Tag: <span>Kit Kat</span>

Or is I front?

Looks like a small blip on the server this morning, so if you were rendered aghast at the rather unsightly WordPress error page you received this morning (must do something about that), fear not. I is still here.

Prostitutes are in the news, and for all the wrong reasons. In saying that I’m not sure there are any good reasons that said ‘ladies of the night’ should be in the news but I’ll pause on that thought, lest I pay any disrespect to those who have lost loved ones. Life takes everyone down different paths, and no-one deserves a violent death.

Speaking of which, the “news” not the prostitutes, Peter is headed back into the limelight (he’ll deny it but he LOVES it) with his Serenata flowers thing. Apparently the Guardian are interested. The power of blogs in action, so to everyone who linked to Peter, pat yourself on the back, or have a Kit-Kat or something.

Louise and I watched a report this morning that stated that women still do the bulk of the shopping and housework. Apparently this is what counts as news these days, slotting in beside the facts that Cadbury stand to lose an extra &10million from the salmonella scare early this year (or was it late last?) and that today it’ll be raining a lot. The report basically pointed out that men are too stupid to buy groceries – “I try and buy healthy food” said voxpop lady, “he’d just buy pizza, cakes and chocolate”. Voxpop man responded with “if she wants to do all the DIY around the house then yeah, I’d cook more often”.

Now, I’ll happily admit that the research holds true in our house, with Louise doing the bulk of washing and cleaning, most of the shopping, and the majority of cooking. Louise doesn’t have a problem with this though, and it bemuses her why some women are so up in arms about those ‘lazy’ men. In my defense I do more tidying up – but that’s just my nature, Louise takes more of a “dump it for now” approach – DIY and dealing with bills, paperwork and so on. That plus the fact that, according to my darling wife, I don’t do the housework PROPERLY, well we’re a match made in heaven. Or maybe it’s just horses for courses. Hey, it works for us.

What else? Ohh yes. I started looking at some old code last night, for a website that never quite saw the light of day. It’s an odd thing, going back to something you’ve not looked at for months, trying to figure out why you did X instead of Y, or what on earth you were thinking about when you chose Z. Fun though, and one of the problems I had with the site may now be solved. Hoping to get it finished (finally!) within the next week or so and move onto the next project (two in pipeline, but one has just snuck to the head of the queue).

Ohhh yes, I’ve still got some questions to be answered. They’ll be appearing soon, I haven’t forgotten.

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Kate is meeting her husband to go shopping, as she’s early she decides to go for a cup of coffee. At the counter she hums and haws over the cakes but ends up picking a two-finger Kit-Kat to have with her coffee. As she turns away from the checkout she realises that there aren’t many seats available so she wanders over to a bench and asks the man sitting there if she can sit down next to him.

He shuffles over a bit and says “no problem”.

Kate sits down, quickly checks her mobile before putting it back in her bag, and drinks a mouthful of coffee. She picks up the Kit-Kat, snaps off a finger and slowly starts to nibble at it. Suddenly the man reaches over, picks up the remaining Kit-Kat finger, and munches it down in two bites.

Kate is gobsmacked, but before she can say anything the man has gotten up, and wandered over to the counter where he orders a slice of cake. Without even glancing her direction, he goes and sits down at another table.

Kate watches this with amazement, who the hell does he think he is!! ‘I’ll show him!’ she thinks.

She snatches up her bag, marches over to his table where, without saying a word, she reaches out, picks up his slice of cake and takes a large bite. Her point made, she turns on her heel and marches out of the cafe.

Outside, she reaches into her bag to find her phone and, with a look that quickly switches from puzzlement to horror, she pulls out a two-finger Kit-Kat.

Back to work today, even the weather has come out in sympathy. I know it’s only Wednesday and I’m trying NOT to focus on the weekend already, honest, but sometimes you get a sign and wonder why you bother fighting it.

On Saturday we’re at our first BBQ of the year. This is becoming somewhat of a ritual (same hosts) and usually ends up at silly o’clock in the morning when the margarita mix is finished. So, with that in mind, I give you the contents of a recent email. You may have seen this already.


Dear Alcohol,

First and foremost, let me tell you that I’m a huge fan of yours. As my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you’re even around in the holidays, hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we’re stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. However, lately I’ve been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:

1. Phone calls
While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-boyfriends/girlfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?

2. Eating
Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a kebab, a butter chicken curry along with a sausage with cheese, onion and mustard (washed down with WINE and topped off with a Kit Kat after a few sweet chilli and sour cream red rock chips)? I’m an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far this time.

3. Clumsiness
Unless you’re subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It’s completely unnecessary, and the black and blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Next day
The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening’s debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down onthe kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now and would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You’ve been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don’t know what to do with the extra money in my pockets.

In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 5pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions and hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you,

Your biggest fan


Remember kids, alcohol poisoning isn’t clever and should be left to those who’ve a lifetime of practis.. trying.

More later once I clear out my inbox. Now, where’s that delete key?

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Melancholy Monday
Can’t seem to get going today at all. Feeling melancholic.

So what seems to be the problem?
Well Doctor I just feel apathetic and listless and, well, I just want to wallow in self-pity for a while, maybe sit in a darkened room for the rest of the day.
Ahhh, you seem to be melancholic. I can give you an injection to help with that. If you’ll just bend over…

Crap. I shouldn’t even post this. But I will.

I think a chocolate boost is required. Anyone wanna split a Kit-Kat with me?

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Note to self: Don’t visit mybluehouse just after your mid-morning snack. The sight of regurgitated Kit-Kat isn’t nice.

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