In a bid to stop being a miserable whiney old cow, I thought I would write one of my more silly blogs to hopefully shift the blues away.... shove up blues.. heave shove, oops sorry sausages... hoiking up invincibles... shove... there...
here we go....
Those of you who have read along the way know I was once a rebel kicking against something or in actuality nothing and giving up smoking was the end of the last act of rebellion in my life. So since me and Mr Cancer were introduced (not very politely I’m afraid cos my first words to him were unprintable and I did kick a car too (sorry car) but he seems to have a thick skin and be a glutton for punishment and decided to stick around for another good kicking... boot! ) Anyway once again I digress..
Since then Little My has been a simperingly nice and goody good girl eating properly (excpet for the fortnight of no cooker kebabs ahem) and not drinking (much) and not smoking (booo) and trying to do some exercise (boring, boring walking) and Devil My has been taunting me for being a Fotherington -Thomas all wet and weedy. ‘Hello clouds, hello sky’ type.
And Angel My is saying to Devil My “Well, she has to stay alive or you’ll never get any fun so shut the f*** up. Actually Angel My doesn’t swear cos she’s an angel...(obviously the clue is in the name) so she says something like Oh sweetiepie, darling, well, you see, it’s like this... non violent communication blah blah blah...
Oh a little side line.. I went (or rather was sent) to a non violent communication workshop once. I left wanting to punch the woman running it... in a non violent way of course.. I would have preceeded it with I notice you are talking rubbish and I feel irritated by your rubbish so I wondered if... punch! I could have spent the money on fags instead... that was BC smoking days of course... now I would spend the money on vegetables (maybe... or maybe chocklit or lager if no one was looking)
Anyway, yesterday I got a letter, nay an invitation no less that made me realise how low my simperingly goody dull life had sunk....
Dear Little My,
We would like to invite you to a Stoma coffee morning on Saturday at the Hospital.
Light refreshments will be provided
Well, it is a coffee morning... wouldn’t be much of a coffee morning without the coffee eh? Thought Little My- nothing like stating the obvious on an invite... maybe I should put that on my wedding invite. You are invited to the wedding of Little My and P where we will be getting married and a wedding will take place...
Sorry, brain digressing again.. where were we? Ah yes, out of italics and in the middle of an obvious invitation... better get back to it....
“You can also view all the latest appliances available”.
Whoo hooo an invitation says Little My. Put that in the mothy dusty boring diary that only has the words GP GC FC and any other hospital related invites from men with Dr at the front of their name or even a Mr cos he has a knife and it seems once you are a doctor and allowed to be let loose with a knife you are promoted/demoted from Dr. To Mr. Though my grandad was a surgeon and he was a Dr and not a Mr... oh who cares... Anyway, suffice to say my diary isn’t Caroline Astor’s. So Little My blows the cobwebs away and writes the invite in.
Oh dear, how sad. Its half term. My week stretches ahead of me with endless opportunities of fun and frolicks and what’s in store?
A coffee morning for people with stomas.
And the sad thing is I actually want to go.
Now, before I hang up my jeans and slip into beige and tartan, I should explain that a bit of fun may be had...
You see, not only do you get free coffee, oooh but you get free samples and a party goody bag to take home.
Now you may think of party bags in one sense, but this time they take on new meaning and I can’t resist a freebie. I can’t resist having a giggle either and I reckon there has to be a giggle or two to be had with a room full of baggies... and the other baggies I met on here all have a sense of humour so I guess the others out there might do too... (well I hope they do) Oh and my party bag may not have cake and balloons in it (unless there is a weird accident and I could see how it could happen but I will leave that to your imagination cos its Sunday and some of you have mums who make you nice Sunday lunches and I don't want to put you off) but it may have all kinds of weird and wonderful things to play with and what girl can resist an invitation to look at bags and take some free ones home?
They may not match my shoes, but hey who’s looking.
Oh and I am wondering if they will have samples of big strong invincible pants too? Today I am sporting a rather fetching big strong invincible waistband thingy. If you have eaten all the pies or cakes or whatever and want something to hold it all in, you could sneak along with me and pretend and get some invincibles cos they would do Moses proud in their holding back powers... I doubt they do a check at the door...
Oh what if they do check? Do you think they might have bouncers at the door checking you are a baggy? Ha ha. If they do, I’m putting a see through one on just for fun. Oh and I hope that they are not all beige and humourless there.... cos if tey are Colin mightt need to get out the naughty step soon. I’ll let you know.
I am also going to Devon tomorrow to see my son who is volunteering at a farm on the sea... sorry, not ON the sea, that would be a mad farm, but BY the sea. His farm is mad but not cos it floats on water. I am Very Excited for several reasons.
So cheers me dears and here’s to chasing the blues away..... going, going.....
GONE!
And do you want to see what I got in my party bag when I come back?
And am I allowed to ask them where I find shoes to match my bag for the wedding? Snigger.
Oh and while I was posting this, a flier came through the door saying one of our neighbours are holding a coffee morning for breast cancer. Had to pop in and edit in this bit...
Ladies and their boobs morning shouts P (or croaks cos of his man flu)
No offence to breast cancer but they get a lot of coffee mornings. So, having a stoma coffee morning and a breast cancer one... maybe I should do one for us bummers.....
P said 'shall we invite the neighbours round here for an arsehole cancer coffee morning? Do you think many would come? '
Anal cancer, my dear, anal....
Snigger. Not sure either name would get them round either way... can't imagine why.
Big hug to you all and judging by some updates today, the bar is closed as it looks like a hot chocolate night with whipped cream and marshmallows but there is a tot of the hard stuff for those that need it....
Big hugs
Little My x
