Things that make you go SQUEE!
2008-04-08, 10:18 p.m.
First off, before I get onto the Squeeeeee-ing, my lovely friend NITG showed me a free site where I can generate html code for the stuff that I�m typing, so I can make it look all pretty without having to actually, y�know, like, KNOW any html, but its resisting my best efforts to paste into my d�land page. Anyone know of anything similar that a tard like me (ie one who types stuff all day long but has never mastered anything more complicated than a hanging indent � ironically, it wasn�t considered necessary to teach the �bright� girls at my school how to do typing because we would obviously take our physics and chemistry O Levels and use them � presumably by a mixture of knowing how to mix chemicals which would render the poor chap unconscious and then to construct some kind of lever and pulley apparatus to keep him compliant - to�ummm�.get a husband which was pretty much all the careers advice we ever got. The thick girls did typing so they could work in offices and�ummm�get a husband from amongst the more important people in the company, ie the men. If all else failed, of course, we all took Home Economics and Infant & Child Care so we could become nannies and�.ummm�get someone else�s husband. *sigh*We all, obviously, also took special courses in constructing long and rambling sentences with no discernible grammar. And in �Not Being Arsed To Go Back And Correct It�. I aced that one, that�s fersure.
Anyway. The squeeeee-ing. Last weekend saw the return of Brummie Drummer Boy to our midsts as he was doing some kind of show at ChavVille theatre and needed some digs for the night. Needless to say, within five minutes he was drumming on the table and needed to be given some stuff to drum with:
Washing up bowl (thankfully not now needed to make a resonator banjo as Tom and Tam have gone home), yoghurt carton, biscuit tin, storage jar, two wooden spoons. What more could a jobbing muso need? Apart from the obligatory kafrillion cans of lager and a plate of fish-finger sandwiches, obviously.
We love Brummie Drummer Boy. SQUEEEEEEEE!
Jooj and Treacle are still in Florida so there was no pressing need to get out of bed Saturday morning. So I didn�t. By the time I roused myself it was nearly lunchtime and so we sat around for a bit, munching toast and chatting til our noisy (yet rhythmic!) friend went off to do a matinee and I went to Lidls. Back home via Mater and Pater�s for �something very important�. I put it in quote marks in the hope that I will remember what it was in a minute as I can remember it being vitally important and that I had to make a special trip over there. Nope. Its gone.
Sunday morning we were supposed to get up and go to church and hear our banns read but we got carried away with the partying with Lee and Anne-Marie (now tentatively back together � we have advised the exercising of caution and the being grown up and the not rushing back to the same mistakes. *fingers crossed*) on Saturday night and slept through til God-knows-when Sunday morning. No. HE does. HE knows EXACTLY when. He saw us. Although, I kind of hope he wasn�t watching EVERYTHING we were doing. Probably a bit busy listening to loads of prayers and stuff, seeing it was a Sunday and all.
Mater and Pater turned up and did a lot of chatting and being pleasant and not really getting to the point until they suddenly gave us a big fat cheque for us to spend on a honeymoon! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
The honeymoon was the one thing that we�d kind of figured we would have to sacrifice if we were running out of money (which we are!) so its lovely that they realised that and have really come up trumps. I hugged and kissed my dad AND my mum so much for that. And I nearly blubbed. I hope they know that I really really am grateful and wasn�t just saying I was. My mum said it wasn�t fair that we were doing so much in the house and the studio and doing stuff for the kids and the wedding guests but that we weren�t doing anything that was just for us. So now we�re looking at honeymoon destinations. Our budget�s still fairly modest but we�ve got one or two ideas that might just work!
Slaveboy was off sick today. I suspect that he was skiving as he sounded pretty much OK when he phoned in, but I am prepared to cut him some slack as�.as�..as I am a nice person, mostly. He reckoned he would be in tomorrow, which is good enough for me. My Guv and Juicy were also out today so it was just me, rattling around in the office with nobody to make coffee for me. I made it myself in the end but it wasn�t as nice.
Mid way through the afternoon I got a call to say that my wedding dress has finally arrived.
SQUEEEEEEEEEE-SQUEE-SQUEEEEEEEE (til I go blue, basically)
I�m driving up to pick it up on Saturday. I could have it sent to ChavVille (6 miles away) but the sales assistants in that branch are so rude and unhelpful that I have told Mike the Marvellous Wedding Dress Getter to keep it at his shop (50 miles away) where the staff are excitable and fun and will make a stupendous fuss of me when I drive up there. I�m debating whether to go on my own or to take someone with me. Mater? Slavey? Sis is back in Belgium so she�s out of the picture. Slavey has her new baby (which would have to come too and means that I don�t get Slavey all to myself. No fair.) And whilst the previous paragraphs might indicate otherwise, my relationship with Mater is still a bit too perilous to risk it, I think. I�m too scared that she will find something wrong with it, or say it doesn�t suit me, or monopolise the sales assistants who are supposed to be sucking up to me and making me feel special. I think I�ll go on my own. Maybe.
I am pathetically excited about it. Partly because Mike the Marvellous Wedding Dress Getter told me on the phone today that its �really special. Fantastic. I cant say anything else.� But also partly from the sheer fun of ordering a wedding dress that I have never seen. On a whim. From a foreign country. And picking it up with NO margin for error as there is only about 7 weeks til the wedding and I haven�t even seen anything else I even like a little bit in a �well, if I don�t like it, then that one would do� type way.
Did I say SQUEEEEEEE already?
All that and dinner at L & Ds on Saturday night to look forward to. AND a week off work next week. Except Monday. Monday, Slaveboy is having a day off cos he�s going to see French and Saunders. He is a git. I want to go too but the tickets are V expensive for a pauper like me. A pauper with a fabulous wedding dress and the wherewithal for a honeymoon, that is.