my new pussy now thinks he should be getting chicken for every meal too. No can do; I've already had to give up milk chocolate and switch to cooking chocolate to afford Miss Cleo's rations -if New Pussy has chicken at every meal I'll have to resort to sniffing coco powder for my choccy fix.

Well apart from stalking Miss Cleo and that little "accident" involving a yellow-like fluid on the carpet in my study, New Pussy has been settling in well.

Apart from the flatulence problem.

Yes, New Pussy omits what can only be called "stinkers." Previously my study had aromas which hinted of hidden chocolate bars and candy floss but now it pongs like a sewerage station. Worse, it's not as if I can prepare myself for the onslaught by sticking a peg on my nose cos New Pussy is a silent, stealthy stinker! Yep, one minute I'm happily typing away and the next minute I'm writhing on the floor, hands round my throat and gasping for air. Boy, is he a deadly weapon! In fact only yesterday I found a giant mouse outside the back door which didn't even looked mauled... I reckon New Pussy just broke wind and gassed it to death.

Well anyway the purpose of this post is to announce the winner of my Name My Pussy Competition. There were some strong contenders in the field; Macavity from Mrs A appealed to my innate snobbery as it's a highbrow literature name with provenance, Squibbles from Mr Intrepid was popular with Master Ben and me for being just plain silly (and it was the name that New Pussy responded best to,) Tux from Hillgrandmum was short, sweet and New Pussy kinda looks like he's wearing a tux, Buffy from Master Sy just cos it sounded good and Ewe No (I do!) sneaked in at the last minute with Ballicker. (Had to look it up EweNo - but it was well worth it!)

But the winner is............. (drum rolls, etc, etc....)

....... ME.

Yes, yes I know it's nepotism but I award the prize of a life size pin up of Damien Lewis to me!

And this is the name I came up with....

Bondie.

Well I sort of started calling him Bond and it sort of stuck. But I'm a nick-name type of girl so I had to change it just a little..... Sorry folks!!

Anyway, what can I say? Bondie loves me already and I love Bondie.

Gez, I'm a sucker for animals. Guess I'd better get some more chicken in......

Monday, November 16, 2009

An impromptu rant!

What a few days I'm having! Last weekend Master Ben got a tummy bug and it was full scale explosions from either end. Lovely. Still Master Ben is a little soldier and as strong as an ox and by Wednesday he was back at school and playing tennis. He is so good when he is ill; always hitting the target and never hitting the floor, sheets and, more importantly, me.

Unlike Master Jacob who is like ..the world's worst patient. Well except for Mr T, from whom Master Jacob has inherited "Acute Melancholic Manflu & Every Other Disease Known to Man Syndrome" For example, a couple of weeks a ago Mr T did something to his leg/hip. Yep, I came home from tennis one evening and he was looking like a geriatric Long John Silver. Indeed his protestations were so bad I thought he'd ripped open his war wound from The Somme or at the very least developed a small case of elephantitis. So it was heated pads, muscle rubs, pain relief etc etc.... followed by a night of sheer hell. Normally Mr T sleeps like a log. I mean you'd been hard pressed to tell the difference between a comatosed whale and Mr T. (Apart from the snoring obviously.)

Well let me tell you that sleeping next to a 6ft 6 hypochondriac is no fun. Yep, for years I've been begging for a divorce just so I can marry Danny Devito and get a decent night's sleep but Mr T still won't agree. Damn.

Anyway, after a night of sheer hell of being tossed around like the Titanic whilst listening to noises that sounded like what can only be compared to the opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan I was at the end of my tether. Worse, Mr T has the habit of delaying going to the doctors for as long as possible which is incredibly frustrating. Yep, he's one of those folks who wonder why they're being given the last rites when they've delayed their appointment for a year. So after another bout of "I can't walk, bend, walk, brush my hair, put my socks/pants /thermals on..blah, blah, blah, blah, blah ..." I finally blew my top;

"You are going to see Mr Price or I am marrying Danny Devito!"

Now Mr Price is some sort of body specialist, (no idea what - far too complicated medical terminology for me) who used to represent England at Judo and knows his stuff. I know him through my tennis contacts and he has helped me in sorting out orthotics for Jacob's feet. Therefore, although it was a Saturday morning I decided to gave him a ring.. .

"Help me, help me Mr Price. I can't stand anymore of Mr T's moaning!! Save me from another night of hell!"

"Will 10.30 be okay Mrs T?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you!! I'll be there!"

So after manoeuvring Mr T into my car (not easy I can tell you) and just about remaining within the speed limit we got to Mr Price's where he conducted some weird and wonderful manipulations with Mr T. I mean it was intimate! Hugging, cavorting, bending..more hugging...God, I was embarrassed. At one point, I had to cough just to remind them I was there.....

Well...after 3 sessions Mr T is a good as he ever was and his war wound is healing nicely. Praise the Lord!!

Hmm....this was supposed to about Master Jacob who is driving me nuts this morning as he's been ill with the sick bug all weekend. Yes, I know he's poorly but come on not being able to take the lid of your bottle of Lucozade is pushing your luck a bit!

Just on a finishing note...when I'm ill it's the same old story. I end up in my car on the school run feeling as sick as a dog and hoping I don't break wind.

Because you know it can be quite embarrassing if you "follow through" in the school playground.......

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Name The Pig!

Firstly, I've not bought a Barbour jacket, green wellies and built a sty in my back garden. (Although with my kids wrecking it on a weekly basis "sty" is a fairly good description.)

Neither have I bought a small herd of pigs despite the fact bacon every morning is a tempting proposition. And let's not even mention sausages - I can work wonders with a sausage.

Gez, those jars of Homepride Sausage Casserole Sauce are just great aren't they?

I love sausages though and you can read my earlier thoughts on sausages here. If you want. No pressure; I still haven't bought my Christmas cards yet.

Well anyway I'm looking for the name of for a pig because over at The View From Here I've written an article on science fiction which has a Name the Pig competition attached to it. All you have do is pop over, enter your name for a pig in the comment section attached to my article and you could win signed copies of The Holy Machine and Marcher by award winning science fiction author Chris Beckett who is featured in my article.


Chris Beckett is the 2009 winner of The Edge Hill Prize for a collection of short stories by a single author. His winning entry The Turing Test is published by Elastic Press in 2008.



So some nice (and preferably amusing) piggy names please. And no one say Porky.

Coming next; the results of my Name The Pussy competition!

Monday, November 9, 2009

Music Monday; Me and My Banjo!

Impressed hey? Didn't know I was so talented eh?

Oh alright I'm lying. I don't play the banjo although I can make a good sound with a pair of wooden spoons and some empty baked baked tins! I also tried using my cheese grater as a washboard but somehow it didn't quite work. Don't ask me why, but the paramedic said I should have been using Cheddar. I replied "Don't you know we are part of of the EC you can't say Cheddar you must say "Fromage du Anglais a la place avec le grand gorge and caves which emits a cheesy smell."

Oh alright I'm lying again. Anyone can make Cheddar Cheese and call it Cheddar cheese, even if they live in China. Although, apparently, only the Italians can produce Parmesan Cheese and only the Greeks can produce Feta Cheese. Cheddar cheese is a generic name. Well so they say.

I demand a recount!

Oh no, we can't can we? Cos not only have Blair and Brown renegaded on their election manifesto to vote on Europe now David Cameron has too. Huh. Well at least he got it out of the way before the next general election so we all know where we stand. Still good news for the UKIP and NF I suppose.

Hmm....I was supposed to be talking about banjos! Well I don't play the banjo but I know someone who does. Here's one of my favourite funny guys, Steve Martin, doing something entirely different. I've just ordered his album The Crow, a self penned banjo blues album. Sounds interesting! Let's take a look at Steve playing the title track on the David Letterman show back in 2007.



Oh boy. Steve is just so talented! I can't wait to start foot tapping around my house!

NB; I've been a bit quiet of late but I've got lots coming up soon including an interview with that spurious author, Gary Davison, who often appears in my comments section, the winner of my Name My Pussy Competition and an update on my car. Yes, that is the notorious CMAX with the Collision Syndrome problem.... So stay tuned!

Monday, November 2, 2009

Music Monday - I don't like 'em!

Ordinarily, I like Mondays. Especially when it's a Monday after the school holidays. I adore my boys but when the day comes around that they return to school I'm looking forward to a few hours of solitude. Last week, which was half term here in the UK, was pretty hectic so today I'd plenty of ideas on how to fill my day; maybe some writing, a little tickling of my favourite ticklees and perhaps charring a nice spaghetti bolognese. Maybe even thinking about cleaning the kitchen but then coming to my senses and surfing the net for Christmas presents instead. Prezzies for myself obviously- someone's gotta do it - otherwise I'll end up with another gadget which I'll rediscover in about 10 years at the back of the cupboard. You know they don't call slowcookers "slowcookers" for nothin' you know...

And then I got into a bad mindset...........

So Master Ben and I get to school on time. Okay we aren't early but before the bell anyway- and what's more I didn't even have to go over the speed limit!(Well apart from that overtaking bit.) Anyway, I notice a few small reception children traipsing in at the last minute dressed in garish costumes.

Ha! I think to myself. A dressing up day on the first of term. Those poor reception parents! Oh well, most of them are still new to it. They don't realise the agony of years and years of inconsequential dressing up days there are yet to come! Ha, ha ha!

I look at Master Ben with his creased trousers, smart black fleece and new haircut. Now that's how a child should look on the first day of term - not dressed as a space invader or a vampire with blunt teeth. Hmm...pity about the shoes I forgot to polish though....

Then I see one of the dads from Ben's football team coming towards me.

Footie Dad; "Bloody kids. I spent ages putting the face paints on and then he tells me he feels a twat."

Mrs T: (Innocently - knowing footie dad also has three kids.) Oh dear, is it a dressing up day today?

Footie Dad: Yes. And just as we're going out the door Karl tells me he feels a twat and wants to take the paint off.

Mrs T; (Mortified) Karl????? (Karl is in Master Benedict's class.) It's.... it's....it's... not a dressing up a day for the whole school??

Footie Dad: Yes.

Mrs T: Oh dear, fiddly dee! (Or words to that effect but maybe somewhat more colourful.) What was this delightful dressing up day in aid of? (Again words to that effect but maybe somewhat more colourful.)

Footie Dad; I have no idea!

Mrs T; I don't remember reading anything about it! Besides, they only just had Roman Day on the last day of term. Two dressing up days next to each other? That's blatantly unfair!!

Okay, so you get the idea. I ****** up. Good and proper. Now before you start worrying about Master Ben let me tell you he's a cool dude so he won't be particularly bothered he's not dressed up as a pumpkin or rat's entrails or whatever it was they were supposed to be dressed up as . In fact he's so cool he'll probably tum it to his advantage...

"Mum, you forgot it was a dressing up day. I was the only one without a costume. That's means you owe me £5.00 compensation."

"Yeah, okay son. Do you want cash or a banker's draft?"

Look, I know I've whinged about these dressing up days before but I've got to do it again. They drive me nuts, nuts, nuts. Master Sam is 18 in December - he went to school at 4 that means I've been making costumes for 14 years! 14 YEARS! And I calculate that I have at least another 3 years before I can lead a costume free existence when I can safely chuck out the cereal packets without the following happening...

Mrs T: Where's that cereal packet I left on the side?

Mr T: Oh, I threw it out.

Mrs T: Whhhatttt?! I had to make a sword/shield/ helmet/ wand/crossbow/staff out of that!!

Mr T: It's in the bin.

Mrs T; On my God, it's covered in spaghetti/tomato ketchup/baked beans/custard/jelly/ice cream! How could you be so stupid?!

Mr T: Well I didn't know...

Now correct me if I'm wrong but with rare exceptions men never seem to know about these dressing up days. Am I right Ladies? - Unless they're a carpenter or a painter and decorator - when you can bet your bottom dollar when their Little Johnny is cast as Joseph in the school nativity he'll turn out with an entire tool kit. And as for Greek History Day, Darling Little Johnny will be sat astride a giant wooden horse while Carpenter Dad proudly looks on whilst nonchalantly dusting the sawdust of his sweater.

And what about Diligent Mum? Yeah, you know the one Ladies. The mum who has spent two entire weeks sewing sequins on pieces of her wedding dress so her daughter, Darling Little Lottie, can look the most splendid Mary ever. Never Mind the The Three Kings look like they've been clothed in Oxfam (they probably have) or that the Angel Gabriel's shiny wings look like cereal packets covered in tinfoil so long as Little Lottie looks like Liberace who cares it's only a school production! First step a wooden platform in a cramped school hall, next step Broadway and Hollywood! Hurrah!!

Yep, I'm blown out on the school costume front. And as for all those letters... and I mean too many to count... I now just scan them. I look for two things. The one which says "Reminder" on the top and the other which has £ sign embedded in the sentence. Call me Mrs Cynic but when today's children can read, write and do arithmetic as well as we did thirty years ago then I'll be happy to spend an entire week making a costume out of paper mache. In the meantime dressing up, no matter how much you endorse kinesthetic learning, is just another symptom of our failing education system.

Someone pass me the chocolate.

Okay, so who remembers this song from 1979?



Well if you do remember this song and the background to it - the good news is Master Ben only has a plastic Nerf Gun and I only have a wooden spatula!