Giving a Blow Job the right way....................

Another funny week

Tuesday - I can't believe what a misery arse mines Mr Husband is. Would you believe that now, not only I am not allowed to take my ironing board and exercise bike on holiday- he has actually made me unpack the ornaments and three pictures I had packed. He says we are going for a week and not feckin moving in. I know that ye eejit husband. I always think ye needs to make yeself feel at home on holiday. He said 'as it is ye have only booked us in three miles down the road, we can pop back if ye needs to see ye feckin ornaments'. Don't know why I bother sometimes!

Thursday - Oh my- you should see the tiny bit of clothes Mines Mr Husband has packed for holidays- whoopee- leaves room for ornaments!! Also he has packed swimming trunks- I have asked him 'what ye packs they for to go on holiday?' He said he might go swimming. 'Well', I said to him 'Ye haven't in 12 years, so I don't see it happening now'. So I took the swimming trunks and replaced with an ornament. Taking up feckin valuable ornament space with feckin trunks. What next? I asked if it was ok to take books. He said yes- I thought he would. He likes books. 'Good' I said 'how many boxes of books can I take?'. He looked at me (somewhat despairingly I thought) and said ' One. One book. Not one box'. Feckin cheers Mines Mr Husband- we only have the cookery books unpacked so far. I am opting for the 'greedy girls cookbook'. I am not letting him share mine. He might want to start experimenting in the kitchen and that always leads to heartburn.

Wednesday: So Far mines Mr husband has unpacked : The hand held cleaner; the bath mats; shower curtain; spare shower head; ornaments and three pictures; picture hanging set; hammer; set of saucepans (they always of have old knackered ones on holiday that your food sticks to); frying pan (ditto); set of basins; electric whisks; electric heater (WTF? it will be sure to be cold- and I know it is central heated but it might not be on!) However he has let me keep packed matches; pens; torch; and a ball of string.

Friday -

Well that was one of those nights that you wish you hadn't bothered to go to bed! Two hours sleep. Awake for five hours and one hour nap! And to top it all MMH was sat on the edge of his bed last night in his nuddy pants after his bath (cos that's how we bath in this house - call us old fashioned) I was just out of the shower also in my nuddy pants (cos that is also how we shower in this house) down on mines knees getting the hair dryer out (unbeknown to MMH) when he unwittingly asks for a blow job. I don't think he will be so quick to ask in future! He will at least check l am not holding my super duper hairdryer in my hand. I don't know whether it was the extra hot setting that did for him or the diffuser attachment. Either way it will be sometime before he can walk straight again!!

We did engage in some pillow talk last night (after the hairdryer incident) where it transpired that Mines Mr Husband lives with me and exercises great patience and tolerance. I asked why? Why the feck? He didn't seem to need much time to think about this. Apparently I have a lot of quacks and fur balls. One of them he suggests is that I am very clean but not very tidy. I pointed out that he is very tidy but not very clean- and I know which I would rather be! Cleanliness is next to Godliness me ol' granny used to say. She also used to say put clean knickers on when ye goes out in case ye gets hit by bus. I guess ye don't want all the passengers on the bus saying 'did ye see the state of her drawers?'. Anyways, not only but also, mines Mr Husband, now living dangerously continues that I lack 'logic'. What the feck??? 'I am,' I tell him, 'the most logical person I know of '. He says 'well ye don't now many peoples do ye?'. I have to remind him I am big in Alaska. Then he tells me I am beautiful (altogether now - AWW) then, get this, he claims that he is the one with the brains. 'Yes,' I says 'they are in your little furry balls' (which incidentally now dangle from his ears). I am not the one who went on a national game show with a head full of useless knowledge that didn't win us any money because I was sidetracked by a damsel in distress and therefore I forgot to use my brains. Now he is going to write me a list of all my quacks and fur balls. There could be another divorce statistic looming me thinks! He wants to be grateful we don't have enough feckin paper in this house for me to write a list of his!!

AND REMEMBER this guys - Happiness comes from within- that is why it is good to fart.

Jack and Jill Went up the Hill.......................................

Jack met Jill and he was smitten. She was a bit of a tearaway and felt unloved. So Jack married her and gave her a home. She wanted a baby but Jack wanted to be responsible and have enough money to give his kids a good life. But Jill came off the pill and tricked him. They had a baby. Jack fell in love with the baby, as did Jill. For a while the three of them lived up the hill and were very happy. But Jill decided that Jack had quite a few faults and she tried to change him. But Jack wasn't quite ready. So Jill decided to kick Jack up the arse and out on his ear. He pleaded with Jill but she was a hard faced cow and had her mind made up. Still Jack came back and pleaded some more. Jill liked the way that sometimes Jack still made her feel and along came baby number two. But Jill was a hard faced cow and told Jack the baby is mine this time and don't come back. Jill saw her solicitor and divorced poor Jack and made him sign to say he would pay everyday for what was his. Then Jill let Jack baby sit day in and day, and pay for the food and nice days out until Jill met Peter and Paul, Tom, Dick and Harry. Eventually she settled for Little Boy Blue because he was younger and she could blow on his horn. She was a hard faced cow and sent Jack packing again with 'and don't come back'. She wanted a new life with Little Blue Boy and Jack was bereft. Jill and Little Boy Blue changed the kids surname and tried to cut Jack right out of their lives and told the kids that daddy was a dead beat and he didn't care. Jack wept and wept until he eventually decided no more to weep and met up with Little Bo Peep. Little Bo Beep said all was ok and he was entitled to see his kids and so he did. But Jill was jealous of Little Bo Peep and she was a hard faced cow. So she was unkind to Little Bo Peep and she tried and she tried to stop access by Jack to his two little boys. She told them daddy was a dead beat and not any good. And in fact they should just call him Jack. Eventually Little Bo Peep got lost with the sheep and Jack was lonely and bereft. He wept and wept. He took a big stick and filled his best hanky with snot and off he went into the big wide world to seek his fortune and bury his sorrows. Eventually he met Miss Whiplash from Venus. She knew he had faults but she would whip his arse into shape and would love her bits. His kids were now grown and Little Boy Blue didn't love them like his own. But still the kids thought Jack was a deadbeat and that he didn't care. But Jack thought of them everyday and every night and knew that one day they would see what a hard face cow Jill had been and all he had wanted was to be a good dad. They grew up into fine young men and had kids of their own. They knew how hard it was to be a good dad. They knew what a swine was Little Boy Blue. And what hard faced cow was Jill. Yet Jack he wanted to be a good dad still. That though is what is sad. Because Jack was denied the right to a role in the lives of his boys he found it real hard to know how to behave- you see you need to practice everyday to be a good dad. Whereas being a hard face cow comes natural to some. His sons don't know how to be good to poor Jack. Every birthday and every fathers day and every Christmas day Jack is reminded what Jill has done in teaching her boys they had a dead beat dad. And Little Boy Blue get his horn blowed and showered with gifts he barely deserves. Poor Jack sits with Miss Whiplash from venus - but he knows for sure she will always love him to bits.

Neighbours Tits, Stripping in the Bedroom, Bush Envy Again!

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.

Naked and Wrapped in Bubble Wrap

Well the time it seems av come me ol' muckers. Tomorrow morning we pick up the keys to the new place. We are kind of packed (not to my usual standard but I am running at a very much reduced capacity these days and so is Mines Mr Husband). He was showing signs of grumpiness this morning again so I grabbed the bubblewrap and tape gun and picked out a nice big box. He struggled quite a bit and finally he won. But he knew I meant business so he made me a nice cuppa of tea and put some music on for me and told me to get naked. 'Who runs this show?' I asked him. Apparently him as I was naked in seconds. Also wrapped in bubble wrap and put in a box. I have only just got out - tempted by some Carte D'OR Latte icecream. Then mines Mr Husband, detemined to show me how much cheered up he was did some singing to me. I have since got back in me box and taped meself up and I have place some brown paper in me ears. Probably I may be offline after tomorrow for a while because the old tenant at the new house, who is not still there by the way, hasn't paid his cable bill and we can't have cable until we can prove we are now the tenants. So, what I say to ye all is this- if ye don't be hearing from me ye can text me if ye have me number and if ye don't hear from me don't forget me. I Be like Arnie Oldsportsknickers - I WILL BE BACK!!! Be good all of ye and have super duper hugs and loves from me. And if ye are having a bad time at the moment remember I loves thee.xxxx

Naked Ramblings and Down on all fours

I am typing this from inside a cardboard box. Tis only place left in the house. Mines Mr Husband has gone missing- I think he may be lost in the maze of boxes or even packed in one. I keep hearing muffled sounds interspersed with farts. This is why I haven't bothered looking for him. The carbon monoxide thingy that's detects obnoxious fumes keeps going off- so at least I know that for the moment he is still alive. I want to find him later because I have a dead seagull for him that I found last night.

Anyways I want to tell ye  that the osteopath has told me that having arthritis in the spine means that my mobility will get worse- I guess this means that I will soon have trouble walking to my mobility scooter. I asked him if it means I will have to give up my hobby. 'What is your hobby?' he asked 'Photography and bird watching' I tells him. 'Well' he said ye can still do that'. 'Well' I told him, 'I climb naked up trees to do it'. He gulped. 'Well', says he, 'I think maybe ye should re-think it'. This saddened me. 'Ok,' I tells him, 'I will wear me hat and gloves in future'.  After the stripping naked debacle he made me lay face down on the bed. I told him I am more comfortable on all fours but he made me lay flat face down whilst he attempted to un-stick some of my bones. (And yes, it is every bit as painful as it sounds! You can gasp here!!). When he had me flat down and my poor face buried in a pillow he said 'I suggest you take up aqua aerobics'- I tried to respond but he was pushing me into the bed with his knee firmly in my back 'Aqua feckin whatabics?' I says. 'Be still and quiet' he says. To be honest I was rendered speechless. Not often that happens. Then he made me turn over and he tried to lift my legs above my head. Tis a very long time since I done that. I did warn him that it was not good to do that but he didn't listen and that was when I farted and blew out six candles. Anyways I told Mines Mr Husband what he said. I told him 'I think mines sister (the psychotic one with the camel toe and all the kids) does that aqua acrobatics stuff in her bedroom'. He gulped. 'No my darling, that is something else entirely' he says. 'My friends at the airport do thems aerobatics' I said- 'I think I could do that'. Apparently that's not the same either. Anyway mines Mr Husband is going to buy me a swimming costume. No idea what feckin for. Ye won't get me going swimming. I don't like water. Also mines brother  don't like water. Or soap. Or deodorant. Dirty little fecker he is.

Well I would love to sit and chat to thee all day but I got a tip this yer box on its side and get out there be jobs that won't do themselves and I have just spied mines Mr Husbands head over the top of the boxes- oh no wait- it's a boiled egg......

No Knickers and Ropey Cocks

I know ye are all wondering what I am up to. I bet ye all thinking I be quiet. Well I ain't. And I can tell ye it's not just Septic Blaggard who has been having a tough couple of weeks with his Fifa. Nope. I have too. Not with Fifa though. I be trying to pack boxes among other things.( Depsite a devastating diagnosis this week on my health I am getting on with the packing. Can't be stopping to beggar about with pain.) Plus I had two shocks yesterday- Marguarite Pattern died aged 99- that was the first shock- the second was that she was still alive- I thought she was already dead. In fact I never thought about her at all really. Him at number 5 with the ropey cock lit a bonfire in the middle of the day- he got a piece of my mind I can tell ye. Twice. But I still ended up getting me washing in because he don't understand feckin sarcasm. I shall let the tyres down on his mobility scooter and shove his walking stick up his arse I shall. The agent did four viewings without ringing me first. I made him grovel and apologise. Then I made him do it again. He has cancelled tomorrows viewing at 9am because I told him I would be naked and on me wrecking ball. One woman viewing worked hard to convince me her dog was house trained and well behaved. 'Mrs', I said, 'it ain't my house- I don't care if he shits in every feckin corner'. But I did point out the mould in the bedrooms. Like to be fair I do. I don't care if they let it again or not. I also seen me osteopath. Strip to ye underwear please he said. 'Underwear? Underwear?- Feck- I knew I forgot someat!'. I stripped anyway. I asked him if he was stripping too. Then he told me to get dressed again. Can't make up his feckin mind I tell ye. Well I try to catch ye all again before me internet goes off after the weekend.

Blow Job and a Pimms Please

Its been nice out here today so I said to Mines Mr Husband 'it's nice out, so get it out'- the sun bed that is (my oh my what were you thinking? what kind of a girl do you think I am?)- So I found my bikini and after waxing it I was able to slip into it easier. Then I said to mines Mr Husband 'drag the sun bed into the garden area'. He was a bit reluctant at first so I flashed my boobies at him. I put me sun glasses on and sprawled right out and shut me eyes. I was just soaking up a few rays when a sexy husky voice said 'can I do anything for you?'. Straight the way, thinking that mines Mr Husbands voice had dropped an octave or two, 'oooh yes please, I will have a blow job, a slice of cake and a drop of pimms to wash it down'. (I have never had Pimms but it sounds summery and perfect to go with cake). Anyways if you are wondering that is how I got chucked out of Homebase. But I tell ye what, they sun beds are most comfortable. They made a mistake in chucking me out of there- I may have bought one!

Blow Jobs, Stripping and Stuffing

Whoopee, today I get to go to Dunelm (two days in a row). Forget a meal in a fancy restaurant, forget a day at the races in the royal box, or tea with the queen (I have been known to turn these down in the past- well the fancy restaurant thing anyway) just let me loose in Dunelm with a trolley for a couple of hours and I am in heaven. What gal doesn't love a lovely treat such as this?...............

Oh mines Mr Husband is in pure heaven. I bought him a new stapler to staple the bottom back on the sofa. He is sooo happy and so impressed. I am buying him staples for Christmas!

I read that beards can be covered in pooh. Oh hell, that is disgusting (but not surprising- men are fecking dirty gets- they think soap is an ornament and water is for making coffee only!!)  Anyways as for beards I have shaved mine off now-so no pooh here!

Mr Cameron sent me an email. He wants my help. I thought what could Mr Cameron possibly want my help with. Me a poor working class gal thats currently disabled and outta work? Perhaps I thought he wants some ideas on running the country. (I do have a comprehensive list) Or someone to meander through his bank statements to see where savings could be made. Or perhaps some money saving tips for his shopping? Or some furnishing ideas from Dunelm.  Does ye know what he wants? He only wants me to give him twenty quid. Yes. Twenty feckin quid. Not even lend. He actually used the word give. Well donate. Even the kids don't use donate and give even tho that's what they mean. Well Mr Cameron, as much I would like to help ye, I ain't got a pot of me own to piss in. So please ask someone else. Ye Gods! What next. Just take the feckin food straight outta me mouth why don't ye!

Trawling homes for rent and came across graves for rent (albeit in Greece but never let it be said I am always open to new ideas). I ran the idea past mines Mr Husband who pointed out that he thought you needed to be dead for that. I tell ye, he is always pissing on my cornflakes. Anyways, no harm in looking.............

Little note to self and bit of advice for you all- if your man asks you for a blow job he doesn't mean with the nozzle attachment of the vacuum cleaner- apparently! Gee waiting times in  A & E are long these days!

Never name something you are going to eat I have been told. That my friends is why I haven't eaten my kids! Yet.

I am exhausted, we spent two days stripping and stuffing. Mines Mr Husband has done such a good job I said 'mines Mr Husband you could take this up for a living'. Anyways he don't wanna be an upholsterer even if he has  made our  knackered sofa  look like new.

Mines Mr Husband can't be taking me on adventures this week because we shall be house hunting. So I will have to make something up. BRB.