It's beginning to look a lot like .....

Me if I had a boob job and blond hair. The presents however are spot on.

I am feeling most smug and pleased with myself. Here at Landsend the yuletide gifts are bought and wrapped. Little sticky labels adorn each gift, ungrateful and undeserving children's name are lovingly written on said sticky labels and the whole shebang is safely hidden away.

Yes I am good.

Others apparently, do not share my happiness. The trouble may be that I just can't seem to stop telling people about my Xmas awesomeness. Even complete strangers. Particularly complete strangers. And they are not pleased. At all.

I fail to see why the heart of the women working behind the lay by counter at Big W would not be filled with tinsel and baby Jesus when I warmly advise her that I am done, finished, finito. And I am, in fact, running a bit late this year. Normally I am done by November. Cue big smile on my side of the counter, cue stony silence from Mrs Grinch.

Perhaps if she spent less time working full time for minimum wage and more time swanning around the shops spreading the Xmas spirit she too would be feeling the happy.

You should have just got dogs.

I used to think I was an awesome parent. Secretly, I thought I was the best I had ever met. My step children were polite, well behaved in public and had a faint air of fear about them when I entered the room - perfect.

I was so incredibly wrong it actually hurts. In fact they are just really nice people that I have clearly had no influence over at all.

Below is a list of things the girl child has said to me in the last month. I have undoubtedly raised a biatch.

1. Do you think your legs look sexy? Cos they don't. At all.
2. It must really suck to be you.
3. You should have just got dogs mum. Your good with dogs.
4. Are you wearing that? really? (this has been said everytime I leave the house)
5. I bet God really hates you (after my Xmas explanation that although I don't believe in God, it was perfectly acceptable that other people do)
6. I bet grandma wishes I was her daughter.


Grandma is not the only one.

And mother of the year goes to........

On a scale of one to ten how bad a mother does it make you if you laugh when your child gets her head stuck in stair balustrades?
According to the father, it is so off the decimal counting system that Roman Numerals may need to be called in.
Bollocks I say, funny is funny. Yes there was a bit of crying, and perhaps a little blood but slapstick hurts honey, that's kinda the point.
I wish I had got my camera.

My Mum works from home.

There is a faint odour of moral dilemma hanging over Chateau Lands End. It could possibly also be from the dead rat the small child was patting on the back veranda last week. It's guts was half out and there were numerous flying insects all over it but that did not deter the petting. My cry of " oh my god, are you retarded?" where met with a horrified gasp and much glaring from the father. Chill out Dude. Clearly I don't think she's really retarded or else I wouldn't say it. Because that would be bad parenting.



Anyhow I'm pretty sure that the stench is from my new job. It's all very unsavory. Last week I was informed by a shifty looking gentleman who appeared at my front door in a grey coverall (when I opened the door I was so excited, for a brief second I thought the little man from the village had finally arrived) that the roundabout outside my house was an accident bonanza and said gentleman would very much like me to ring him and his tow truck any time there is a crash. Before I ring the ambulance. And he would pay me. Fifty bucks for every call.

I smiled. I took his card. I even said sure thing.

Oh my God, how retarded am I?

Now I am waiting in horror for the first crash. I really want to be the person who runs down and pulls the driver from the burning wreckage while calling 000 with excellent diction and a charming demeanor but I have a sneaking suspicion I will be the person ringing Joe the shifty tow truck driver while searching Ebay for $50 Jimmy Choo knock offs.

Up the Monarchy

Sadly, the marathon of The Tudors (season 1, 2, 3 and 4) has come to an end in Lands End.
My god that fat bastard Henry had the right idea. Your spouse shitting you? Off with it's head. And wouldn't that send an excellent message to the second husband. There would be no "Jesus Christ your a bitch, no wonder your first husband went off and got himself decapitated to get away from you". It would be all "yes sweetie pie of course I'll clean up and listen to the kids reading and if I have told you once I have told you every night this week, I only like to GIVE oral sex".
Brilliant.

I'm back and finding myself quite funny!

Last night I watched Julie and Julia. Kind of good in a I'm not sure if Meryl Streep is actually brilliant or really crap kinda way. However, it did get me thinking about writing a blog. This is no doubt because I am mind numbingly bored at home and exactly 5 months away from turning 40 therefore I must search for something inane and completely narcissistic to do - I have to, its the law.
I wander to my PC and look up blog creators. Oh here is one, it's called Blogger, never heard of it but it will do.
So there I am entering my details when up pops the pop uppy thing - " Blog already exists for this email". What the fuck I think.
And there it is - Tales from Lands Ends, with 8 entries all from 2008. Great, brilliant, except I have no memory of doing it. It's my life, I remember taking some of the photos in it but the writing and the posting? Nothing, naught, nader.

Now I think I have choices. One, turn off the computer, mention it to no one and continue on living with my clearly retreating brain cells for however long I have left before I am dribbling pureed apple down my chin and inappropriately masturbating on visitors day.

Or two, read the posts, laugh like a drain at my own enduring and may I say endearing wit and continue on blogging. So lets go with that.

FACEBOOK INTERVENTION, STAT!

God I'm sad. I am now scouring Facebook lamely searching for people who I went to school with that couldn't stand then just so they can be my Facebook friends now. Tragic.

I also keep adding photos of my dog and children, like some mad old fucker who refers to herself as "mummy" to the dog and whose just begging those pedophiles to get in touch real soon.

And the groups I belong to. My god. As if anyone gives a flying fig that I love sushi or that I will walk out of my way just to tread on the crunchy looking leaf. Facebook is evil and must be stopped. In fact that is a great name for a new group. Hang on I'll be back.