Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label musings. Show all posts

Monday, January 21, 2008

POTTY!

Phone rings.
Me: Hello?
My cousin: Hey there it's me, how NO ON THE POTTY, ON THE POTTY! are you?
Me: Very well thank you. How about you?
M.C.: Well we're all NO THE POTTY QUICK THE POTTY! very well.
Me: Good to hear. How can I be of service this evening?
M.C.: Well I wanted to invite you AAAAARGH NO ON THE POTTY OH GOD IT'S GONE EVERYWHERE.
Me: Do you want me to call you back in a few minutes when you've dealt with this minor family event?
M.C. No it'll be fine. Well, anyway, Mum and Dad are coming over and so we were wondering DON'T WALK ABOUT IN IT AAARGH whether you'd like to come around.
Me: It'll be lovely to see them. When would it be convenient?
M.C.: Well you're probably out at some fantastic party on Saturday aren't you? STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M BRINGING A CLOTH.
Me: As a matter of fact, I'm not at some fantastic party on Saturday evening, so I'd be free then.
M.C.: Could you come around for 5:30 then? We'll probably eat really early. AAAARGH NOT ON THE CARPET!
Me: Love to. See you then.
*CLICK*

Two things about having all your friends become young parents simultaneously are the following. One, they ring up and yell at you about potties. Two, they all suspect that because you've not got kids, you're getting out a lot more and having a much nicer time than they are. I'm sorry, there's just no getting around this. After the conversation I've just had, I think they're probably right. Still, someone has to pay for my pension, so I shake all my young parent friends by the hand (after checking first and if necessary offering them a wetwipe) and encourage them to keep at it.

Friday, May 25, 2007

A first grey hair

I have found my first grey hair. I was poking at it in a mirror near the lifts at work when a male colleague stopped and looked at me quizzically.

"I've found my first grey hair." I announced in mournful tones, suggesting that it was but the scouting harbinger of an entire army and that I could give away my glad rags and settle into a black mourning dress for my lost and insufficiently mis-spent youth and perhaps even take to massage stockings and those shopping trolleys that one trails after one like a plaid, plastic dog.

He thought for a bit and said "well, when you look at it from my point of view, a grey hair is a hair I've still got".