broken balls

The World Cup is playing like a broken record in my home.  I'm seriously concerned for my sanity, and the safety of others who live and breath in a relatively close proximity (anywhere within a 20 mile radius). I've resorted to playing Super Mario Bro's on my DSi  as I'm finding the Brain Training game too difficult to comprehend due to the remaining precious and yet small amount of intellectual ability that has been sucked dry, thanks to this joyous quadrennial event. Normally I struggle on a daily basis to remember what I've said or done in a 5 minute period, now I can't even remember what I'm supposed to do for the next 5! 

Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of sport (and by a bit, I mean "minute, microscopic and minuscule") and do admittedly love to watch the games that are of interest (e.g.  Australia losing rather embarrassingly, and England cutting it close), don my "go-ozzie-go" underpants and revel in the culturally competitive banter.  But on a serious note, putting up with the football season once a year is enough for me, this is overkill.  Every... Single.. Game....

It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for Virgin Media.  Thanks to these kind folks, (I had another word there, but thought it best to tame) we have the technology to record every game, and watch these later in the evenings, rewind, rewatch, rewind and rewatch, pause, rewind, maybe fast forward a little, but yet again... rewatch.  Even my 21 month old is over it, I'm sure he said "uck-ball" tonight.  Need I say more.

No wonder I've had difficulty in trying to get rid of my migraine today.  Funny though, I spent the whole day trying to figure out how I got it.. now it's just dawned on me.  If this football torture goes on for much longer,  just like a broken record.... someone will have broken balls.

wiggle out of this one luv....

After spending a very long 6 months in a job from hell on return from maternity leave and finally being driven to quit, after spending 9 months in and out of hospital coping with the pregnancy from hell and severe hyperemesis, and the last 5 years of putting up with my husband's seriously potent flatulance.... his constant comments about me being a "Sensitive Sally" and his inability to operate the washing machine...yet expertly operate the TV remote....... Because men can be arse-holes.... I finally have gotten my revenge....

He will be taking munchkin to his favourite child entertainers... The Wiggles concert halfway across London, to watch 4 grown men going through a mid-life crisis.  The most depressing thing is not watching them embarrass themselves, but watching them make millions from it (my husband's mid-life crisis made the very opposite for us).

For those of you who don't know who these Aussie little delights are... wiggle on over here

irishly inspiring.....

I was at a wedding the other day, it was in Ireland, and was truly fantastic.  I absolutely love the Irish's passion for life, family and partying.  It was by far the best short break I'd had in a long time, the people were lovely and the atmosphere relaxed, even though I was possesed by the "Shingle Bells" and couldn't enjoy the fine booze that was on offer thanks to the horse sized anti-viral pills and pain killers I was hoofing down.  Whilst my husband kindly consumed enough alcohol for a small nation, taunted me with how nice the red tasted and the fact I was on babysitting duty for the evening in one ear, I enjoyed some very fine wisdom from a very inspiring Irish lady in the other.  She said.....

"Darn' worry, all men become fookers when you've spawned their offspring, and don't let anyone tell you oterwise.  And don't even be tinking about findin' a new one, he'll be just as fookin' frustatin' as the original one, maybe even worse.  Trust me, I know, you may as well stick wit da one you've got.  Sit back and tink of the hang-over he's going to have tomorrow.  Wake him up early and fook-off, leave him alone wit the baby as pay-back for being such a cheeky bugger, you'll be grand.  He has a nice bum though."

What a charming woman, that's probably the best advice I've received in years.