mamahog 'n the lets

or (as maybe that's a little Bit strong..)

'the universe is Not cooperating.'

recent proofs of this are:

...my gorgeous little babies crying that they don't wanna go on holiday to the beach with their baba, (even though they LOVE IT there, and i'll join them when i finish work in only 5 sleeps,) because they'll miss mummy, because "but (they) LOVE (me) SOooooo much!" , and crying for A LONG TIME before sleeping, one after another and consecutively. and holding my hands EVER SO TIGHTLY until they slept, when i finally pried them free. sniffing.
did that make any sense? i'm still a little raw.

... being asked by one babishko quietly, if they can watch the little vampire film Again (for the 3rd day running), because "the Very nice boy when he's being a vampire does have a Really, Lovely, sort of, you know, Lovely, Baby face, doesn't he mummy?"
poor luke skywalker's finally lost out to a blood sucker. (oh NO! see?? she's shifted to the bad boys, like her mothers misspent youth, yikes! and she's only 5!!!)

...finally discovering that since turning 36ish, having twins and grudgingly giving up ludicrously expensive gym membership one year ago, and doing BUGGERALL since, i can no longer eat cakes, chocolate, potatoes and biscuits, with extra cheese on everything, without growing extra fat on everything quicker that i can say "Holy Fuck i'm a fat Fucking Flab Blob!" and having all my trousers attempt to garrote my middley wibbly bits.
and burping a lot.

...realising that despite being a fucking fat blob, i can't seem to stop myself eating extra cheese on chocolate cake, CANNOT remember how to stop watching shit telly and do floor exercises, and even when i do remember, cannot for the life of me seem to muster the energy to lift the fucking fat blob off the sofa. resulting in guilt feelings as well as burps and fatblobness all evening.
and i HATE CSI (all of 'em).
which all goes to prove that as my waistline disappeared it took my willpower with it (or would that be the other way around?) (or does it matter really which came first?) and the Only way to Salvation would appear to be being dumped (obviously that's always a winner as you lose your appetite and need to look fabulous to stand any bloomin chance of Ever getting Laid again) (ooh does that mean it's all my boyfriend's fault for making me complacent? can i blame him?) (Hell No! it's ALWAYS ones own responsibility... no one can make anyone do anything... and blah) (generally) (but actually... bear with me... having a boyfriend though yummy, may actually be VERY bad for ones health/waistline, i mean i know shagging burns calories 'n stuff, but frankly, i do a LOT more lying around, and cooking grown up food involving cream and butter, AND he ENABLES me, by saying he "loves me anyway", or "(he) love(s) (my) tummy", or "have some more chocolate", n stuff.) (bastard) OR litter-ally tons of free money falling from the sky that i could dash around collecting just so i could thrust it eagerly at the outfriggingrageously expensive gym bastards down the road, and beg them to take me back and let me grunt and sweat and swear and glow and snif. and complain that my $1800 per year doesn't pay for a few bloomin snot tissues in the bloody changing rooms, in their fine establishment again.
or stand up straighter, starve and suck the fatblob in at all times and Never wave at anyone Ever again.

...and it's all made worse by the fact that having small (though almost perfectly formed) teeny weeny boobies, the fatblob sticks out further than my chest. making me appear fatly pregnant when i'm NOT! and meaning that even very close friends put their hands on it and question me with excited smiles. (making me wonder if therefore having a tit job would maybe be a good idea as then i'd have room to nurture/disguise the belly fatblob over time...)(no! no to fake boobs and silicone stuff in my boobies)(and hells NOOOOOO to havinbg to wear a bra Every day)

actually.

...and i'm still flabbing SKINT.

bugger-it-all.

*

Oh AWright, ok.
i know none of that's Really Very serious, but well, frankly fuck it. my babies wis cryin. and i gotsted sadened.
and i've got to go on a beach holiday involving swimwear and the baring of fatblob soon.

but/so really, you' know... life's awright n all that.
:)
the girls are great. and lovely. and loving. we are all going on holiday (on the arsesorted cards) now or soon. i've got someone utterly macyummy, whome i macwuv, who makes it hard to leave the sofa and who shags me despite my flabblobness. And i got my hands on another naked aging pop star recently. that's always good for moral. dancing away the heartache and all that malarky.

except did i mention the amazing expanding stomach? and arm flaps and buttocks and back...
.
.
.

oooh the lovedove just put a spell on me.... apparently saying "AbraDAGABra" and kissing the fatblob is all it needs.

maybe if a write a book on that magic new diet plan i can make the kajjilions of spondoolies needed to enter the most expensive gym on the planet again...

as some years Americas Top Model said a little earlier on on 'MYMAX', "there's no testimony without a test."

or a little 'mony' in my experience.

or moany.

or testi ;)

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Labels: istanbulundercover, rantlets, the wonderlets

you know, it's a well documented fact that too much sun, and sea...


especially when going Half Naked...
(in New bikinis)

with beer,
(not to mention baked potatoes, Extra Cheese, meatballs, more beer, and Beer, and fabulous new bands like beirut, and others i've currently forgotten but which will come back to me, and more beer, and ummm...oh yes, Old favourites, and sunsets and, and..)

and Much Bopping About Gleefully,
with beer,


will generally result in horizontal boyfriends on a sunday.


...but despite the predictable male Snoritude, girly glamour simply CANNOT be quenched.




and after only Minimal amounts of BabyButIt'sNotZappingMyPainQuiteEnoughYet Drugs, nutella with fresh fruit, Moaning and HarRuMPHing about,

the super Clingy, OwwMyHeadachey! female will often seek out and find Some other Cutie to kiss, and with which to share declarations of Undying Love.



so beware!
it's a slippery slope boys and snorey girls. You Have Been Warned.

*

oh but bloomin'eck how i Love festival season! specially now i's got me my easy pee matey!
yay! summers here and the livin is Easy.

if a bit sticky and laaaaaaazy ;)

enjoy thee lovelies, go get boppy, and happy and drink way to early in the day. just once, and nap :)
and enjoy the nakedness the heat forces upon ye.

ooh and hope y'all had very happy independancey day celebrations all you northern americans.
ah maybe that's the MacYanks game... fight the evil Oppressor's with MacSnores... good tactics ;)
my baby's sooooo smart!
now, i need a cuppa tea...

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Labels: hnt, istanbulundercover, questionable past lives, the wonderlets