Thursday, 10 March 2011

Had a full scale rant at H last night. It was one of those rants which reminded me of when you run down a hill and yours legs run away from you and you have no control. My mouth ran away from me and I had no control. Went into his room and I can honestly say that it was like a complete junkyard. Cardboard boxes stuck together, paper clippings, books, toys and miscellaneous c**p lying about it. I started and this time I could not stop. I could hear my voice which had taken on a higher tone than normal shrieking about putting stuff in buckets etc., while H stood there struggling to find an expression suitable for the occasion. He settled on an eyes down, ashamed face which no doubt only lasted until I had flounced out. Then he probably went back to cutting paper up and depositing it on the floor again......

What would we do without Facebook? It's a funny thing but three years ago I didn't even know what it was, now I check it every day and it is a great way to keep in touch with people, even those abroad who you only see once in a blue moon. What I will say is though that it always perplexes me how some people send a friend request to you ......and they don't actually speak to you.....ever.  They may pass you in the street every day and not look the road you're on but heck you'll do to boost their friend quotas.  I have no desire to have a million friends on Facebook. I am quite happy to have the friends on it that I have. If you are on my page it is A. because you are unfortunate enough to feature prominently in my life (i.e. I see you every day) and I might need to send you an urgent message (I really don't like using the phone unless for texts).  B. because I don't see you every day but like you or C. because you live far away, I like you and it is a way for me to keep in touch easily. I have had a few weird friend requests. The first and most disturbing has to have been from a foreign gentleman who I will call Steven (because that was his name). He sent me two bizarre messages asking if 'I was one of Malcolm's wives?' I can only assume he was randomly trawling Facebook and my face popped up resembling some polygamist's spouse. He then sent a message asking 'who the little boy was?' He meant H and at that point he was told in the words of the late, great Michael Jackson to 'Beat it'...........

Back to the sweatshop tomorrow where I have now advanced from bushes and prickly pears to wolves' ears. Spent this afternoon designing and sewing headbands to attach them to. Aforementioned headbands looked okay however the ears looked more like a rhino's dangly bits much to our amusement. We are getting there though and tomorrow is attaching monkey tails to jazz pants (whatever they are)........