Mr and Mrs McMuffin

i thought I was 'passed' it...

I forgot to mention that my little Scottish man seemed to be making a pass at me too. I opened the door to him in my dressing gown and my painting slippers, my working at home attire, and my hair was greasy and unwashed. I looked lovely. Anyway, as he was going through his spiel, he said something about someone else he was working for who didn't wear a "nighty gown", then he said, "and yours is see-through." Now, Mrs McMuffin bought me the gown, and she can barely bear to see me naked, she bought me the thickest thing you can imagine. She even forces me to wear it in the summer just to make sure she doesn't catch a glimpse of my naked flesh. She denies this, and says that she is trying to preserve the mystery of my manliness. Later on, as my Scottish chappie and his mate were having a break, I was putting Slink out before setting off to work, and he commented on "what a large pussy you have." Which I thought was a bit odd because Slink is quite a small cat. I am not very good at this stuff, because I am suddenly reminded of the occasion that I was drinking in a pub when I was about 19. I was standing at the jukebox choosing some music, and munching on a bag of peanuts as I went. An older woman, she was at least 30, sidled up to me and asked me for one of my nuts. Being a naive young boy, I said, "sure" and offered her the bag. I finished choosing my music and sat down with my friends, who told me that I had just been propositioned by a prostitute. Who could have guessed?

So, anyway, I think my little Scottish man is offering me real value for money. Not only do I get the garden cleared but he gave my ego a little boost too! Truly, though, how could the poor man resist me? For God's sake, he is only human.

not favouritism...

...I am rarely moved to do this, as it doesn't seem right to single out one comment from all the fabulous thoughts that people post. However as an antidote to our Troll, who didn't understand us, I thought this should stand as an example of how others can sometimes see you more clearly...(Mrs no photo)

"It's simple, really: Mr McMuffin's posts normally have a picture, whereas Mrs McMuffin's posts don't... unless Mr McMuffin adds one later, that is. Oh, I see how it can be confusing!

I suggest writing a quick "Mr" or "Mrs" at the start of each entry.

Example no 1:

mr

I have my eye on a JÆASLJFDKLÆ89S7930345JFØSDSAÅAKDLF video card to transmit our recording of Slinky singing Baccara on our roof of shame. Here's a photograph from the video...

Example no 2:

mrs

I'm so pissed off with Mr McMuffin for going out and buying some video gadget for transmitting our recording of Slinky. We now have to sell the house and move in with Mr and Mrs Carrot Cake."

Thanks Mr Smiler

the day after...

...My bank holiday weekend has consisted of cleaning the house, arguing with Mr McMuffin about lamb of all things and entertaining until about 4am. I actually had to give up before our guests did. Today were both a bit tired and only had the energy to go to the cinema, turning down an invitation to go for a drink in favour of a quiet night in in front of the TV. As there's nothing on that I can stomach watching, I'm here for the next half hour or so.

I don't think I've stayed up this late for almost a year and it gets harder and harder every year. The same goes for drinking, not only can I get drunk on two glasses of wine (but why stop there?) but I am completely wrecked the next day even if I don't have a hangover. Today, of course, I got my passport photos done. I'm carrying my luggage under my eyes in these ones and contemplating the difference a decade makes.

where the streets have no name

Mr McMuffin makes our road sound a bit 'Stella Sreet', but it isn't really like that. Most of the time we try to ignore the celebs and just get on with our lives.

This weekend we saw the lovely Profiteroles and had a good time catching up with them and hearing the latest exploits of their twin daughters. They're growing up but still as funny as when they were babies and had their own private language. The Profiteroles could hear them talking in the night and the only words they could make out were 'Mummy' and 'Daddy' followed by the sound of them cracking up with laughter. I love the idea of these tiny children mocking their parents at such a young age. It took me many years to get to the same point and even longer for my parents to appreciate it!

We also went to the garden centre with Ms Ginger Cake, who has developed an interest in gardening. It was nice to feel knowledgable and tell her the names of plants. My knowledge of course was of where the labels were situated. She learned a lot from this, next week she'll be showing me where they are.

We also managed to catch up with Rock Cake and Gypsy Tart who had been sailing down the Thames in their new boat. We have an invitation to join them next time and I'd really like to go. Having done a few lessons I realise that it's not as easy as it looks. I'd always had this fantasy that I'd be a natural sailor (and skier). Well, i'm not a natural but it has taught me one thing and that's never to go skiing and to keep the dream intact.

Work this week then two whole weeks off. I'm certainly using up my annual leave this year. I'm not carrying one minute over.