We have moved- almost. We hired two men and a van. I am
thinking I want some of my money back because we actually only got one and a
half. But to be fair they did sweat a fair bit- at one point I heard bedroom and
stripped. I ran up and took me clothes off. I thought T'was an invite. Well
what would you do? Anyway- what apparently was said that that was the bedroom
stripped! T'was just after that they sweated quite a lot. Gladly for me they
didn't call the policemans.
The new house is nice but you know how certain shops only do
clothes for skinny bitches? Well it seems these yer houses were built for
skinny bitches too.
I have to do a feckin vertical limbo dance to get in the shower.
T'wasn't built for cake people.
We be piled high with boxes. I couldn't find mines Mr
Husband this morning. I tapped on all the boxes. No reply. Did get a meow from
one so I think I may have packed the cat. What ye mean I don't have a cat?
Bugger. So I don't. Well there ye have it. I have packed somebody's feckin cat.
Bet it was PTYND's pussy. Was always creeping round my bush. Anyways I ended up
ringing his mobile. 'Where the feck are thee?' I asked him. 'Where the feck are
thee?' he asked. 'I'M ON ME MOBILE', I said. 'I'm at work', said he. Work? At
Feckin Work?? 'What ye doing there' I demands to know. You know what he said ?
No? I tell what he said- he said he was having a feckin rest and hiding from me
so he didn't have to carry anymore feckin boxes. Oh my days. Turns out he was
there yesterday as well. So that solved that mystery. If ye hears him shouting
tonight it will be because I am tying him to the bed to stop him escaping
again!
I hear ye askin what about ye neighbours? Well I haven't got
to speak to any yet- I am a bit shy and have aspergers so I shall just be
looking for now.
I have observed that she at number 53 across the way is
probably my kinda girl- she is cake shaped and he is pork pie shape. I am not
to keen on her at number 49 though- she goes jogging and to the gym. I have had
some run ins with joggers in the past although mines Mr Husband swears blind
that it be me own fault for telling them they will need to jog much harder if
they want to get that fat of that arse, and you need a better sports bra. I
thought I was offering sound advice. I do like to offer sound advice. So I
tried to be nicer- I even had mines Mr Husband stop for one so we could offer
him a lift- he just called us perverted morons. Well that's the last jogger I
shall be nice too. She next door at 23 is a Rebecca Adlington look alike- with
new nose and all and bit too smiley for my liking. I don't trust people who
smile first thing on the morning. It ain't natural I tell ye. T'other side at number
19 is another young girl- she looks a bit more sullen and a bit too ironing
board shaped if you ask me. She doesn't look like a cake person. I don't like
non-cake persons. Not to be trusted either. Also not good for mines Mr Husband
to see her bent over- he has a bit of blood pressure trouble. Over yonder you
can see from bedroom window, in t'social housing, I can see in the house with
the big trampoline and plastic slide and the gateaux (party size) shaped woman
with fluorescent pink hair and yellow dress that was bought in the shop for
skinny bitches, there is a nice young tanned hunky man who wanders around
wearing just shorts. Keeping me eye on him I am. Although tis true I have only
seen him from the back.
I have eyed a few bushes but none to make me green with Ivy.
I don't mean Ivy- I mean envy. I don't yet have bush envy. I don't have a bush
here either. So the bush and the shape it will be in will entirely down to
meself. I shall keep ye updated. I see over back at number 15 she have got nice
tits and a few birds I have yet to identify but tis all exciting. And I shall be back to let ye all know very soon.
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