Hit Me Like A Hammer To My Head (with a stolen credit card)
2013-07-30, 11:16 p.m.
So. I thought Id come over here and have a good moan about how fuckwitted my husband is and how he let A PIECE OF MY CHANDELIER go down the waste disposal yesterday when I was cleaning it and then got proper pissy with me because I was annoyed about it, even tho the chandelier is a �previous life� one and so cost a shit-ton of money. Anyhoo, I was stood on the loo seat fixing all the (unmangled) chandelier bits back up and thinking about how hilariously I was going to retell the tale of the Hapless Dolt and the Priceless Antique (!) and the Industrial Machinery and giggling to myself about how clever I am, when a neighbouring piece of the aforementioned light fitting tumbled from my grasp and bounced into the sink. I say �bounced� as that sounds so much better than �smashed�, which is what actually happened. Serves me right for trying to get a comedy diary entry out of my dimwitted spouse�s inability to function as a human, I guess.Anyway, there are much more important things to tell! I have been helping my friend Coraline to decorate her first grown-up big-girl�s flat. She didn�t have any of the stuff she actually needed (brushes, sandpaper, gloss roller) and most of the stuff she had was crap (bucket � but no cloth/sponge, diet coke � at room temperature, giant shiny brand new claw hammer) and we were just at the stage of starting to argue about wanting to go to buy some proper paint (me) and whether or not we should persevere with the paint she had which was like painting WITH MILK (her) and she couldn�t make a decision and was being a bit annoying and faffy. Then, instead of making a decision, she picked up the giant shiny brand new claw hammer and made a big thing about taking a couple of picture hook tacks out of the wall. The first one was fine but the second one needed a bit of a tug.
Did you know that if you tug a very thin nail out of a wall with a very large claw hammer, at head height, there is a point at which the nail will give up and the hammer will win. It is also at the point of the hammer being victorious over the nail, that it will fling itself towards you at high speed and smack you in the face. Coraline wasn�t aware of this, it seems. The blood pouring down her face kind of gave it away, though. Luckily, Axl and Bad Friend were also helping Coraline with the decorating so we ran a couple of J-cloths under the tap and Bad Friend took Coraline to the hospital. As they were leaving, she shoved her credit card in my hand and said �GET SOME PAINT!!�.
When Axl and I had stopped laughing because, believe me, when your friend smacks herself in the face with a massive hammer, it IS funny, we went to the DIY shop and picked up a couple of tubs of proper real paint and got queued up to pay (with the �borrowed� credit card). There was only one till open so we had to queue behind a fat woman with a hoard of scented candles. It was only when she went to pay for her stuff that I realised I knew her REALLY WELL and suddenly became desperate for her to not recognise me. I knew if she saw me she would say �Oh, Hi Stepfie! Chatty chat chat etc etc etc� and then I was going to have to buy my paint with what amounted to a stolen credit card with �Miss Coraline Hammerface� on it. I couldn�t even pass the card to Axl, as he is a man, and therefore not likely to be called Miss Coraline Hammerface either. And anyway, the card was in my purse to make it look a bit more like�ummm�it belonged to me.
I was standing no more than 12� away from Fat Emma, Axl was behind me and there was a queue behind him so there was nowhere to get away or to explain to Axl. Stupidly I just turned around so my back was towards the till and pretended to be looking at a display of ant powder. Then I had to sort of shuffle backwards towards the till, keeping my face turned away from the sales lady and Fat Emma. Omigosh, Fat Emma took FOREVER packing her purchases and I didn�t want to start using my stolen credit card paying for my paint while she was still lurking about so I had to be kind of surly and rude and inefficient and pretending to not pay attention and notice that it was my turn until the daft bat had gone. I never felt so furtive in my life!
By the time Coraline got back from the hospital (2 sticky stitches and the beginnings of a black eye!) I had finished painting the bathroom so all was not lost.
I love the summer holidays.
I don�t know what made me think of it but you know how kids like to stretch out on the floor � to play or watch TV, even if there are lots of empty seats? My brother used to wait until we were all reclining carpetwards and then pin my head down with his sweaty feet before reciting the strapline of a very popular advert of the time. It took me far longer than I thought to find it.
There must have been a couple of different versions as I remember him doing some kind of generic �northern� accent to go with the torture but you get the general idea.
Im wearing one of those shirred elastic �sundresses�. It belongs to Jooj so the elastical part is a weeny bit snug on me. Its made a strange pattern on my boobs, a bit like the one you might get on the back on your thighs from sitting on a cane chair in shorts. I have wickerwork boobs.
Despite getting just a teensy weensy bit shirty with Hotmail, they wouldn�t let me have my old email address back. Truly they are the very spawn of �..of��something that even the devil thinks is evil. They should henceforth be called Hatemail and they are a bunch of fuckers. So, anyway Ive kind of got a new one which is nearly the same as my old one except it says �outlook.com� instead of �hotmail.com� at the end of it. Ive also got an alias which seems to be a special secret agent way of saying �another email address which feeds into your regular one but has a silly name� so feel free to email me at [email protected] as they tell me it will come through on my regular account.
In an effort not to win Worlds Most Tedious Blog Entry, Imma talk about something else now.
Witness my haul of free veg from Sissy�s allotment:
Oh yeah, baby, that�s what Im talkin� �bout.
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*pause*
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*blink*
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Oh my good God, where has my life gone that I am waxing lyrical about a miniature pumpkin and a kohl rabi or two? No, don�t answer that.
School finished well over a week ago and I was really REALLY looking forward to six weeks of fun and sunshine (there�s enough for everyone! � sorry. Got my Club Tropicana on there for a moment) but by Friday morning I was kind of ready to do a murder and shouted �I wish I was back at work!�, which was over-dramatising a little (and untrue a lot).
Truth is, Im kind of torn between using my holiday time to do something really worthwhile, like fixing the fence that I knocked down all that long time ago , or just mooching about the house in cut-offs, taking naps interspersed with lounging about on the sofa drinking whisky/coffee/whisky/coffee���whisky. Yeh, whisky fersure.
Tomorrow Im playing tennis. Very badly, but with enthusiasm. And with a racquet that is much too small for me. I have been to Sports Direct and purchased 10 new balls for 39p each. I would expect it will be at least 8 minutes before my tennis partner and I will lose them all by smashing them into the bushes, onto adjoining courts or over the fence and thereby rendering them �irretrievable�. By �irretrievable� I obviously mean �I cant be arsed to go and get that, it was only 39p�.
If you have any suggestions for what I might be able to achieve before I go back to school in September, do let me know. I do like a project. If it could include whisky and some kind of achievement that I wont mind sharing with my colleagues when I go back to school that would be good.
And not too much hammer-to-the-face action. That would also be good.
Thanks
Later