Firstly i’d like to explain any sudden and unexpected glasswear breakages you may have experienced today and let you know that I had a singing lesson this afternoon. It went really well, I think that with a few more sessions I could be almost as good as John and Edward.
Wurly the chinchilla went for the snip this week and unfortunately for him it was the vet kind, not the beauty parlour kind. Yes, as if the poor little guy didn’t have enough to deal with by being born so irresistibly cute and cuddly, now us nasty humans have gone and taken away what was his only manly pride and glory. But wait, it gets even worse - not only was the buggar so brutally emasculated, he then returned home in a drug induced daze only to be chased away by Curly. Yes that’s right, the very same day as he was cruelly robbed of his manhood, he was then beaten up by a girl!
It’s suddenly occurred to me that although I’ve told you plenty about my own pets, I’ve so rudely never even mentioned my boyfriend’s own pet. It’s difficult to describe Liam’s pet as I have yet to see her particular species listed in any book or web page, so I’ve composed a poem that I think best sums her up;
In amongst the rubble, beneath his bed,
Lives my boyfriend’s favourite pet.
She thrives under there where it’s dusty and hairy,
Because she’s his magical cleaning fairy!
She hovers behind him where ever he goes
Sweeping up toenails and picking up clothes.
She lets him relax and does all of the jobs,
So he can live the life of a complete and utter slob.
He can finish a drink, hot or cold,
Then leave the cup out until it starts to sprout mould.
Once upon a time, before he brought his new pet home,
The mould got so thick that he could have sworn he heard it groan!
Tearing through the house, a path of destruction in his wake,
He never gives his poor little fairy a break.
He’s got no time for cleaning, housework is such a bore,
but that’s OK cos in the blink of an eye, the house is magically spotless once more.
She eats up crisp packets for breakfast, dirty socks for tea,
She snacks on dust until his house is pristine.
He loves their little arrangement, but if only he really knew,
that it’s all the secret handy work, of his sucker of a girlfriend, Sue!
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Pigs, bins and Halloween sins
Well it’s been almost 2 weeks since my last blog entry and I have to say that I haven’t really been up to much. I have however treated myself to a new guinea pig, that makes a grand total of 4 piggies altogether which means soon enough my piggy army will be strong enough to take over the world wuahahaha! For those of you who might be wondering just what an army of guinea pigs is like; it’s similar to a regular army except each soldier looks less like a human, and more like a furry water balloon with feet, and instead of swords or guns, they are armed with carrots and various other root vegetables.
Winter is kicking in now, I know this because Jaffa has been exercising his feline rights to periods of semi-hybernation and taken up a record 23hour shift on our bed. This either means that he has very impressive bladder control, or that we are in for a nasty surprise when we go to bed tonight!
It’s been an exciting month for us Herefordians as our beloved city was finally dragged into the 21st century with the arrival of our long-awaited recycling wheely bins. It seems to me that Herefordshire Council’s reluctance to join the rest of the bin wheelying world up until now has had a detrimental and irreversible affect on our local youths as the poor blighters have missed out on a good solid 10 or 15 years of wheely bin surfing, and instead have had to settle for archaic games such as ‘lets drink till we vommit’ and ‘what’s that bong?’ Cruelty if you ask me! We have yet to score wheelies for our regular rubbish but one can only dream can’t they?
Halloween is fast approaching so we’ve stocked up on sweeties for the trick or treaters. Aww it warms my heart to see those excited little faces at the door in joyful anticipation of what goodies you are about to bestow upon them – shame 99% of them are 5’6 tall and got voices deeper than James Earl Jones! Still, at least they’re putting those balaclavas to good use inbetween the muggings and hold-ups, another plus is that they are of course more than happy to pour their night’s profits back into the economy via much appreciative offies.
Winter is kicking in now, I know this because Jaffa has been exercising his feline rights to periods of semi-hybernation and taken up a record 23hour shift on our bed. This either means that he has very impressive bladder control, or that we are in for a nasty surprise when we go to bed tonight!
It’s been an exciting month for us Herefordians as our beloved city was finally dragged into the 21st century with the arrival of our long-awaited recycling wheely bins. It seems to me that Herefordshire Council’s reluctance to join the rest of the bin wheelying world up until now has had a detrimental and irreversible affect on our local youths as the poor blighters have missed out on a good solid 10 or 15 years of wheely bin surfing, and instead have had to settle for archaic games such as ‘lets drink till we vommit’ and ‘what’s that bong?’ Cruelty if you ask me! We have yet to score wheelies for our regular rubbish but one can only dream can’t they?
Halloween is fast approaching so we’ve stocked up on sweeties for the trick or treaters. Aww it warms my heart to see those excited little faces at the door in joyful anticipation of what goodies you are about to bestow upon them – shame 99% of them are 5’6 tall and got voices deeper than James Earl Jones! Still, at least they’re putting those balaclavas to good use inbetween the muggings and hold-ups, another plus is that they are of course more than happy to pour their night’s profits back into the economy via much appreciative offies.
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Date with a Dolphin
Now I know I keep a lot of pets but no, this isn’t my newest addition. Meet Sol, we shared a thirty minute holiday romance in Malta this March, (I’m the one on the left!).
I made the trip with my mum because my boyfriend was too chicken to fly, and we learnt an interesting lesson on the way - don’t take crisps aboard an aircraft! As we ascended, the drop in air pressure caused our crisp packets to blow up to almost bursting point, and we sat nervously anticipating the cabin being thrown into chaos as fountains of Wotsits showered unsuspecting passengers. Luckily the bags didn’t burst and we consequently escaped terrorism charges.
Upon arriving, we discovered that Malta wasn’t exactly the tropical paradise that we had envisaged, and the holiday got off to a flying start when we failed to locate our transfer bus so had to pay out forty euros to get to our hotel.
No trip to Malta is complete without trying out the infamous bus service at least once. Imagine riding the most ancient, rickety rollarcoaster in the theme park, and now you have a fairly good idea of what it’s like to ride a Maltese bus, except without the reassurance of a safety harness. The already bone rattling journeys aren’t much helped along by the moon-crator pot holes that tarnish the roads, and the seasoned drivers slow down for no bend, no matter how sharp. In fact, I think that somebody should send a letter in to the public transport offices suggesting that they raise revenue for replacement vehicles by installing cameras in the back of each bus seat, much like on a theme park ride, to sell photographic mementos to unacclimatised tourists as a souvenir of their hair-raising adventures.
It didn’t take long for us to realise that there really wasn’t that much to do in Malta, so we decided to take a day trip over to the smaller neighbouring island of Gozo. The tourist information man who we booked the trip with told us that our ticket would cost just twenty euros each and would include a tour guide for the day, plus a three course meal at a beautiful restaurant, and assured us that over there was much, much nicer than Malta. ‘Could Gozo be the tropical paradice that we were so desperately seeking?’ we wondered, and in short, the answer was no! Each of the villages we were taken to consisted of one or two run down shops where the local women sold their various hand-made crafts which was interesting for the first couple of hours, but not so much so as the day dragged on and each village bled into the next. Then it was finally dinner time, now we’re talking! ‘How quaint’, we thought as we were led to the ram shackled beach hut of a dinner venue, trying not to judge the book by it’s cover. For starters we had the choice of pasta or soup, we both selected the soup; a bit watery but fair. Then for the mains we chose the fish over the veal but only after being assured that the fish would not contain any bones... little to say, I was not impressed when my plate of what I can only describe as ‘bones with fish’ was served, but not to worry, I’ll just fill up on my... two new potatoes and three leaves of lettuce... It was a good job we had a few yummy looking desserts to choose from, my mouth watered as my mum described what sweet delights she could see on the counter waiting to be served, then – strike three, our jaws dropped as we were presented with the equivalent of about an egg cup full of vanilla ice cream each. The meal had been that bad that we actually rolled out of the ‘restaurant’ in fits of laughter, only to find out later in the day that the inclusive meal was actually optional, and that we could have saved twelve of our euros and eaten somewhere of our own choice instead!
Despite the disappointment of the holiday as a whole, the journey was more than worth it if not solely for my date with Sol, and he is without a doubt the most handsome chap I’ve ever had the pleasure of having my hands on (don’t tell Liam I said that). If you’re wondering what dolphins feel like, they greatly resemble the texture of a boiled egg after it’s been peeled, smooth but a little bit squishy. Seen as my over all opinion of Malta wasn’t that great, I think that it’s only fair that Sol come over here for our second date!
Monday, 5 October 2009
Cats Vs Dogs
Everybody knows that you are either a cat person, or a dog lover. Up until the arrival of our two cats, I had always assumed myself to be a hound lovin’ kinda girl, but now I find myself sitting on the fence between Poochester and Pussex, So I’ve compiled a score board to see which of the two of man’s trusty companions came up trumps;
Firstly, no cat on earth can pull off a periodic costume quite as well as Dog Tanian can.
Cats were worshipped by the ancient Egyptians – and don’t they know it!
A Husky by the name of Pixie gave birth to seven puppies, one of which was born bright green. I think the snot puppy deserves an extra point for originality, well done Pixie!
Dogs produce drool like Star Trek conventions produce nerds (no offense to any Trekkies reading!) In fact, one day last year, Rilla proudly trotted along the river walk way with her tail reaching up to the heavens in a merry wag of contentment whilst an autumn leaf was being dragged alongside her by an elasticky string of slobber that stretched right down to the ground! However, this special and repulsive talent which dogs are blessed with has in fact come in useful in the past in adding comical value to films such as Beethoven, and Turner and Hooch, so I don’t think that they deserve to have a point docked for this one.
Cats shower their owners with wonderful gifts such as mangled mouse which can be left out as a warning to all other mice to stay away, piles of feathers in case your pillows are getting a bit flat and need re-stuffing, or indeterminate piles of various organs of unknown origin, perfect for making offal stew for the in-laws – mmmmm! Sure, a dog will bring you your slippers, but let’s face it, how hard is it to fetch your own slippers? Your slippers are normally just a few feet away whereas your moggy will search far and wide for his thoughtful offerings!
If you yourself are lucky enough to be a white cat, you get to sit on the cool bond villon’s knee!
Cats have more mood swings than a bipolar pregnant woman whereas the majority of dogs will let you tickle their tummy or even tug their tail’s to your heart’s content (don’t try this at home, kids!)
Moggies are ideal for protecting you from those icky spiders when there are no men around... when they can be bothered that is.
However, hounds are very well suited to keeping away those pesky bills by either a direct attack upon them as they slip through the letter box, or when given the opportunity, they will head straight for the Holy Grail itself; the postman’s bum! This form of protection does have it’s downfalls though as Fido is indiscriminate as to what post he destroys, whether it be good or bad.
The fact that clinched it for me though was when I discovered this afternoon that a dog by the name of Laika was once launched into space aboard a Russian space craft, so slobber and walks in the rain and cold aside, the prospect of owning my very own astronaut dog was the deal breaker for me. Sorry feline lovers, dogs rule! Right, I’m off to find a suitably sized fish bowl for phase one of Rilla’s space training programme.
Firstly, no cat on earth can pull off a periodic costume quite as well as Dog Tanian can.
Cats were worshipped by the ancient Egyptians – and don’t they know it!
A Husky by the name of Pixie gave birth to seven puppies, one of which was born bright green. I think the snot puppy deserves an extra point for originality, well done Pixie!
Dogs produce drool like Star Trek conventions produce nerds (no offense to any Trekkies reading!) In fact, one day last year, Rilla proudly trotted along the river walk way with her tail reaching up to the heavens in a merry wag of contentment whilst an autumn leaf was being dragged alongside her by an elasticky string of slobber that stretched right down to the ground! However, this special and repulsive talent which dogs are blessed with has in fact come in useful in the past in adding comical value to films such as Beethoven, and Turner and Hooch, so I don’t think that they deserve to have a point docked for this one.
Cats shower their owners with wonderful gifts such as mangled mouse which can be left out as a warning to all other mice to stay away, piles of feathers in case your pillows are getting a bit flat and need re-stuffing, or indeterminate piles of various organs of unknown origin, perfect for making offal stew for the in-laws – mmmmm! Sure, a dog will bring you your slippers, but let’s face it, how hard is it to fetch your own slippers? Your slippers are normally just a few feet away whereas your moggy will search far and wide for his thoughtful offerings!
If you yourself are lucky enough to be a white cat, you get to sit on the cool bond villon’s knee!
Cats have more mood swings than a bipolar pregnant woman whereas the majority of dogs will let you tickle their tummy or even tug their tail’s to your heart’s content (don’t try this at home, kids!)
Moggies are ideal for protecting you from those icky spiders when there are no men around... when they can be bothered that is.
However, hounds are very well suited to keeping away those pesky bills by either a direct attack upon them as they slip through the letter box, or when given the opportunity, they will head straight for the Holy Grail itself; the postman’s bum! This form of protection does have it’s downfalls though as Fido is indiscriminate as to what post he destroys, whether it be good or bad.
The fact that clinched it for me though was when I discovered this afternoon that a dog by the name of Laika was once launched into space aboard a Russian space craft, so slobber and walks in the rain and cold aside, the prospect of owning my very own astronaut dog was the deal breaker for me. Sorry feline lovers, dogs rule! Right, I’m off to find a suitably sized fish bowl for phase one of Rilla’s space training programme.
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Maiden voyage
Hi, as this is my maiden voyage into the world of blogging I thought I’d start off by introducing myself. I’m 25 and live in the Midlands with my ever expanding menagerie of pets. My fuzzy collection includes Jaffa the cat whose favourite pass-time is terrorising the local dog population with his spectacularly illegal, kick-ass wrestling moves, Jacob the cat whose favourite hidyhole is in the rabbit hutch, and who fears nothing - especially water, Curly and Wurly the chinchillas, Roly and Poly the ever-humping tortoises, Wotsit and Quaver the rabbits, Flip the miniature albino frog who’s missing his partner in crime, Flop. Punky, McVitty and Yoyo the guineapigs, and an aviary of birds. You may have sensed a bit of a sweetie theme going on with most of the pet’s names! I also have a guide dog, Rilla, who once thought it appropriate to stop to have a big poo on the pavement right next to a dial-a-ride mini bus which an elderly lady was disembarking from at the time - nice one Rilla, I’m sure that raked in the donations to the Guide Dog charity! Oh yes and how could I forget the most weird and wonderful of my co-inhabitants, my boyfriend of 8 years, Liam... OK, wonderful might be stretching it a little bit, and weird not enough, but that subject requires a whole other page of it’s own – trust me!
As you may have gathered from the mention of my guide dog, I’m visually impaired which raises a whole host of philosophical questions such as; why are lamp posts always where you least expect them to be? And why do they think that leaving a sign out in the middle of the room warning you of a wet floor is less hazardous than a bit of water? It also brings with it a few amusing moments like the time I miss-judged the distance of the hoover and hit my face on the top of the pipe leaving a perfectly ring-shaped bruise on my cheek, and I have a partially sighted friend who once asked a cardboard cut-out of a woman where something was in a shop.
Here are a few other quick fire facts about me;
- The Craven dale cow coming back for her milk scares me!
- I can’t touch a wooden spoon or ice lolly stick without getting chills down my spine.
- When we received our annual water rates two weeks after moving into our first home, my boyfriend asked if we had left a tap running thinking that the charge was for water we had already used.
- And finally, my biggest beef in life is people who make that clucky chicken/sloppy pig noise when they eat, or whose nose makes that squeaky whistle when they breathe.
As you may have gathered from the mention of my guide dog, I’m visually impaired which raises a whole host of philosophical questions such as; why are lamp posts always where you least expect them to be? And why do they think that leaving a sign out in the middle of the room warning you of a wet floor is less hazardous than a bit of water? It also brings with it a few amusing moments like the time I miss-judged the distance of the hoover and hit my face on the top of the pipe leaving a perfectly ring-shaped bruise on my cheek, and I have a partially sighted friend who once asked a cardboard cut-out of a woman where something was in a shop.
Here are a few other quick fire facts about me;
- The Craven dale cow coming back for her milk scares me!
- I can’t touch a wooden spoon or ice lolly stick without getting chills down my spine.
- When we received our annual water rates two weeks after moving into our first home, my boyfriend asked if we had left a tap running thinking that the charge was for water we had already used.
- And finally, my biggest beef in life is people who make that clucky chicken/sloppy pig noise when they eat, or whose nose makes that squeaky whistle when they breathe.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
