Today, this has made me laugh.
A lot.
(Actually, he really can dance, and he is a RIPPED little guy!)
And if you feel you need more Spandy Andy.
So, I have come away to Manchester for work. I was at work today, then out for a nice meal with a group of clients tonight and exhibiting at a conference tomorrow.
My (actually rather light and small) bag contains: leggings, two tops, jewellery, jacket, trousers, boots, shoes, shampoo, conditioner, mousse, frizz-ease, make-up, perfume, pyjamas, knickers, socks, deodorant, small handbag, make-up remover cloths, toothbrush, toothpaste, brush, hairspray…as well as the usual stuff in my regular handbag.
My lovely male colleague has a tiny backpack containing: shirt, pants, socks, toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant.
That is all.
I could give the nerd herd headaches with partitions in these colours
I am very lucky to be in a position where the company I work for is so successful that we seem to be expanding at an amazing rate.
Unfortunately, this has meant a LOT of ordering of furniture and ever-changing office layouts!
This morning, I contacted a furniture company that i have been on very friendly terms with over the past couple of years, asking about partitions. They gave me a very reasonable quote, but then I asked ‘What colours do you supply?”.
This was their reply: “Unless you want a bizarre colour they come in almost any colour you want, if the colour is what we call ‘Not A Normal Colour’ it may be a bit more expensive.”
What a fabulous answer 
It’s been a funny old day – and I only realised when I popped onto my blog page and noticed my Tweets stripped down excluding any with mentions in them.
This has apparently been my day – there must be something in my water…
My tweets today!
However, i DO still think that I’m funny. Just occasionally!
she also asked for a pet T-Rex
So, after how ever many years, I finally decided it was about time that I introduced The Girl to the delights of Jurassic Park (the original of course) and so we have been watching it quite happily for a while – and she is LOVING it (even if there is no internet or mobile phones, the special effects aren’t as good as Primeval and it is VERY long!)
I happened to point out that I once had a very lovely handwritten letter Richard Attenborough – addressed to me personally and everything!
The Girl: So have you still got it?
Me: no, unfortunately not
TG: Why not? did you throw it away?
Me: No, of course I didn’t – I would never have thrown anything like that away! but, it was actually for work and while I was on maternity leave, my boss took the chance to shred a lot of my paperwork – and unfortunately that included my ‘celebrity contacts’ file.
TG: I’m sorry mum!
me: Why are YOU sorry?
TG: Well, it’s my fault – if you hadn’t had me, then you wouldn’t have been off work, would you?
Me: Don’t be silly, it’s not YOUR fault you were born!
TG: OK, it was dad’s fault
Me (grudgingly): Well, not quite – it wasn’t exactly his own decision, was it?
TG: No, I guess you did put his sperm in you, didn’t you!
Me: Ewwwwww!!! No! Gross!! Don’t EVER say anything liek that to me EVER again!! that’s disgusting.
She just shrugged.
Ewww!
Unassassinateable?
“I had a really weird dream”, The Man said to me this morning and proceeded to try to explain it to me.
Apparently he had to go to the TV studios to assassinate Noel Edmonds during a recording of Deal Or No Deal. so he had a pistol in a carrier bag, and off he went. When he got there he took his trousers off (?!!?) and found the correct studio, but their security had been alerted and there was noone there, it was all being broadcast from a tape.
So he put his trousers back on (?!!?) and was trying to go down the emergency exit stairs looking as calm and innocuous as possible so that he didn’t get caught.
“I don’t know what all that might have meant”, he told me.
Apart from insanity, would anyone like to hazard a guess?
Well? Are you?
We were watching the total pile 0f pants that is ‘Falling Skies’ the other day, where aliens have invaded earth and are killing everyone in sight, and the survivors are trying to fight back etc. (To be honest, it didn’t grab me in the first 10 minutes, and although The Man thought that the aliens were pretty cool, I have no idea what was going on!).
So, he suddenly gets all animated and turns to me and says:
TM: I can’t believe we haven’t made any plans!
Me: Plans for what?
TM: If there’s a disaster of some sort and the three of us aren’t together!
Me: What sort of disaster?
TM: Well, alien invasion, zombies, Peak Oil suddenly kicking off – what if we’re both at work and The Girl is at school when it happens? What are we going to do? Where are we going to meet?
I have to admit, we’ve discussed our options in the event of such catastrophes, but never what we should do if we’re not all together.
“We need to sit down and talk about it with her”, he said. “I’ve never had anyone that I’d really worry about and want to be with if it happened before you two.”
He was deadly serious – and that is one of the reasons I love him so much. 
Knock, knock at the knocking house...
I am currently watching BBC London News, and there has just been a rather lengthy piece on the police raiding a brothel.
The Girl is eating her dinner and watching the news and has been making loads of comments and asking questions about previous stories, so I was a little concerned what she was going to ask me during this particular segment.
There were pixelated faces and loads of words being bandied around such as ‘prostitute’, ‘brothel’, ‘sex-worker’, ‘madam’, ‘client’ and I was gradually getting more and more wary as she looked as if she was concentrating rather intently.
Suddenly, there was a quick soundbite from the slightly chavvy looking, heavily pierced next-door neighbour of this particular brothel, when The Girl finally decided she had something to say.
“Do you know, you can get an infection from having your ears pierced twice.”
Rendered speechless
Last night, my daughter managed to shock me speechless. Yes, even after everything I have gone through with her over the years, she has still managed to completely flabberghast me!
So, I spoke to her while I was at work, and told her that if she came down to meet me at the station, I’d buy her dinner at Le Delice before she went to Guides. This made her very very happy – as it would, Le Delice is divine!
I got to Walthamstow Central and looked up the slope to where I could see her standing. I did a double-take, I squinted, I did a triple-take, and then (unfortunately) I realised that what I thought I couldn’t possibly be seeing, I really really WAS seeing!
I composed myself, walked towards her, tried to ignore her great big happy smile, leant close into her ear and said to her: “WHERE…IS…YOUR…SKIRT?!?!”
And her response?: “I forgot it!”
I looked up 'sexy lobster'. I got this. I'm not so sure!
OK – so I had this extremely bizarre dream last night that took me ages to pull out of this morning.
For some reason, I had been hired to be Britney Spears’ PA, and I had to pick out an outfit for her to wear at some gig or the other. I remember walking through this maze of corridors to get to her, and then ending up in this room where she was sitting there, bitching and gossiping along with a group of very slutty loooking girls. And the things she was saying were enough to make your toes curl! Well, MY toes, anyway
I gave her the outfit, and she was really dismissive and then said “I’ll need you back here by 7!”
So, I went along to my next job, which was PA to Lady Gaga (yes, I know!). And she was about to do an afternoon gig, and had a load of people fussing all round her, but she took a load of time to say hi to me and introduce a few people, and then said that she was a dancer short for the show – and could I swim, which I can.
I was given this odd red costume that made me look like a sexy lobster, and the whole set was done in a swimming pool, with her singing on a trapeze that was going back and forth above the water. I was in a group of three ‘swancers’ along with Mel C for some reason, who I was having a good giggle with, as we made our way around the pool.
When the gig was over, I got changed and looked at my watch, only to realise that I was never going to make it back to Britney in time!
I run all the way there, jumping over fences and hedges Ferris Bueller style – for some reason I didn’t have a car, but I was 10 minutes too late.
So, there i was, standing outside this large stadium, and there was a banner up, across the whole of one wall that read “Sonia, you are fired, and I have got a superinjunction out on you!”
Why can’t I just go back to the dreams I usually have where dead bodies wash up on the beach of an island I’m stranded on?
I recently turned 40 (eek - how did THAT happen?) I'm a Londoner - mother, lover and little kitty owner.
I do the normal London things. I'm really just pretty run-ofthe-mill!
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