Mammy Usurps the Irish Medical System, Adds Gin

After shelling out for the world’s nosiest doctor, Mammy and Daddy depart Irish shores to travel to the lovely Lanzarote, where it’s warm and medication costs less.

‘Get me my sleeping tablets,’ I bark at Mammy, ‘as I have no money left from the Doctor Prat-a-lot.’

Mammy does, and hands them over upon her return, alongside a very cheap bottle of gin, my drink of choice.

Gin and sleeping tablets – would the doctor be worried?  Surely they don’t cause alarm bells to ring if your mother gets them for you in a sunny place?


My Doctor Hates Me

I’ve been really ill so I went to the doctor.  Not because I was ill, but because my job refused to believe I was ill unless I paid sixty euro to a doctor to scribble a note to them saying ‘she is ill’.

Sixty euro?  I want something more than mere notage from a doctor.

‘Can I have some sleeping tablets?’

‘Why do you want sleeping tablets?’

‘To help me sleep.’

‘Why can’t you sleep?’

‘I am stressed out.’

‘You should assess the root of your stress which will help you sleep.’

‘I have and I am trying to deal with my problems.  However I am very tired.’

‘I am not giving you sleeping tablets.’

‘I haven’t slept properly in two years.  I would love a night off.’

‘This is no good.  Why are you stressed?’

‘I don’t want to talk to you about it.’

‘I need to understand why you are not sleeping.’

‘I am not sleeping because I am worried all the time.  Can you give me something to help me sleep?’

‘No because tablets will not solve your problems.’

‘I am not looking for tablets to solve my problems.  I just want some sleep.’

‘You need to work out why you are worried and work on that.’

‘I am working on them.  In the meantime it would be great to get some good night’s sleep before work.’

‘I need to know why you are stressed.’

‘I don’t want to talk to you about it.’

‘But I need to know.’

At this stage, I burst into tears, quite by accident.

I get two weeks worth of sleeping tablets, and my sick note says I have the shits.


Wallop! Your Boobs Have Grown

I was being measured for a bra today, and the girl charged with the task kept slapping me.

My crime?  First one was that my straps were too loose.  These were straightened, and I was smacked for being silly.

Second time I wasn’t putting my boobs into my bra properly.  I was shown how (lean forward, place boobs in with hands) and I mentioned the last time I got a fitting I had been told this.  Another slap.

After being disciplined I discovered to my horror that my boobs have gotten bigger and I am now the owner of totally unnecessary double F cups.  After moaning that it was difficult enough to get bras to fit as a ‘normal’ F I was smacked again because I was in the ‘fuller bust’ section of this particular department store, and they literally had tonnes of bras for unfortunate double F carriers.

I bought several bras, matching knickers, and was told off at the till for thinking nothing would fit me.  Then I ate cake.

Oh, Vienna

Speaking to somebody the other day who said ‘if you love Vienna so much why not move there?’.  Indeed.  Many thoughts.  But my nieces don’t live there, even though the chocolate is amazing.

Maybe I should move.

Who will have me?


TV Orphans are Gateway to Deep Feelings

An odd couple of days at work.  A colleague asked about our knowledge regarding ‘panda porn’ (porn by zoo keepers featuring pandas, for pandas) and today I spoke with an elderly man with a stutter so severe it made me want to weep.  Am I getting softer?  I have been watching a lot of ‘Long Lost Family’ lately.  How could they separate siblings???  TWINS the other night.  Horrific.

Bring in the Clowns

I’m on facebook, encouraging our Scottish clan to think clearly and freely.  I’ve just been sent a link for a circus page?  Isn’t facebook supposed to look at your profile, your thoughts, your likes – and calmly send you stuff that relates to you?

Why a circus?

I think it’s time to turn off the rainforest sounds and eat the biscuits I bought that are made for babies, they are so yummy though.


New Ears

Disaster last night, when my Sony cd cassette recorder WITH REMOTE refused to play my (cd) audio book.  I immediately flicked about with it and finally got it working, but it’s happened a few times lately, and my old cassettes don’t always play – it might be a Sony, but it’s not alright.

To the interweb thing.  Well goodie, Sony doesn’t even make this model anymore.  Ebay doesn’t sell it.  If I want a cd player I have to buy an ugly box thing and manually move the radio dial myself!!  No remote controlled presets here!!!  As for cassette players…

It’s a whole new world my dear.  I will have to – what, MP3 it?  Ipod that?  I haven’t a clue.

Naturally I have turned to youth and called Lilsister a whopping 9 years younger than me.  I began my tale of woe and as soon as I said ‘MP3’ she audibly moved the phone from her ear whilst muttering ‘I don’t get that shit’.  I asked her not to underestimate the significance of the information she was receiving and she laughed.  How can I listen to my plays now?

I am going to have to (Jesus) sit down with Hangsandwich or Boo Boo, both IT experts, to get them to explain to me how to work an ipod and then how to transfer my millions of cds to said ipod, and how to listen to them on what I believe is called an ipod ‘dock’ (headphones are for walking).  I pity them already, and I am afraid.

There is hope, as I type I am listening to rainforest sounds on youtube via the interweb.  We stress heads like our rainforest sounds, you see.