fortyplusandfrazzled

Life really does go backwards at 40

10 Reasons why not to try Yoga

1, It doesn’t burn any calories

2, You can’t bare to share a room with a bunch of double jointed twiglets

3, Have you tried on a leotard?

4, Spend the money on cakes much more enjoyable

5, You will fall asleep and snore during the lying down bits

6, Fanny farts, I shall say no more

7, As an activity its somewhat difficult to pin down so is zorbing

8, Greater body awareness, Im fully aware thank you that everything is going south

9,  Concentration, I can sit on the loo and prepare in my mind my shopping list

10, If I could bend like that I would make a fortune

ūüôā

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10 Reasons not to have chidren

1, They give you stretch marks

2, The little boogars throw tantrums

3, They spout the most stupid rubbish you’ve ever heard in your life

4, You don’t¬†want to be a grandparent¬†before¬†you’re 30

5, You don’t have a money tree at the bottom of the garden

6, Your parents don’t want anymore children

7, You will never have any teaspoons

8, They will put you in a care home as soon as they can

9, You don’t want anyone else giving you the evils

10, You will have boobs like spaniels ears

 

Yes I know the list could be masshoosive ūüôā

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I really should have just gone back to bed

You know one of those days where you should just go back to bed and start again, well today is one of them. When I say today I mean Sunday as by the time I finish this post it will be tomorrow which is Monday therefore yesterday rather than today if you get what I mean.

First thing I did wrong was stay up way too late and have too much wine last night being Saturday.

So needing to get up early I wake at 9.15 which is extremely late and the frazzle dogs are sacked for not getting me up early. I head downstairs to make tea for myself and Mr F, I let the very lazy dogs out for a piddle. I have the concentration span of a gnat so I’m distracted by, well I don’t actually know to be honest. In my distracted state and without realising I make Mr F a cup of teaoffee, a tea bag and a spoon full of coffee in one cup, who knows it may catch on, if it does remember you heard it here first. Personally I blame the teaspoon, bit harsh as it’s the only bleeding teaspoon left in the house all the others have been chucked in the rubbish bin by the emos, but there you go. I head upstairs with mug in hand, present mug to Mr F who just sniffs and frowns. Now in my defence I am grumpy because I’m late up but Mr F’s needs to stop sniffing the mug. I cannee resist it no more and say, it’s not got fairy liquid in it, Mr F replied I know it bleeding hasnt you’ve made me flipping teaoffee again you dingbat. Now at this moment in time I contemplate throwing said mug of teaoffee at Mr F but stop myself as it will be me that has to change all the bleeding sheets.

Showered and dressed I shove the essential items in my bra which is my second handbag, car fob and poo bags one side and phone tucked in the other side. It’s emo 3’s 16 birthday tomorrow being Monday so I head downstairs as I have some prezzies in the boot of my car. Distracting moment happens again and I’m sidetracked by Hugo the washing machine, something catches my eye in the loo so I bed down to investigate what it is and plop goes my car key fob. I clutch my bra, phew phone and poo bags are safe but not the fob. Unfortunately my fob is siting amongst emo 3’s hair extensions which middle emo tried to drown in the loo. Hand goes in and I detangle my fob out of the hair, yuk.

I head out to the car and start pressing and nothing, nowt, bleeding diddly squat, Boris will not be letting me delve into the contents of his bum. Yes everything in this house has a name, Boris being my car. I shout Mr F who suggests I use the spare fob, great only I have no idea where the fek it is. So this information relayed to Mr F he advises I will just have to let it dry out. Sometimes I just wish Mr F wouldn’t state the bleeding obvious. Bingo moment, I’ll call Minji emergency assistance, Minji being my name for Mini.

The lady on the other end of the phone hoots with laughter as I tell her what the problem is, not really very helpful at all. She tells me that the man from Minji will be with me within the hour and he will have a new fob for Boris. So I wait and a very cheery man arrives within the hour. Mr Minji asks me what has happened and I explain the problem, whilst telling Mr Minji my woes he develops a frown and says, oh bless you my dear. Now if I’m not mistaken I’m just frazzled not bleeding possessed so I snort at the man from Minji that I do not need blessing I need access to Boris’s bum. I’ve never seen a man shift so fast, Mr Minji clearly thinks I’m a picnic short of a sandwich and proceeds to give me a new fob. In my defence sometimes saying nothing is better, men take note……

Next on my list is a birthday cake for emo 3. I’m not bad at baking but to be honest my friend BBG is great at making cakes. Quick check of what time it is, I think perhaps it maybe a bit late in the day to ask her, she is one of those people who will do anything to help others. I’m just about to start writing a text when I am suddenly reminded of the last time BBG baked me a cake. Now I know she wont mind me saying this but she is just like me easily distracted, she managed to blow up her brownies which went everywhere. BBG arrived with birthday cake and I’m looking at her thinking what the feks that in her hair so I ask her. Poor BBG hadn’t realised that when the brownie mix exploded and hit the ceiling bits had fallen off and landed in her hair which is blonde. Bad idea, she was traumatised, she had been shopping and to various places with her hair full of brownie mix, cant do it to her again. Ok so I admit I have cheated and purchased a cake from the shop, doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?

Chocolate Party Cake image

So dinner has to be prepared, Dad will soon be here and needing to be fed. Now my fuggly dog decides she is going to start impersonating a demanding toddler and proceeds to whack me on the leg with a plastic santa on a rope whilst pulling faces with her tongue lolling out. Fuggly dog isn’t a pretty dog at all, mind you she fared better than one of her sisters, Ronnie, who was seriously hit with fuggly stick and looks like batfink……….

Distracted again and after half an hour of flinging plastic santa around the garden I am allowed to get on with dinner.

So dinner is on and Dad arrives and asks whats for dinner, when I tell him I have a ham roasting he isn’t impressed, he thought it was beef. Now at no point did I say its was beef and start negotiating with Dad. Eventually I give up and shove the Sunday papers under his nose.

Dinner is served with much grumblings from the Dad corner. Dessert time, now it’s either strawberries and cream or ice cream or blackcurrant cheesecake. After much deliberation by both Mr F and Dad hoorah we agree on strawberries. Now comes the painful bit do you want cream or ice cream. 20 minutes later and after lots of what do you want, no what do you want and lots of I’m not bothered they are given cream. I resist the urge to fling the cream at the pair of them, ffks it’s not a life threatening decision, cream or feking ice cream, simples.

Everyone fed, Dad is plonked on the sofa with escape to the country on the tv, he falls asleep so I start clearing up. Demented toddler acting fuggly dog continues to slap me with plastic santa so off we go up the garden again.

Dad is despatched home with Mr F going along to make sure the correct bins are put out, I will add Dad is sent home with a portion of cheesecake or tomorrow I will get, what happened to the cheesecake.

It’s now evening and the masshoosive ironing pile catches my eye and I meep. I start with good intentions and after 3 shirts I have had enough of fuggly toddler dog and its plastic santa so off up the garden we go. Now why I decide at this moment in time to inspect the garden I have no idea. I flit about with lots of oh’s and eeks as I notice the splendid display of masshoosive triffid weeds. I don my gloves and head in to remove the triffids but wait I am distracted yet again. On closer inspection its a nettle that’s distracted me. Now sniffing a nettle is a stupid idea, I was stung on the nose and it feking huts let me tell you, so much so I gave up, alas they will still be there tomorrow.

The rest of my evening was spent trying to reason with the fuggly toddler impersonating dog who has now fallen in love with my left leg. Believe me a fuggly gurning, tongue lolling dog hanging off your leg whilst whacking you with a plastic santa on a rope aint no pretty picture so plastic santa has been flung over the fence and no doubt is in the neighbours pond.

I head to bed with high hopes that tomorrow will be a better day……………………………… next joke ūüôā

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An ode to emo 3

I can’t believe that she will be 16 tomorrow…

I started in labour at 6.00 in the morning, one twang and I thought hey up we are off. Having had 2 other children and not long labours but around 6 – 7 hours I thought I would have plenty of time so I decided to get up, shower and hit the ironing pile.

Ironing away at 7.00 and the pains started to get stronger so time to get everyone up and ready for the off. 7.45 kids dropped off at the child minder and I’m on my way to the hospital.¬† 8.15 I’m on the labour ward trying to explain I need to push. I’m rushed to a room and at 8.22 as I am trying to get on the bed emo 3 enters the world like a bat out of hell…….

Emo 3 weighed in at 9.10, not what you would call a small baby but not as big as emo 1 who weighed in at 10.7, emo 3 started as she meant to go on……

As a baby she slept all night but during the day demanded attention all the time. As a toddler she was into everything and had no fear of anything. When she started school she was always in the middle of everything be it good or bad, many times I was called in to see her teacher because she had pushed someone or her favourite trick was to wind someone up and just stand back with her arms crossed watching the situation unfold. Every year she managed to get one of the lead roles in the school play, it would appear she loved to perform and would belt out songs chosen for the plays.

Emo¬†3 was keen on sports, running, long jump, rugby and horses were her passion. She wasn’t what you would call¬†a girly girl. Most weekends she could be found bareback on a pony jumping whatever she met and belting out a song, no fear for her or her pony. She once jumped off the top bunk and landed eye first on a radiator, how she managed that one I still have no idea but had a¬†massive black eye which she was rather proud of. She received a broken cheek during a rugby match and carried on regardless and she broke her ankle falling off her pony but it didn’t stop her getting up and getting back on. I was always in A&E and fortunately because I was a nurse and knew the staff I escaped the interrogation that a lot of parents are faced with when their child is injured.

I’m not really sure what happened but she went from being Mrs Moon face to Evil Lyn overnight at the age of 10.

So at the age of 10 everything stopped, no interest in sport or ponies.

The last 6 years¬†can only be described as bleeding awful. I look back to how I was at her age and there is no comparison at all, I helped my Mum as much as possible and¬†she certainly didn’t have to ask more than once.

Emo¬†3 has a nack¬†for sarcasm¬†but cannot take it when its thrown back at her. She has the weirdest¬†dress sense and looks like a tramp and as for her hair it was orange it’s now mucky¬†white and is soon to be baby blue. If you havent¬†read my post ‘my emo just blew up the microwave’ in emos¬†then have a look to see how ham-fisted she is.

Emo 3 has just taken her last exam and in her mind has no need for a GCSE in history so what does she do she excels herself by drawing a bonfire on her exam paper and writing the following ditty,

Build a bonfire, build a bonfire

Put my Milfy on the top

Put my ginger sister and tarty brother in the middle

And set fire to the bleeding lot

I receive a call from her school to advise of her latest stunt and quite frankly I don’t¬†know what to say anymore however middle emo gets wind of the ginger comment and flips.

My house became a scene from Baghdad, middle emo has taken it upon herself to teach emo 3 a lesson…….

Middle emo in a rage, she has picked up the first thing she found which happens to be a plastic spatula and attacked emo 3. I am slightly relieved¬†that she didn’t¬†use a rolling-pin¬†or a frying pan as the spatula¬†appears to have come off worst. Middle emo has taken one set of hair extensions and tried to flush them down the loo, the other set have been thrown out of the window and run over several times. Various pairs of emo 3’s shoes are festooned from trees in the garden and some of her clothes appear to be in next doors pond. CD’s are smashed, make up is emptied and as her last part of revenge middle emo has taken a pair of scissors to¬†emo 3’s random assortment of bracelets and now feels revenged by her actions. Me, well Mr F and I took refuge at Dads and left them to it.

I have¬†no idea what will become of emo 3, she is going on to study A levels, well that’s¬†if the school will still take her, her chosen subjects, politics, photography, french,¬†english¬†and journalism. She will probably turn out to be the next Kate Aide however it is very unlikely¬†she will be reporting on troubles more likely she will be the cause of them.

 

Oh how I miss you Mrs Moon ūüė¶

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Would you like an almond dearie

Back again to my days as a district nurse.

We had¬†an old¬†lady who had alzheimer’s¬†and required assistance getting to bed. Every night¬†we would pop in to put her to bed, she was such a lovely lady and every night¬†before we left we would be offered an almond from the bowl by her bed. I always refused as I’m not a fan of almonds¬†however the nurse assisting me always took one. This ritual went on for weeks until I was asked to cover for one of the day¬†staff that was ill.

I arrived for my shift and checked down to see who was on my list and the lovely almond lady was to be my first visit.

I arrived at the almond ladies house and was greeted by her daughter who has just popped in with a few bits. I get almond lady up and dressed and settled in her front room whilst we chatted about her daughter and her grandchildren. As I was about to leave the usual¬†offer of an almond was made, but wait no I was offered a sugared almond this time. I politely refuse and say I didn’t realise you liked sugared almonds, almond lady smiled sweetly and said I don’t dearie I just like the sugar, my daughter keeps buying them so I suck the sugar off and place the almonds in the bowl. The bowl¬†being the same bowl that was by her bed.

In future when the almond lady asked if my colleague would like an almond¬†she would politely accept and place the almond in her pocket to be thrown away later ūüôā

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What’s in the Wellie then…….

When I was a teenager there were only two things I wanted to do when I left school,

1, Be a professional 3 day eventer, this was cut very short when at the age of 13 and despite my instructor having the patience of a saint it became apparent that I had the patience of a 2-year-old and was actually very rubbish at the dressage bit. I did try extremely hard to concentrate but found myself distracted by the slightest thing. I’m not really that good at doing the slow stuff so that idea went out the window.

2, Train to be a nurse, now before any of you fall off the chair laughing, yes I did say nurse. So once I left school I applied and was accepted and had the biggest hoot ever.

I loved nursing and when I qualified I was offered a job in A&E, oh yes believe me I could write a book about some of the things I have seen, great place to work. Some years later and due to a move I left A&E did some further training and was offered a job as a District Nurse in quite a rural location.

I worked what was called the twilight shift, I started at 8 had an auxiliary nurse to assist me and between us both we covered a large area. All visits were usually finished by 1.00am and I would be on call until 8 the next morning when the day shift took over.

Nurse Gladys had nothing on me ūüôā

So on to the tale…

This one particular night I received a call from the local hospital asking if I would go out to see an old chap that had a sore foot. Now usually I wouldn’t get called out for these types of things but there had been a major¬†road accident and there were no available ambulance crew to attend. I take down all the details and they add you will need to take a pair of wellies with you.

Half an hour later I’m¬†dressed, bag packed with various items as you never know¬†with a sore foot, so off I go, The address I’ve¬†been given is that of a farm, now I have no sense of direction what so ever and this being before the days of satnav, regulation¬†map books were issued, fine but I’m¬†also rubbish at map reading. Now I sort of have an idea of where the farm is, I’m¬†looking for a break in a field with a track, yep most bleeding fields have tracks of some form in them so yes I entered¬†a few fields¬†that night before I eventually find a track that leads to¬†the farm, in my defence its the middle of the night and it is pitch black.

As I¬†approach the farm-house I see a light on downstairs which fingers crossed means I’m¬†heading for the right farm. I squelch to a stop, open the door and met by mud everywhere. Fortunately for me my wellies were on the passenger seat. Wellies¬†on I squelch across the yard. I knock on the door, no answer but lots of barking¬†so I open the door and I am met by a vast assortment of dogs, good job I like dogs. A voice from the corner cheerily shouted, what’s taken you so long I could have been dead by now. Sitting in the corner was a very old man¬†who was best described as a cross between Compo and Victor Meldrew fully dressed and wearing wellies. I introduce myself and before I have finished my name grumpy farmer shouts, I’m not blind I can see you’re the district nurse. So I can only assume he is obviously not a happy farmer.

I am told to put the kettle on, district nursing is not just about injections, dressings, a thirst for tea and a good ear is a must. Kettle on I address the purpose of my visit.

I gently suggest that perhaps grumpy farmer may like me to take a look at his foot and I’m¬†told there is another patient that he needs me to take a look at first. Now if I’m not mistaken the information I was given is that grumpy farmer lives alone and has no family so I am slightly confused by this request¬†and ask, do you have someone staying with you. Grumpy farmer points towards the oven door,¬†I’m¬†not great with surprises and ask, whats in the oven. Grumpy farmer points again to the oven and adds don’t worry lass it wont bite you.¬† Now I’ve heard this one before and had many a peck from a ninja budgie. So there really isn’t much for it I’ll have to look in the oven or I’ll never get to inspect the sore foot. So apprehensively I open the door. I am greeted by a piglet, oh great now what. Grumpy farmer tells me the pig hasn’t¬†been suckling and his mother has stopped feeding it so he brought it in to get warm. At this point I’m¬†still confused as to my role in this problem, Grumpy farmer tells me to feed it. Now I’m¬†no sow nor do I possess teats so I’m¬†now faced with a dilemma, how the fek am I supposed¬†to feed it. rummaging¬†through my bag I find some large syringes, that’ll do, warm some milk and feed the piglet. Piglet fed and back in his box in the oven we have one slighty less grumpy farmer.

I have now been at grumpy farmers for over an hour and need to call the hospital to update that I’m¬†still alive and havent been trampled by cows. Call made its time to address the sore foot, grumpy farmer really isn’t wanting to show me his foot as I am requested to make more tea and listen to his tales.

Time to bite the bullet, I tell grumpy farmer I need to take a look at his foot and hurrah¬†he beckons¬†me over. Grumpy¬†farmer lifts his wellie¬†clad leg and says to me, I think my foot has fallen off. At this moment in time I want to run for the hills but being a professional I can’t¬†so I take his left wellie¬†firmly in my hand and atempt to tease it off. Despite teasing this wellie¬†doesn’t¬†want to come off so I casually ask grumpy farmer, when did you last take your wellies off. Grumpy farmer thinks for what seems¬†like ages and announces last year some time, oh the joys. The boot appears to be stuck so I announce I’ll¬†have¬†to cut it off, at this point what I should have¬†done¬†was called an ambulance and let A&E deal with the stuck wellie. Scissors in hand I attack the boot, grumpy farmer continues to grumble about the cost of wellies and I keep hacking away. Now I’m¬†not sure¬†at what point during hacking the most horrendous smell starts permeating¬†from the boot and it does not smell like almonds, well not any almonds Ive smelt. With brute force the¬†remains¬†of the wellie comes off and oh my days goes through my head.

Grumpy farmer has gangrene, he clearly hasn’t¬†been looking after himself and is probably diabetic. Not sure if anyone has ever been faced with gangrene¬†or the smell, all I can say it’s quite¬†horrific. At this point I realise there isn’t¬†much I can do, he needs to go to hospital and have whats left of his toes amputated.

Call made to the ambulance service who assure me they will be with me as soon as they can. I set about trying to clean grumpy farmers foot as best as I can but I admit defeat and offer to make tea and explain to grumpy farmer he needs to go to hospital.

Now at some point during this grumpy farmer realises he has a slight problem, he has no relatives, help or friends to call on so I am instructed to grab a pen and paper to take notes.

Cows need to be moved from cattleshed to field.

Pigs need feeding.

Chickens need feeding.

Dogs need feeding.

Notes taken I tell grumpy farmer we need to pack a bag as he may be in hospital for a while. I am instructed where I can find everything and after climbing over things squeezing through gaps as this house is rather similar to those on the hoarder programes. We have a bag packed and we are ready for the off. The ambulance crew arrive and start getting grumpy farmer ready for the off.

Grumpy farmer is wrapped up and in a chair ready to go so I start clearing my things away and I’m¬†stopped in my tracks when he announces the note Ive just written¬†is for me and I will also¬†have to look after the piglet. Ok so now what, my negotiation skills fail terribly as grumpy farmer insists¬†that I must stay and feed the animals but agrees to me taking the piglet to the vets and asking them for assistance with the farm.

I wave grumpy farmer off and promise to pop in and see how he is getting on. Right now to find the phone and a phone book to call the vets. After much pleading the vet agrees to take the piglet but only when surgery opens at 8.00.  So here I am stuck in the middle of nowhere with an assortment of animals that require feeding and a sick piglet and its 5.00 am.

Yes the cows got let out, all the animals were fed and the piglet¬†safety¬†delivered to the vets after being towed out of the mud by the RAC. As for grumpy farmer, I visited him a few days later in hospital, unfortunately he lost most of his toes but he was pleased to see me. I popped into see him when he went home and was pleased to see that he had hired¬†a couple to help¬†with the farm and housework. ¬†ūüôā

I gave up nursing¬†13 years ago when it became more about paperwork and performance¬†stats and retrained. I miss nursing but have¬†good memories and a few more tales to tell ūüėČ

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Mr Frazzle has created a new Avi for me

I do hope you like it, I think the likeness is remarkable

And here is one of me with Frazzly dogs outside Frazzly Towers

¬†Mr F truly has excelled himself and will be treated to¬†‘favourite dinner’ ūüôā

 

Actually thinking about it if I turn round my bum will look masshoosive ūüė¶

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Eek there’s an emo asleep in my bath and its not my emo

Just a little background about my ‘big emo’ to help you understand the dilemmas that I face with this one.

Big emo is 23, he works and technically hasn’t lived at home since he was 19 however work permitted he is home every weekend. Big emo is in the forces so at camp he is smart, punctual and his room his spotless.

Cue scene to Frazzle Towers, his room can only be described as a bomb site, there is not one bit of floor showing as the clothes on his floor are about a foot deep. Big emo drinks far too much diet coke and on my last count there had to be at least 40 odd bottles under his bed. One day they will explode and he will be squished against the wall. I refuse to go in there now unless it’s a life or death situation. In his defence his bed is always made.

Big emo has the morals of a slug when it comes to girls, his stance is they are way too expensive and anything more than once is considered to be ‘in a relationship’. Despite this he appears to be very popular with the ladies.

Now the house rules at Frazzle Towers are NO overnight female visitors, end of.

Big emo is very fond of a good night out and unfortunately the beer goggles go on and well lets say some of his friends with benefits can only be described as masshoosive mingers.

Bearing in mind the ‘house rules’ big emo has made it his life’s mission to bend this rule. On numerous occasions I have been faced with many awkward moments, quite recently he had a visitor and had left his bedroom door ajar, the Frazzle dogs smell sense detecting a visitor bowl straight in, heads under duvet for the poor visitor to wail like a banshee causing the frazzle dogs to think yay its playtime, turns out poor girl was petrified of dogs. Thanks to his ethos we wont be seeing her again.

So back to last night

Big emo announces he is off out and as always I say have a good time, be careful and remember no female visitors, the reply as always is, yes Mum.

As usual we all go to bed nothing odd there. Now I don’t know about anyone else but when I go to bed I hit the deck and Im gone, when I was 10 and on a family holiday I slept through an earthquake, my parents thought I was missing, I wasnt I was still in bed soundo.

Being of a certain age I now find I have to get up for a wee several times in the night and bearing in mind how deeply I sleep… So 5 o’clock this morning I need a wee, I trundle to the bathroom eyes still closed, no need for a light on because Im not really awake. Right this is probably way too much information….. Down I sit and off we go. Now if my ears are not deceiving me someones just said “howdy” from the bath. Ok I am now awake and the light goes on.

What happens next can only be described as a scene from a horror film, I find big emo’s bestie flat-out in my bath. Now I’m not sure who is more shocked me or him so cue the screaming from both of us. The frazzly dogs think I’m being murdered so add in lots of deep braying which soon stops when they realise who is in the bath, they would be useless if I was being murdered by someone I know. Now add in the girl emos and Mr F all trying to figure out whats going on and I’m sure you can imagine the chaos. Hang on, there is someone missing from this, big emo, so I charge into his room outraged, switch the lights on and find myself greeted by someones backside mooning at me. Now without being too personal this backside smiling back at me isn’t hairy and sure enough a head that isn’t his pops out of the bed.

The only thing I could think of was tea, tea is brilliant in any situation. So there we all are, my girls still laughing hysterically, Mr F shaking his head, frazzly dogs still think its playtime and the bestie from the bath just sat grinning at me. In walks big emo and visitor, big emo asks, are you making bacon sandwiches Ma?. Before I even have time to launch into any form of outburst his visitor announces she is a vegetarian.

I have no idea why bestie was in the bath, we have a spare room and its got a bed in it. I have avoided asking why he was in the bath as frankly I am still traumatised by the whole thing. If I find out he is relaying this via Facebook I will tell everyone about what he did with a slug when he was 6.

As for the mooning visitor well im sure we wont be seeing her again ūüėČ

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Oh My Days, I have chewing gum in my pants – PART 2

I have been asked  how I resolved my dilemma so here is part 2.

Where did we get too…. Ok yep I’ve got it now ūüėČ

Right so there’s me sitting in my chair having made up the most feeble excuse I can think of to go home and I am¬†totally stunned at my stupidity.

So off I pop, when I say pop I actually mean walk awkwardly because every stride is painful. Driving my car home, people sat in traffic next to me must have thought Jeez what is that Nutter doing body popping in her car.

Believe me when I say Airwaves Black menthol chewing gum¬†with eucalyptus is evil, I mean it is pure evil. If you have ever made the mistake of not washing your hands after deep heat or chillies…. well there you go.

I’m home and I still really don’t have¬†a clue what to do next…….. So after a few very unhelpful suggestions below from friends,

Dick, Mad stare. Thanks Dick that was really helpful, Btw Dick is female

Mr F, various most of which I can’t repeat

Lil, google it, so I google removing chewing gum and,

Peanut Butter Method, use the toothbrush or comb to work the peanut butter in. Use long strokes down and outwards. If necessary, use a large spoon behind the affected hair to act as a firm base to brush the peanut butter on. If the gum is spread out, use more peanut butter. The whole idea is to dissolve the gum with the oil in the peanut butter . Sorry but that is a waste of peanut butter.

Spray on hair mousse. Apply as much mousse as you need to cover the entire area that the gum is stuck in. Use a comb and gently comb the gum out of your hair. Er no way am I trying to comb my lady garden.

Rub the area with alcohol. Rub alcohol into the affected area and it should come off in about a minute or so. Wash your hair with shampoo. Sorry but that is just a waste of Pimms.

Chocolate, melt some chocolate and rub some of the melted chocolate into the gum. The chocolate dissolves the chewing gum’s stickiness – so it can be brushed or combed out instead of having to cut it out. Haha hot chocolate on me foofoo I think not.

The list is endless….

So I’m now stuck with a lady garden that looks like it been invaded by bindweed, for those non gardeners bindweed is a vining plant that snakes its way across the ground and over fences, plants, or any other stationary thing in its path. It has medium-green arrow shaped leaves, and pinkish flowers that look like those of morning glories. Bindweed can grow four feet or more in length, and has deep, strong roots.

So the next option is waxing, I can’t have a landing strip but is there such a thing as¬†side landing strips and thinking about it if I did have side landing strips would I¬†end up with crusty the clown staring back at me.

Scissors next, Edward Scissor Hands eat your heart out. 10 mins later and I can still see chewing gum, I am so rubbish at topiary. So there is nothing for it but as a last drastic measure it will all have to come off.

I now look forward to in about 3 days itching like mad. Yes this is what I will look like.

I will be the one twitching, dancing on the spot whilst gurning,  this will happen at the most awkward moment in time.

Before I go there are just a few mentions Id like to say,

Dick I love you too bits but stop with the mad stares

Mr F you are just so wrong sometimes

SSB, I am so sorry your Mum laughed so much her teeth fell out, fancy reading it to your Mother

Bird, you really¬†are the best, one I can’t¬†believe¬†you didn’t realise it was me and secondly neither of us has inside voices so your hooting, snorts and face puling was seen and heard¬†by everyone on our floor

BBG, well what can I say you just crack me up

40 year old domestic goddess, Sorry I made you trickle

Last thing honest…

Remember dispose of chewing gum responsibly ūüôā

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Oh my days, I have chewing gum in my pants

Yes you did read that correctly…. eek *rolls eyes*

At some point this morning whilst on the loo at work (too much information I know) I must have chucked my chewing gum in the loo, well that’s what I thought…..

So next time¬†I go to the loo my knickers are stuck to my front bottom, mini, tuppence whatever you want to call it, I know yet again too much information. So at this point and not knowing what the actual problem is I’m standing in the loo with my pants stuck to me. On closer inspection I get a whiff of mint, right if you haven’t by now pressed the back button ill continue…

Bang, slap on the forehead, bewilderment, gasps, horror and a huge big sigh I’m still standing there and all I can say is WTF oh my days.

So 10 mins later, lots of ouch, fek oh and a few eeks and add in the odd comment of, are you OK in there I mange to separate myself from my knickers, now the dilemma begins, If i pull them back up I’ll be stuck again, but what to do I’m at work I can’t take them off so no option but to pull them back up and do the British thing, stiff upper lip and all that.

So carry on regardless seemed such a good idea, let me tell you it’s not, my bits and bobs are now stinging, airwaves menthol is evil.

I decide I will ask Mr F for advise, sticking my bottom half in a freezer isn’t helpful at all.

So I can’t sit here for the rest of the day like this I’ll have to book a half day, oh god what am I going to say, I’ll have to lie.

Oh my days

 

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