Me again, filling you in on all the crummy details of my pitiful existence!
To be honest, the weekend could have started a bit better. Got home from work Friday night and pottered about doing mum stuff for a bit; did dinner, chatted to the kids, folded up some laundry etc etc. At around 8.30 I thought Id better start getting the kids ready for bed as Jooj had to be up at 7 for a diving lesson Saturday morning. Figured I could afford to be a bit organised as BF was at the pub and there was plenty of time available to avoid the last minute scramble. Ah. Couldn�t find Jooj�s swimming costume. Looked everywhere but all we could find was an inappropriate bikini which her father must have bought her in a moment of delusion when he figured he�d sired a Baywatch Babe or something, instead of the slightly podgy ten year old I saw before me.
Needless to say, there aren�t a huge amount of children�s clothes stores open at that time on a Friday night. So its all in the car and off to the dreaded M@rks and Sp3ncer � all the while singing along to an Everley Brothers Special on the radio to stop Treacle from falling asleep (waaaaay past her bedtime). Despite the myriad racks of tasteless, shapeless, bland and shudder-inducing garments, there was not a sensible swimming costume to be had in the whole of the (sizeable) children�s section. Of course, seeing as its April and barely 50 degrees outside, the whole shop was given over to the kind of beachwear only necessary if children are suddenly taken with the whim to travel to AcaFuckingPulco. Straw hats a-plenty, voile sarongs (from age 3!) and swimming costumes in two styles: prostitute or football hooligan.
I did a bit of swearing and dragged the girls to the ladies section, where I ended up paying �15 for a plain black ladies cozzie in the tiniest size they stock (the only one on the rack, naturally!). Jooj looks lovely in it and is so chuffed that it�s a proper ladies cozzie "with double material and everything in the front so even if it gets wet you wont see *ominous voice* ANYTHING".
When BF got back from the pub we had a bit of a chat and decided on an early night *ahem*. Unfortunately, despite it being 10.30 or thereabouts, Jooj�s light was still on as she�d got engrossed in Inkheart and had forgotten the time. As Id had a smoke by then (!), the best I could do in the way of admonishment was to lean round the door, flick the light off and hiss "Go to sleep, you cretin. You�ll never get up for diving in the morning at this rate". I was back to the boudoir before she�d finished saying, "love you, mum!"
Of course, what with her not being quite asleep yet (!), it didn�t seem appropriate to start making the kind of noises only made by sad old middle-aged stoners having sex so�Me and BF played a new game�.
Here�s the game, should you wish to play at home. You have sex, as usual, but mustn�t make a single sound. Sounds easy? Okayyy. Try this. You mustn�t make a sound, but you must try your damnedest to make the other person make a sound. So there�s me, and there�s BF, employing all our favourite tricks: him trying to make me go "Squeeeeal" and me trying to make him go "Hwuuuhuh!". I must admit, it does turn into something of a battle of wills but ohhhh, its FUN. Oh, and I won! (but Im still trying to sand the teeth marks out of the headboard).
Saturday: Kids Stuff Day. Jooj at diving first then back home for some baking � Cornish Fairings � want the recipe? We made two dozen and they were all gone by Sunday lunchtime. Jooj had a singing rehearsal in the afternoon so I took Treacle over to Ks for the afternoon. Hadnt seen K for ages so it was nice to catch up for a couple of hours. Treacle played really nicely with Ks daughter, even tho they can barely remember ever seeing each other before. Isnt it funny how grown ups will bundle their kids together with other people�s kids and just expect them to get along. K remarked how totally pissed off she�d be if her man took her out for the evening and said "K, this is my friend and this is his wife. You guys are about the same age, now, off you go and BE KIND" and just left you with the wife while they disappeared for a couple of hours. I agreed it would, indeed, be weird but didn�t mention that it was kind of the same as being StepfordWife, when that kind of thing was done to me on a regular basis. The life of a Corporate Wife is one filled with discussions about hairdos and how very reasonably priced Debenhams evening wear is. Aaargh.
Regrouped at the Palace for pizza. BF had been out in the garden doing big manly stuff with brambles and mowers and stuff and it had obviously been doing him some good to be a bit active for a change as he was all cheery and familyish. Jooj and Treacle made the pizzas and we sat on the floor in the sitting room watching Johnny English (again) and pretending to be a family � BF even helped Jooj with some homework.
Sunday, it rained so it scuppered our plans for gardening and other outdoorsy type stuff. Made a turkey casserole for dinner and the girls helped me make a Gypsy Tart. They�d never had one before but we felt honour bound to make it as its one of my favourite nicknames for Treacle and they�ve been pestering me for ages to find out what its like. I think she thinks its because its treacly and sweet and has totally missed the "Gypsy" and "Tart" bits. Jooj *gets it* but isnt letting on, which is good of her really as it would surely make Treacle weep to think her mama thinks of her in that way. BF couldn�t recall ever having Gypsy Tart either but was much impressed. The side order of strawberries made sure it wasn�t toooo sweet. Yum.
Back to work with a vengeance on Monday. Despite being totally marginalised by Toast, BBBM, Army Boy, IT Guy and the new marketing manager�..
(oh, hang on, he hasn�t got a name yet. Hmm. He looks a bit like Richard Gere�s dorky brother but he�s definitely more Officious Genitals than Officer and a Gentleman, so that wont do. He mostly talks a load of marketingese, - Im just waiting for the opportunity to say "Hmm, I�ll just stir-fry that idea around my think-wok" I�m pretty sure he wouldn�t even bat an eyelid. Any Naming Ceremony suggestions gratefully received.)
��for the last couple of weeks � including them going on a two day Strategy Jolly Weekend without me � I got invited to a Big Cheese meeting Monday afternoon. Most of what they were talking about was totally new to me so I was playing catch up the whole time (again!) and had to keep asking dumbass questions. Actually ArmyBoy and BBBM were very obliging and kept me up to speed with little asides and I even managed a few pertinent questions and offered opinions which didn�t make anyone snort with derision � at least not to my face. Im now pretty certain that the Axe of SackEveryone will soon start swinging and at least one member of my "team" will be decapitated in the ensuing bloodshed. Whilst I don�t like to see anyone thrown out on their earhole, there doesn�t appear to be a place in the New World Order for homophobic, racist, misogynistic, workshy colonials like Capt Skiver. Ah well. He had his chance.
Slave has been pestering me ever since for the gory details as she�s not a doofus and can see that BIG STUFF is about to happen, but nothing�s set in stone yet so I don�t want to say too much.
Hideously short staffed today. Capt Skiver is on holiday this week and The Incredible Sulk�s husband phoned in sick on her behalf this morning. Slave and I both got separate roastings from clients with massive and unjustified grievances but I made an old lady happy by giving her an unexpected refund and a redelivery of her order. Ive co-opted my friend�s son to come and answer the phones tomorrow so Im sure I�ll get a carpeting for not getting that approved in triplicate but there were no Top Brass in to OK the deal and ArmyBoy just said "you�re the Department Head, you sort it out." The lad�s charging me half the employment agency rate and is happy to come in just for one day and do all the menial crap so bollocks to anyone who gets sniffy.
That�s all Ive got for today. No girlies at the weekend so its party party PA-ha-har-Tayyy at the Palace. Gory details to follow, natch.