Wednesday, 13 May 2015

Pneumonia is the posh cold.

Hey invisible audience,

Have overwhelming feeling of embarrassment that no one has read this yet, or is it just another bout of rejection?! Yes I have been rejected again by yet another male suitor, (why do they call them that when the ones I go for are so NOT suitable?!) this one a young Irish Philly from Cork...I told my mum he was a plumber so she would like him! I kept feeding her his witty anecdotes like for instance when I told him I had recently recovered from Pneumonia and he said 'Ah the posh cold' ....literally there were hearts in my eyes...AND my mothers...was going so well until she started asking me if he could perhaps pop round and 'do the pipes...' So I told him he should probably learn some Plumbing he replied 'Why the feck would you tell her I'm a plumber, I was a bricklayer for 5 years!' Ah yes....not my greatest lie...he agreed to keep my secret and be the best plumber he could be. But after a few double Gins with my mum she was asking why he lived here and not Ireland...- at this point she's all loved up and feeling like I am not the spinster of the family, devoid of children or even a cute dog and with a possible addiction to cake and Prosecco (inherited from her I might add!)

'Erm mum, there's something I need to tell you....' She pauses, glares into my soul...'um he...he...isn't a plumber'

As my mothers usually sweet and warm eyes start to glaze over (I did wonder if it's the Gin) her nostrils flare and her mouth slowly gets smaller and smaller till it forms a tiny angry star shape....'He's a soldier'

*hangs head to avert from medusa-esk glare*

There is a red glow creeping over the table and I swear it's warmed up a few degrees...

'Don't lie to me, girl' she growls - I swear she's channeling every Eastenders baddy that has ever been! Her top lip is literally disappearing before my eyes!

'I've told about 8 people you're going to marry an Irish Plumber! We all said ahhhhh' she seethed.

' And this is why I lied mother! I don't want to see that cats bum hole mouth, that judgemental look and put your lip back down, you look like Anna Kendrick attempting a high note'

After some coaxing she chills out, relaxes, promptly starts taking a sip of her (double) G&T and as I say 'we just won't tell him you know, and you can ask him loads of Plumbing questions' she snorts with laughter and spits it across the table into my face. We are basically over it, except from now any sweet anecdote I tell her is met with comments like - 'he's clearly a psycho or he's a sadomasochist!'

Anyway I digress, basically it's all over because of stupid fuckwit social networks. But that's another story because my little finger is aching so much from holding the weight of my phone, my ridiculous phone case and my ridiculous life!

In other news one of the teachers I work with asked a student what the problem was and this was his response:

'What do you mean what's the problem, I'm fucking ginger where do you want me to start?!'

And that. Is. Verbatim.

What a fucking legend. I couldn't hide my laughter, let's be honest the kid needed to hear it! Made my day!

Kitty Lo

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