Ridiculeyes

Elle has extended my eyelashes. If anyone does not need eyelash extensions, it is me. I can't blink when I wear glasses as it is.

Wibs says "You look like a tranny". Lovely child.

 They do fall off sometimes. They are not applied en masse, they are carefully put on, one bit at a time. Each one, has a little spray of four hairs on it. Elle gave me a tiny tube of this special adhesive, and instructed me to dip the end in and apply, with tweezers, should one fall off. I found one on my pillow after the first morning, and dutifully grabbed a hold of the glue and the tweezers, and after some difficulty (no glasses, which at my age, are definitely necessary every time you have to view anything smaller than say, the taj mahal), I reapplied my eyelash, dipping the dot end in the glue, and pressing it to the base of my own eyelash. Job done! Doddle. I went into the kitchen still without specs, and was bobbling around making a cup of tea when I spied another bloody eyelash clump in front of the kettle. "tsk" I said, going back to fetch tweezers to pick up the lash. Couldn't find the glue, so popped my glasses on to root around in my makeup bag - got it! Went to dip the lash into the glue, and discovered it was a gnat.

So, if you see me out and about with gnats, spiders, bits of tobacco glued to my face, don't laugh. Take pity. 

Introducing ...


... Neo.  My dear friends over at Ameeka, Stacie and Ian, had Neo for two years as a stud cat - imported from Sweden. Neo is an Ocicat Classic, and has fathered many of their litters. Now retired at the age of two (soft git) he has been gifted to me by them. He's had his vitals removed though - as if anything less would be tolerated in THIS house! He is very very demanding, headbutting me so hard that my spectacles fall off (and onto his head) when I attempt to pick up a book to read, and sitting, glaring at me with his massive green eyes, his backside on the keyboard if I open up the laptop. He is content only when everything is set aside and all concentration is on ruffling his belly fur.

Neo Scrumptious, as he has been renamed (sing it to the tune from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) has made himself at home, firstly by opening hostilities with Harriet McFlap, Boxer of Little Brain, and secondly by peeing on my goose feather duvet.
"Oh no!" says Stacie, appalled. "It's his safe place - lock him in a room with his litter tray until he feels more confident" 
Safe place? It wont be if he does it again, says I.


Today, the warring factions (team Cat and Team Dog) continued displaying openly hostile behaviour. The ruling Militia (me) is managing to maintain peace in the short term. Just.


Hello Neo. You are gorgeous, and you are staying. I always fancied a Swedish Stud.

Sartorial flim flam.

Or jim jam. Bought Livia a nightdress with this design on it.

Oh, hardeehaaar, she said. 
I should have one too, I said, with Frumpy Cow written on it.

Yes! she said, you should!

Apart from...? I said.

Apart from, you are not frumpy, she said. Cough, she said. 

Hrmmm.

I've got another job, on top of my first. Money is very, very tight, dreadthepostman tight. Anyway, I am pulling pints. here -

Is it not beautiful? My right arm is growing stronger, pulling pints of real ale in the base of that windmill, running round with Sunday roasts in the attached restaurant..


Just think - I am now a nurse that also works in a brewery. Line up lads.

awww. My lovelies.

http://youtu.be/QInbc-5z57I

oooh, look what I made...

House of Women ...


and one of them, is a monster at the moment. Veering wildly between adult and child, she manages to spend most of it displaying a personality just a smidgen less possessed than Regan MacNeil's.  Since Christmas we've had a vitriolic spew of mother hatred on Facebook, two all night parties that saw no return for three days, orange hair, pink hair, green hair and now black hair that hangs like a curtain over her sullen features, a scaffold that was executed so badly she ended up in A & E on Boxing Day, and now the same ropey back street piercer has struck again (thanks to her dad RETURNING her to same piercer) skewering her lobes with some dodgy teeny tiny silver studs, one of which vanished inside its own hole the other night. I was working on a monumentally foul piece of academic nonsense when she tentatively pushed open my bedroom door and whispered "I can't find my earring". She came closer for inspection, and it looked as though the ball of the stud had fallen off, though I couldn't pull it through from the back. Big fat tears welled up in the dip between her eye and the bridge of her nose as I gently tried to get the back of the earring off. Horrified, her wee sister stood there and allowed Regan MacNeil to squeeze her hand to distract from the pain. I couldn't get any movement so went to fetch ice and a syringe from my work bag to a background of wails from the bedroom. Hopefully I could try and proggle the back off, or make the hole bigger to pull it through. Once the lobe was numbed, I was able to push it hard enough to pop the earring which incredibly was still in situ, out of the front of her earlobe again. Bloody thing had shrunk back inside and the skin was forming over it. I will be popping the piercers head back inside her neck if she touches my child again. 


After the deed was done, I saw a flash of my gorgeous, funny, sparky girl as she stood in my doorway and thanked me, asking would I like a cup of tea. I was agape. A request for as much as a walk of the dog or a  brush of her teeth has resulted in a snarling ball of fury for weeks... I said yes, I'd love one. Five minutes later she came back in my room and handed it over. "I love you" she said.


And yes Wibs, I love you too. It's hard work sometimes, but dammit I love you. You and your rainbow head.