“Notes to self” from the end of 2012

Isaac became potty trained and is no longer in nappies in the daytime; he is no longer a baby.

Little boys who switch to pants find themselves “fun to play with”.

I’m pretty good at cooking goat meat.

My boys are insanely polite and well mannered when it comes to opening gifts (N “would you like another present to open, Isaac?” I “oh, yes please Noah, thank you very much!”)

Big Small’s birthday is DAYS after new year.

The Gruffalo is awesome.

We’re all quite partial to a cup of tea.

Gruffalo tea cups

Turns out people really do like my photography.

Set an earlier cut-off date so I’m not making deliveries on Christmas eve.

Speech delay can be a right bitch, but holy cow once it’s behind you, you’ll forget what it was like.

Despite already getting better, I’m terrified of successfully dealing with my mental health.

When The Smalls find a favourite meal (rice, peas, sweetcorn, pancetta, prawns and egg; pork noodle stir fry; fish pie; whole roast chicken with roast spuds and steamed veg), they will eat several portions of it in one sitting.

They’ll eat it like it’s going out of fashion.

Kids, noodles and chopsticks make a hilarious combo.

It’s perfectly acceptable to scream like a mentalist when Noted Fashion Photographer Nigel Barker tweets you on twitter.

Friends are better kept online than trying to do all that stuff in real life.

Every time I want to blog something, I find myself not saying what I want to say. This pisses me off rather a lot.

Rah Rah the Noisy Lion is really noisy.

When people voluntarily send you beer in the post, it’s because they are FUCKING AWESOME.

Grow a slightly larger pair of balls sometime soon.

Take Noah on the Severn Valley Railway more often.

Find a way to tell the weirdos on twitter to stop being weird and go away already.

Bacon just never becomes boring

Christmas Wishes and some really Awesome Things

Like most people, I have a Christmas wish list. Don’t we all? So in true Christmas blogging spirit, here is mine, in no particular order.

1) I wish for the ability to perform a Shinku Hadoken. For those who aren’t die-hard Street Fighter fans, observe:

Because sometimes, I just feel the need. And necessity.

2) I wish for Gordon Ramsay to tweet me. My stalker tweets are escalating to levels similar to that of Tweet Me Stephen Fry, and quite frankly, I just don’t have the time for that.

  • the tweet needs to make reference to my arse.
  • the tweet needs to be in such a way that everyone sees it, not just those who follow us.
  • yes I am making specific demands.
3) I wish for shares in Calpol and Minadex. Because I swear to God, the Smalls have gone through enough of the stuff in the last month to have out me on the same level as frillionaires. Had I not spent all the money on the meds, of course.

We're actually Calpol druggies. And proud of it.And while we’re on the subject of drugs,

4) I wish for The Smalls to stop frigging well being ill omg the Facial Orifice Fluid PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.

5) I wish for shares in Kleenex Ultra Balsam.

6) I wish for people to stop being weird prunts on twitter/Facebook. I know you think you’re being funny, insulting me or taking the piss or having a dig whenever you feel like it? No. You’re just being a prunt, and I don’t take too well to prunts, you know?

7) I wish for jackpot lottery tickets, ideally to win in the next few weeks. Because if you don’t ask, you will never know.

8 ) I wish for my brain to stop being a fucked up piece of shit, in the hope that I can work out who the hell I am, and therefore be able to cope with myself in 2012. Now that’s a nice thought, eh?

9) I wish to become so insanely gorgeous, that when I fall out of bed looking like shit, I DON’T fall out of bed looking like shit, but looking, well, insanely gorgeous. With bigger boobs.

10) I wish for PR people to just back the fuck up for a second and think carefully about what you’re sending me. And if must fuck up a PR email, please fuck it up good and proper, so that I can point and laugh at you, bitch about you on twitter, write about it and then point and laugh some more. OR, on the flip side, be so fucking awesome that I can’t help but send you emails laughing about penises/penii and googling questionable street names. I’m looking at you, Luke. I heart you a little bit.

11) I wish for a Canon 5D Mark II, with EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II USM, EF 50mm f/1.2L USM and, you know, a Hasselblad. Preferably, the H4D-40 Ferrari edition.

Camera car porn beyond belief. Now go change your knickers.

courtesy of BMXWonderland

12) I wish for peace, happiness, success, good health blah blah. And bacon. And rum. Lots of rum.

How I would like to do all half term holidays from now on.

They fill you with dread, right? School holidays. 2 Little People running around whom you have to feed and entertain, and (apparently) in a responsible fashion. I took extra measures to survive. I’m pretty fucking proud of my methods.

Monday – I went full-on hands-on mom. They painted, played tunnels, cars, tents, went for a walk – we were on FIRE. However, this is NOT the time to start potty training. That’s just stupid.

Because he will poop in his nappy as soon as you put it on. Of course.

Took them to Wagamama for lunch. Yes, on a Bank Holiday. AND WE SURVIVED. We parked in a car park which was empty, while everyone else queued to get into one that was full. I am yet to understand this. We sauntered straight in, served immediately, started eating.

About 20 minutes in, there was a queue of around 50 people waiting to be seated. I sat there smugly while we casually ate our food.

Then came the crucial part to surviving the week – CRUCIAL – I met up with my sister-in-law and we consumed 2 bottles of wine each. I remember strolling home at 3:30am with Lotso Huggin’ Bear (a much loved and appreciated gift from her) clasped firmly in my crispy aromatic duck-scented fingers. I awoke Tuesday morning to find Lotso firmly rammed under my chin and the desire to drink a bath full of water.

Tuesday – Hmmm…Tuesday is vague to me. I was still drunk. Though I do remember sleeping on the sofa while the in-laws made their weekly visit to see the boys. I didn’t drink any wine that day. But I’m pretty sure I was still drunk that evening. Either way, the boys were awesome with each other.

Wednesday – Still a little hazy, but again, I was helped with the weekly visit from my mom. Go play in the garden (thank you sunshine). She wrestled with them, they wore themselves out, wolfed down the EASIEST prawn and pea risotto. They spent the afternoon watching what I thought was going to be my “Emergency Entertainment Source” – the Tangled DVD, which I’d got on standby. I let them watch it anyway. The credits weren’t even finished and they demanded to watch it again. Who am I to argue? It’s a bloody good film, dammit.

Accompanied, of course, with a picnic tea on the lounge floor when their dad got home.

Thursday – Well Isaac goes to nursery so it’s just me and Noah. Which means…. LEGO.

And not the pieces the size of a house, no. The cool stuff that makes you scream every fucking obscenity under the sun if you step on one with bare feet. And it’s TOY STORY Lego. I want to go and get more of it. For Noah. Obvs. Noah and I also met up with The Mr for lunch – a STEAK pub. A pub which serves almost nothing but STEAKS. Big slabs of MEAT. Served with MEAT. And chips. And MEAT. My kinda place really.

And then clearly half term realised I was actually having a brilliant week, because now the painters are in and holy crap do I have the cramps. But that’s ok because:

Friday – I no longer give a shit because I’ve buggered off to Devon to “Rock The Frock“. See ya on Sunday, innit?

TwatRelief Or TwitRelief. Potayto, Tomahto.

Lately, twitter has had me wanting to stab my eyes out with toothpicks and barbecue them vinegar for various reasons. I won’t go into detail.


I will detail the latest reason for wanting to do so. It seems, in aid of Comic Relief, a very worthwhile charity event which I do support (I hasten to add, before you all get a bit shitty at me for slating a charity geeze will you stop clawing at your face for a minute) have come up with “TwitRelief”.

On the surface, it seemed like a reasonably clever idea.

Buy a celebrity for charity!! I’mma OWN YOU and PIMP YOU for charity!! OMG HOW COOL IS THAT!! Until I woke the hell up this morning and read it properly.

Uh… PAY FOR THEM TO FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER? …uh…are you shitting me? Must I be that desperate for celebrity love, I must now PAY for them to follow me and/or tweet me? Is this the best they could come up with to get people to give to charity? How many people will overlook the purpose behind this? I’m already seeing tweets such as “Omg! Totes can’t wait to get on Richard’s next film!” Yes, and the money you pay will be great for charity! Right? Oh? Oh you don’t give a shit?

Huh..fancy that… (And added to that, as soon as it’s all over, just how fast do you think they will unfollow you? Oh. Em. Gee.)

And I’m sorry, but celebs? Hang your heads. Or even better, just hang. Is this your way of “getting closer to your fans”? By attaching it to charity? Or is this a good way to ease your conscience? Yes, you must feel SO much better. Good-oh. I saw tweets from tattooed_mummy and she hit the nail on the head with THIS tweet. I know many others won’t see it that way.

So myself, @nickie72 @MumsRock and @hermelness are pimping #twatrelief. I’m sorry, but I don’t need to “buy a celeb” to donate to charity. I don’t need to pimp a celeb to give to a worthy cause. And I can think of BETTER WAYS! Like #twatrelief. Below is a bloghop. Write a post nominating your choice of celeb for Twat Relief, stick your link in the bloghop below. Then go forth, mulitply, and er, UNFOLLOW twat celebs. If you link, don’t forget you can always GO AND DONATE via our TwatRelief account to Red Nose Day WITH A CLEAR CONSCIENCE. I know I will be. And I won’t have any celeb trying to decide if they want to tweet me for money or not. Urgh.

I’m also thinking I’ll give £10 for every day that #twatrelief trends on twitter, ON TOP of what I’m already donating WITHOUT having to get a celeb to tell me to do it. Just sayin’.

So go on! Biggest celeb for Twat Relief? Who are you going to unfollow? Post your noms. Go and donate. You know you want to.

(edited to add – we’re thinking @CharlieSheen receives my first nom. Oh yes. Yes indeed.


The Great McDonald’s Fries and Milkshake Debate

As I’m typing this right now, there’s a debate going on on twitter about milkshake and fries. Nothing about my milkshake bringing the boys to the yard, no, it’s all about dipping your fries in your milkshake.

No *rolls eyes*, NOT a euphemism.

This conversation with my awesome moustachio’d friend just took place. (start at the bottom and read upwards)

And then we were inundated with some of the most RANDOM food combos I had EVER SEEN.

There were people with milkshake specifics.

I can’t even remember them all so here are the ones I caught:



Er – pb and marmite ISN’T fkdup shit, @producerjodie???

Er – no.

I can get this. But no.

Girl you are SHITTING me.

And then…well…then came visuals. (click to see the fucked-up-ness)

Now if you will just excuse me, I’m off to go and mix all this stuff up together and give it to the boys for tea. Unless you want to add some more suggestions below of course. There might be a prize for the one that makes me ralph the most.*

* Not.

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