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Scruffy and I know it.

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This week Boris Johnson surpassed himself by using the phrased “spaffed up the wall” when describing money spent by police investigating historical child abuse cases.  A day when an Australian man shot and killed almost 50 Muslims at prayer in his attempt to halt immigration in Europe (hello Irony?) and an Australian senator essentially blamed the Muslims for their own deaths by saying “The real cause of bloodshed on New Zealand streets today is the immigration program which allowed Muslim fanatics to migrate to New Zealand in the first place.” – Riiight? Okaaaay.  

Can I get a For Fucks Sake!

 

So Bman and I watched Ed Stafford’s documentary about the homeless in Britain – ’60 Days on the Streets’.   Bman took great delight in pointing out that it had only been on 10 minutes and he’d already seen 3 homeless people wearing the same coat as mine.  It’s a good job I don’t give a fuck isn’t it really?  I seem to surround myself with piss-taking cunts.  I think it’s safe to say that I can give as good as I get though, if not better.  Anyway I love my Shadwell jacket it‘s a great coat – clearly favoured by the dispossessed and streetwise of the nation for its warmth and practicality.  

It did occur to me yesterday though that since leaving the education profession, I rarely have the opportunity to make a sartorial effort.  My poor husband only ever sees me in PJ’s, naked, or in my walking to work ensemble of trackies/Koolkids tee, hoody, and the trusty Shadwell.  Of those three outfits, obviously, the naked one is the most attractive.  Would be nice to make an effort sometime though, so he could see me with tidy hair, some make-up and a something slightly more feminine – a dress & heels maybe.
He did take me out for lunch on Thursday – at Morrisons cafe because he knows how to treat a lady – but it was before work so, no make-up, barnet all over the place, slackydaks and work tee shirt as standard!

Maybe I should get him to take me out somewhere (but not to a dodgy German techno sex party in a derelict building*).

🙂

*see these previous blog posts Bman’s dodgy night out

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There is some remaining glamour under there somewhere

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Workwear these days

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Tis the season to be maudlin

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Song Lyric of the Day:  “Sometimes I just feel like quitting. I still might. Why do I put up this fight?  Why do I still write? – 8 Mile, Eminem

Movie Quote of the Day:  “Don’t you sometimes hate yourself? / Constantly!” – Sunset Boulevard

Broke up for Christmas holidays on Friday. TFFT!  After a week of Christmas parties, visits from Santa, pantomimes and helping dole out school Christmas dinners – I am DONE!  Avoided the work night out & took to my bed after a hot bath. I just wanted to get into bed and stay there until January but hey ho (ho ho) – shit to do, places to be.  I had a 3rd birthday party to attend in Manchester the next day. 

Rave on!

After sleeping on the sofa due to waking up with a headache and Bman in full drunken snoring mode, I got back into bed.  Ended up beefing over fuck knows what. Feeling crap and useless I think. Initially brought on by poor show of festive love tokens from the children this year despite having taught most of them so far this school year.
Mostly I was upset because I remembered that I am a jackass. Always being a daft cow, waste of space, always will be.  Most of the time I switch that off but every now & then I remember & I feel bad.

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Bman helpfully supported me through my pity party with his customary “FFS! WTF is it now?” Then proceeded to tell me about a dream he’d had where he’d also cried for no reason aswell.  Strangely, this seemed to help snap me out of whatever it was that was happening and spurred me into getting up and getting ready for our trip to Manchester.  Also, I needed another cuppa and it didn’t look like anyone else was going to make me one.

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After coughing up my guts on the train with people looking at me like I was the one who starts some kind of epidemic like that movie Outbreak, I decided to get fucked up on as much non prescription meds as I could.  Mucus relief liquid something or other.  Down in one to the warrior!

Arrived in Manchester and went on a mission to find a purple liquid eyeliner. Was beginning to wonder who I had to sleep with to obtain such an item when I remembered our friend Captain Ebay! One should be with me in time for my birthday on Wednesday (Which is NOT my 50th thank you very much).

Town was insane because it was the last Saturday before Christmas, so we didn’t hang about before heading off to my sister’s for the 3rd birthday gig.

Great to see some of the Fam and the niecelings all giddy as loons for Christmas and birthdays etc.  Even funner to see their little faces when ‘Rapunzel’ arrived.  Natch, sis & I had to get in on the photo opp. TBH I think she skimped on the hair. Not long enough by a long shot.

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Glad you can’t see the snot stain on my dress from where I had a huge coughing fit

 

Once all the children had gone I had a cheeky jump on the bouncy castle (not in a Rita Sue & Bob Too type way).  My sister has the photos of that, otherwise of course I’d include those right here in all their glory.  I didn’t even piss my pants and my nieces thought it was ace that Aunty Tit was being silly.

This morning we ran the gauntlet of town again.  Let’s get her a Build a Bear for her birthday I said. Let’s go in on the Sunday before Christmas I said. Hey at least nobody else in Manchester was in the Build a Bear store then. At least City weren’t playing Arsenal or anything and everybody had clearly finished their Christmas shopping.  Fooks sake!  Busy is not the word.  Neiceling had an emotional breakdown in the queue in the store as we waited to get stuffed.  I don’t think she really knew what was going on.  My youngest ended up getting roped in (at my insistence, as I took photos for bribery purposes) at pressing the fluff foot pedal to stuff the bear.

We finally escaped, 50 sheets lighter, with a princess bear that smells of cupcakes, in a Beauty & the Beast costume.  Tried to go for full English at my brother’s restaurant but it was slammed busy. Ended up with an inferior sub-standard Co-Op sandwich meal deal on the train.  Bman, redeeming himself for not being in a fit state to pick us up from the train station after his night out, by making me a full English (veggie style obvs) for my tea.  He had text me asking if it was ok if the DJ from the party could stay with us for a few days.  I wasn’t sure if he was fucking with me or not so I half expected to find him & an aged old-skool acid house legend partying away in the kitchen with lasers & fog machine on turbo!  Fortunately he had only been kidding me on.  Good job really, as we had to abandon the airbed in Manc after it finally gave up. Dunno where the geezer would’ve slept.

Now it’s time for bed, where I intend to stay until Tuesday and be grateful for the roof over my head and being warm and not having to sleep in a doorway or know anyone personally who has to sleep in a doorway.  I saw too much of that today as I blew £50 on a fucking cuddly toy.  Not helping my inner brain turmoil of ‘isn’t the world just a bit shit’.

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I can see a donation to Centrepoint on the horizon, when what I really want to do is invite them all home for a wash in our shit shower. Make them a fish finger sandwich & ask them what happened in their life to reduce them to such a mess.

😦

Ciao Tutti Xx