The muffalo...

My house was full to bursting last night...

Head count of nine at one point and that wasn't including the hobbits, who were safely ensconced upstairs watching a selection of superhero films. Nine people in my house makes it quite busy, I don't have a mansion...

They were all there to meet Eddie Morgan. A medium.

I booked him many weeks ago, and he had come with a high recommendation and allegedly messages from the beyond for us. (Knowing where the secret bank account was stashed would have been a good one!)

He was actually very good and spent individual time with everyone, I myself was quite surprised by what he revealed.

Whilst my guests met with Eddie the rest of us chatted, drunk tiny drinks, nibbled on snacks and gossiped.

"Not long until New York ladies," says one of my guests to Pootle and I.
Pootle and I look at each other with a mixture of excitement and fear.
"Aren't you excited?" They ask.
"Oh god yes," says Pootle..."we are totally flipped out...just still a bit poor."
"We are considering taking on extra jobs to save some more money." I concur.
"Or selling our house hold contents." She adds...planning her boot sale this weekend.
"We had considered doing those sex telephone lines." I add jokingly.

The lovely L (female version) turns to us, "I saw a program on that, those women make really good money on that. There was one just doing her ironing and chatting away to this guy on the phone while he, well, you know."
"I know," says Pootle, "it is very lucrative, I have told her (me) to do it...she could be flipping the hobbits eggy bread in the morning and earning £10 a minute."
"I think the oil sizzling in the pan might put him off." I suggest.
"No, you just explain that is you..hot for him baby."
"Ewwwww."

"I would suggest," says another guest, "that if you do it, that you don't do it in front of the children."
Pootle and I exchange looks, really? Was there ever any danger of that happening...can you imagine?

"Oh my god, bed time reading would never be the same would it? Hey boys, bear with me while I take this call...don't worry this is the new version of The Gruffalo."
"It's called the Muffalo...it is very educational."
"Yep, no more you'll taste good on a slice of bread, but you taste nice lying on my bed..."
"...he is down in the woods eating Muffalo pie."
"...he had horrible knees, and turned out toes and was covered in whipped cream all over his hose."

Maybe we shouldn't go into telephone lines...but changing popular children's stories into adult porn could be an option...

Boy Scouts...

Ok...now there is something that needs to be said.

If you decide to take out my Pootle on a date...do not when she arrives, abandon her at the bar to park your fat bum in a seat while she buys her own drink. You offer to buy her a drink and offer her the seat first...twit!

That was your first mistake...and a rookie mistake as our friend L concurred.

Really? Was my retort...really? Just before I called him a pillock.

She came home early last night, with the date not having gone as well as expected. So she arrived at mine with a shared takeaway and we watched Dirty Dancing and swooned over Patrick Swayze's muscles...aaahhhh.....
"Is it bad that all I wanted to do was come back, get into my pyjamas and watch TV with you?" She asks me through a mouthful of rice.
"Nope. I have been wanting to discuss the G spot with you since you left."
"Ok cool...yep, a much better discussion to be had here. Tea?"

When we mentioned this conversation with L today over dinner and gin, he asked us to repeat it.
"Sorry ladies, but did you have this conversation once you'd gone to bed?"

Pootle and I are known to share a bed at a weekend...ok, it really isn't that dodgy. If I have her boys for the night, she is likely to have a few drinks and more often that not comes back to mine to share the details of the night and yes....we end up in bed with a cup of tea and a biscuit or two.
Purely innocent...however in the mind of L he would prefer for us to lie and suggest that it wasn't....

"What conversation?" I ask
"The one about the G spot? 'Cos if you did...please lie, and tell me the details very very slowly."
Pootle looks at him, "yes, I found hers, she found mine and then we did it all again...does that help?"
He smiles..."yep."
"Predictable L, very predictable..." I tell him. "More importantly, why is that men think there is only one place to excite a woman?" I look at Pootle, "last nights date couldn't even find his bloody wallet, he wasn't gonna find anything more important was he?"
"Alas no," she says sadly, "but not many do..."
"Do you know where the man's is?" Asks L.
"In the bum" we say together...
"Oh...ok...you do."
"You know this information is freely available on the good old Internet, why don't men prepare?" I ask. "Why is this not a badge in scouts? "
"That would be far more interesting than taking old Mrs Jones' dog out for a walk." Says Pootle.

Thankfully, some men do prepare and know exactly what to do and where things are...but gentlemen if you are expecting us to have the knowledge then really it is time you did your homework too.

Chivalry is not just about buying the drinks, offering a seat first or opening the door...but also knowing exactly what buttons to push and when...

Now be good boys scouts...and go prepare!!!

Yoda, Chewie and Hans....

May the fourth be with you...

That is all.

A handy tool...

I am home alone...with five boys...Pretty Woman on the DVD and a bag of peanut M&M's...is this my future? If only the five boys were over eighteen I'd be onto a winner, eh?

Pootle is on a date tonight hence the extra hobbits.

We have done tents and a barbecue, whacked up the music and had almost a mini festival in the garden. Had to be done on an evening such as this...it almost feels like the start of summer.

We have motivated Pootle...she is looking hot tonight, and in the words of Pretty Woman she is working it tonight. Nevertheless, she is nervous.
"You know in the future, there will be a crystal ball app on our mobiles...that will be able to tell you whether the potential date is going to be an arsehole." She says to me whilst pacing nervously in my kitchen. "You'll only have to enter certain information and you'll get pie charts on potential, aptitude..." She looks at me with a wink, "credentials."
"Percentages on the likelihood of him being a complete pillock." I suggest.
"A little mood-o-meter that tells you when is the right time to call him."
"And a vote predictor that tells you if when you finally fall in love with him, if he is gonna piss off and leave you."

"That would be so much easier," I agree..."if we had one of them, we would know by 9pm whether there was any point in continuing with the date."
"Save money, time and emotions." She says.

A potential date app...there must be someone out there who could create such a thing? Think of how useful that could be?
A very handy tool that at a touch of a few buttons on your phone, you would know whether he was even worth shaving your legs for...or wearing the best underwear for.

However I suppose until someone invents something like that, we will have to do it the old fashioned way...and bluff our way through the nerves and burn through the pain...

Lego rustling...

Like most people, when I have things on my mind I find sleep is the last thing my brain wants to do.

I say my brain, because actually my body is normally quite happy to wander off into dream land but of course the thoughts and processes won't stop and won't allow me to relax.

Thankfully J is much the same when it comes to sleep, and suffers from insomnia 90% of the time when she sleeps alone.  We are often found to be texting each other at three, four or five a.m...putting the world to rights, chatting about our days or just checking who is doing the coffee run in the morning.

Either of us will randomly message each other and you would be surprised how often the other will respond almost immediately no matter the time.

Pootle on the other hand is like a new born. She will sleep 23 out of 24 hours if she could...

So having had a night full of conversation with J I was a little bit disappointed to hear the hobbits wake very early this morning and start their usual chatter and games. I could hear them slamming doors to keep the noise down so they didn't wake me, and going through boxes full of Lego looking for that specific piece that they need to put together their next creation.

I call it Lego rustling...any parent will know that sound. Tiny hands moving hundreds of pieces of Lego around in a random way trying to find that bit that will make everything work...

Much like insomnia really...

Tattoos and bikes don't mix...

Ok, so the lesson learned today children...don't go out on a motorbike just after you have had a tattoo....

I am pretty sure that the majority of you out there wouldn't be quite so foolish as me, but hey, a lesson learned and shared is a kind thing to do.

So, as you reading this you will know that I have ticked another thing off my list for the year. My tattoo has been completed this morning.  I am now adorned, marked, branded for life with my hobbits initials...alas, I didn't have enough room (or the pain threshold) for Spderman, Batman and Superman...so I went for the first letter of their real names...L, A and M.

I have had this strategically placed on my left hip/stomach...not because I feel I have an attractive tummy in any way, but after discussion with my hobbits we decided it was the best place to have it as this was where they once were...in mummy's tummy. Cool, huh?

Ok...so for those who say it doesn't hurt...let me beat you with the latest tattoo magazine now...it was bloody agony!!!!! The lady who did it did tell me just as the needle was nearing my stomach that the skin there is very thin, so was going to hurt more....no shit Sherlock!

It felt like a tiny scalpel cutting across my skin...and I had a real problem with my breathing capabilities and just tried to think of sunny flowery things, while my father looked on in interest. Thank you for coming dad...I appreciated the support.

Half an hour later and shaking like a leaf I left the shop with a bag of chocolate for shock....any excuse for a kitkat eh?

I then, foolishly went out on a motorbike...now whilst I genuinely enjoyed being out on the bike with my dad today, who pottered behind me very nicely making sure I was supersafe, I have to say I did feel quite wobbly still...so no, tattoos and bikes don't mix...don't say I didn't warn ya!!!

But it is done...just a tractor and a little bit of off-roading and we are done...well, until the next list!

The art of wooing...

After working late tonight I arrived at Pootle's with Tonic and lemon....this is becoming a regular thing, Mothers ruin I believe...

She has been looking after my hobbits this evening while I toiled, so it seemed only fair that I produced something to say thank you.

Whilst I have been away however, she has been up to shenanigans herself...culminating in a date this Friday.

The potential date is trying very hard to say the right thing, but not quite coming up to scratch...he isn't Hugh Jackman....and she has clearly been spoilt by bad boy Hugh.
"Woo'd." I tell her, "we need to be woo'd."
"We so do..." She says defiantly and text's the potential date ...I wanna be woo'd...now....and told to shut up in an assertive way on occasion.
Thankfully he says he is up for the job, and promises her a good night this Friday...her boys will stay with me, and we have decided that we can share Friday nights - one week all at hers, one week all at mine.  
Sounds like a plan eh?

Why is that men find it so hard to 'woo' a potential partner? Why do they have to be told that this is what we need? Do you really think that we should be doing all the work?

What ever happened to chivalry? What ever happened to these men who want to fight for us...are we not worthy enough? Don't be complacent guys...

Sorry but it is time that we starting believing that we are worthwhile enough for someone to want us, really want us...and start showing us that.

Do I sound annoyed? Perhaps I am a little bit...this potential date of Pootle's needs to up his game a little bit if he really wants her.

He shouldn't need to be told that wooing someone is a desired trait, that treating her in a special way is paramount...he should know these things.

So guys, if you know what you want...bloody fight for her....Hugh Jackman would and so might someone else...