Archive for the ‘LOL’ Category

Image: hair cut trauma

Say no to haircuts!

It’s that time again. I know it’s coming. How? I have started to use the thinning scissors again. I’ve got really thick hair so it gets to a point where I have no option but get it thinned out. The thing is they won’t just do that. They have to wash it, condition it, massage your bloody head (I have no idea why they do this, it doesn’t DO anything), cut it, thin it, blow dry it and then on top of all that, you have to make small talk.

I understand that a lot of women find this relaxing and enjoy the whole experience. I don’t, which is why, when my hair starts to look wider than it is long, I reach for the thinning scissors and then attempt to cut a bit off the bottom in a straight line (easier said than done). Once I’ve completed my beautification session I usually end up wondering why I didn’t just go to the hairdressers. Every time, I do this every single time. Last time I thinned and chopped it so much my left ear was clearly visible through my hair but my right ear wasn’t.

So, I guess I will have to go. I don’t have a hairdresser either. I pick one at random usually based on whether you can be seen from the outside. I hate having my hair titivated. I hate the fact that you end up with some kind of bouffant hair-do that you immediately then have to wash when you get home. I hate the hairdryer. I panic when the ‘any plans for the weekend’ discussion starts. I feel the need to make something up that sounds cooler than what I will really be doing – walking the dog, eating crap, watching TV, gardening. Like err ………. Clubbing! Ha. Who am I kidding? Last time I went clubbing people were still sporting shoulder pads and acid washed jeans and dancing to Kajagoogoo.

I’ll probably make an appointment soon(ish)  … no need to rush :). Now, where did I leave those thinning scissors……….


but apparently there could (could!!) be an Easter egg shortage in the shops. Fucking hell …….. noooooooooooooo!!!!! Quick! Run! Get to the shops! Before it’s too late! How will we ever survive without Easter eggs?

The cynical amongst us could conclude that …………

the supermarkets are not selling as many eggs as they thought and have over-subscribed on the old egg front so need you to think there’s a panic.

Course, you could do what I do, melt down a load of chocolate buttons and put them in a mold and make your own.

Easter bunny with attitude

Easter bunny with attitude

Or, do like I did last year, just eat the buttons and miss out the whole egg thing entirely! Nom nom!

It’s how I like to celebrate my pagan festival. So go bite the head off a bunny (chocolate of course) or if you want to acknowledge the religious thing, grill yourself a hot cross bun or three.

Happy Easter! I’m off to watch Life of Brian. Here’s a great clip. Enjoy!

SF out

I was looking for something on motorcycle theory tests on YouTube yesterday. I don’t know if you do this but sometimes, even though I’m looking for something in particular,  I like to just let YouTube taken me on a random trip, a road trip I could say (ha). So, I let it happen. I ended up watching videos of two of my favourite (and funniest in my opinion) stand-up comics. One, Billy Connolly and the other Dave Allen. Everyone who came after were just imitators. So here are the two men in action :).

An Audience With Billy Connolly

And Dave Allen:


Whatever happened to Roy Walker and Catchphrase? I bloody loved that show. Roy Walker’s jokes were awful and the contestants guesses were hilarious!


It’s really annoying when friends have the same name so no-one knows which one you are talking about. I had two friends called Bev. We were all in the same social circle people constantly asked which Bev you meant. So, Bev number 1 had big boobs, Bev number 2 had a Fiesta. Can you guess how we differentiated? Yep, Bev number 1 was Booby Bev and Bev number 2 was Fiesta Bev!

That got me thinking about all the people who’ve ended up with special names.

Here are some of my personal favourites:

  • Mick the Coat (always wears a huge leather coat regardless of the weather) and Mick the Carpet (is a carpet fitter)
  • One Legged Jim (as in, only has one left) and Spotty Jim (has spots)
  • Chinese Tom (he’s Chinese) Heli Tom (he flies a helicopter)
  • Fibre Glass Phil (he makes boats out of fibre glass) and Limo Phil (he drives a limo)
  • Dive Shop Dave (he works in a dive shop) and Padi Dave (he’s a diving instructor)

Youget the picture. The conversation always seems to start the same as well.

– I saw Phil today’ What Fibre Glass Phil or Limo Phil?

– Fibre Glass Phil.

You never come out and say straight away I saw fibre glass Phil today.

Funny eh? I bet you do it too ;).

Me aged 5

Me aged 5! I had big hair back then too!

I’m 50 today (I’m still only about 25 in my head mind you). It’s not really a big deal. I thought I would wake up and feel different, or have some sort of epiphany but it was not to be.  I was going to write something about how 50 is the new 40 or how I’m embracing my age blah blah blah blah or how I have learnt to love me (puke) but I just can’t be bothered. So instead, I’m going to give you my view on two things that are definitely age related.


They are everywhere and there seem to be a plethora of adverts promising that THEIR CREAM will definitely definitely reduce the appearance of wrinkes using some made up rubbishy science word. Truth is, you can’t stop them appearing. In fact, as each year passes the process seems to speed up. They appear in the most unusual places too. The one place that surprised me the most was my in-steps! Strangely, I quite like having wrinkly in-steps. Here are my tips for a care-free attitude to wrinkles:

  • Wherever possible only look at yourself in flattering lighting and learn how to apply make-up (I never have , mainly because I’ve been unable to overcome my fear of those scary cosmetic women in department stores).
  • Spending time examining them in the mirror only leads to spotting even more. It’s like when you look at stars in the night sky. You see a few at first, then all of a sudden you can’t see anything but stars.
  • Put olive oil on them but don’t go near the dog afterwards or they want to lick your face. Oh important safety tip here: don’t put olive oil on them if you’re going out in the sun.
  • Avoid the sun when you’re young and wear factor 200 (or a balaclava). Although, don’t bother now if, like me, you spent your childhood and teenage years either basting yourself in tanning oil, or using tinfoil to get a brown face.
  • Distract attention from your wrinkles by the clever use of hats, scarves, necklaces, large glasses (a la Eric Morecambe styley).
  • Don’t bother with botox. It’s makes your face look really weird. (No, I haven’t had it done but I know some people who have and they are very scary when they try to smile.

Oh and while we’re on the subject – hand cream? Hand cream doesn’t do anything to stop your hands being wrinkly. Anyone remember that Atrixo advert with the leaf demonstration? Rubbish! Yes, your hansd will be soft, but they’ll be softly wrinkled ‘;).


It seems as if everyone is getting Alzheimer’s or will be getting it. Experts (we never know who these experts are I notice) say that your memory deteriorates as you get older. Very true but I thought they meant older older! Now I’m trying to work out whether I just have a crap memory or early onset Alzheimer’s. Who knows? No-one that’s who.

I prefer to think of it as my brain dumping a load of rubbish in it’s internal waste basket that it thinks I don’t need only to find that I wanted to access it but it’s already emptied the basket (you can tell I work in IT) so has to get it back from the delete folder. So, you will, at some point, experience some of these:

  • You will forget why you went into a room.
  • You will forget where you left stuff.
  • You will forget your name when someone asks you. I have a back-up name in case. It’s Gwendoline De Pugh.
  • You will go into the supermarket for bread and toilet roll (chanting that in your head so you don’t forget) and come out with a bakewell tart and a jar of olives.
  • Putting your car keys in the fridge is ok as long as you remember that you did at some point.
  • You will wake up in the middle of the night convinced you left the grill on or forgot to lock the door. You stumble downstairs only to find that you DID lock the door, you DID turn off the grill. You just forgot that you did.
Me last night, still 49!

Me last night, still 49! In my new galabeya

Hold it! Stop stop stop. You know what? I think it’s time I had a word with myself. Why am I even bothering with all this? So what if I have wrinkles? So what if my memory ain’t what it used to be? What do you care if I am a little bit OCD. I like making sure my “R” headphone is in my right ear and my “L” headphone is in my left. What’s it to ya?

The important thing for me is that I did what I promised myself I would do. I promised myself I wouldn’t be a 50-year old fat smoker and I’m not. I’m fitter and healthier than I’ve ever been.

Fat Wendy 2003

On board Atlantis 2003

That’s me on the left last night wearing my newest bellydance outfit. A lovely galabeya from Egypt. And that’s me on the right when we moved onto Atlantis in 2003. Not a pretty sight!

All I really want is to continue to take care of the good things in my life and ignore the irritating stuff as much as I can.  As long you are healthy (mind, body and spirit) and happy that’s all that matters. And if you’re not, do what you can to change it so that you are.

When I was younger in my darkest days I used to listen incessantly to Depeche Mode and The The. Their sons spoke to me and seemed to relate to the things going on my life. One The The song that seemed to epitomise my life back then was I’ve Been Waiting For Tomorrow.  If you want to know why, ask me sometime. Listening to it this morning I realised how much I’ve changed and in some ways how I haven’t changed one bit.

I hope you enjoy it.

SF out!

My first regular wage came from my awesomely awesome Saturday/three evenings a week job in a sweet shop in Elm Park – Hollicks if memory serves me. It was awesomely awesome for four reasons:-

  • I could nick loads of fags and not get caught (or so I thought until I got sacked)
  • I could eat endless sweets and not get caught (ahhhhh ….. /facepalm/)
  • The overall (blue, zip up nylon with large pockets for …. well pocketing things, which in my case, was mainly Mars Bars, 1/4 of rhubard and custards or chocolate chewing nuts
  • I could read all my favourite magazines without having to buy them – faves were: Jackie, Bunty, Smash Hits.

Apart from that, the perks and promotion opportunities were limited!

Doll Toilet Roll Cover

oh the inhumanity!

That job allowed me to save up tons of cash a few quid to spend on mum and dad at Xmas rather than the usual; mum buying the presents and giving them to me to wrap up. These were usually

  • mum – peg bag/amusing apron/tights or a new knitted doll thing that you put over toilet rolls
  • dad – bath salts/monogrammed hankies/cossack hair spray or possibly Brut/Old Spice aftershave

Hey, come on! It was the 70’s!

Anyhooooo …. I decided to ask what they wanted so I could get each of them something meaningful and from the heart.

Me (to mum): What do you think dad would like for Christmas?
Mum: I don’t know dear. Why don’t you get him some hankies?
Me: No I don’t want to get hankies, I want to get him something special, something he really wants
Mum: Oh, all right dear, whatever you think is best
Me: So, what about tickets to a concert in London (dad was a huge classical music fan)?
Mum: Well, probably not dear. Why don’t you get him some cigarettes?
Me: /stomps off/

Me (to dad): What do you think mum would like for Christmas?
Dad: Hankies?
Me: No I don’t want to get hankies, I want to get hersomething special, something she really wants
Dad: Monogrammed hankies?
Me: She wants monogrammed hankies? I was thinking of getting her tickets to see an opera (mum loved opera, in particularly Puccini)
Dad: I doubt it. Why don’t you get her some cigarettes?
Me: /stomps off take 2/

So, I got dad tickets to see John Lill play Beethoven’s 9th at The Royal Festival Hall. I got mum tickets to see Madame Butterfly.

Oh and of course, a carton of cigarettes each! Players No 6 was their cigarette of choice.


SF out