Trump got me some bling for my birthday. You can’t really call it bling because it’s too tasteful, but it’s got sparkly bits in it. It’ s lovely and it sits beautifully on the second finger of my left hand – it’s a touch too big for the third finger of my right hand, where I’d normally wear a ring. I flashed it at Connie and she gasped “That’s not on your ring finger is it?”.
No, Mother, not yet. But think on and look sharp because one day you might have to be forking out for a wedding that you’d thought you’d got away with!
Twilight world
It’s that strange time of day when the world starts coming awake. It’s actually a bit later than that, but this being Manchester, nobody bothers getting up for work, so it stays quiet until a bit later in the morning…. or dinnertime, as it’s known around here.
Little Rocky is in his twilight zone; he has not fulfilled his holy trinity of wee, breakfast, poo, so I am waiting for a bit till I make him go outside again.
You see, parents don’t have this, so they? They just shove a nappy on a baby and let it mess itself so they can clean it up at their own convenience. Pet (dog) owners need to get their animals into a routine or the consequences can be disastrous. And smelly.
I haven’t had a wee or blown my nose yet; I feel a little other-worldly myself. Nothing beats a good productive nose-blow. You always have to manoeuvre the tissue to give it another blow to try to dislodge a sticky one; wiping bogey on your nose when you know that tissues just don’t work on those ones and a poke with a finger is the only thing that’s bringing that baby out! I don’t advocate nose-picking, but sometimes, in private, needs must.
The dog is turning into an adolescent. He met a friendly lady dog on Monday afternoon who was lovely and calm with him while he sniffed her face, then tried to hump it (her face). He is demanding more sleep; we now have to get him out of bed in the morning. He sometimes drops to the floor and refuses to move while we’re trying to walk him.: “I can’t believe you’re making me WALK. I HATE YOU!”
Yesterday, he threw up at the entrance to a place where he wasn’t allowed to go in. Good boy!
Yay! First!
I simply LOVE picking my nose.
Especially those ones that are almost, but not quite out of reach.
When they come out, the feeling of satisfaction is ace. Especially if they have that wee tickly tail on them too.
As if you didn’t screw with you mother’s head for a little longer. You should have shown her the ring while rubbing your belly with the other hand – confuse the shit out of her! Amateur.
I like it when it feels like my brain is being pulled out with a sticky bogey. Very cleansing.
Um, I’m a picker with a tissue. In private. Although, whenever I actually witness someone else picking a booger (American spelling), it’s when they’re driving. I think 99% of all nose-picking is done in a car.
Oh, and parents have that schedule thing, too. It’s delayed a bit more for when your progeny finally realizes that they have control over their bowels and you are toilet training them. My god, such a rigorous schedule! Human shit is so much nastier than canine shit.