Friday, 27 November 2015

Black Friday - STOP IT - and other madness

As I type this sentence, it is 9.45 am.  Last night, before I went to bed, I emptied my trash in my email account.  My trash now has 284 emails in it.  Black Friday, Black Friday, Black Friday...  I see the words, I hit delete.  Last night's news programme showed scenes of last year, people fighting, actually physically fighting over goods in store.  I also watched an episode of Watchdog which told me what I and most people with a modicum of common sense already know... the prices are hiked up in advance, and then slashed on Black Friday.  There were items that were actually cheaper earlier in the year, had been put up about £250 since August, and then slashed?  Come on, as a nation, we're really not that stupid, are we?  Everyone is in competition with everyone these days, just spend a little bit of time looking, and you'll get what you want for the right price.  It's all crap that they can't get rid of.  Or stuff that they'd have shoved in the January Sale ANYWAY?  Get a bloody grip!  If we were going to steal a tradition from the US, why didn't we steal Thanksgiving itself?  Or at least the bloody foodie part of it?

Mr G and I have been in separate beds this week.  His snoring has been awful and costing me too much sleep.  In the early hours of Sunday morning, after kicking him umpteen times hadn't worked, I whacked him.  Unfortunately, in his stomach.  He yelped in pain.  And I slept downstairs Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.  In my son's double bed.  THE most uncomfortable bed ever.  No wonder he moved out.  So, Mr G has been moping, with a sad face.  He missed cuddles.  He was cuddling my pillows as a makeshift me.  He couldn't sleep without me.  Please come back to bed.  So, last night I relented.  He made an effort by putting one of those breathing strips on his nose (but still managed to start snoring, while still awake...?).  I slept and woke up about 6 am.  I checked the time.

Mr G: When have you eaten sprouts?
Me: I haven't, why?
Mr G: Your farts smell of sprouts.
Me: *giggles* Shell's Festive Farts.  Greggs do Festive Bakes (yes, yes they do, I've had 6 in the last two weeks #reasonswhyI'mfat) and I do Festive Farts!

I sit up, put my glasses on, come to.  Then I hear a scream...
Mr G:  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Me: What the bloody...
Mr G: Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!  Help!

I switch the bedside lamp on.  He has pulled the nasal strip off.  And somehow, managed to drop it on his nipple.  And it had stuck fast.  So, with no pussyfooting around, think waxing, I just whipped it off.  He screamed again.  Bless him.  They're not for anything but decoration, are they?  Really?  What are men's nipples for?  I'm starting to sound like my youngest son, which leads me onto this exchange.  This is what it's like most mornings, sat with Adam.  Incessant.  Moidering.  I've taken to having a text document open on my desktop so I can record the things he says as they happen in real time.

A sample early morning in the life of Frazzled Shell... Friday 27th November

Adam: Mum?  How many minutes are in a million seconds?
Me:  What do I look like, Carol bloody Vorderman?  Google it!  That's what it's there for?

Adam:  Mum?  Are there different types of almonds?
Me:  Yes.  Whole, flaked - liked the ones I put in my Christmas pudding.  Chopped ones, ground ones that look like powder, which I use for certain curries?
Adam:  Are there wild almonds?
Me:  Oh... I don't know.  Waitrose might have them.
Adam:  I saw it on Youtube.  They can kill you.
Me:  Ah.  I thought you were talking about ones you buy in shops.  I tend to steer away from the ones that kill you as a rule...
Adam: Then there's puffer fish...
Me:  Jesus...

Adam:  Mum?  How can an apple kill you?
Me:  I don't know.
Adam:  *giggles* Maybe if it's thrown at your head?

Adam:  Mum?  Is there a mushroom where you see pretty colours?  (LOL!)
Me:  Yes, yes there is.
Adam:  What do they call them, drug mushrooms?
Me:  Magic mushrooms.

Adam:  Mum?  How did Hitler die?

Adam:  I've never had a poo at school.  Well, it'd be a bit weird seeing as I take all my clothes off to have a poo.  Can you imagine the teacher looking under the door and seeing me sat there naked having a dump?  Awkward!

Adam:  Mum?  Do baby crocodiles make cute noises?
Me: I don't know. 
Adam:  Mum?  Do you know rattlesnakes, do they do the rattle from the back of the tail?
Me: DO I LOOK LIKE DAVID BLOODY ATTENBOROUGH?!

All in a morning's work... ;-)  I cherish moments like this while I can, and I'm blessed to have this blog to be able to capture them for posterity.  Have a great Friday, Black or otherwise.  Don't get trampled on.


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