Thursday, December 4, 2014

All that glitters is not gold


Having the builders in can be a little invasive. You have no privacy. They often arrive when I’m still in my nightie before my morning ablutions (polite terminology for having a poo) . When I put our building project out to tender one builder asked me if he would have to put a portaloo on site or if the builders could use the loos in the house. I can’t imagine anything worse than going to the loo and finding a queue of master craftsmen waiting in line to follow after you… especially knowing what 51% of men do at work, possibly in the executive washroom! We have been reduced to one en-suite loo for most of the build. Sharing that at 8am would be way too cozy. I didn’t choose that builder. I chose the one that promised to bring his own toilet. He did! In the summer it got very stinky and it was positioned below my bedroom window. At one point we had no loo inside the house and I was forced to use the blue portaloo. I need years of therapy to eradicate the experience. One day I sprayed asphyxiating amounts of air-freshener around the blue loo not realizing the person causing the smell was still in there. He came out smelling of roses …covered in manure!

For someone who is generally anally retentive the whole loo experience of living on a building site has been a nightmare. I don’t like people knowing I’m going for a poo. When I was a student sharing a house with 4 others I used to run a bath so that I could have a surreptitious poo and no one would know.
I knew builders being here would challenge me. My friend told me when she had some building work done she went outside and the builders were gathered around an open sewer pointing and laughing. She went to have a look and was horrified to see the monster she had just delivered in her toilet sat in the sewer pipe getting marks out of ten from the builders. Live ‘rate my poo.com’.

Knowing this, my horror began quite early into the build with the moving of drainage. Firstly the toilet pipe was outside where they were working. They’d know when I went by the flush! Then they began digging and the manhole cover was removed. I was tempted to poo and run out to see if I could see it on its way. Instead I had to go out and ask them to cover the sewer so I could go in private. They knew for certain when I went then.  I told them I wanted a wee but I bet they knew! Then there is the embarrassment of them wearing masks when moving the soil pipes. It doesn’t smell that bad… Certainly not as bad as the smell emitting from the plumber when he unblocked the old dishwasher waste pipe. He blamed the ‘waste pipe’. I wondered if that was his pet or technical name for his stinky arse!

Having IBD doesn’t help. You can get those medical ‘Cant wait’ cards that allow you to politely push in public loo queues. Like that would be discreet! Let me push in or I will soil my pants! I wondered if I should get a modified one saying “Builders! Go on your tea break, I need a shit’.

I could have blamed the children but my son never flushes the toilet and my daughter is way too girly to poo. Perhaps I could have played loud music so they don’t hear when it’s loud and not music? I’d already noted one week in to the build that you shouldn’t fart very loudly when builders are the other side of the air-vent. I heard one of them cough politely to remind me of their presence. I then heard about six blokes piss themselves laughing. Not my finest moment! One solution was to wait for them to be distracted – like waiting for the concrete to pour (not a euphemism) or go while they were waiting for it to harden in the trench (ok …maybe a double entendre!).

The builders are now mostly working inside and it doesn’t get any easier. Yesterday I was in the bathroom. It is en-suite and had a glass door. Unfortunately the glass is clear as we need to get some frosted glass put in. The electrician came in to see where I wanted a plug socket (not a euphemism). Luckily I was painting and not having a poo! I drove 20 minutes to my friends flat to have one of those in peace that day.


I may have got this all wrong. Another friend shared something with me today that might have made the whole experience fun for everyone involved. Glitter pills! I remember, years ago, Viz advertising a Glitter shitter that sprinkled glitter on shit but these pills save on any external sprinkling device. You simply swallow one and do glittery poos. (I must qualify that my friend didn’t share a glittery poo, simply the availability of such pills on Etsy!)
Even the burliest of builders would be cheered by some glitter, especially at this time of year, and they still have one sewer pipe to sort and 3 toilets to fit. A bit of glitter would add cheer! I did a little research. The makers of the pills said ‘So glam you’ll piss glitter’. It’s not the pissing process I have problems with! They also said the company ‘does not recommend consuming these pills and assumes no liability for any damage / loss / self-harm’ How much harm can some glitter do? My daughter got some in her eye when she was little and had to go to A&E. If it’s fine enough it wouldn’t be too abrasive. For considerably more money you can buy gold pills. The same principle only your poo will have gold bits in – real gold! It could start a whole new gold rush although I wouldn’t fancy sieving through the mud to retrieve the gold particles.
At over $400 a pill you wouldn’t want to simply flush money down the toilet, literally! I once purchased some gold edible glitter to put around the top of champagne glasses. I thought it would be glamorous. It actually made the champagne look like it had a scum floating on top. I’d be worried that my poo might not be as blingy and party like as the pills promise. Might just look shit! You can even get pills that make your poo smell of chocolate. Now if they did one that made it smell of coffee I think I’d be on to a winner with the builders. They’d have the manhole cover off every day at 10am precisely!

Monday, November 17, 2014

A Happy Ending!

The other day I read something with some very alarming statistics. I know statistics are made up but this was done by a university and they carried out a survey so it was academic and must be true. Admittedly the article was in a book called “Mastering Your Man from Head to Head’ so the academic research might not be incredibly high brow but it aroused my interest (the statistic not the book!) The book was something I found in a cupboard at a friends house. I thought the ‘head to head’ reference was something to do with intellectual compatibility until I saw the illustrations and subheadings such as ‘How to pet the prostrate’. I immediately retuned the book to the cupboard but not before the statistics, I had accidently read, had me concerned.

Apparently 98% of men claim to have ever masturbated. The book didn’t say why the other 2% hadn’t. Maybe they have no hands. Normally I research my blogs thoroughly but I am homeless at the moment due to the restoration and extension of the ugly house reaching a critical phase. I have had to move out and stay in a gorgeous apartment belonging to a very generous friend with some interesting literature. There is no Internet where I am staying but I would bet money that if I googled it, 2% of men would be handless and therefore unable to wank. I know that certain religious positions demand abstinence but I’m fairly certain that biology kicks in earlier than belief and they would have experimented as younger boys to see if it really did make you go blind. 

Anyway, that wasn’t the alarming statistic. There was more. 25% spanked the monkey one to three times a week. 17% bashed the bishop every other day. 24% cracked one off every day! None of this surprised me until I read that 51% of men admitted to having a Tommy Tank AT WORK!!!!

I arrived at my home which is now a full on building site to 11 men on site (actually there were more but I’m rubbish at maths so 11 makes it easier for me) I’ll be generous and take off one worker as the statistical 2% that doesn’t ever make their dolly sick. I think it must be one of the roofers. They are all under 12 years old. There’s time for him yet! That leaves 10 men. Statistically 5 have wanked at work. Statistically 3 of them do it every day. I’m alarmed that they might be saving money on WD40 or that it isn’t silicone they are squirting in the gaps.

I decided to do a survey of my own and ask them if any of them engaged in manual labour. Three denied it immediately. The carpenter shouted from the scaffolding (not a euphemism) that he did but it might have just been bravado. This is the same man who nail gunned his thumb, pulled out the nail and cut of the giblets that spilled out with a pair of plyers (not a euphemism) so I suppose playing pocket pool (a euphemism!) would be rather run of the mill. It was clear that if they were unloading the nail gun they wouldn’t admit it but there were some worrying indications. 43% of men surveyed in the book said it took 2 – 5 minutes to reach climax. All of the builders spend that amount of time alone in the blue portaloo every day. I’ve been forced to use it as we have no functioning loos in the house and sometimes I haven’t got time to drive to Sainsbury’s to use their loo. You wouldn’t spend 2-5 minutes in there by choice unless you were having an orgasmic poo or an orgasm. To be fair to them I don’t think even the most ardent and arduous of masturbators would finger their frenulum in there. They spend a long time on their mobile phones. Maybe they are sexting and are driven by desire to unleash themselves on the job! Twice I saw a burly builder do up his belt. I asked if he’d just pleasured himself but he misunderstood and said ‘I thought you’d never offer! Two sugars please’.  Maybe he heard correctly! I heard ‘Come here’ been shouted all day. I can’t be sure if this was a request, an instruction,  some friendly advice to co-wankers …sorry co-workers or the need for some pollyfilla. I’ve also heard requests for a hand on a job! Its usually met with ‘do it yourself!’ Proof positive!

The passage I read in the book quoted one man saying he liked to do it in the laundry room. He said ‘I used to raid dryers and masturbate on girls’ panties’. I think this alarmed me the most. I was worried that I may have inadvertently encouraged them to carry out extra curricular activities in the work place. I’ve been bringing my washing from the apartment and doing it at the house during the day. That morning I had parked the car around the corner from the house as the drive is full of cement and sticky substances.  I carried my washing basket to the house. I heard someone calling and turned round to see a woman waving some of my washing that I had dropped. Even as an atheist I was compelled to prey to god that it wasn’t my dirty knickers that I’d dropped. Luckily there is a god and it was just my son’s shitty little pants (he still doesn’t wipe his backside) and some dirty dishcloths. By the look on the woman’s face as she handed me my dirty laundry I can only assume she had just discovered there isn’t a god. She walked away smelling her fingers and grimacing. I think realistically, given the general contents of my laundry, I can rule out the builders rummaging through my smalls and taking them into the portaloo.

 
Perhaps I shouldn’t worry. After all a happy workforce is a productive work force and if 50% of them are having a happy ending at their work place (albeit my home) who am I to complain? Perhaps I should milk it!

Monday, October 27, 2014

A recipe for disaster #1

Transforming the ugly house!

I have embarked on a new adventure into a very strange landscape indeed! 
 We viewed a very ugly house over a year ago now. Hubby was very excited when we got back to the car and asked how much we should offer to secure ownership of this monstrosity!
‘Offer?’ I said. ‘I’m not living there’. Six months later we had moved in to an extremely ugly money pit which hubby declared would be fun to renovate and extend. He works away a lot.  I now have the builders in. Every Day! This is like having the decorators in only it’s 10 times worse. Messier and a whole lot stressier! 

A recipe for disaster!!!

Recipe for Transforming the Ugly House!
Ingredients
1 hideous house (c1950 with décor c1970)
1 architect (very hard to find the right one. Try several but this can be expensive)
Sprinkle of fairies (and their associated fairy debris)
1 obstructive county council planning office (full of special people who are proof that there is no god!)
1 structural engineer (failed/wannabe architects are best avoided but that’s impossible)
1 building firm (local so that if it goes pear-shaped you can throw dog poo into the owner’s swimming pool)
1 full builders yard of stuff
Successive skips (not the bunny hop type)
Limitless cash
Absolutely no bats
Batty woman
Bacon, eggs and Sausages
Tons of coffee


Method
Stage 1 - Design
1)   Firstly instruct an architect
2)   When that fails, ask them very nicely instead
3)   Add cash
4)   Add fairies
5)   Leave to one side for several months
6)   Discard sloppy mess
7)   Appoint another architect
8)   Leave to one side with any available fairy debris and a generous sprinkling of cash
9)   Be sure to remove any cubes, glass, oak and wood cladding from mix
10)                  Throw baby out with bath water
11)                  Appoint another architect. Add heat and stir!  Watch carefully and continually to avoid spillage
12)                  Draw the bloody plans yourself and give to architect
13)                  Inject cash into architect
14)                  Remind architect it is not a footballers house with footballers budget and remove glass and oak from drawings and hope some house remains
15)                  Lose will to live
16)                  Withhold cash from architect
17)                  Submit half finished drawings for planning out of desperation

Stage 2 - Planning
1)   Wait
2)   Wait some more
3)   Wait a shit load more
4)   Meet officious planning officer who arrives unannounced at your home and treads mud all through the house whilst displaying a builders crack most builders could only dream of
5)   Do not ask her where she gets her back, sack and crack wax from, or if they charge extra for orange.
6)   Add lots of smiles
7)    Add cash (not bribes… yet… just fees)
8)   Follow all planning officer instructions, however mental, demeaning or expensive.
9)   Appoint bat woman to carry out bat survey (friend of planning officer who cant find meaningful employ with a bat degree)
10)                  Don’t ask her if she is related to the wild woman of Borneo
11)                  Add copious amounts of cash
12)                  Make bat pie while Bat Woman isn’t looking (not to be confused with Bat Man who fights organized crime and evil for the good of mankind. Bat Woman just sits in the garden at dawn and dusk with some sonar equipment then sends a massive invoice to tell you that while there is bat activity in the area, none of them are stupid enough to reside in the ugly house …maybe that’s a whole story in itself!)
13)                  Proceed, bat free
14)                  Wait
15)                  Wait even longer
16)                  Wait some more
17) Rejoice in planning permission subject to bat boxes, oak gables and shit loads of glass… oh and a weird little architectural cube on the back that the architect managed to slip in. (don’t dwell on what else the architect may have slipped in to get planning permission)
18)                  Curse architect with voodoo doll


To be continued…






Friday, August 29, 2014

Exclusive on the All-Inclusive


Transcript of our welcome meeting upon arrival at the beautiful Island of Mauritius.

It wasn’t Mauritius actually, but I always wanted some poor f**ker to win that trip from Matthew Kelly on ‘Going for Gold’. I don’t think anyone has yet. We went to Boa Vista, Cape Verde for our first ever all-inclusive 5* holiday!

Please read in a scouse accent, or a Geordie one if that’s easier and more comedic. Avoid Manchester or Birmingham accents because, whilst they are my favourites, they simply aren’t endearing or more importantly, funny! (if doing a scouse accent throw in the random ‘It’s great’ and if Geordie do a few ‘Wyyyye iyyyye man’ every so often)


The Welcome meeting!

Hello! Welcome to the welcome meeting where we would like to welcome you to your exclusive, all-inclusive holiday.
Normally, we bribe people to give up an hour of their holiday to listen to this very informative talk where we give you lots of useless information with a free drink. However, as you are all inclusive that doesn't bring in the crowds like it does on a bucket budget trip to Benidorm. They’ll do anything for a Campari there!  So, instead, we promise some exclusive information, which those who don't turn up are excluded from. May not seem much but when you realize being all-inclusive means you are not special at all, you'll be glad you have some exclusivity.
Thank you for choosing Thompsons but as we are the only tour operator offering this hotel you didn't have any choice anyway. (It’s great! Wyyyyeee iyye Man/Pet)
First thing’s first. There is bugger all to do here in the hotel complex and we are desperate to make some more money from you and the only way we can do this is from excursions. There is nothing of any interest at all to do on this barren waterless wasteland beyond the hotel gates (which we man and lock at night) but we have managed to scrape together 4 hours of quad biking where you will see nothing! Literally nothing, because of the dust and grit and sand in your eyes. It's our most popular trip. Don't book with locals.  They are not insured and will leave you for dead should you injure yourselves. So will we actually as the nearest hospital is on the Canaries!
We also offer a great catamaran experience… subject to availability. The pirates off the coast of Senegal keep stealing it hoping Tom Hanks is on it and will make them famous! Don't book locals for any trips. They know the area and the history and everything. Far better to pay extortionate amounts to us. Turtle watching for example: Why would you want to walk 5 minutes down the beach at night to join the local Turtle Foundation and watch turtles hatch with experts when you can assemble at 1900 hours with your friendly Thompsons rep recovering from last night’s beach BBQ, travel for hours by coach to identical beach at the opposite end of the island, stopping on the way to buy local crafts at a special Thompson exclusive pottery shop, before traipsing for miles on the beach to make it feel like you are getting your money's worth, having a really, really interesting talk on local fauna and fishes, arriving back at the hotel before dawn, with the added benefit of being up before you go to bed and actually getting a sunbed that day?
It is worth mentioning guests are not allowed to reserve sunbeds. We do recommend a very early start at the pool for those guests who like to use sunbeds. 6am should secure you a lovely sunbathing spot in another resort! Best get up early to get one here! For those who like a lie in on holiday you can still get a pool side spot around 7am and the smell is just from the drains where the sewage flows near the pool. Actual poo in the pool is less common than you might think and usually the result of small children. If you pay the extra for the adult only pool you can avoid all pool poo and be exclusively extra inclusive. Actually, that’s not true. Some adults drop their kids off at the pool too! Talking of poo, for all the lazy shites who rise after 9, you'll have to go on the beach, as there will be no sunbeds available for the remainder of the day.  Life's a beach! A vast expanse of it!
The beach offers a wide range of free watersports, none of which are available should the flag be red. The red flag flies for 365 days a year. If you wish to partake in any other exclusive watersports, you will have to pay extortionate extra amounts and we will transport you to the other side of the island where the undercurrent wont drown you, or at the very least wont give you a compulsory colonic irrigation. All-inclusive Treatments such as colonic irrigation are completely free on the hotel beach, courtesy of the Atlantic Ocean.
Food! Bet you’re all starving after the shite they serve on the plane! Well here it’s all you can eat! More like all you can stomach! Think quantity, not quality. Wonder why you were squished between the morbidly obese on the plane? Because this is a fat bastards paradise! 6 restaurants - one that's exclusive to those extra all-inclusive people who've paid extra and upgraded to adult only (sadly not available to those with children) two venues that strictly speaking are food halls on a scale that Billy Butlin could only dream of and three that you have to exclusively book (3 days in advance! Tough shite to those only here for seven nights! Great! Man/Pet!) that are smaller versions of the big ones and serve the same food. All buffet style! No need to wait at your table for someone to serve you, simple line up and shovel it on, pile it high and shovel it in!
A great thing to do is drink until you are sick: Tap water will do it! Alternatively, all the beer you can drink! As long as it's Strela! A special island mix of hops and water; All the wine you can drink, as long as it’s house red, white or both mixed to produce a house rose, with that special island blend of more water; If you like piña colada, getting caught in the rain, you'll love Boa Vista but they don't serve Champagne (except once at week at breakfast - a special island blends of bubbles and H2O); An extensive range of cocktails as long as its piña colada. Lush; Kids can drink Fanta, coke, sprite.... Specially blended with that Boa Vistan water. No one yet has managed to drink until they are sick. Maybe you can make Boa Vistan history but don't tell anyone! Everyone will know you are wuss who can't handle girls’ beer!

Want something to do in the day and have worked out kids club is shit and so is bingo and darts? Play ‘Buff or Muff’ (the boa Vistan version of 'Punching above their Weight') Spot mis-matched couples and score a point by shouting Buff or Muff depending upon which one is significantly more attractive. A great way to stimulate healthy debate and make friends! Wonder how Buff or Muff ended up with a gremlin? So do they! Play ‘Munter in the Making’ by adding 20 years, 20 pounds and removing the hair (from the mans head and adding it to the woman’s back and cutting those long locks) from a young couple and work out the future Muff or Buff! It really is simple once you get the hang of it and provides endless hours of fun! But remember! The nearest hospital is a flight away!
Another great pool side game is 'guess the nationality'. A top tip: if a very tanned man has wavy hair past his ears and is able to scratch his bollocks and adjust his penis in one slick maneuver in his speedos, he isn't usually British. This reminds me of another great game for the adult’s only pool called 'its rude to point'.
Which brings me on the evening entertainment. The parrrtaaayyyy kicks off at 7pm. It is exactly the same every night for children's hour. They love it after all that blue sprite and piña colada. During the show, avoid rocking and licking windows by drinking the local gin – mixed with that special H20 Island blend!
The nightly 'show' is full of glamour and glitz! You will be mesmerized by our resident star. Transvestite or transgender? Never being sure you can score an extra 'it's rude to point' point will have you transfixed! See stars of yesteryear brought to life in amazing lip-syncing dance routines. Everybody still loves a Michael Jackson medley, don't they? I believe Gary Glitter week starts next month… or maybe it will be a Cliff Richard special!
Of course the hotel offers free Wi-Fi - in the reception area only. This area gets extremely busy at all times and we strongly recommend you label family electronic devises clearly. We cannot be responsible for the breakdown of family due to competing Wi-Fi demands and Facebook twitter and Instagram deprivation. Whist we appreciate ‘if it isn't posted it didn't happen’ and there's no point playing ‘it’s rude to point’ if you can't post the pictures, in fact we appreciate there's no point going on holiday at all, but still in appreciating this we in no way accept that it's shite for a 5* hotel to only have intermittent Wi-Fi in one area. You can upgrade for a fee!
The most special thing for us is how special you are and as you are all inclusive, you are all equally special! Relax and enjoy… After all, there’s f**k all else to do!!!!
Now… Who wants to go quad biking?



We had a lovely holiday and cant wait to share on Trip Advisor!