Sunday, 8 June 2014

Twinks' parenting tips.

Rachel's 'parenting teenagers the right way' tip #5832

Your teen asks you to pick them up from the cinema or a party.
Don't think this won't happen EVERY weekend. It will. And you'll go, because it's dark and dangerous and you're a bit of an arsehole.

You then tell them a time. Make it an exact time like 10.30. Not 'about 10' that won't work.

At 10.15pm you go upstairs, remove your bra, pop on your most washed up onesie (preferably one that's a bit worn at the crotch). You take your hair down. Mess it up a bit. Remove all make up and put a pair of comfy yet horrific slippers on.

You then drive to the cinema/ party and arrive at 10.29.

You give them 3 minutes. No more... Just 3... It's enough.

If no teenagers are visible at this point. You get out of the car and go in.
Just walk right in to the party and start asking for them by name.

You will only ever have to do this once.

You're welcome.

Rachel Keys, parenting expert as voted for by the whole of Twitter and my Mum 2014.

Friday, 10 January 2014

The delights of the Housing Benefit system.

So.. Yesterday I arrived home to find a letter from Housing benefit office. They were suspending my claim as I still hadn't provided them with October's wage slip. Silly me... I'm fairly sure I've taken it not once... But TWICE (because they lost the first one) 
Anyway I'm not one to argue.. I'll take it again.

So this morning I walk to the housing benefit office, armed with all my wage slips since 1967.. It's moved.
I walk a further 5 miles to the new office, which is now some large cattle market of worn down Ugg boots and Fred Perry jumpers.
It stinks. It stinks of actual shit.
I wait in line for what feels like 4 days, I'm feeling a bit dizzy now.. mostly due to the fumes from the obese woman in front of me which were a mixture of lard and tramps arsehole. 
I eventually reach the front where I'm handed a ticket and moved along to a small holding area where I'm wedged between little Princess Lambrini and her Mum who appears to have forgotten she owns a child and is 'propa fuckin sick ov level 79 on candy crush'
A further 4 days passes.. Lambrini has attempted to empty my handbag 3 times and is now standing on my foot.
My name is finally called.. I go to a booth... Similar to those in maximum security prisons where you have to speak through a phone. 
There is no phone.. Just Brenda behind a 3ft piece of bullet proof glass.. As I found out, there was a very valid reason for this.
I sit down and pull 836 pieces of paper from my bag..

Me.. Hi, you've asked for my October wage slip. Now I'm not being funny but I've already brought it twice... Anyway here, have it again.

Brenda.. *scans wage slip.. Tilts head slightly.. Adopts mildly smug looking face*

I'm not entirely sure at this point whether she was having a mild stroke or trying to hold a shit in.

Brenda.. This clearly says 30/09/13 .. The 9th month is September 

Me.. No, Brenda it says PROCESSED on 30/09/13 ... PAID on 10/10/13 .. Making that OCTOBER.

Brenda .. *face slips a bit* oh, so it does... Well yes.. In that case we've already seen this .. Your claim will carry on as normal. 

Me.. You're lucky you're behind glass Bren ... SO lucky.. 

Monday, 4 March 2013

World bastard book day.

So.. It's here again, the day every parent with more than one child and a full time job dreads .. World fucking book day.

School usually inform you of this day a good 48hrs in advance, via a letter sent with a 6yr old. This letter sits in their bag, wedged between a dead slug and a banana from last Tuesday, until they finally remember and hand it you at 10pm THE DAY BEFORE.

The letter is always jolly and upbeat.. Reminding you in a patronising way how 'exciting' it is.. And 'have fun being creative'
Since when has being creative been any fucking fun?
And of course don't forget the 'prize' for best costume.
To a 7yr old it's all about the prize .. Even though you're fully aware it will be a half melted Easter egg that Mr Smith found wedged at the back of the stationary cupboard.
Your kid won't win the prize though.. It'll be the kid that wins it every year.. You know.. The smug faced one in his hand sewn Willy Wonka outfit, complete with top hat and an entire troop of Oompa fucking Loompas, that his Mum stayed up till 3am sewing ... (She got the pattern from Netmums) .. And judging by the neat sewing, she wasn't even pissed.

I'm not 'that' mum.. I'm the mum who just crawled in from work after a 9 hour shift and instead of sewing is drinking gin and eating the kid's Monster Munch whilst contemplating if The Halloween costumes that she shoved in the loft will pass as 'creative'

I'm going to give this a bit more thought before Thursday.. But still, I imagine it will go a lot like this.

How to make the perfect World book day outfit.

1, think of a character

2, change your mind when it involves sewing

3, open gin

4, explain to child why making a spongebob outfit is a FUCKING STUPID IDEA

5, top gin up

6, Google book characters

7, refresh Twitter

8 play 2 levels of candy crush

9 top gin up

10 Hack wildly at a piece of material with scissors

11 realise it now doesn't fit your child

12, sleep in due to too much gin

13, hurridly tie a saucepan to childs head. Boom . Faraway tree character

14, thrust kit kat in child's hand.

15, Leave house

Monday, 24 December 2012

That's it!

So... It started In about September..

That's right... Fucking CHRISTMAS

Along the aisles in Spazda one side deckchairs and picnic sets.. The other side advent calendars and fucking matchmakers .. Then comes the adverts on TV and the shouts of I want that! And that! And that! Ooo look mummy an advert for Flash.. You can have that.
Then there are the 'big store' adverts.. Usually some middle class bollocks about a Christmas jumper wearing family singing carols as the snow falls gently all around.... No sign of three kids smashing each others faces in with a Wii remote whilst the dad is pissed on Stella and the mum sits crying in the kitchen.

Then the shopping starts... Usually out of bill money because as usual you never quite got round to saving up that 3K needed to keep every ungrateful twat happy... You head off to a shopping centre with a list that is 8 sides of A4 .. You barge your way through fat aisle hoggers and feral toddlers ... 'Accidently' elbowing 5 old people and a guide dog in the face... Red hot and dying for a piss you head back to the car.. Where is the car? You forgot to make a note of which carpark... You sit down and have a little cry.

Then the wrapping starts... Usually late at night when you're half pissed.. 3 kids get up for 'a drink' .. Forcing you to hurridly attempt to hide a baby Annabell and a bike under the dog.

As I type this it's time to play Santa... I've done it again... Made it to Christmas Eve! Nobody died.. Nobody starved.. Everybody has got what they wanted..
As much as I moan.. This bit is the best..

Merry Christmas everyone... Hang in there.. We can start all this again in 9 more paydays ;-)

Love Twinks x

Sunday, 2 September 2012

Holiday fuckery and hobnobs.

So.. That's it.. It's over... Another six weeks of bickering, fighting and claiming 'I'm bored' whilst surrounded by more electrical gadgets than Currys.

It wasn't too bad this year really.. I only contemplated suicide twice, which is three less times than last year.
We also had four sunny days.. This made a nice change from hearing "oh my godd I wanna play out" to "mumm it's tooo hot I wanna stay in"
It's always nice to vary the whinging.

My food shopping bill tripled, this could possibly be down to my kids dragging any feral skin headed toddler off the estate in for ice lollies, crisps and drinks, 27 times a day.. Once the other kids get wind of this, there is a never ending line of hungry looking faces at your door.. "ere Levi, that woman at 89 has Fab lollies, your mam only has them iceland ice pops.. Fuck that, let's get round there"
Or something along those lines.

I have also spent the cost of a small family car on school uniforms and new pencils and bags and shoes and pumps and haircuts and lunch boxes.. But it's all worth it because in nine hours from now, small child will start full time school ... For the first time in as long as I can remember, I will be alone... Completely alone .. ALL DAY..
It's kind of life changing.. What will I do?
Maybe I'll become really domesticated and clean 5 years of dirt from my house... Maybe I'll sort out the garden and keep my car lovely and clean.. I could even go to the gym and get in training for Rio..
In reality though, I'll probably eat an entire pack of chocolate hobnobs whilst watching cash in the attic and enjoy the very much deserved SILENCE.

Unless I get pregnant again....


Sunday, 10 June 2012

Washing bastard machines.

Some things in life are just sent along to try me.
By try me.. I mean beat me around the head until I'm a jibbering wreck ..
Of course this didn't happen, as I'm a rock hard Northern bird.

But trust me.. I'm coming close.

On May the 2nd (that's quite a long time ago now) .. My 7 month old washer died.. Just stopped working.. Full of shitty water and clothes, at a really inconvenient moment...
87 towels later I had scooped all the water out.. And rang the company to report it broken.

"no problem" said a polite lady on the phone... "we'll just swap it for a new one"

On the 8th of May (I've now been without a washer for 4 days) .. Two of the most miserable faced bastards ever to walk this earth turned up to collect the broken washer.

They moodily hurled it on to the back of a van and sped off in to the distance..

No replacement washer was brought.

I ring back to speak to the nice lady.. She has gone.. And has been replaced by Indian Dave..

Indian Dave hasn't a fucking clue what day it is.. Let alone what day my washer is arriving.. I hang up.

And wait.

And wait.



A full 24 days.. And 842 phone calls later .. A washer arrives!!

You can imagine my excitement as the miserable faced delivery man dumps it in the middle of my kitchen.. Has a shit in my downstairs toilet.. And hops back in is van.

I grab a knife and start ripping open the packaging.. Deciding what to wash first.. Overjoyed that I no longer have to drag bin bags of knickers and skiddy boxers down my garden to my neighbours anymore.

My excitement is short lived... As I discover that some boggle eyed arseclamp in the warehouse has dropped it .. Smashing the door to an attractive 90 degree angle.

I lie on the floor and sob.

It's a Friday..

A Friday afternoon.. Late afternoon.. Not any Friday.. JUBILEE BASTARD WEEKEND FRIDAY...

Indian Dave and his mates have long since abandoned the call centre phones.. And are probably pissed, face down in a coronation chicken sandwich.

At this point.. Softer people would cry.. Or kick the broken washer.. Have a bit of a tantrum.

I'm hard.

I rang my mum.

She took me to Comet and bought me a whole new washer.. (she was possibly concerned about my mental state.. As I'd been eyeing up knives and talking in an unusually high voice for the past hour)

Comet were FANTASTIC... The new washer was delivered and fully installed within 16 hours .. All singing all dancing 9kg drum washer WITH A 14 MINUTE QUICK WASH!

I was in love..

Down came curtains.. Duvets.. Coats.. EVERYTHING...

Anything not fastened down was washed to within an inch of its life.

It is now 6 days after that amazing day.

I've just worked a 14 hour shift on an acute stroke unit.. Whilst nursing day 2 of the worst hangover known to man.

I got home at 21.30 ... I set off at 06.00 am.. It's a long day is that.

So obviously I should wash my uniform..

I pop it in.. Bit of Daz.. Swish of Lenor.. Turn the fancy knob.. Select amazing wash cycle...

Press start...

And BANG...

Entire electric in the house trips off... The washer plug is welded to the socket...

I'm now sat in the cupboard under the stairs in the dark .. Rocking and sobbing...

It'll be fine though.... Right?... Because I'm hard...

Sunday, 22 April 2012

Twitters PMT stories

Women really ARE mental.

Last night on Twitter, I was having a conversation with @carlroney... He had argued with his wife, and wondered if all women were actually mental .... or just his wife.

This got me thinking about mildly mental things that I and other girls I know have done whilst having PMT ... hormones are a dangerous thing ... 

I asked my followers for any PMT stories that they had... or any from poor suffering men ....

This is what I received.....

@dafydd13 " I once had a box of hot vegetable chow mein thrown at me because it didn't have any beef in it. My fault apparently."

@the_holy_log " Hehehe. My friend was annoyed at her husband watching the football so she put a brick through the telly, she was also naked"

@roguebunny ." my ex once threw a chip pan through a fucking window at me. Fucking menstrual cunt"

@canoeblue " I had a sky remote hoyed at my head because the wrong genre of music was on. The other side of PMT."

@ladyg117 " Reet. OH was playing my piano fucking badly.. Would not shut the fuck up.. So I turned off the electric and cut the plug off."

@mrsbodge " threw the iron at hubby when he asked me to iron a shirt as he'd been pub, iron was hot managed to embed it in the wall!!"

@louisee182 " I once threw my trousers at my mum and started crying because she didn't tuck the pockets back in after washing them"

@mrsbodge " took his dinner and cutlery into the pub as he was late the whole pub went silent not 1 person spoke threw it all at him & left"

@diaryofaledger " girlfriend and I had row before cinema. She turned up at cinema and demanded, in front of audience, that I drove her home."

@tummycustard " My ex yelled at me out of nowhere accusing me of being racist. "You don't like my friend because he's black!" I'd never met him."

@greatauntiejojo " kicked shopping across car park then went inside and had tantrum that ended with hitting myself over the head with a baking tray"

@arcpad " floods of tears in the street last week, no reason at all (apart from PMT and heavy shopping)"

@steve_hobson " I left a used tea bag on the drainer early one morning, mrs nearly left me"

@RUSSTIKI " my wife once threw a biscuit tin at my head & when I asked her why she did it , she said "I didn't!""

@ladykirsty1982 " not PMT but i had HAD to throw dylans toast on the floor and put blob of flora light in his tea cas he pissed me off"

@gemster_ " well I got on a last minute flight to Toronto after a seriously bad pmt spell. As I landed I knew I had fucked up."

@fluffetyfluff  " my friend once threw her husband out for a week because he didn't rinse the bottom of the washing up bowl after doing the pots"

@justhelens  " Repeatedly slamming a glass paned door whilst screaming that I was going to stab my sister to death, and all the glass fell out."

@_snizzles_ " my mum on separate occasions threw my brother and a saucepan of boiling water at my dad!"

@gracie_k83 " my ex once complained that I'd not ironed his clean clothes. So I laid them all out in the front garden in the rain."

@bigblunderboy " obviously not PMT but i once taught a lesson to a frying pan of mince that was sticking by smashing it against the kitchen wall."

@kinglumpy " my mates girlfriend burned all his clothes and gave them back to him in a sandwich bag!"

@phatnova " my mum smashed a bottle of aramis over my head cos I refused to go to school , smelt like a nonce for weeks ... I was fourteen"

@toliveistoHAI " A mates girlfriend went nuts and smashed up the inside of his Volvo with a high heeled shoe. Who knew Volvos were so flimsy?"

@trey78uk " My mum frisbee'd the only record I owned at my head because I wouldn't go to bed. Dancing In The Street, Jagger and Bowie."

@its_spanner " yesterday night I heard "puff the magic dragon" on the radio, it made me well up. PMT at its worse."

@kinglumpy " my wife threw a full length mirror at me from the top of the stairs I was sitting at the bottom. Would have fckin decapitated me"

@jack744 " An ex threw a radio alarm at me because I didn't put it back an hour when the clocks changed. Could've been GMT though."

@death-stairs " ha! Once my GF cracked an authentic African musical shaker instrument over my head because I didn't want to watch Holby City"

@mandronicus " My ex took kitchen scissors to her hair in floods of tears, chopping major chunks out, shrieking she hated f'ing Nicky Clarke."

@drjatn " Friend went home with a perm, hub said "Hi Deidre". Cos of PMT she went back and had head shaved. "Hi Ken" said hub on return." 

Certified proof that women are completely BATSHIT.