Showing posts from March, 2011

Three years, Three Hundred Posts and a Caption Competition!

Just after Christmas I realised I've actually been blogging for three years and today marks my three hundredth post. Hoorah!

It's actually quite hard to believe I'm still scribing this blog, which started out as nothing more than a whimsical notion to find a creative outlet, but I am. I'd like to think there's something meaningful in that achievement but the best I can come up with is -  I probably like the sound of my own voice too much!

Anyway, in honour of this momentous occasion, my original intention was to write a short summary of the highs and lows of my life and blog over the last three years - of which they have been many. However, I'll be honest, that's too much like hard work and I'm far too lazy. So instead I'm having a caption competition!

(However, if you really want to find out more about My Witty Ways it's all here in my blog posts - over three years of madcap but hopefully humorous ramblings, punctuated by the occasional moments…

A Letter To Phil Collins

Dear Phil,

I'm not one to beat about the bush, so I'm going to get straight to the point. What is it with this retiring business? You're only 60 - don't you know the government has plans for us to work until we're at least 75? Look, I know you've got a heap of cash but if folks like you don't pay enough in taxes people like me will get our old age pensions reduced from a mere miserly pension to a non-existent pension. And I fancy eating more than beans on toast in my old age.

Is it the reviews of Going Back? Is that it? Was it the negative feedback about not producing new material and covering Motown tracks? I really don't think you should worry Phil - the album went to No 1 and I loved it! Besides, all the albums reviews were written by jumped-up youths barely out of their nappies. They weren't even born before you started losing your hair. I mean, what do they know about music? They think rap is good whereas we old timers know that rap is pap and…

Insomina, Babies, Celebrity Mothers and Husbands Who Snore

Why, why, why do I have insomnia? I am cursed!

Earlier tonight I woke up in the early hours - again. I stayed in bed thinking for a while hoping I'd drift off but, alas, nothing happened. Time passed, so eventually I got up and wandered downstairs to use the bathroom.

Now, currently, I'm wearing a watch that doesn't have a back light or luminous hands. Frankly, the watch is a nuisance as I like to track my insomnia (call me Mrs Peculiar) but it's new and it was soooo attractive underneath that glass display counter that I forgot that being able to tell the time in the night is a fetish of mine. Okay... so I know it's an odd fetish but well it's not as bad as it could be; I don't smear my body in mackerel oil and ask anyone to lick it off for example. That would be really peculiar - anyway I didn't get any applicants.

So I went downstairs and looked at the clock - it was nearly 5 am. Hoorah! Sleeping till 5am is a whole night's sleep; it was time to …

When the Mighty Fall

Over the past two weeks, I'm sure I've been one of many contemplating the devastating events in Japan. As restoration at the Fukushima nuclear power plant continues to make slow progress one cannot help but wonder how bad this disaster has yet to come.

In terms of actual deaths already over 9,000 are confirmed dead and many more are still missing. In all probability, these early estimates will prove conservative. However, whilst each death is an individual tragedy, on a global scale these are comparatively small figures - the latest estimate for the Haiti disaster is 316,000 deaths with up to 3 million affected, the estimate for 2004 Tsunami is 230,000 deaths with another 1.3 million displaced and perhaps it is worth mentioning that everydayhundreds of children die from starvation and disease. In fact, according to Save theChildren every year 3.1 million children die from the effects of malnutrition.

Those are, quite simply, staggering figures.

Yet, despite the relatively min…

Danger in the Bathroom

I know I shouldn't laugh but this may possibly one of the funniest stories I've ever read. Apparently, some poor woman fell over in her bathroom and impaled herself on her loo roll holder.

Okay, I hope the unlucky woman makes a full recovery obviously. I mean you wouldn't want an epitaph like "speared by a loo roll holder" on your gravestone would you? It doesn't really have that certain ring to it, does it?

Anyway, what's really creased me up is the quote from the fire officer:

She apparently fell and the toilet paper holder just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I don't know about you, but I kinda like my loo roll in the bathroom. I mean, I could put it in the kitchen but it's not really that handy situated next to the spice rack.

Hmm... I guess instead of having a free standing loo roll or one that's attached to the wall this woman could hang hers from the ceiling.

No wait a minute... she might end up hanging herself or kn…

My First Attempt at Jam

Is the full moon over yet folks? I couldn't tell with all that cloud cover last night. But I can't stand much more of this cleaning lark. Yesterday, I was forced to clean out the fridge and, as a consequence, for the first time in my 46 years I did what millions of women have done before me - I made jam.

Now, come on, avoiding making jam for 46 years is pretty good isn't it? Especially when you're a full time housewife. If it takes me another 46 years to build up the courage for a second batch - I wouldn't actually do it - as I'd be dead. A comforting thought.

I should say that I made jam because we had a surplus of strawberries in the fridge due to the boys having a sudden desire for fruit smoothies - and then suddenly not having a desire for fruit smoothies. Kids they're so fickle aren't they? So I had three tubs of strawberries, including one mega box from Costco. That's a lot of strawberries.

Anyway, I followed this recipe which was the first hi…

Strange Goings On in The Turley Household

"Don't let your mother outside Boys. There's a full moon. Things are bad enough anyway."

It's true. For several days I have been feeling "odd" and it doesn't appear to be PMT. Strangely, I've been drawn to the night sky, mesmerized by the fullness of the moon. Spine tingling shivers have alternated with sudden bouts of feverish activity. At night, the ever cautious Mr T has chained me to the bed - worried that whilst he snores his wife might be carving up celebrity chefs. And, in the mornings, when he's seen all is not lost I've been set free to roam the house, wandering amongst the rooms like some lost, forlorn soul.

What's been wrong with me?

This morning, Readers, it finally dawned on me what the problem has been and what I had to do about it.

So, with a sense of urgency, I pulled on my tracksuit bottoms, tied the laces on my trainers and set my stopwatch. I unlocked the front door and stepped outside, taking a deep breath ready t…

He's Good, He's Bad, He's Master Benedict

So I was on way back from tennis last night with the boys. It's Master Ben's turn to sit in the front seat. We're listening to a Michael Jackson CD  so I've already had a series of whoops and squeals from the Young Master in true Michael Jackson style...

Suddenly, he turns to me and says;

Mum? Have you ever seen a person with no arms or no legs?

(Obviously had been thinking about Michael Jackson's sorties into plastic surgery - I can think of no other explanation.)

Mrs T: Why, yes. (Pause) In fact, I was at school who a girl who only had one hand. She had a false, plastic one that she wore... and at dinner time she used to unscrew it and screw in a fork.

Master Ben: Didn't you have nightmares?

Mrs T: No. Why would I?

Master Ben: Didn't you dream she unscrewed it and screwed in a chainsaw?

Mrs T:  (Laughing) Umm... No.

Master Ben: A Bazooka?

Mrs T (Laughing) No!

Okay, so then Master Ben worked his way through about half a dozen weapons (with accompanying soun…

Trouble in the Office (Advice Wanted)

Right you lot get your thinking caps on. Mrs T's friend, who shall be known as Mrs Doe, needs some advice on a tricky situation at work.

Let me explain:

Mrs Doe has been working in the same job for a good few years. It's a specialized job and requires quite a lot of time in a small, confined room. Mostly, Mrs Doe is by herself but sometimes with a male colleague. Mrs Doe works part time so she doesn't see this gentlemen all the time so when they meet he is always pleased to see her and quite generous in his greetings - in that he likes to hug her and give a peck on the cheek. Now this friendly greeting has been going on for a number of years and although Mrs Doe is not really comfortable with it, she has accepted that it's part of his nature and with him being in a happy (in so far as she knows) relationship she thought there was nothing to worry about.

Or is there?

A couple of weeks ago she had reason to call him on the phone regarding a work matter. There was no answ…

Another Embarrassing Moment for Mrs T

What do children talk about at school? It's worrying when you believe you're teaching your children the right manners and behaviour and then they come under the influence of others and start to say and do things that you had no idea they were capable of. Take the following story for example...

On Thursday, I was at the tennis club with Master Ben who'd just had a lesson with a new coach, Coach Mark. Ben's next lesson should have been on the coming Saturday with his main coach but he was off representing the county. The following conversation ensued:

Mrs T: I wonder Coach Mark whether you could fill in on Saturday?

Coach Mark: I'm afraid not Mrs T, it's my birthday and my wife is taking me into London for a treat.

Mrs T: Oh well never mind. Actually it's my birthday on Sunday too. Happy Birthday to us! Hurrah! (Yes, I do talk like that. It's sad.)

Master Ben (Relaxing on settee after lesson but still listening): It's your birthday on Sunday?

Mrs T: Y…

An Audio Walkabout

Yesterday, after our family wedding in Ireland and a few further weeks of self indulgence, I finally stood on the scales.

And I stood on the scales.

And I stood on the scales.

And I stood on the scales.

When I'd recovered from the heart attack I thought to myself;

You stupid, stupid woman.

Okay, so I think that most days. But yesterday I really meant it. I mean, a couple of biscuits and a glass of wine and wham bam I'm half a stone heavier! It's that perimenopause I tell you, screwing up my system. So it's back to the diet of bran and yogurt and walking for at least an hour a day. Groan, groan, groan. Why me? Why couldn't I have been born some svelte-like willowy creature, instead of a tub of lard?

Anyway, so I put on my tracksuit and prepared to steel myself against the bitter wind. Then I had a thought, why not be daring Mrs T and try something new?

So I took off all my clothes and headed down the street....

No, seriously. I didn't. Although it may have cross…

Pilates, Feng Shui and Early Morning Rantings (Yes, I know, it's a problem.)

It's 3 am. I'm cold and I can't sleep. Therefore I'm allowed to rant and be excused.

Now, I'm not saying the woman who critiqued my novel has no sense of humour but I bet even Bugs Bunny would get short shrift from her.

Bring it on Bugs that's what I say. Floppy ears and big teeth does it for me all the time. (And those silky ears can do wonders for your sex life as well.)

I think I should date Charlie Sheen actually. He's one hell of a comedian - whichever way you look at it. I would love to interview him. I reckon after a few drinks and we got talking about his dad and that great film Apocalypse Now I could easily get Charlie to pretend he was a helicopter and whizz around the studio making buzzy noises.

A tenner says I could do it.

Twenty says I could get him to drop his pants and pledge allegiance to Bugs Bunny.

Easy Money.

Humour is a very personal thing isn't it? I mean, I pretty much enjoy all sorts of humour, including slapstick, both verbal and…