…but unfit for blogging, information pills bad case of
gastroenter diahhr stomach flu. Hot bath and bed are the only things on the menu. Had a wonderful time in Wales, looking forward to catching up with you all tomorrow.
Archive for the 'Christmas 2003' Category
…but unfit for blogging, information pills bad case of
- Dancing granny
- Six ways to make Santa’s naughty list. [Both via Ian White.]
- Reindeer tackles reporter in Anchorage.
“What’s surprising is you can do what you feel are impactful stories, but the biggest one is where a reindeer runs over you,” said Stapleton.
Erm… this reindeer, does he have any Welsh blood? Can we… No, don’t even go there. [Link via Gina Smith]
- And just for the record, I am not going to Wales to enter this competition.
Happy Christmas + Nadolig Llawen + Joyeux Noel + Vrolijk Kerstfeest + Froehliche Weinachten + Hyvää Joulua + Feliz Navidad + Boas Festas to one and all.
May you have a peaceful day filled with love, wherever you are.
Alas, bathrooms don’t clean themslves (yet) so the
planned vague idea of a 2003 roundup has to be postponed for a while but while I think of them:
How soon before The Manly Smell of a Book hits the shelves? Or LondonMark the paperback edition? Or A Little Pregnant tops the NYT bestseller list? Or for Ed to write a bestelling memoir? Some Blogger tips on getting a book deal.
Talking of Ed, here’s a little something to cheer you up. Heh.
I don’t think my mother is going to get as excited about her second hand Dell as this lad is about his new laptop. Bless.
Sorry, it’s a bit of a hotch-potch this time but I’m dizzy with thoughts of jobs left unfinished. In fact, I squirted cleaning foam down the toilet an hour ago, meaning to go clean it within 15 minutes. Ahem. Hasta luego mis amigos.
Santa has his own website! You can find out what he does during the summer (I thought he and Mrs Claus spent the rest of the year making toys but there you go). Lots of soft focus films about Lapland, the Elves, Santa’s post office, Christmas around the world, oodles more. Children will love it. Children with a fast internet connection. I think it would be quite painful on dialup. Oh and it’s in Swedish and Finnish too.
Meanwhile I’ve just finished work (hooray!) after an absolutely appalling couple of days (boo!) and plan to do nothing rush around like a blue arsed fly until I can cross out everything on the to do list.
- Put Christmas decorations up (I know, isn’t it awful, they’re still not up).
- Check newly arrived second-hand laptop (gift for mother) and install New Novelist software.
- Finish packing presents (3 more to go!).
- Food shop. Last year we went supermarket shopping for a few last minute extras like milk & butter and were astonished to find that at 11:00 a.m. on Christmas eve, staff were at the front door of the store practically giving away cut price goods such as cream (large tub of double cream for 10p). As we walked round the aisles we spotted items we’d paid full price for the day before reduced by 50-80%. So this year we’re taking a gamble and have done no food shopping at all. After a hearty breakfast at a favourite café we’re off to brave the crowds. “What if you can’t get a turkey?” I hear you cry. “Flexibility!” I reply. If it’s not turkey then it can be beef, chicken even poussin. To be honest, the poultry/meat isn’t that important, as long as I can get potatoes and parsnips for mashing and roasting, cauliflower and carrots I’ll be a happy camper.
- Put grandchildren’s presents upstairs before the dogs chew them.
- Pack bag for trip to Wales on Thursday.
- Text message to stepson #2 and wife to be, currently in Australia to be married.
- Clean bathroom, upstairs, downstairs,
install new kitchenmake the best of this kitchen or put nice smelly candles everywhere.
- Empty washing basket, clear pile of ironing.
- Catch up on all the blogs I’ve missed reading this week. Including some new ones such as Queerly Creative and faut trouver un nom au blog
Bonne nuit mes enfants.
I wrote a huge batch of Christmas cards late Sunday night, got them in the post on Monday morning. Felt very smug. Okay, so those to Belgium, France and the US might not actually get there on time but still. And then on Tuesday evening stepson #1 rang.
Tom: Did you send us a Christmas card?
Me: Yes of course. Why do you ask?
Tom: We got a blank card in the post and I recognised your handwriting on the envelope.
Me: Blank? What sort of blank?
Tom: It’s a small white card with a black and white photo of two children ice skating… but there’s nothing written inside. Did you send it?
Later that same evening
Great aunt Gertie: ‘Ere, have you been sending strange Christmas cards?
Me: Oh I’m sorry, Aunt Ger-
G.a.G.: You ‘ad me worried sick, you ought to be more careful sending stuff like that to old folks.
Me: I’m sorry, it-
G.a.G.: Well, just so as you know.
*G.a.G. hangs up*
Sigh. I really need a holiday.
…let this be a warning to us all:
An Apology for the Christmas Party
When I came into the office this morning, I noticed a sort of general feeling of unfriendliness, and since several of you have called me a “dirty son of a bitch” to my face, I knew I must have done something wrong at the office Christmas Party. The Office Manager called me from the hospital today and as this is my last day, I’d like to take this way of apologizing to all of you. I would prefer speaking to everyone personally, but all of you seem to go deaf and dumb whenever I try to talk to you.
First, to our dear and beloved boss, I am sorry for all the things I called you Friday afternoon. I’m very much aware that your father is not a baboon, nor your mother a Chinese whore. Your wife is a delightful woman, and my story of you buying her for 50 cents in Tijuana was strictly a figment of my imagination. Your children are undoubtedly yours too. About the water cooler incident, you’ll never know how badly I feel about it, and I hope you didn’t hurt your head when they were trying to get the glass jug off.
To Mary, I express my deepest regrets. In my own defense, I must remind you that you seemed to enjoy our little escapade on the stairway as much as I did until the bannister broke and we fell eight feet to the second floor landing. In spite of the rupture you incurred when I landed on top of you, I am sure you will admit that when we landed it was one of the biggest thrills you have ever had.
Sam, you old cuss, you’ve just got to forgive me for that little prank I played on you. If I had known you were goosey, I’d have never done it. It would have been a lot worse if that fat lady hadn’t been standing right under the window you jumped through. She really broke your fall a lot. People have been killed falling three stories.
Gene, I regret telling the fireman it was you who turned in the false alarm. But, of course, I had no way of knowing they would make such a bad report of it. Those fire hoses sure have a lot of pressure don’t they? And the water is cold!
Don, I know how you must feel about me. Opening the door to the broom closet suddenly must have startled you and Millie quite badly, and to think how hard you bumped your chin on the shelf when you bent over to pull up your pants, it makes me sick. We’ll have to get together for dinner some night after the dentist finishes your plates.
Nancy, the only excuse I can offer for stealing all your clothes and hiding them when I found you passed out in the ladies room, is that I was drunk. Also, I want you to know I was very embarrassed when I couldn’t remember where I hid them and you had to go home in that old sofa cover. Running your falsies up the flag pole was a bit too much, but like I said, I was a little drunk.
To all of you, I am sorry. Setting Jan’s panties on fire seemed funny at the time, and it makes me sad to hear that her husband is divorcing her because of it.
Urinating in everyone’s drink was in bad taste, and not telling them about it until all the drinks were gone was even worse.
Now that I have apologized to all of you and know that I am forgiven, I will do my darndest to come to the picnic..
[From The Humor Archives]
Which sees your Daisy frazzled, bewildered and frankly, being a bit of a bitch
I’m still recovering from wheelchair rage (the mother-in-law’s wheelchair, my rage at the [insert curse word of your choice] arseholes who are either rude, patronising or just plain ignorant in a busy town two weeks before Christmas. That’s short for Christ’s Mass. Time of goodwill to all men. And women. In wheelchairs.)
And let’s have a special mention for the two “ladies” (I use the term loosely) outside W.H. Smiths who were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice us trying to get past and when asked to move their shopping so that we could get into the shop huffed and puffed and made such a song and dance. (To the one on the left, yes you with 4 inches of dark brown roots showing (miaow): if you really drank that much on Friday night then it’s no surprise that you look that raddled.)
So I’ll just leave you with this question – what’s the worst thing you did as a child? Full and frank confessions on a postcard in the comment box please.