Being Old

I can’t believe I am at the age where being ‘old’ could be insulting. I have been trying to be old my whole life and now I’m finally starting to achieve it, its an insult.

Having done a life expectancy calculator online (which I am almost sure is 100% accurate), I will be living until I am 105. Which means I have 77years left. I am 1.75 years over a quarter of the way through. That is actually 24 and a half years until I am half way. Which is almost my whole life again and that’s only half way.

So why the *hell* are people perpetuating that I am old?

I am not even wrinkly. Although my rear is starting to take over a larger portion of me. My hips now seem to start at my waist. Which is definitely an age thing. I am pretty sure that happened at 26.25 years which was my ¼ way point, I think it’s fair enough that my body should change shape for the next ¼. If anything it’s commendable. The next quarter involves children in which case I am happy that my hips are becoming more suitable for bearing said child/ren. Its thoroughly practical and what girl wouldn’t want to be told she has a practical body?

I am proud of having been around for 28.25 years. I am far more interesting now than I have ever been. I’m a lot more bolshy, a touch more cantankerous, increasingly opinionated and incensed at the news/reporting thereof. I hope there are more changes to report as I grow into my 30s, 40, 50s and 60s aside from my increasing mass and opinions.

In the meantime, I will continue trying to be old safe in the knowledge that even if I stop trying, it's an achievable goal but not for another 50.75 years.

Spider Incident

Spider Log. Stardate: 21092012.

Todays spider incident, in totality, is minor and the spider small but despite size of said spider and trauma level of said incident, it left me feeling cold.

As I closed the front door he was there, up-stage centre slowly moving down (towards my face – obviously. See earlier posts) The reason for his slow descent was because he only had 3 legs plus a stumpy one. Meaning he would be a T43 in the Paralympics. (Although this remains unconfirmed as classification is based upon the presumption the subject species would ordinarily have 2 legs).

The conclusion I have drawn from this is not that he is a poor outcast from both human and spider worlds (spider society being well-known for its harsh approach towards its less able members of society) inhabiting that strange place between, revered and shunned by those who should take pity. No. My conclusion is that he is a bad-ass fighter spider. That despite his size and appearance he is one of the deadliest, meanest and most underhand arachnids you will ever have the misfortune of meeting. He lost each of his legs in a battle to the death, he left one limb down but the others (dramatic pause) were left for DEAD. Dead bad dead.

And he lives on my front door. Brilliant. My ass is grass. (and he is the lawnmower).

Bad grammar in songs

Example has just released a song where the chorus goes ‘You don’t have to say nothing’ over and over. The premise is that the girl doesn’t need to use any words as her eyes are doing the talking. Fine. As a song storyline. Fine. But by using the double negative it makes no sense. At all. This grates on me each time I hear it and he doesn’t seem to know he’s doing anything wrong. Its making me itchy just thinking about it.

The worst of it is that he’s called Example yet he is far from it.

Fact of the Day - Elephants

I learned this fact today: the elephant is the only animal with 4 knees that can’t jump. I wonder if it is has just never tried. It would be perfectly accurate to say: Charlotte is the only Charlotte who can’t eat baked beans. But is that true? I probably could eat baked beans. But I won’t. I won’t even get close to them. I have probably also never tried.

I have often considered what would happen if I got an advert that paid me lots and lots but I had to eat beans. I have seen the happy looking lady eating beans and I just couldn’t do it. It makes my skin crawl. She actually does like baked beans. She looks happy because she is being paid lots and lots to do something she likes doing. I couldn’t fake it. Nobody could.

So I think the elephant is the only animal with 4 knees who chooses not to jump. How would we know? So really what I’ve learned is: elephants are obstinate.

Walter Hess Bodle: Fool of a Man

I love electricity me. Electricity is good. Well done to Thomas Edison, Nikola Tesla, EDF or whoever would like to claim responsibility I salute you or yous.

But Walter Hess Bodle -inventor of the freestanding electric tin opener- I can not applaud you. It’s a no from me. You’re not my Pop Idol. I’m out. Adding electricity to a tin opener is clever in a 1950s: ‘look world, I’ve made a robot. By the year 2000 we’ll all be flying’ way, but largely pointless.

My main gripe with the electric tin-opener is that there is nothing wrong with an ordinary tin-opener. It is a simple and effective design. It takes a second to find in the drawer, doesn’t need to be plugged in or faffed with. Opening a tin is no hardship, it is a quick and easy job that has been made annoying and time consuming by the so-called ‘convenience’ of a bulky piece of kit.

Its like inventing a new colour, another breed of dog* or the kindle.

BC, Mr A only ate tins of tuna for his tea, it seems fair enough he would require one fancy pants piece of kitchen equipment and that the only piece befitting would be tin related. His electric tin opener is the equivalent of a dad’s bread maker or a beautiful much coveted Kitchenaid, the difference being the electric tin opener is utterly futile.

The offending item lives in the cupboard and it’s cable always gets wrapped around a million other things, its top always falls off and hides behind things in said cupboard meaning a scramble and general kerfuffle. We have only 2 plugs which means the shiny new toaster or his sister the kettle have to be unplugged and in order to pull the lid off the extra-strong magnet you have to use sufficient force that the brine/juice spills.

I curse the day I lost the cheap bog-standard tin-opener in the divorce.

Ermal Fraze had the best idea: ring pull. So, treasured reader, the moral of the story is this: stop being like Walter and try to be a touch more like Ermal. And don’t get an electric tin-opener.

*NB. If the new breed of dog is crossed with a komodo dragon. I’m in.

Dinosaur Sounding Words

Chiropractor

Paediatric

Septum

Anterior

Ecclesiastic

Gourd

Optic

Decorum

This isn't a complete list.

Primates in Pants

Three men have been arrested in Delhi for trying to board a flight with small primates hidden in their underwear.

Seriously. Seriously?

It writes itself this: Primates Hidden in Underwear, is all you need to know. I'm not sure if their being small adds or takes away from this tale.

Questionable Lump

I just took a HUGE gulp of Galaxy Thick Shake and there was definitely a lump in it. A LUMP. It is not called Galaxy Lump Shake or Galaxy Thick Lump or anything else pertaining to lumps whatsoever.

There was a long moment when I didn't know what to do. Then an even longer one when I realised the sheer volume meant I couldn't spit it out. All that could be done was a slow swallow, trying to filter any lump with my teeth to potenitally grab at the end but that was in vane. No lump grabbing for me.

What was this questionable lump that I was forced to swallow? If I was cool enough to hash tag I would be hash tagging something like feeling uneasy. Or feeling queasy. Or its uneasy feeling queasy*






*This is a direct reference to a Cheetos ad of the 90s 'its not easy being cheesy'. I have cleverly altered it to suit my own purposes although I do feel it works better out loud rather than on paper or screen. Its a rhythm thing.

Alternative Gladiator Name

I am unaware of the size of me.

I do not think I have grown in width but I am walking into tables with alarming regularity. Lolloping and bashing into them with my hips.

I do this several times a day and it makes a loud wobbly type vibrating noise. Not me, the things on table or desk. I make little to no noise. The searing pain on top of the ready-existing bruise where I did it last time reduces me to surprised and mortified silence.  The noise is like that instrument with a ball on the end that you hit. Amusingly called a ‘vibraslap’ Maybe that should be my Gladiator name: Vibraslap. Although I'm not sure what action I could do...

Pesky Spiders

The number of spiders I have been forced into contact with recently is despicable. There are more spiders this year than ever before. ‘Experts’ are attributing this to the bonkers weather but I know the real reason. Spiders are becoming impatient in their spider quest, their ongoing mission, the one true purpose in all spiders’ lives. No, not fly catching, thats a mere smoke screen for their true undertaking: ‘Getting on Charlotte’s Face’.

I will be sat at work and a WHOLE handful of times a spider has abseiled down towards said face.

This week the latest trick in their operation is creating a web across the front or back door so that when I go out of it I get web-face. and not in a sexy way. This morning one tried in the car – webbing it up across the inside of my car door, unnoticed and ready to pounce ‘pon my exit; if I hadn’t opened my door with such gusto, thus knocking him off, he would have been on me, completing the mission and marrying the spider princess to become spider king.

I have, as yet, avoided the spider/face incident but it is getting dangerously close. They are multiplying and getting cleverer.