Speed dialling means I don’t know anyone’s numbers anymore.
If I break my mobile while fleeing the zombie hoards, but manage to get to a phone box, I’ll only be able to phone the following people for help:
1) my mum (same mobile number since 1993) (she’s not always in the country though)
2) My school-friend Michelle’s parents (I dialed their landline a lot in my teenage years, number is seared into my brain)
3) The Saturday Swap Shop number (defunct since the 80s)
I’m screwed. Especially if Michelle’s parents are out.
Another internet date. He emailed me several times beforehand to say how nervous he was. (Fair enough, we’ve all been there.) And then the date rolled around:
Me: “Hi, nice to meet you finally. How are you?”
Him: “Still really nervous. This is the first date I’ve been on in twenty years”.
Me: “Well, no worries, we’ve all got to get back in the dating game at some point. When did you and your wife split up?”
Him: “Last month.”
Me: “Oh. Really? Er, OK, but isn’t that a bit soon to be dating, maybe?”
Him: “Well, why not? You never know when you might meet the love of your life! It could be you!”
IT WASN’T ME.
Smallest Daughter handed me this note with a big smile.
Me: “Oh! You hate me?”
SD: “Is that not how you spell “heart”?”
Me: “Not quite.”
What did you have for supper last night?
Apparently we had gay power! It was fabulous!
We’d been seeing each other for a while, but he kept telling me that he wasn’t ready for a proper relationship. Then, he sent me an email explaining that he really liked me but had some concerns.
Helpfully, he included them as a list.
Concern number 7 was “You’re allergic to cats, and I hope to own a cat someday”.
We found each other on some dating site. Turned out we both loved music, so we batted some emails back and forth before he suggested a drink.
Saturday night found me in a bar, staring at my watch. I was on time. I’m always on time. He was late. Really late.
He finally arrived, sweaty and unapologetic. As he slid into the seat opposite me, he said he had to tell me something:
“You know, I’ve never been on a date with someone with kids before. I always knock back the single mothers straight away. I’ve no interest in kids, I don’t even like kids. But your picture was really nice so I thought I’d make an exception for you.”
Ah! Sound the Date-Killer Klaxon; turns out I’m on a date with King Herod.
It was never going to work. I’m a package deal; I come with two kids who are the centre of my universe. I’m never going to date someone who hates the idea of children and being a step-dad. (I made that mistake with another ex, that’s a story for another time.)
I’m classy me, so I do enjoy a nice Piña Colada once in a while (not so much getting caught in the rain, but I’m getting sidetracked).
Anyway, this came up in conversation the other day and the Smallest Daughter was rather taken with the drink’s name.
So, if you come round ours and wonder why on earth SD keeps cheerfully bellowing “PENIS COLARTA!” and giggling herself stupid, well, that’s why.
During the Great Fire of London, Samuel Pepys buried some of his most treasured possessions in his garden, to protect them. For homework, Smallest Daughter was asked to write about—and draw herself—burying her most treasured possessions.
I had to send in the following note with her artwork:
“Hi Mrs F.
I did explain that burying is appropriate to save inanimate objects only. However, SD was absolutely insistent that her family is her most treasured possession. So, that’s why she’s drawn this slightly disturbing picture of her burying us all in coffins in the garden, in case you were wondering.
If you fancy a creative challenge tonight, why not grab a nearby person* and draw a lovely tattoo on them? If you do, don’t forget to report back!
Here’s Mr Boyfriend with his tattoo (note that this was before he’d actually seen what I drew for him)
*legal disclaimer: don’t forget to ask their permission, especially if you don’t know them.
Long journey. Emergency stop at McDonald’s.
Me: “Hi, can I have a decaff coffee please?”
Guy behind counter: “Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
Me: “Decaffeinated coffee?”
GBC: “Never heard of it.” (to colleague) “Mate, do you know what coffee she’s asking for?”
Colleague: “what do you want?”
Me: “Decaffeinated coffee?”
Colleague: “No, we don’t have anything like that. Closest thing we’ve got to that is semi-skimmed milk.”