I have come up with a new invention. It's called a Bleat. It's a random thought you have (which you'd like to share) and is too long for a tweet and not quite long enough for a blog post in its own right. I was going to call it a Bleet, but according to the UrbanDictionary, a Bleet is: 'When A male rubs his penis on the outside of a womans vagina. no insertion only rubbing inbetween the vaginal lips of the woman. the step befor sex.' There is so much I don't know. Sigh.
Anyway, Bleat is better as people can then say: "What are you bleating on about?" See? Perfect. So please feel free to create your own bleats and set the trend in motion. I wonder if I can copyright it...
Here are my bleats for today:
I've come to a rather late yet startling realisation: it is impossible to parent calmly and have PMT at the same time. I've tried for six (almost seven) years and it just isn't doable. This is particularly true during the getting-ready-for-school-morning-madness in which I have to ask my children to put their socks and jumpers on at least 20 times, while they instead throw the aforementioned items at each other, taking out eyes and anything else that happens to be in the way. On a normal day, this is taxing. On a PMT day, it causes blind fury resulting in me yelling in a way that will have the neighbours calling social security and my son yelling back: 'I HATE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!' I must start taking evening primrose oil.
I've noticed something about Sex And The City - the four lead characters eat almost constantly and pack away more calorific cocktails than even I do, yet barely ever exercise and remain stick thin. Sure Charlotte has the odd run in Central Park and we all know how Samantha gets her daily exercise quota, but the only time you see Carrie doing anything energetic is running after a pair of shoes. Surely this is grossly misleading representation and all four of them should be shot or at least drip fed Big Macs?
Following on from my previous blog post about irritating things, I'd like to have a word with people who make packaging. Particularly the people who put the plastic covers on DVDs which are impossible to remove; the people who put a toy/toothbrush/razor into a pack encased in thick plastic that is impossible to get into unless you have garden shears and even then you are likely to either have your eye out or get a vicious plastic cup (like a paper cut, only worse); the people who put food like slices of ham into plastic packs with an 'easy-lift' corner which is never easy and invariably doesn't lift so that you have to resort to using a knife to get into it; the people who decide that children's toys all need to have 17 billion tiny pieces of wire to hold them in place so that on Christmas morning you have a child who is only topped in the frustration stakes by you as you try to untwizzle them.
It is becoming apparent that unless you live on wheatgrass and lentils and want to end up looking like Gillian McKeith (shudder), there will come a time when regardless of how much you exercise or how good you try to be dietwise, your mid-section will insist on making itself known, particularly in knitted dresses.
That's it for today. I shall be bleating again in the future I'm sure. Please feel free to bleat at will.
Sorry - I have another bleat to add which simply can't wait:
So Will and Kate are getting married on 29 April. Cue every newspaper and magazine in the UK to issue an immediate request for people getting married on 29 April. Has no-one got an original idea? Seriously. How many features are we going to have to read about this? Personally I think Will and Kate are being very generous getting married on a Friday, giving us an extended weekend and as most people marry on a Saturday, not a Friday, it means there'll be fewer brides weeping into their cream cakes about why everyone is watching the telly on their big day.