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Tuesday, May 29, 2007JUST A TAD SMUGIt's Weigh-In day today. I'm quite chuffed. Since the 1st of May, I've lost a total of 6.2kg That's the smug bit! This has been the start of trying to lose weight. I now have to concentrate on getting shed of another 17kg before going to see Spadge, Shans & Chikkin in August. *sigh*  
 On this day, twenty six years ago, I was lying in a hospital bed in a small provincial town in the Eastern Transvaal, wondering if I was EVER going to hatch the miracle that taken up a vast amount of my body space. The pre-rugby kicking activities had stopped & despite 5 days of induction, this sprog was in no hurry to exit his oven. A few hours later, the doc decided all was not good & organised a caesarean for early that evening.I don't remember any pain. I don't remember smashing a pane of glass with my foot, whilst being wheeled back to the ward. I do remember finally waking from the anesthetic, getting the attention of a nurse & DEMANDING to see my baby. Does any mother ever forget the first time they see their child - this new miracle of life that they finally (in my case) manage to bring into the world? I know, seeing Spadge for the first time, is something that is deeply ingrained on my memory & there is absolutely nothing that could ever take that vision away from me. Fast forward just over two & a half decades >>>>>>> here we are in Abu Dhabi & there Spadge is in Dublin, Ireland. He's all grown up, with a family of his own. I miss him so much & I often wish that we could be geographically closer together, but sadly it's not possible. On days like today though, I miss him just that little bit more than usual. I wish I was there, to give him a huge hug, to look up to his smiling eyes & tell him how proud I am of him. Happy Birthday Spadge. Today, I get to love you a little bit more.
Saturday, May 26, 2007"AWWWWW" MOMENTS    
 A lawyer defending a man accused of burglary tried this creative defense: "My client merely inserted his arm into the window and removed a few trifling articles. His arm is not himself, and I fail to see how you can punish the whole individual for an offense committed by his limb." "Well put," the judge replied. "Using your logic, I sentence the defendant's arm to one year's imprisonment. He can accompany it or not, as he chooses." The defendant smiled. With his lawyer's assistance he detached his artificial limb, laid it on the bench, and walked out! Taken from The Weekend Property & Construction News (South Africa)
Thursday, May 24, 2007GRANDMA MOMENT NUMBER 3 (for today) Date : 24th May 2007 . Time: 11.05a.m. . Place: The kitchen. . Setting: Grandma (pictured in self-portrait above) is reading the e-magazine which comes with the Gulf Newspaper. She reads the following paragraph from the Cover Story 'In Depp Waters' : . 'The remarkable Johnny Depp reveals all about tackling the high seas for the last time in At World's End. He also can't resist talking about his love affairs with Jack Sparrow and Keith Richards.' . After having read this to me, she looked rather puzzled & said : . "Is he gay then?" . She's precious is our Flowerpot!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007R O M E I think I must be either getting old, or starting to appreciate history. When I was a rebel-without-a-clue, I thought history was so boring. Nowadays, I can't seem to get enough of it - history that is.....focus people, focus! Hubs is the one who got me to take an interest, as he explains historical events or places to me in a manner which doesn't leave me totally confused. Added to that, he takes the greatest pleasure in showing me historical sites, such as the Acropolis, the Blue Mosque, the Great Pyramids & more recently, Jerash in Jordan.A few months back, there was a heap of 'controversy' surrounding the HBO TV series Rome. Viewers in the UK particularly voiced their opinion on the violence & bad language content, but for historical content, the series couldn't be faulted. We watched the first series & were absolutely glued to the box - it was brilliant! History was brought to life in all it's violent glory & the dreaded 'C' word was unedited/bleeped. The primary objective was achieved though & the story was told in the manner in which it happened. Now series 2 of Rome has hit the box - tonight we'll be watching Episode 3 at around midnight. This series is proving to be as interesting as the first & once again, I'm sure it'll leave me drifting off to sleep, thinking of such characters as Octavian - such an intense & articulate young man & way ahead of his years. His mother Atia was such a conniving tart! Lucius - a hard but honest man, lost without his wife & Titus, a real rough diamond - good for a piss up & sod the hangover! Can hardly wait for tonights' episode!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE................... It's Weigh-In day today. I cheated on the weekend - eeeeek! On Thursday night I had the most divine chicken shawarma & on Friday, Hubs made the most scrumptuous curry. How could I refuse? Mind you, I didn't have any cake or chocolate (sob!) so I do still have some self control. So, the verdict of this morning's punishment to the scales..........is............ . . . I lost a little bit more - YAY! Only 1.2kg ............................ *sigh* I'm disappointed with myself, but 1.2kg is better than nothing right? Hubs lost 1.6kg & Grandma put on 0.1kg, cos she "just happened to find" some Cadburys chocolate in her bedside drawer! We've booked our tickets to Dublin in August & I would like to be another 18kg lighter by the time we fly............gawd.......it feels rather ominous! I can but try right? *very big sigh*
Wednesday, May 16, 2007STRANGE PEOPLE I'VE DEALT WITH - THE P S Y C H OWell, not so long ago I did a post about some of the strange people I've had dealings with. One of them is referred to by me & a couple of other people as The Psycho. Before deciding to write about this, I felt it only right that I e-mail my good friend J & get her blessing for the story, because after all, she is the primary focus of what happened with The Psycho. On the understanding that no names would be mentioned, she gave me the go ahead to tell the story. Does anyone remember the earlier days of internet chatting? I'm talking almost ten years ago, when internet chat rooms were fun. Once we got into the swing of things, with nicknames & avatars, we'd chat freely about anything under the sun. Pop ups of "A/S/L?" by unknowns or anonymous twits were given the standard "Ancient/No I have a headache/My study" answers. Friendships were slowly built up, with people from nearby towns to different continents. On the whole, it was good, clean fun. Sure, there were innocent flirtations, but they were just that - innocent. Myself & J had several online friendships with the same people, who shared the same general interests as ourselves. We both came across a couple of frequent 'chatters' who had made the mistake of falling hook, line & sinker for a person of the opposite sex, who'd promised the sun, moon & earth. Meanwhile, back in the real world, they messed up big time, by running away to what can only be described as a fantasy. They were bitter people, who had been terribly hurt by the false promises on offer in the world of 'chat rooms'. Somewhere along the line, J struck up a friendship with The Psycho. He was very clever really, because in his own devious ways, he managed to elicit information out of J, which would otherwise not have been forthcoming. He was 'very religious', 'happily married', had a couple of kids, his own business etc. etc. - pretty much the same in so many ways as J. She gave him her phone number. Initially, the friendship remained just that. The odd call was made & no one sweat the small stuff. Then things started taking a twisted turn. J couldn't go online without being tracked, one way or another. If her home phone number was engaged, The Psycho would call on her cell phone, wanting to know who she was talking to. If she made a call to me (and I only lived about 150m from her house) The Psycho would know. He started following her, wherever she went. He knew where she lived, where she worked, where her kids went to school, where she'd been at any particular time & who she'd seen. In the beginning, the interest shown in her was flattering, but it didn't take too long for it to become a worry. If I chatted to J online, The Psycho would track us down & asked what we were discussing. His paranoia was very evident. I frequently told him to make a sexual departure. I spoke at length to J & asked to her to please get shot of this person, because his behaviour was becoming totally obsessive. She told him to back off & he would, for a few days & then it'd start all over again. He somehow managed to persuade J to meet him time & time again. She assured me nothing happened between them & I believed her, but I could see this 'friendship' was heading down a one way track. The Psycho ingratiated himself into the life of her family, by using 'business contacts' to boost his need to be around. In short, he mastered the art of a perfect stalker. He knew where J was at all hours of the day or night. He knew where her husband was & where her children were. He managed to get her phone records & even went to the extent of phoning her dialled up numbers, to see whom she was calling. He managed to worm his way into her house when she wasn't there, but her kids were. If that wasn't a red rag to a bull warning sign that this man was not right in the head, then I don't know what was. The Psycho threatened me to stay away from J. I think he was not only envious of our good friendship, but also scared that she would listen to me & stop seeing him. He knew when I went to her house, or if she came to mine. He knew I'd told her she was asking for trouble by not putting a stop to their friendship & he told me to be very careful, because he had friends in 'high places'. I wasn't scared, but I was bloody annoyed by his constant paranoia. Hubs was working in West Africa at the time & knew very little about what was going on, but The Psycho pushed my button one too many times when my son caught him peering over our six foot wall, with a pair of binoculars in hand. The Psycho ducked before anything could be done. I got hold of J & told her in no uncertain terms that enough is enough......she had to tell him to keep the hell away from me & my family, otherwise I would take the law into my own hands. My friendship of some ten or more years with her was at stake & I was furious that The Psycho could have the audacity to start spying on me or my family. I got his phone number from J & I told Hubs about it. At this point, I'd just like to mention, that yes it may be nice to have friends in 'high places'. But do you know what's even better? Having friends in low places. One phone call from Hubs put a marker on Mr Psycho. One step out of line regarding me or my family & he'd be in a spot of bother, probably trying to get the concrete boots off as he drowned in a nearby lake. * Sadly, one thing led to another & J was virtually blackmailed into having sex with The Psycho. I know it takes two to tango & I'm not offering any excuses for J. She knew my feelings on the matter at the time, but for whatever reason, she had to learn the lesson herself. So, after 'it' happened, our not so friendly Psycho had an even bigger emotional hold over her. He plagued her with phone calls & 'innocent' visits to her work & gave her regular run downs on how he knew where she'd been, at what time & with whom. He threatened her regularly with the usual "if you don't meet I'll just have to tell your husband" crap. It wore J out. She'd knew she'd let herself get into the mess & she was fully aware of the devastation it could cause. She wasn't a strong enough person, despite her best efforts, to call his bluff or to just finish the relationship. She became a nervous wreck & our friendship took the biggest battering possible. I actually don't know what J snap, but one day, finally, after all the threats, she decided enough was more than enough. Her husband knew something was wrong, but couldn't pinpoint it. One morning, after yet another verbal threat session from The Psycho, she phoned her husband at work & said he had to come home, as there was something she needed to tell him. It was urgent & it could not wait. What followed was not nice, by any stretch of the imagination. Two lives that had been in a sometimes turbulent, but otherwise 'normal' partnership for many years were temporarily shattered. After the questions, the trauma & the tears, J's husband phoned The Psycho. He was told to never get within spitting distance of his family or to ever even think about phoning his wife again. If he wanted to live to see tomorrow, he would do as he was told & never, ever, under ANY circumstances, get in touch with J again. The next thing J's husband did was phone The Psycho's wife & inform her of what had happened. To my mind, The Psycho got off lightly. I'm not a violent person, but I'm afraid he was one of the exceptions, where I truly wished something horribly violent would happen to him. Fast forward nearly ten years & thankfully, J & her husband are not only still together, but they're happy as well. With the right help, their faith & their past together, they managed to hold on to their marriage. I don't know what happened to The Psycho & I really don't care. With me living in so many different countries, it's been difficult to stay in regular contact with J, but we do stay in touch & I do still think of her as a very good friend. We've had many a laugh together & many a tear shared as well, but that's what friends are all about hey? . . *A colleague of Hubs was also a part-time contractor of a different kind. I didn't know about his extra 'activities' until after the Psycho had done a runner, but for a reasonable fee, the colleague would hurt/maim/injure as required. The Psycho was made aware of this.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007UPDATE BETWEEN CHAPTERS IN THE TALE OF WOEIt's weigh in day. There is a slight shadow of doubt hanging over me - I cheated over the weekend - how could I not? When faced with Hubs Cajun Prawn Pasta, I become a slave to the saliva glands! This morning, after squeezing a kidney (all unwanted weight y'know) I make my way into the Weighing Room. I take off my slippers & stand on the scales - these are the new Digitally Electronic ones that will appear in Chapter Three - the Final Chapter. I inhale. I look down, with a sense of dread. Little dashes dash......................and then......................... .............................. .............................. . . . numbers appear! Today is the 15th of May. I am feeling quite chuffed with myself! I have lost a further 2kg, bringing the loss to date to 4.2kg in a mere fortnight. Stay tuned folks! At this rate, by the end of the year, I might have to stand twice in the shower, just to get wet!
Grandma is a bugger - she's a Star in so many ways - but she's a bugger, especially when it comes to having The Last Word. Much oooohing & ahhhing was vocalised over the demise of the less-than-a-fortnight old Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales. The temptation to chuck the bastard things over the balcony was at an all time high. Grandma had kept the packaging 'just in case' & she'd kept the till slip as well. On the bottom of the slip were the words: Goods once purchased cannot be returned. Hhhmmphh! We'll see about that methinks! I phone the local trading store & outline my case, asking that I speak to someone who can help me. My call is transferred to a sales person in 'that department'. "Good morning. I recently bought a set of Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales & they are malfunctioning. They are not working at all." I state, as clearly & concisely as possible. "Yes?" answers someone non-descript at that moment in time. "Well I need to know if I can return the scales please" I say. "What is it wrong?" asks a now (pictures in my mind) person who wobbles his head. "The Digitally Electronic Bathroom scales I bought DO NOT work" I reply. "Wait, I put you through to electronics department" Before he can press the tit for the electronics extension, I bawl him out: "I don't want the electronics department! I want to speak to someone who knows about these scales!" "Green?" he chirps Green? What the hell is green? Where did he hear green in my request? Are the scales green & if so, what the hell difference does that make? My mind races with the endless possibilities of the word green. "I want to talk to someone who knows about Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales!" I repeat. I literally stopped myself from shouting Watch My Lips! "Wait" - no please, thank you, kiss my arse........and off he undoubtably wobbled. "Hello, yes, can I help you?" announces a new wobbler, in a not so difficult to understand accent. I repeat my tale of woe. The 2nd wobbler asks if I have the till slip & packaging. I confirm that I do. He instructs me to return the offending item to the store, where it will be changed. * sigh * Enter Grandma. "Do you think the batteries are dead?" "No Flowerpot, they're fine" I say. "Yes but it says in the Instruction Booklet that they must be alkaline batteries" "They are Grandma, trust me, they are" She's not happy! She doubts my word! Off she tootles to the local supermarket & returns 5 minutes later with a new set of batteries. "These ones don't say they're alkaline either, but they're the only ones that are AAA" she chirps. "Grandma, there is NOTHING wrong with the batteries that are in the scales!" I exclaim. "Yes but.................." "OK fine, I'll change the poxy things if it'll keep you happy!" I remove the perfectly fine batteries & replace them with the newly purchased batteries. Nothing happens. Grandma stands on the scales. Dashes dash across the screen & disappear into digital infinity. The Digitally Electronic Scales don't work. They're stuffed. They're knackered. They have died & even Grandma's newly purchased AAA batteries won't bring them back to life. "We'll go across to the shop this afternoon Flowerpot - the man said I can take these back & get another set OK?" "Oh good..............we'll have a walk over when it's not so hot then eh?" "Yep, fine Flowerpot" "Why don't these batteries say alkaline on 'em?" she asks "they could be anything!" "Grandma, I've told you, they really ARE alkaline batteries - trust me!" "Yes but....................." "Grandma - button yer lip!" Exit Grandma. Later that day, we walk across to the local trading store, clutching the malfunctioning scales & till slip. I explain the problem to a thing in an abaya at the customer counter. Three assistants later & I'm directed to another part of the store, located around the corner. Myself, Grandma & the sales assistant gather at a meeting point where Digitally Electronic Scales are housed. Another assistant joins the 1st one. There is much chattering, head wobbling & exchange of TB at close range. (He either had TB or must've smoked at least 80 fags a day). Both assistants unpack our faulty purchase. They wobble it, turn it, put it down, pick it up, put it down again, stand on it, poke it & prod it. It will not work. Assistant No 2 pokes a pen into the small computer chip that is barely visible & the scales awaken, but read something that cannot be deciphered without the knowledge of a genius specialising in Ewok, or something similar. The word 'batteries' is muttered & Assistant No2 scurries off in search of new batteries I assume. He returns & I hear Grandma mutter: "They take alkaline batteries - are those the right ones?" My eyebrows raise & I give her The Look. Assistants 1 & 2 ignore her. Much poking, prodding, shaking & head wobbling followed. Eventually, by unanimous decision, it was finally declared that our recently purchased set of Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales were definitely faulty. Thank Gawd for that! There were no more of the same model, so we decided to change with another model. Grandma gave them a test drive. Her weight was correct, so we all smiled & agreed that the new model was acceptable. Our batteries were placed into the new scales & everyone was happy - yay! We purchased a few other items - one of which was a milk saucepan. Grandma has been on about a bloody milk saucepan since 1947 I swear. Why she wants one is anybodys guess, because no one in this household boils milk - including her! We must have looked at 20 small saucepans & only one of them had the 'pouring' spout - so she chose that one. I picked up a smaller one & showed it to her. It was minus the pouring spout, but it was - or could be - classified as a milk saucepan. It was cheaper, so the one with the spout got put back on the shelf. We now have a cheap milk saucepan - minus the pouring spout, which no one will use, but Grandma is happy. We then left the store. On the way down the escalator, Grandma turned to face me................ "Are you sure they've put the right batteries in them scales?" she asks. How I resisted to: A) Scream "They're the right f!cking batteries woman!" B) Push her down the escalator C) Do both A & B is utterly beyond me! Somewhere deep within me, I must have the most amazing self control......... Here endeth the Tale of Woe of The Bathroom Scales. It's been enough to make me want to turn me to drink.
Saturday, May 12, 2007THE BATHROOM SCALES - A BIT MORE TALE OF WOEChapter Two I'm not sure if it's the Harley's fault that I decided to lose weight, or if it's my own conscience, sledgehammering (well it's hardly pricking at the weight I am) me to shed a a few kilos or more. For sanity's sake, I think it is a combination of the two. Hence, I made the decision: LOSE WEIGHT. This decision, led to a further discussion - once the bruising had healed - with Grandma, about purchasing a new & another set of bathroom scales. She knew she had to 'tread lightly' around me on this subject, because she really does want to see her next birthday. I know that, as she told me, just before she turned blue whilst I was in the process of strangling her. (See Chapter One) We decided to peruse another local trading store, for a 'decent' set of scales this time - one that cost quite a heap but less than a kidney transplant. After much perusing, comparing of price, colour, size, durability & making sure they could take the weight of a mature elephant, we selected a set of Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales. Upon unpacking, Grandma read the enclosed Booklet of Instructions & became an instant expert! In order to activate our new purchase, we needed to insert 2 x AAA batteries into Slot B as indicated. I rummaged around & found the correct batteries, inserted them as directed, replaced the little plastic cover & then positioned them on the floor in the spare bedroom - hereafter referred to as The Weighing Room. They looked quite nice - a neutral white against a pale grey floor tile. "G'won then, you get on first." said Grandma "F*ck off, after what happened the last time, YOU get on first!" I replied. "Don't be daft!" she exclaimed "These are Digitally Elelctronic Scales, guaranteed to go up to mumble mumble kilos!" Yeah right I think. I ain't risking it a second time, Digitally Electronic or not. "OK, I'll go first" says Grandma. She stepped on, positioning her feet as per Diagram A in the Booklet of Instructions. Little digitally electronic dashes appeared on the viewing window - they were dashing from right to left at a rapid rate of knots. My pulse quickened I can tell you. A reading appeared. A diagnosis was declared. Grandma was happy with her weight! She had put on a few kilos, which is natural as she has also come down with the Abu-dhabi-itis bug. "OK love, your turn now" she said, with genuine concern...........concern that I may shorten her life by several years if she so much as sniggers in my direction. I step on our new Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales. I am expecting the Scale Monster (the digitally electronic one this time) to issue a frantic cry for help. There is silence.........apart from Grandma's wheezing.......I suspect she's getting ready to make a run for it.................... Little electronic dashes flash before my eyes. They're even faster than what they were when Grandma got on. Panic is beginning to rise. I break out into an instant sweat & hope to God it doesn't make me weigh any more than I already suspect. I inhale. I stop breathing. A reading appears. I have a weight! It is, I decide, probably correct, as it is 5kg more than what I was the last time I got on scales & they didn't break on me. I exhale, step down & declare my weight to Grandma. It is the 1st day of May. "Right then, I need to lose weight Flowerpot*. As from today, I'm cutting out all bread, potatoes, pasta, rice, butter, yogurt, chocolate, etc. etc. & I NEED to get into a pair of jeans that don't cut me in two." I direct to Grandma. "OK love, I'm with you all the way. I'll also cut down............but I'm still having me brandy!" she states. The new Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales sleep nicely on the floor in the Weighing Room for a week. Hubs has also joined the Gotta Get Weight Off Club. We eat terribly sensibly, but by mutual agreement, allow ourselves Friday as a day off from 'dieting' & weight will be monitored by a once weekly weigh in. Last Monday, shortly after Hubs left for work, Grandma called out from her pit: "Did you get weighed? It's weigh in day today!" I am excited! I have been really good & haven't cheated at all. I get on the new Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales..............little digital dashes whizz across the screen faster than morse code & then, then, I get The Reading. I have lost 2.2kg - two point two kilograms! I am ecstatic! I tell Grandma, before waking up & realising that I should only actually get weighed the following day...............it being one week exactly from the first weigh in. I'm gutted. I feel like a cheat! I am however, secretly smug, because I have lost 2.2kg. Grandma had a weigh in. Hubs had a weigh in when he came home at lunch time. Both had lost weight, so we were all very chuffed with our collective selves, but I was still miffed because I'd done the weigh in on the wrong day. Tuesday morning - the correct weigh in day: I go into the Weighing Room, kick off my slippers & step on the scales. I need that psychological confirmation that I'm still losing weight & doing the right thing. I wait for the little electronic dashes to dash. There is nothing. NOTHING! I step off & nudge the scales. I step on again. My heart lifts at the sight of the little dashes appearing like long lost friends! But then they keep going on & on.............. and on and then . . . Error Error? WTF is Error? Why are our new Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales telling me Error? I step off. I shake the scales, I kick them, I turn them over, check the battery placement cover - everything looks fine. I place them back on the floor & step on again. Lots of little electronic dashes race across the screen again & then, just when I'm getting excited, they say: Error. I'm close to tears. I call Grandma & tell her of the dilemma. She steps on the scales - they tell her she's lost another 4kg in less than 24hrs! (Yeah right, around her tongue maybe.) Hubs comes home from work. We tell him of my woe - note my woe, as Grandma is secretly thinking she's lost more than 6kg in a week, silly woman! Hubs steps on. His readings alternate between nothing, heaps of dashes, a loss of 14kg in the last 24hrs & Error. Our new Digitally Electronic Bathroom Scales are STUFFED! Less than a fortnight old & they're buggered. My guilt complex soars to the surface yet again & I chastise myself for breaking them, even though I know their demise is not my fault. The Tale of Woe concludes in the next Chapter.
Thursday, May 10, 2007THE BATHROOM SCALES TALE OF WOE(This is the 3rd attempt in posting the following tale of woe. I’m beginning to think The Scale Monster really has it in for me. My first attempt of many, many words was almost complete – I was editing the post when my computer made a whirrrrring noise, everything ‘hung’ & then it simply died, before I could click ‘Save As Draft’ – obviously! The 2nd attempt resulted in me attempting to save the title & 1st paragraph of this tale of woe in the ‘drafts, to which my screen declared ‘network error’. I took this as a silent sign, equal to ‘bollocks’. I am therefore, now writing this as a Word document. I will save it at any moment & thereafter, it will continually ‘save’ itself, which is a good idea, because otherwise I might be tempted to hurl the computer across the living room. I will transfer it to the Blogger page, when the Computer Gremlin goes for a tea break.) Chapter One Some months ago, I made the instant decision to buy a set of normal, inexpensive bathroom scales. I was in a nearby trading store & whilst perusing the shelves for coffee mugs, came across a stack of newly unpacked bathroom scales that fair screamed “Buy Me!” I did just that! I took them back to the apartment, unwrapped them, placed them on the bathroom floor & called Grandma to see them. “Ooooh ‘eck” she says. “Yeah” I replied, “Since contracting Abudhabi-itis* I’m curious as to how much I weigh, or at least how much weight I’ve put on.” *main symptom is known as I-can’t-be-arsed. “G’won then, gerron” Grandma says. I make her leave the bathroom. I am embarrassed & I don’t want her to see how much I weigh. I get on the scales & expect an instant stream of obscenities from The Scale Monster…..y’know, that evil little monster that lives inside of bathroom scales. The dial on the scales went slightly haywire………the needle was spinning around faster than a compass looking for North. A noise followed. CLANK CLUNK PING!!! Or sounds to that effect. (use your imagination here will ya?) Three of the 4 corners of the newly purchased inexpensive bathroom scales were above ground level. The 4th corner was sort of touching the floor – it was at an ‘awkward’ angle. I got off faster than I got on, picked up the contraption, checked it out thoroughly & sighed. *Big Sigh* Grandma re-entered the room. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, but she hadn’t heard the noise! “How much d’ya weigh then?” she enquired. “Dunno Grandma” I replied. “What d’ya mean you don’t know?” she says, giving me the ‘can’t keep secrets from me’ look. “I broke the scales” I confess, in a barely audible whisper. “Yer what?” she demands, her left eyebrow twitching like a trapped nerve . “I broke the scales” I state, quietly, directing my voice to the floor. “You did what? Wassup with the scales?” she demands again. “I BROKE THE F*CKING SCALES!” I cry. “Ooooh ‘eck……….hahahahahahahaha…….you broke the scales………………..bugger me, that’s funny hahahahaha!” Grandma is currently 78yrs of age. I asked her if she would like to see her 79th birthday & if she did, she’d better shut it NOW. She stifled a giggle. A snigger then escaped from the depths of her vocal chords. She couldn’t help herself. At this point, I must tell you dear readers, that Max Factor’s ‘Barely Beige’ matt foundation works wonders on covering unsightly bruises on ones neck! Grandma would know, after I attempted to strangle her. No more was mentioned about the purchase of & prompt destruction of a set of inexpensive bathroom scales. Until the end of April. Chapter Two to follow shortly..............
Sunday, May 06, 2007CHIKKIN'S CAUGHT THE BUG!At the mere mention that Grandad has bought a Harley, Chikkin promptly got in on the act & has already been practicing for her first ride :-)   This beauty will be waiting for her, the next time she comes to the Sandbox!  Lilly Mai - Ouma & Grandad's precious baby girl :-)  Check that pixie face! 
Wednesday, May 02, 2007TAG THINGY & A PUKKA JOKEI'm a bit behind on the tag thingy - both Keefieboy and kaya nailed me for the 5 TYDK, so I have obliged . A very good friend sent me the joke, which literally had me (and Grandma) Laughing out Loud! FIVE THINGS YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME 1. All coathangars in the wardrobe HAVE to face a specific way, otherwise I can't sleep. 2. I have a self-destruct button. 3. I really enjoy listening to Country music. 4. I obtained my drivers licence by ensuring the testing officer was more interested in my low-cut T-shirt, than he was in my driving. 5. I can't think of a 5th one! A PUKKA JOKE A little old lady, well into her eighties, slowly enters the front door of a sex shop. Obviously very unstable on her feet,she wobbles the few feet across the store to the counter. Finally arriving at the counter and grabbing it for support,stuttering she asks the sales clerk: "Dddooo youuuu hhhave dddddiilllldosss?" The clerk, politely trying not to burst out laughing, replies: "Yes we do have dildos. Actually we carry many different models." The old woman then asks: "Dddddoooo yyyouuuu ccaarrryy aaa pppinkk onnee, tttenn inchessss lllong aaandd aabboutt ttwoo inchesss ththiickk.......aaand rrunns by bbaatteries?" The clerk responds, "Yes we do." She asks:" Ddddooo yyoooouuuu kknnnoooww hhhowww tttooo ttturrrnnn ttthe ssunoooffabbitch offffff?"
Tuesday, May 01, 2007YO MAMA!!!Finally, after what would quite easily go down as a whole chapter in the book 'How To Piss On An Expat's Battery' - by the counter staff of a particular Emirates Vehicle Licensing Dept. - Hubs took delivery of his dream bike. It's a Harley FXSTC 1600CC. It's his combined Crimble & birthday present (better late than never) & it's his boyhood dream. Tonight, Hubs is one VHC (very happy chappy) & I am just as happy for him. Extra chrome thingies & a different design of front wheel are on order from the Harley dealer.............but in the meantime, Hubs is happy just to be riding again, after an absence of some 29yrs. I naturally, will be just as happy to wrap my arms, around him & enjoy the ride! (<--- open for interpretation!)  
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