It's a Wonderful Life…

…isn't it…?

Take Your Foot Out Of Your Mouth, Dear May 29, 2012

Filed under: Being unfit — leatierney @ 8:05 am
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The nature of the English Language is such that it is very easy to interpret multiple meanings in something that has been said. There is a broad generalisation applied to women that they always choose the most offensive meaning to a gentleman’s words. In order to prolong the existence of the human race I have compiled a list of things men say that prove no value for their own lives.

1. “You shouldn’t eat cake for breakfast, you know” she will inevitably jump to the immediate conclusion that you are inferring that she is, in fact, a little more than “festively plump”. You will also be asked if you are in fact the CAKE POLICE. Gents, don’t attempt to be a wise guy here, step away from the bomb and tell her no, you are not the cake police and you have no place attempting to perform such a role. Following this scenario you may also find on your way around the supermarket that she is inclined to, VERY LOUDLY, point out all of the products labelled breakfast cake bar or breakfast biscuit. SHAME ON YOU.

Other variants of this you’re secretly saying I’m fat are:

“Should you be eating that at this time of day?”

“Do you know what’s in that?”

“Oh…You’re hungry today aren’t you?”

2. “You look like you’ve had a bit of a lazy day” as any comment about a woman’s appearance that doesn’t sound something along the lines of her being the most beautiful and radiant creature that you will ever see (note: don’t say have ever seen, this may also lead to conflict as she may presume you are hoping to find out if she is actually the most beautiful creature that ever walked the earth) is likely to lead to a very miserable and painful death by ear bleeding.  A lady may presume that you are saying she may frighten children and old people with her appearance: what’s wrong with going out bare faced and in lounge wear? HMMMM? HHMMMMMMM!!??? DANGER ALERT

3. The inevitably disastrous: “Oh, is it that time of the month then?” Erm, Uh oh, BIG TROUBLE – she may be bleeding without any say in the matter – when you start bleeding she’ll have had plenty of say in the matter. Do. Not. Ever. EVER. Mention a ladies menstrual cycle. Not unless you really and truly have.a.death.wish.

Best Possible outcomes of these scenarios:

1. Death :

She kills you quickly and pretty much painlessly in a fit of pure rage.

2. Serious sleep deprivation and ear bleeding:

She asks you EVERY single time she leaves the house if you think what she is wearing is acceptable enough to you – she is especially keen to hear your expert opinion when you are asleep.

3. Malnourishment:

You manage to fend off starvation when she goes on strike by living on the food she puts down for the cats/dogs/birds.

Ladies and gents please do feel free to add any faux pas’ or apt punishments that I have missed in the comments box below – that’s what it’s there for!

As always; thanks for reading 🙂


Ten Signs It Might Be Time To Fly The Nest May 21, 2012


You know that feeling, you’ve been back living under your parent’s roof for longer than you all would like to admit and you parents are starting to give you the oh so subtle nudge towards the door. If you’re having difficulty picking up on their signals I have kindly listed below the signs that your parent s think you should fly the coop:

  1. Your Mum asks you repeatedly when you will be moving in with your BF/GF
  2. Your Dad persistently complains about how your red hair dye (insert other rage inducing messes caused by you here if this is not applicable) staining the tiles in the bathroom. You say you won’t stop dyeing your hair…there’s a significant pause while he waits for you to catch the drift…
  3. Your Dad starts referring to your beau’s place as your home e.g. “You can take that with you when you go home”…time to go then..
  4. Your dog is getting cranky living with two other blind dogs; you comment that she would prefer to be an only dog, your parents cannot agree more. Pause. Silence. Penny drops.
  5. They tell you repeatedly how they can’t get over just how quiet the house is when you’re not in it. And how they are really enjoying the peace and quiet.
  6. The dog starts trying to tell you something Lassie style: “What’s that girl? What are you trying to tell me? Go…Home?” Oh.
  7. Your Mum has forgotten about your dietary requirements since you last ate with them. She poisons you. Hint. Hint.
  8. A whispered conversation between your parents ceases when you enter the room. You have caught snippets of a “swatches” and “paint charts” debate. They already decorated every other room of the house. Just yours then.
  9. Leaflets suggesting you engage the services of “first class” local removal services keep mysteriously appearing under your bedroom door.
  10. Your stuff starts migrating out of your bedroom. Into boxes. Into the hallway. Down the stairs. Out the front door. MOVING DAY.

And if you are more of a visual learner I have included below a video of a current advert that illustrates many of the above points nicely.


Sunday Morning Chuckle Vision May 6, 2012

As I may have mentioned before my boyfriend has a penchant for staring at another man’s lycra clad behind. Last weekend, like many other weekends was rudely interrupted by the pair of them spending Sunday at a cycling event. Do hold your “where’s the harm in that? What an unreasonable girlfriend” until I’ve explained my issue with this. My main concern is not that I don’t get to see him or that I’m concerned by the love of a man’s lycra clad bottom: no I’m more concerned with the fact that this morning I was roused from a rather lovely Saturday night – don’t have to be up in the morinignsnoze. At six. A.m. Yes that’s correct: SIX A.M on a SUNDAY. For those of you that know me well you will understand what this means. I am a snarly, fire breathing dragon when awoken from my beauty sleep. His cycling buddy made the error of saying something about my looking less than impressed to be awake. I believe my mumbled “good morning” (social niceties, pah!) quite possibly came out more like the guttural snarl one would expect from a very.Hacked. Off. animal.

I didn’t run off to my own bed for further slumber though dear readers because what I saw next had to be observed until the bitter end. Two lycra clad men (I think they think they are ninjas/power rangers) both scratching their heads and detaching various parts of bike turning them every which direction and both trying to be the most expert “NO, I’ve done this before you know, I know what I’m doing”. Nothing like a bit of a Chuckle Brothers re-enactment to make loss of sleep bearable: “to me…to you” between the boot and the back seat, I was desperately hoping one would let go and fall flat on their lycra clad behind.  Eventually they were off after a good deal of pushing and shoving.

So now, would you like to play guess the number of puncture readers?