ridiculosity

I never know what to do after a long absence. Sidle back into the room and hope you don’t notice? Give long and bewildering explanations? I think I’ll just launch right into a stream-of-consciousness rant. Then you’ll feel right at home.

The little dog is fine, and has been de-knackered. Yep, it was time for him to lose his bollocks. He was sad. He also had to wear a giant cone which caused much hilarity. Not so much for him, but for us. I actually did wear the cone, and it’s quite echoey in there. Also you can’t reach your face, like to scratch it or put chocolate in your piehole, which makes you feel like you have tiny tyrannosaurus rex arms. You also can’t chew on the stitches in your testicles, which is not usually a problem for me but was something which the little dog was very intent on doing.

I got an iPhone for work. My boss has been trying to press an iPhone on me for at least a year now, so that I will have all-hours access to email. For this exact reason, I have dodged an iPhone for that length of time. However I was not able to get out of the latest round of upgrades, so I have an iPhone. I love it. Apart from the work emails, which HOLY GOD STOP EMAILING ME. I email people 2 hours ahead and 4 hours behind me (not the same people, clearly) (TIIIME TRAVEL) so it never stops. But apart from that, it’s all good. Anyway, I had the phone for less than a week and Mr T opened up our bedroom curtains, which overlook the back yard. And stood there. “What?” I said, and saw… my phone lying on the concrete. THE HELL. It was fine, a few scuffed corners not withstanding (a nice buff with a nail buffer thing sorted that out) but obviously I went in search of the little dog. Who I found further down the yard, on the lawn, chewing on the lovely wool felt case I had bought for the phone. BAD DOG. Although I do like the way he just discards the phone on the way down, intent on the nice snuggly case. All of this to say: I have a new phone and a bad dog with no bollocks.

Apart from that, nothing else is happening. Apart from this ad here, which is currently playing at the rate of twice per ad break during the stellar movie Bad Santa:

Now I like this song, so I hum tunelessly along when it is on. And Mr T and I have taken to having discussions about what would happen if we owned the product being advertised; to wit, a web enabled printer that you can send photos to directly. “Oh, darling, someone is sending us a photograph! How lovely! What is it?…. why, it’s ANOTHER PHOTO of someone’s genitalia. I believe this is from David. How thoughtful!” I don’t know about your house, but in ours, any ink and photo paper would be sadly wasted on blurry close-ups of our hilarious friends’ nether regions. Perhaps we’re not really the target market.