A Fly in the Ointment

2008-05-19, 9:31 p.m.

A fly in the ointment. Or, to be more precise, a great big hairy-legged stag-beetle in the Lï¿½Oreal Plenitude Night Repair with Polypeptides (because Im worth it).

Friday afternoon, just a sI was leaving work, one of those damn ï¿½Quarantined Emailï¿½ messages popped up on my screen. The pop up gives us the bare bones of the email (who its from and the subject line) and then we have to ~~jump through hoops, provide a blood sample, lay a shrine to the goddess JustLetMeSeeMyFuckingEmail~~ do a fair bit of clicking on links to get the damn things un-quarantined.

The From: line said ï¿½Tom and Tamï¿½ so I knew it was something I wanted to read cos, as regular readers will know, we loves us some Tom and Tam Cornish Fabulousness, but the Subject: line said ï¿½Wedding Regretï¿½. Dunno if I told you this before but Tom and Tam had agreed to sing/play guitar at our wedding so, naturally, the ï¿½Wedding Regretï¿½ bit threw me into a bit of a tailspin and I clicked on the bloody link about 50 squillion times trying to un-quarantine the message before I went home.

Eventually, my PC did let me see the message.

It said that Tom and Tam wouldnï¿½t be able to come to our wedding as Tom had a shit- load of work come up which he was having to take as the wolf wasnï¿½t so much ï¿½at the doorï¿½ as ï¿½getting cozy on the sofa in front of Jeremy Kyle and eating all the Pringlesï¿½

I phoned BF and he said ï¿½donï¿½t worry, Iï¿½ll ring them and weï¿½ll sort it outï¿½. By the time I got home, Id thought up a Plan B (more on that later) but BF had already phoned Tam. Because he is ~~a bit of a twat~~ keen for our wedding day to pass without hitch, heï¿½d leant rather heavily on poor Tam and had told her that he would ï¿½leave her to think about it for a while and then heï¿½d phone her backï¿½.

Good God. Using a large measure of tact and diplomacy (and some yelling) I pointed out to BF that letting them have one of the hotel rooms that weï¿½ve pre-booked as a precaution against last-minute ï¿½can we stay overï¿½ requests and offering to pay their petrol costs up from Penzance would still mean that they would arrive home the day after the wedding with, umm, lemme see now, NO MONEY ï¿½ exactly the precarious position they were in in the first place. I told him he was an arse for leaning on Tam and that they wouldnï¿½t have reached the decision to not come to the wedding without a fair bit of soul searching and were probably already feeling bad. The I told him he was an arse again.

Then I phoned Tam. I said ï¿½I hear my husbandï¿½s been bullying you.ï¿½ Luckily, she laughed. Weï¿½ve sorted it now ï¿½ its sure as hell not worth falling out with them overï¿½ï¿½ especially as the picture they sent me clearly conveys their true sorrow.

You just couldnï¿½t be mad with those lovely faces, could you?!ï¿½ Anyways, they have promised faithfully that they will visit us in the summer when they hope to be slightly more solvent.

Personally, I just think itï¿½s a ruse to give Tom a chance to work on the whittling of our promised wedding gift of an Onion Ring Pole

Surely the most useful and yet useless wedding gift ever! And NOT in green plastic, if yer please! Nothing but the finest ecologically unsound deforestation is good enough to fashion MY onion pole, young Mr Tom!

*thinks dreamily* Gasp! Maybe it will have some poker work patterns on it, too! I think I almost might be willing to forgo the integral dip tray for some scrolly patterns burned into the wood. Maybe.

So. BF and I have been working on Plan B, which is a bit top secret at the mo (mostly cos weï¿½re not sure that it will work and we donï¿½t want to look stooped) ï¿½ but has already caused some yelling (me), sighing (him), crying (me), compromising (him) and getting-oneï¿½s-own-way (ME!). Im refusing to get bent out of shape about it (well, NOW I am. Yesterday afternoon there was flouncing off, huffing, unreasonable accusations and a certain amount of cajoling) and Im sure itï¿½ll all come right in the end.

Saturday I just HAD to go buy a pair of wedding shoes. After traipsing round EVERY bloody shoe shop in ChavVille I ended up buying the first pair Iï¿½d seen ï¿½ the oneï¿½s Iï¿½d dismissed as being ï¿½too cheap ï¿½ Im SURE I can do better than THAT!ï¿½. Apparently, I cant. Still, at least I wont have to walk up the aisle barefoot now.

Also fixed my head-dress thingy and de-glittered some of the other articles of excess which were shedding their twinklyness all over the bloody house. With the benefit of hindsight (and now that Ive scraped off the worst of it) I think even Jordan might have said ï¿½Stepfieï¿½.ummmï¿½.you donï¿½t think maybe it all looks a bitï¿½.ummmï¿½.tacky?ï¿½. Even Barbie herself would have been shaking her empty little plastic head and saying ï¿½Nuh-huh! No Way! Iï¿½ll just look fucking STUPID in that!ï¿½

Unfortunately, my two arbiters of style in this, most important of outfits, are Treac and Jooj. One thinks mummie is the most beautiful creature on Gods earth, even when dressed like a bag lady having an off day, and the other has a tendency towards the theatrical which can probably be explained best by her choice of hair decoration today. Bearing in mind she was wearing her school uniform (Navy blue. Sensible) the addition of a skull and crossbones patterned scarf tied in a sticky-outy bow BIGGER THAN HER HEAD should give you some indication on her take on the word ï¿½subtleï¿½. That I looked exactly the same for the entire 1980s is a coincidence which isnï¿½t entirely lost on me. At least I had the excuse that I was channeling Paula Yates ï¿½ Jooj can only say that sheï¿½ummmï¿½.looks like me.

In other news, my guv wants me to study for an NVQ IV in Business Administration. That she told me it would ï¿½look good on my CVï¿½ gives me the indication that she possibly may be aware that I am looking for another job. Waddya think?

Anyway. I shall consider it when I get back from my honeymoon ï¿½ something which I had totally forgot that I get to do after I get married. Normally, the very idea of having ten days to laze around in the sunshine, in foreign climes, with no kids to buy icecream for, would have me hippyhoppying about with excitement. But, and this is absolutely the truth, Iï¿½d FORGOTTEN about it! Iï¿½m so excited about being marriedï¿½that I forgot that I get to go on holiday TOO! Yay!

Tomorrow, Im meeting a schoolfriend for coffee. We lost touch for about 20 years but have been emailing back and forth every couple of months for the last five years or so and now weï¿½re actually going to see each other again. She had some kind of nervous breakdown a few years back and doesnï¿½t socialize in person much so Im kind of honoured that sheï¿½s coming out of her shell enough to come see me. I think itï¿½ll be fun ï¿½ wish I had longer than an hour.

Friday is the wedding rehearsal and thenï¿½ï¿½my Hen Night (Bachelorette Party?). I have no idea what is in store for me as the whole event is being organized behind my back by Slavey and Liz. I am expecting an evening of ritual humiliation and wearing of a bit of net curtain on my head. Oh, and probably an L plate too. I shall endeavour to contain all vomit safely in my diamante clutchbag. Thatï¿½s MY vomit, BTW, the others will just have to manage their own alcohol induced emissions in the way in which they think best fit.

*sighs and shakes head*

Oh, and look! I made this thingy. I tried to make it look quite like me. And it does. Apart from the hugely bulbous head, blank expression and questionable dress sense. Oh, hang on. Thatï¿½s the bits which DO make it look like me. Anyway. Im rather fond of it.

Later

S
X

G from PA: hope you're OK - my emails never seem to reach you! Can you send me a quickie? Seems to work ok when Im just clicking "reply"! thanks. love s xxx

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