The often dubious, politically incorrect and mainly humorous musings of Ms Jane Turley, (Ex) Housewife Extraordinaire.
I’m very busy at the moment catching up on my writing so I thought I’d drop by to share with you all a song that I’m really enjoying listening to at the moment. I played this young lady last year and Cry Me Out is her latest release. I think Miss Pixie Lott has a fantastic voice and is going to be around for a long, long time. I’m certainly looking forward to hearing what else she comes up with in 2010. Enjoy!
Well it’s been a long hard winter over here in the UK. Snow fell on the night of the 18th December and since then temperatures have barely risen above freezing. Due to compacted ice, fresh falls of snow and lack of grit, the roads are becoming increasingly treacherous. My boys have lost numerous days of education and what, at first, seemed thrilling is rapidly becoming tedious in the extreme. Fortunately, it looks like the weather is set to improve this weekend. Whilst today is traditionally the coldest day of the year in the UK, we are more accustomed to snow in February or even early March. Indeed, my father often recounted how, on a night in March, he drove through snow on a tractor to fetch the midwife to attend my birth. So what lies ahead in the months to come is, as ever, uncertain. Our weather has always been
Okay before I get really started on this post about Bono (no, not the dog biscuits but the singer with U2 ) let’s refresh our memories about the man behind the dark glasses. Yep, there he is…wearing the obligatory dark glasses. So what do we know about the lovely Bono? He’s Irish. (Someone’s gotta be.) He’s a very successful singer and lyricist with mega rockband U2. (Okay -let’s not argue about the lyrics – we’re amongst friends.) He wears dark glasses all the time. (Hmm…kinda suspicious. Maybe he’s trying to disguise he’s actually an Irish beagle?) He wears tight black leather pants. Even in hot weather. (Fortunately, I don’t have to stand next to him.) He has a reputation as a humanitarian and a philanthropist. Some might say it’s narcissistic philanthropy but I say….anything that helps the world is goooooood. (Breath in…exhale Mrs T…Breathe in…exhale…..) You know, I imagine Bono
Last year in my BBC article New Year Resolutions I came up with a new diet to help women lose weight. It was a totally revolutionary concept and I called it The Mad Axeman Instant Weight Loss Programme. You see, I’d come to the conclusion that the only way I’d ever lose weight was if I was handcuffed to a madman holding a loaded shotgun to my head demanding my abstinence from food under pain of my losing a body part; a darn good approach to dieting if you ask me and a hell of a lot cheaper than signing up to a programme that charges you to tell you how fat you are – I’ve got a husband for that. Unfortunately, my revolutionary new diet failed. Abysmally. In a desperate attempt to fulfil my ambitions I wrote to all the nutters I could think off who might assist me
Firstly, a Happy New Year to all my readers wherever you are in the world! Thank You All for repeatedly reading My Witty Ways and putting up with the utter nonsense that I write. You are brave, noble folks indeed! (Fool hardy perhaps but, nevertheless, exceedingly brave.) Anyhow, you have no idea how happy it makes me when I look at my blog statistics and see that I have had a hit that hasn’t come from either Rampton or Wormwood Scrubs. So many thanks to you each and everyone of you and my very best wishes for a peaceful and prosperous 2010 to you and your families. Now before I get on New Year Resolutions in my next post and my newly composed Mrs T’s Hot Dish Diet (It’s a corker!) I feel I should conclude the story of my gnashers. (That’s English slang for teeth – just in case
Agony, agony, agony, agony, agony…….. I can’t believe I have put up with this toothache for almost an entire week. Nothing is working; antibiotics, painkillers, NOTHING…………………………………….Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh! If the dentist doesn’t do something tomorrow I will pull my own tooth out! With pliers. Or string. Or maybe pliers and string together. Or maybe I’ll just take a mallet to my head…. Hmmm..no wait a minute that means I’d probably be dead. Maybe that’s taking it a little too far….. I must remember to sob uncontrollably for sympathy at the dentists, perhaps even wring my handkerchief out and collapse to my knees whilst beating my head against the wall. Maybe that way Mrs T would get a better response? Yep, unfortunately, I was brought up in the good old fashioned English way (which is increasingly rare) which is to have a stiff upper lip and grin and bear it. Yes, we Brits
Yes, it’s the early hours and I have the dreaded toothache again. Joy. Especially as I am stone cold sober. I went back to the dentists yesterday. My dentist concluded that the antibiotics are not working. (I think my description of getting drunk in the early hours may have helped.) So I have now another, more specific, course of antibiotics to run concurrently with the other. Unfortunately, the dentist’s parting shot to me was; “Mrs T, I advise you not to drink with these particular antibiotics as you will be violently sick.” Darn it. Darn it. Darn it. Life is cruel. Anyway, in the last half hour I’ve dosed myself up with paracetamol, Nurofen and the 2 antibiotics and now I’m killing time before they all kick in. Well hopefully. If not, it could be another long night………………. You know I didn’t feel too special yesterday morning. In fact, I
Yep, it’s nearly 3 am and I’m up again with toothache. There is now more than one gremlin knocking on my tooth. I’m thinking the infection I have is most probably now an abscess as the 4 days of antibiotics, the Nurofen and paracetamol aren’t making the blindest difference. So I’ve decided to resort to a tried and tested formula for such times…. alcohol. Yep, I’ve just examined the drinks cupboard and I’ve elected for the 35% proof Glayva, a whisky liqueur. Yummy! Of course, I don’t really recommend such a cocktail of drugs but hey it’s Christmas, I’ve got severe pain and I’m prepared to try a new tactic for a few hours kip. So if this post ends abruptly you’ll know I’ve passed out with my head on the keyboard. Ooo..glass no 2 already. Excellent! Dentists. Don’t you just love ’em. Still I suppose I can be glad
Yes Grrrrrrrrr and Brrrrrrrrrrr! It’s early morning here and I have toothache! And it’s cold and snowing outside! I’m all crossy wossy cos I should be all tucked up nice and cosy in my bed but alas there is a small gremlin tapping away on my tooth. Huh, and if that isn’t enough bad news I’ve spent the last three days searching for my car and house keys and after ripping my house apart I still can’t find the darn things. Life is sooo unfair! Reluctantly, tomorrow it looks like I shall have to get the locks changed. My car has not been stolen so there’s a good chance the keys are in the house somewhere and logic is screaming out at me…..Who the hell would want to steal my car with all its dents and scratches and an interior which looks like someone has let off a packet of
Well you can tell from my last two posts that I have the Bee Gees on my mind at the moment. I’m still playing them in the car and singing enthusiastically along to Jive Talkin’, Saturday Night fever, Stayin’ Alive and many other classic Bee Gee tracks. I haven’t managed to reach Barry’s falsetto highs yet – although I did come quite close when singing Tragedy when I saw yet another car parked at the bottom of my drive. But let’s not forget that the BeeGees, in particular Barry Gibb, have also written some fabulous tunes that have been recorded by a host of other artists including Frankie Vali (Grease), Dionne Warwick (HeartBreaker), Diana Ross (Chain Reaction) and of course Barbra Streisand as mentioned in my last Music Monday post. However, today I thought I’d play Islands in the Stream sung by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers but also written by
Terri’s bike wobbled as the Lamborghini whipped past her doing about sixty mph, sucking the breath out of her and almost making her career into Lisa on her inside. “Stupid idiot!” yelled Lisa as the slick silver car flew past. The swarthy male driver, eyes shielded by dark sunglasses, made not even the slightest indication of seeing the two shaken cyclists. “Twat,” said Terri, regaining her breath and pulling a strand of her long black hair that had escaped from underneath her helmet from her mouth. “What a jerk driving at that speed down a country lane. He could’ve killed us.” “I’ve scratched my arm on those thorn bushes,” replied Lisa, gently rubbing her left arm which now bore a cluster of bright red grazes and a trace of blood. “We were lucky though. It could’ve been worse.” “Maybe he’ll plough himself into a lamp post and do the world
Christmas is really on the way and those folks on the radio and in the shops just won’t let us forget it will they? Yep, the incessant playing of seasonal songs drives me up the wall! In fact, by the time the Big Day is here I will probably be having nightmares about Cliff Richard turning up in my bedroom singing Mistletoe and Wine. Not a lot could be worse – except perhaps discovering that when your husband said he’d scored a birdie it wasn’t quite the birdie you were thinking of. Still, Mrs Tiger Woods has now got the opportunity to renegotiate her generous prenuptial settlement into an even more generous one. Fabulous! Only wish I’d done a prenup myself. Mind you half of nothing isn’t a lot. (Although access to Mr T’s garden shed is quite appealing.) Whoops, got off track there; it’s a bad habit I’m afraid.
