You are cordially invited to...

cut my frikken tongue out!

Seriously.

H2 and I were having a leisurely stroll about the shops today, just quietly chillin' out.

Stumbled across another pram pushing mum and made the requisite mumsy small talk. Blah blah di blah. She had already seen H2 and made her giggle so I thought it only polite I pay her little boy some attention.

How did I do that? Well, so glad you asked. I looked at him, smiled and said "Oh... He's an interesting looking baby, isn't he?"

What the fuck??? How is that an acceptable comment to make!? What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn't.

The worst part of all is that I didn't mean it in an unpleasant way. He really did just have unusual features; almost like an older child rather than a baby. The problem with situations such as this though is that the harder you try to dig yourself out, the deeper and deeper you get.

I couldn't get away fast enough... Possibly because I had one foot in my mouth.

GPS is my new love

Today saw the loss of my GPS virginity and frankly, I had no idea what I was missing!

It's like driving in one of those big arsed Sega rally car get-ups in Timezone! You have no clue whatsoever where the hell you're going and yet soldier on, ever bravely. This British accented woman and I became firm and fast friends.

I love her, I really do! For the first time in my life, I enjoyed being told what to do. I wasn't offended when she told me where to go. She kept me company all the way to the big smoke and ensured my safe arrival. We worked so frightfully well as a team.

She is so clever that even when I tried to get lost, she found us again. Who said women can't read maps?! She didn't even need to.

Ooh, somebody invite me somewhere a long way away. I want another hot date with my girl.

She comes bearing gifts...

I think.

Friday night is Em Eye Ell night - which, for those of you playing at home, stands for Mother In Law. H1 awaits her arrival with much anticipation and Fathership and I, well, we are slightly less enthusiastic. I suspect she is aware of this and so softens the blow each week with an offering of some kind. This week it was bananas. Please see below.

I'm sure she thinks we love the donations she makes to our diet but I'm struggling to be excited. Would it be rude to ask for money instead?

I'm afraid of getting old.

Here's my hot tip for the day:

If you absolutely must misplace your mobile telephone somewhere in the house, do not do it when the ringer volume is set to mute.

That's all I have to say about that.

A letter from our esteemed government

And really, the first two sentences are all you need, to get an idea of how things are going at Camp Rudd. (Well, technically three sentences, I suppose, but I digress...)

Dear Mrs Mothership

1) Your family has been assessed as being eligible for Child Care Benefit.

2) Your rate of Child Care Benefit, or how much you can be paid, is zero.

Well shit, he's just gone troppo in the generosity stakes, no? And wouldn't the second statement mean that I wasn't, in fact, eligible???

Two pieces of A4 paper, a window DL envelope and the price of postage - all to tell me... well, I'm fucked if I know!

What I probably SHOULDN'T have said

to the acne plagued young chap cashiering at our local independent grocery store:

"Oops, I just about tore your gadget off, then!"

I was referring (obviously) to the EFTPOS card swiping machine on the long springy coil.

He still looked like he'd have been happy to die rather than make eye contact with me again.