Saturday 12 August 2017

Tombstoning, Knickers and Sandy Cracks



You all be thinking Beth be quiet. I have been tis true. Got 'shit' I have to sort. Important Owl shit and stuff. But I can tell ye this much, whilst I am sorting the important Owl Shit I overheard mines Mr Husband on the phone to the Dr telling him he needs help getting off the crack. I was shocked. Me heart near enough stopped and corns started throbbing. So ye are all now. I was in a panic. I ran round in little circles. Mines Mr Husband is asking for help to get off the crack. I didn't know he was on Crack. Although sometimes tis true it looks like his eyes are going in different directions. And other days they looks likes lollipops on sticks. Like nipples on a cold day. Anyways after much a wailing and shouting, turns out he was just trying to find out if they could help get him outta his chair since I put that gorilla glue in his crack when he was asleep face down. He gets stuck fast on seats now. Phew. I can highly recommend gorilla glue for sticking stuff, especially butt cheeks together. Tis expensive but worth it.



Also this week me EMU cream has finally arrived so now I can put cream on me Emu. To be truthful it does have black pepper in it so I am not sure how me Emu will fair with a smattering of black pepper- but I am all for a bit of experimenting. Also been busy back and forth for days to the only place left on the planet with any panadol night time. Getting meself a fair ol stock now. That miserable ol' bint at chemist is getting a bit suspicious now. Mines Mr Husband has told me to use a disguise. So tomorrow I am wearing me sun hat and me swimming goggles and the next day I will add me snorkel. The following day I shall wear the same but leave me knickers at home. She will not know tis I.



 On Thursday mines Mr Husband took me up the land of Broadchurch (he will take me anywhere that man- he has no shame!) As soon as we arrived mines Mr Husband saw the face painting again. I didn't want all that tantrumming shite again so I let him be a zebra. Just for the day mind you. I not be wanting a feckin zebra hanging round me all the time. People will be thinking tis mightily odd when I go into Tesco with a Zebra in tow. Then he spotted the henna tattoos and wanted his hair braiding. I said 'noooo- you don't have any fecking hair. You be as bald as a coot'. In the end I let him have a henna tattoo of a rabbit on his bald bits cos from the distance it looks like hairs. Then he had a paddy for a bubblegum and fish and chip flavoured ice cream with curry sauce. Good job they are obliging in the ices parlour. Still he managed to get that all over his fizzhog and down his best shirt. He had to take it off. I said 'Well pink and blue check didn't go so well with the zebra look anyways'. Then soon as his shirt was off the old lady with the walking stick started rubbing her hands all over his hairy chest. 'Ooooo hairy chest- I love hairy chest' she said. Oh- hang on- that was me -yes that was my hairy chest. Then he decided he wanted to go tomb stoning. Well he didn't actually decide- I was trying to persuade him. But he was having none of it. He said Zebra's didn't tombstone- he said that as 'leapt' of the cliff edge. To be fair he did need a helping hand. Just a tiny one. Then he got chased by a lion. I said 'Told ye it was a mistake to be a feckin Zebra- not only can ye not go tomb stoning ye are prey for the lions'. Then he said he wanted a ride on the choo choo train up and down the seafront. We looked for one but alas they didn't have one. I told him they wouldn't be letting zebras on a choo choo train anyways in case they doos big doo doos. Then he started to cry and his stripes started to run. His face was such a grey mess tinged with blue from the bubblegum icecream. He looked then like an elephant with a cold trunk. 'Pull yer trousies up man' I said. Then a woman, who oughta know better started calling him elephant man. I thought he was going to cry again. I thought I better not call him that again. I thought it better if we come home. On the way back to the car he started to fart. I am sure it was the bubblegum icecream. The third time he did it I said (in my sternest dinner lady voice)  'STOP THAT'- and he said 'I would but I don't know which direction it went in'. I tell ye, I am going to think twice about going out again for the day with him...............Gone are the days when yer went to the seaside and yer just got sand in yer crack.

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