Monday, June 30, 2008

Essex mothers

A conversation at a mother and baby group:

Mum A: "Eeeeer, what did you get up to at the weekend then?"
Mum B: "We went to a paaartay, yeah, and after a few smirnoff ices we all got our boobs out yeah, it was WICKED!!"
Me: "????!!!!???"
Mum A: "Wicked yeah! I love my boobs, they are really firm, yeah, even since I had Jordan, I wore a bra constantly for 6 months after I had 'er"
Mum B: "Ooh, yeah, they are lovely, mine are saggy, I can't do nothing with 'em"
Mum C: "I've started my diet today, haven't I? I only had 2 packets of crisps today. I'm only a size 16 so I haven't got that much to lose"
Me (in head): "A size 16?!?! I don't bleeding well think so love!" and "?!?!?!?!"
Mum A: "Ooh yer are doin' well, I'm doin' aerobics at the church hall"
Mum B: "Ooh I hate aerobics, I get all sweaty and bored. I like dancin'"
Mum A: "Well I like it. Did I tell you we just bought a new kitchen?"
Mum B: "No"
Mum A: "Yeah, AND we are going to America next month, I'm going to buy SO much stuff, we're so rich! Did I tell you Jordan's outfit is from America? We had it sent over special like"
Me (in head:) "Kill me now. Please."

Did I miss something?!

I may be getting old, but exactly which part of Amy Winehouse's Glastonbury "performance" was a "triumph" exactly?! Me and Lady L and our other halves watched it on the tv (too poor for Glasto tickets) and she was shocking. She mumbled the words, staggered around the stage, and talked incoherently for an hour. The only bit where she made sense was when she punched the fan who tried to pull her hairpiece off (though we were willing it to happen). She was on the Nelson Mandela gig the day before and was just as bad. But people are describing it as amazing and brilliant. She needs help, not people letting her go on stage in that state for everyone to gawp at.

None of the bits of Glasto I have seen have made me wish I was there. Mark Ronson was ok, but Lily Allen turned up to do her song and hadn't bothered to learn the lyrics. She said she "hadn't sung it for a while", but surely she must have been asked to do it a while ago. She could have spent 5 minutes swotting up before swaggering on stage and saying to the people who paid £200 a pop "oh I couldn't be arsed to learn them, and I can't be arsed to read them off this sheet either so why don't you all sing it instead?". Pop stars. Pah.

When me and Lady L went to Reading it was so different. Rock stars threw poo at the audience, bands were brilliant, people rolled around the site in bins. Dave Grohl licked the camera. Ah those were the days...

Friday, June 20, 2008

Skater grannies

A news story today really made me laugh! It appears that since OAPs got free travel on buses, they are really taking advantage of it and there isn't room for other (paying) passengers to get on the buses. And the coach firms that like to do OAP trips to Bognor Regis or wherever are losing business. I can just imagine people standing at the bus stop waiting for the number 102 which flies by full to the brim with oldies mooning out of the back window and dressed like skater boys and girls! Old age is the new teenage it seems, teenagers are too busy stabbing each other to get the bus anywhere fun.

Friday, June 06, 2008

Crime doesn't pay

So to update on my criminal involvement, the thieving Dad is in jail having pleaded guilty to the theft (and lots more besides I shouldn't wonder) and the 12 year old boy is in court next month. The only problem is that I have to go too as a witness. I really don't want to be involved, who knew just writing a number plate down would cause all this hoo haa? If people knew they probably wouldn't bother, which is a shame. And I now have my relatives scaring me with "they will find out where you live and get revenge" comments. I don't know how true that is but I am a bit worried. When they describe what happened it wouldn't take a genius to remember where it was, as the gear was so specific, and hang around looking for me. But what choice do I have now?! The thieving gits aren't getting away with it. My only hopes are that the boy is so thick he really wouldn't remember where it was, and my fake moustache disguise...

The onset of immediate depression...

...comes when someone who has just used your bathroom chirps up "ooh those bathroom scales are brilliant, they are about 1/2 a stone out!"