Before I start I wanted to say its been a sad day for film as Mr Dirty Dancing, Patrick Swayze passed away. Oh, how beautiful was he, what an iconic film (you can keep Ghost, there were too many shots of Demi Moore in her knickers for my liking) and if any women says she didn't fall in love with him after watching that, she is lying through her teeth.
Keith Floyd also went today. Oh man, what a trail blazer, I was never a huge fan but he pretty much launched the Celebrity Chef genre single handedly. I wonder which one will go up and which one will go down....hmmm there's a thought.
Today has been one of my grumpy days. I have them periodically but alas, they are becoming more and more frequent. If I don't watch out I shall be growing hair in my ears and confiscating footballs next...shudder! I like being grumpy, it suits me and allows me to vent so that I may return to my sweet self the next day.
I usually try and keep my road rage under control just so that I don't teach the 11 year old too many bad words (the 24 and 21 year old are beyond help). I didn't quite manage to do that today and The Git (as the the 11 year old is fondly known) was crying with laughter as I told various drivers just what I thought of their mothers, or perhaps that should read Mutha's? This is the person that never uses foul language, with two exceptions, in bed and behind the wheel. Oh and if my older kids are reading this, you are quite welcome to but prepare to learn some things about your Ma that you would perhaps rather not!
Anyway my road rage stems from doing 400 miles a week as a Support Worker and I haven't been the same since. It doesn't take two seconds to say thank you if I let you out or perhaps just flick your hand in acknowledgement if I stop at a Zebra crossing for you. Yeah, I know you are supposed to stop but that isn't the point here.
Then we come to the Emmetts. Mmmm, for those not in the know, an Emmett is a tourist. I live smack in the middle of Cornwall so we have to put up with more than our fair share. They wear hideous pac-a-macs with shorts (without having the decency to go on the sunbed first) and drive Chelsea Tractors towing large wobbly caravans, stacked high with mountain bikes. They have children called Timothy and Tabitha. She wears no make up and an Alice band and really SHOULD put those dimpled thighs away. He is quite nice looking (how did she ever pull him...daddy must have money) and has the look of a man who cannot wait to go back to work. They never let you out in traffic (even if you have a low cut top on and are looking hot) and cut you up at roundabouts. Oh god I had better stop my rant about Emmetts before it gets completely out of hand.
I also made the mistake of going to Trago Mills today. To be fair I didn't realise how grumpy I actually was when I made the decision to go. I live only 6 miles from the infamous place. I usually time my visit like a well organized SAS raid, in and out with the minimum of fuss and casualties. Trago is a warren like shop where it is so hot that you strip off to your undies even though it is minus 5 outside. I usually take two Nurofen upon entering in a pathetic attempt to stave off the inevitable migraine. The staff have a sort of dried up dessicated look, as though they are shells of their original selves. All the staff need to go to California for smile training. If you dare as much as utter the words 'excuse me' they look at you with such contempt that you are mute for the rest of the day. We are talking seriously damaged people here who are unable to get off the Trago Hamster Wheel.
As Trago has many entrances and exits, they have a quaint little system whereby, upon leaving, you must show your receipt and prepare to be strip searched by a fat old man with halitosis who wears a blue jumper saying 'Security' on it. The only good thing about Trago staff is they treat Emmetts worse!!!
Ok thats about it for Grumpy Girl today. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow!
Keith Floyd also went today. Oh man, what a trail blazer, I was never a huge fan but he pretty much launched the Celebrity Chef genre single handedly. I wonder which one will go up and which one will go down....hmmm there's a thought.
Today has been one of my grumpy days. I have them periodically but alas, they are becoming more and more frequent. If I don't watch out I shall be growing hair in my ears and confiscating footballs next...shudder! I like being grumpy, it suits me and allows me to vent so that I may return to my sweet self the next day.
I usually try and keep my road rage under control just so that I don't teach the 11 year old too many bad words (the 24 and 21 year old are beyond help). I didn't quite manage to do that today and The Git (as the the 11 year old is fondly known) was crying with laughter as I told various drivers just what I thought of their mothers, or perhaps that should read Mutha's? This is the person that never uses foul language, with two exceptions, in bed and behind the wheel. Oh and if my older kids are reading this, you are quite welcome to but prepare to learn some things about your Ma that you would perhaps rather not!
Anyway my road rage stems from doing 400 miles a week as a Support Worker and I haven't been the same since. It doesn't take two seconds to say thank you if I let you out or perhaps just flick your hand in acknowledgement if I stop at a Zebra crossing for you. Yeah, I know you are supposed to stop but that isn't the point here.
Then we come to the Emmetts. Mmmm, for those not in the know, an Emmett is a tourist. I live smack in the middle of Cornwall so we have to put up with more than our fair share. They wear hideous pac-a-macs with shorts (without having the decency to go on the sunbed first) and drive Chelsea Tractors towing large wobbly caravans, stacked high with mountain bikes. They have children called Timothy and Tabitha. She wears no make up and an Alice band and really SHOULD put those dimpled thighs away. He is quite nice looking (how did she ever pull him...daddy must have money) and has the look of a man who cannot wait to go back to work. They never let you out in traffic (even if you have a low cut top on and are looking hot) and cut you up at roundabouts. Oh god I had better stop my rant about Emmetts before it gets completely out of hand.
I also made the mistake of going to Trago Mills today. To be fair I didn't realise how grumpy I actually was when I made the decision to go. I live only 6 miles from the infamous place. I usually time my visit like a well organized SAS raid, in and out with the minimum of fuss and casualties. Trago is a warren like shop where it is so hot that you strip off to your undies even though it is minus 5 outside. I usually take two Nurofen upon entering in a pathetic attempt to stave off the inevitable migraine. The staff have a sort of dried up dessicated look, as though they are shells of their original selves. All the staff need to go to California for smile training. If you dare as much as utter the words 'excuse me' they look at you with such contempt that you are mute for the rest of the day. We are talking seriously damaged people here who are unable to get off the Trago Hamster Wheel.
As Trago has many entrances and exits, they have a quaint little system whereby, upon leaving, you must show your receipt and prepare to be strip searched by a fat old man with halitosis who wears a blue jumper saying 'Security' on it. The only good thing about Trago staff is they treat Emmetts worse!!!
Ok thats about it for Grumpy Girl today. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow!
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