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8 October 2010
Well, what a week this has been. Almost enough to make us drop our toasted panini and spill our chai lattes <ahem>...
Just as we finally get calmed down, along comes LilRedWG with a most unusual problem. "I can hear a c*ck ticking," she posted, understandably concerned, "but we don't have one in the house. It's annoying me."
"Really, OP?" snorted RageAgainstTheTeen. "Does your DH have something stuffed down his pants?" asked WhatsThatDuckDoingThere, while MmeBlueberry suspected that she "must be on a promise tonight". "A CLOCK, obviously," said LilRed, blushingly, "although the alternative could certainly be said to be more interesting." SecretNutellaFix has "heard some bloke's claim that they will explode but I've never heard of them ticking before!" but, meanwhile, LilRed had got her DH in on the search for the mysterious noise. Not that he was helping much, by the sound of things. "Right, DH has picked himself up off the floor after laughing himself silly and has looked down his trousers and found nothing ticking. He has discovered that it is the exercise bike. I think I preferred the typo." SugarMousePink, however, was taken with the idea of a speaking c*ck: "The modern way of saying, 'It's that time of the week again', complete with meaningful eyebrow waggle. Or would the ticking c*ck sound the hour with a Leslie-Phillips-style 'Ding dong'?"
MummyElk thought it was about time we distracted ourselves with tales of our actual children in Toddler confessions so far today. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned," her 'toddler' wrote. "This is my first confession. I am two years and seven months. And today I got in the shower and used lots of my mummy's lovely expensive Aveda shampoo to wash my dolly's foo-foo. I would only eat my breakfast with a Big Spoon. I wouldn't eat the rest of my breakfast after my toy donkey Arthur did a poo in it. I said 'Bugger'." I feel for the kid: I'm nearly 40 and I still have days like that.
Meanwhile, inspired in all but her use of ripe language by the fragrant Nigella Lawson, LastOrdersAgain declared "Sod the butter dish, I want a celery vase." This brave stand for a woman's right to own improbable earthenware did not go down well with a mutinous crowd. "Put it in a pint glass like the common people," scowled sethstarkaddersmum, while TotosOcarina stroked her beard and sniped, "What you NEED is therapy." "I have a celery vase <outs self>," said sugarlake. "It is rather fetching and has celery [stalks] painted on the side and CELERY written on it, lest you forget its purpose. I bet you are all jealous now. Secretly." Not so, according to FellatioNelson, who stated with some conviction: "You don't need a vase to stand your celery in. You need a glass. With a Bloody Mary in it." Bottoms up!
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