I must get a life

I must not only get a life but keep me trap shut. This week's clutch control foot's day off is or was tomorrow - but of course when asked 'are you free tomorrow afternoon?' I say '..er...yes.' Now I've fluffed up all my feathers and am slumped like a fat vulture. All thundercloudy-faced. And only myself to blame - even more lemon-sucky.

I could have had a life tomorrow. That's a mind-fuck sentence for you. Mind-fuck lemon-suck.

But there was today afternoon. So I decided to mend things. And failed. Precious things. Easily broken pottery things I had made when I had a life! And now my last failure, which is kind of an outsider-possible-success (it really isn't but I just wanted to type in the word 'success' to see what it looked like ....looks like 'suck-cess' in my head) is now resting/balancing/drying/setting (whatever) in the spot where I want to continue to make my little pap mach tree - the thing that actually does make me happy (see - there is something). So, here I am on Mr G I-Work-From-Home-Now Pants' upstairs computer which is really clonky and irritating instead of doing the thing that makes me happy cos I've got to wait for something which didn't to be so past help I chuck it out. Well, by chuck it out I mean leave in a shoebox somewhere for 6 years. And I wonder why I have made such a mess of my life. Cloudy thinking. Thundercloudy clonky thinking. OK - thinking's the wrong word. Black thundercloudy clonky bloody anticlockwise antisocial lemon sucking then. In fact it's the lemon that's got tears in its eyes. THAT's how sour I am.

But there's always tomorrow morning. Maybe tomorrow morning I won't have a face like a smacked arse. I might not be waving a clenched fist at the world because it failed to invite me to it's party. And of course I may have even thought up that perfect idea for instant money-making - the one where I do fuck all with fuck all talent in fuck all time and earn fuckloads. It could just happen. Tomorrow.

Meanwhile I shall scour the sweetie tin for the last Quality Street (or Squalourty Sweet) even if it is the strawberry one, and count my blessings.


* * * * * * * * *


OK done that. Now have a strawberry-flavoured goop sucky face.


I know what I need. If you were to look at http://www.xtremefalconry.co.uk (dammit I'd hoped that would pop up as a different colour and be all accessible .....sigh...) you could peek at some pictures of most talontastic birds of prey. In particular you could feast your minces on a Bateleur Eagle called Talisman. She came to say hello to our gang in our 'new' hall yesterday - with some of her hard-ass chums. Now she's a feisty ol' gal who'd apparently been passed from pillar to post due to thundercloudy unsociable behaviour (that's my girl!) until the Xtremefalconry chaps got a hold of her. Bein' a venomous snake-eatin' predator an' all she is kinda supposed to be a tad aggresive like. But the chap yesterday explained how this type of boid sleeps nestled up against their mate (q unusual in bird of prey world) and how the male would start the day with a good 20 mins of so of grooming his woman - particularly round the back of her neck. Now this sends this puffed up scary bitch into a totally ecstatic trance. All her spikey-up feathers sleek down and she is immediately entranced. The chap showed us. There were about 20 women in that sports hall who all cooed and sighed at the same time.... 'I w a n t t h a t ......'

THAT's what this fearful red-eyed clown-haired old trout needs. Some sort of stupor-inducing tickling trick. Do me the world of good that would. Anyone know a good Bateleur Casanova?

We saw a fair few impressive feathers yesterday. A Peregrine Falcon, a Harris Hawk, a Kestrel, and 3 different owls. I LOVE owls. A 'baby' Asian something Owl, a Barn Owl (who clipped the top of me head as she swooped across the hall), and the most breathtaking European Eagle Owl. Just like in the Gruffalo. Little Rock Godling and I were totally enraptured. (Thuglet was.... well he's 4, Minx ducked out after the Barn Owl - not enough eye-liner or over-the-boot tights to hold her interest and Jack Russell Boy was too engrossed in being allowed into hallowed circle of bigger cousin and his Playstation at Nanny and Grandad's for an extra day to come - shame really as he would have been in creature-mad boy heaven...but he was in big cousin and small dog boy heaven instead.) And did you know that mouse wee glows in UV light? That's how clever little Kestrels spot'em. They have UV peepers and when the constant trickle of electic blue wee starts to puddle, they swoop on the halted dirty little suckers. Ha!

And every night the boy's 'stories' are library books about deep sea life, or reptiles or bug-eating plants (as well as blinkin' dinosaurs). And they want to KNOW all this detail stuff - how big, how old, what they eat, where, how..... and teeth in giant squid tentacles' suckers? Oh my boggling convulsions! Well, I'm learning loads. They're happy. And I've managed to hurl The Jolly Bloody Postman in the charity bag. God I hate that book. That alone makes me feel a bit slinkier-feathered. And to top ALL this - Minx has started to read A book! A real book. A novel. Yeeflippinhaw!!!

There now. All sleek and shiny again. Despite my fingers smelling of 3-day-old curry (another fabulous nay facksome leftovers dinner bonanza - ricotta and spinach pasta things left over from lunch with the least unappetizing bits of the above-mentioned curry). And you may have thought I didn't have a life! (What gave you that idea?) You've not lived unless you've had one of my dinners. Obviously you may not live if you do. But I can take it - constitution of a slut. I'm snake-snappin' screecher who just needs a little good lovin' now and then. The occasional goopy chocolate. And an upstairs computer where I can hide for almost 10 mins before small boys can find me.

Blessings indeed.


OK I still need to learn to button it when I'm asked if I'm doing anything tomorrow but I feel better already. What's another day out of my amazing life gonna cost? (Two pap mach branches and Nov 08 to Jan 09 scrapbook catch-up probably.)

Oh damnedy doo doos - I could've done that instead of sittin' here playin' tippety-tappety on the mind-suckin' 'puter.... Doh!

As some Scouse strummer once said - 'Life is what happens to you when you're busy sucking a lemon'. Or something like that.


Oh go ask a giant squid.