Nepotism

Nepotism is the showing of favoritism toward relatives, based upon that relationship, rather than on an objective evaluation of ability or suitability. For instance, offering employment to a relative, despite the fact that there are others who are better qualified and willing to perform the job, would be considered a form of nepotism.

This is not why I won two awards from DJ's blog it's because I'm GOOD!

I wanted to mention something that happened at work this week. One of the guy's was delivering to a new estate and had to knock the door of a new occupier. After a short while the letterbox flipped up and a pair of eyes peered out at him. "Can you go and get your Mum or Dad please?" he asked. Then the door opened for him to be greeted by a midget! OOOPS!

The picture? A MG Midget!!

Confused!!

A couple of weeks ago I made a momentous decision (for me anyway) to look for my Father. My Mother was an only child who died when I was 11 years old. Both her parents, my grandparents, are also dead. The man who I believed to be my Father (his name is on my birth certificate) is not my Father, this was kindly pointed out to me by my sister (he is her Father by the way) out of the blue one day 15 years or so ago! You keeping up?

Anyway I wrote to my Mothers cousin a couple of weeks ago to ask her what she knew and today got a reply. Now really I was expecting her to tell me who my Father was and I would then have to decide what I was going to do next. It seems it's not as simple as that! No-one knows who he was and, at the time, didn't think it prudent to ask. Well I can hardy point any fingers here can I seeing I waited 44 bloody years to ask!

I got a lovely letter back from her with some photographs, a little family history and a promise that she would keep digging. I knew my Mother had an Aunt in Canada and apparently she may know a little more so they are writing to her to see what they can find out.

Now what I really wanted to hear was my Father was a great guy who died around the time of my birth. This is why I never knew him and why he never bothered to find me. Then it occurred to me that this could all be a lot bigger than me finding the Father I never knew. What if he had other children then I could have brother/s, sister/s and my boys uncle/s, aunt/s! How would I cope with that? I didn't really think this through very well, I could have a huge extended family out there I never knew I had.

It could be you!!

What the F***!!

I found this picture and really am not sure what's going on! Need a few suggestions guys!!

And for those who are intersted I posted the second chapter of E-Male here today.

Next Door

We've been in this house nearly two years and get on fine with the neighbours though we don't like to talk about number 13! Anyway, the people next door are very nice. They are both young; he's tall and fit and she's short and blonde. The two of them live in a three bedroom house with a large conservatory with their two small dogs, but behind that facade do they hide a secret? This is what I think...................

At the bottom of the garden is a large brick built outbuilding. The building has double glazing, electrics, heating and one of those neon lights that goes 'buzzzzzzzz' when an insect flies into it. The dogs used to live in the house but when the owners were out at work they used to wreck the place so were moved into the outbuilding. This meant the cannabis production had to move indoors!

What makes me think this apart from the frequent wafts of Morocco's finest over the garden fence, the huge white tent thing which covers most of the garden and obscures the view of the police spotter plane, the constant burning of joss sticks and the monthly boiling of fish heads that seeps through our house to hide the smell of production? Nothing, but hey it might be true!

Bet you'd like to live next door to me wouldn't you?

Old Folks and Lime Green Carpet

Today, as part of my job and not for fun, I had to visit an old peoples home. One of those ones with tiny one bedroom flats and a warden. It wasn't one I'd visited before but when I got there I realised basically they are all the same.

They all have:

• A buzzer for the warden who is never on duty.



• A policy of not letting anyone in the building unless supervised by the warden who is ..............



• A system for numbering the apartments which makes no sense to anyone under 65.



• A trick door that leads you outside before you want to leave.



• An alarm system consisting of red strings and buttons which you can only push/pull in an extreme emergency as this contacts the warden who is..............



• Someone cooking cabbage, this must be part of the lease. When you sign up you are put on the cabbage boiling rota. Failure to comply will mean no fish supper in the common room and confiscation of your bingo crayon.

But this one was different from all the others I've ever seen. Different in a big way! Different because this one had a lime green carpet. A lime green carpet and burgundy coloured banisters! Why? Because they are old so it doesn't matter? Because Peter Stringfellow returned it for a softer shag so they had some spare? Because the decorator was colourblind and he thought it was blue and beige?

Whatever the reason when you are old never, ever buy lime green carpets and paint your walls burgundy it really doesn't go!!

Trip to the Chemist

#3 son is now at school fulltime and I do the school pick up duty. When he gets home he goes to his room and gets changed ( knocked 15 minutes of his previous best today it only took 30 minutes) then has a snack in front of the tv.

Today we had to walk to the chemist to pick up his prescription and I told him we'd go after his snack. How can anyone make a packet of skips last 25 minutes? He'd chosen his own clothes; a t-shirt, shorts, stripey socks, sandals and two pairs of pants "because the first pair were uncomfortable"!

We walked along the road holding hands. He was hanging on bent over and sort of skipping, he looked like Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein only smaller and on acid. When we got to the top of the hill and he realised we weren't going the way he wanted he started to headbutt my arm. That's the arm with my wrist watch on!

We get to the chemist and he's all excitable, red and sweaty with an imprint of my watch on his forehead. He sits on the chair next to a large black man and stares at him, the stares interrupted by "when's my medicine ready?" in a loud bark. An old lady with a walking stick comes in and I ask him to move so she can sit down. He tries to turn me into a pillar of salt with a glare but she doesn't want to sit down, crisis averted until she turns her back. She turns round and he make a loud raspberry sound, "I did it at the radio!" he protests, no-one is convinced especially the old lady who doesn't look happy. He does it again, trying not to laugh I admonish him then he cocks his leg lets off a huge (really huge!) fart and laughs his head off. The old lady is shaking her head and I ask him "what do you say?". "Pardon" he says then does it again.

Now all the customers are saying "when's his medicine ready?". We get the parcel and head for the Co-op, god help them!!

E-Male

They say 'everybody has a novel inside them', well that's crap in my case because I have loads inside me! I've started writing half a dozen, got bored, then moved on to the next one. That's why I like writing short stories, sit down for an afternoon and it's done. Not that any of these are any good it's just something I enjoy to do and find it therapeutic. I did send a few off to women's magazines with the hope of making a few quid but apart from the 'filth' they all got returned! DJ enjoys reading them so that's good enough for me.

Anyway, back to the novel! About four years ago I started writing a story with hopes of grandeur. It was going to be a bestseller and made into a film, I had even decided who was going to play the leads in Hollywood. Anyway this story has come out of my drawer at irregular intervals every since and it's still no nearer becoming a Blockbuster. I really can't get up any enthusiasm to finish it, I think this may be because all the time it's not finished I can daydream about it being a success but when it's done the bubble will burst! DJ keeps trying to get me to finish it as I know the ending and won't spill the beans. I think this is probably a bit selfish of me as she has read the 30,000 odd words I have written and has been left in limbo.

'Is there a point to this blog?' I hear you ask. Well yes actually there is DJ suggested start another blog and post a chapter a week of my story to give me the impetus to get it finished. If you fancy a read you can find it here E-Male and I'll post every Monday.

Finally; if Hugh Grant and Reese Witherspoon still read my blog make sure to keep your diary's free for the end of next year because I might be giving you a call!!

Night!

This is me if I was a book apparently! I do take exception to the short bit as I am well over 6 foot! Can't disagree much about the other bits though!

You're Night!

by Elie Wiesel

You've had some truly horrific experiences, especially recently, and
you can barely stand to discuss them. While many people are afraid of getting close to
you because of this, it has also built a fascination and admiration of you that is hard
to rival. You know that things are about to get better soon, but that the trauma will be
impossible to forget. You are short, but powerful.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

My First Baby!

I received a quiz from my Mother-in-law the other day and duly filled it in and returned it. I thought maybe some of you would like a go so have added to the end of this post. I left my answers in just in case you're interested.

MY FIRST BABY

Here you go mommies - a different kind of survey for a change - it's all about your first born! (Daddies can do it too)

1. Were you married at the time? No.

2. What were your reactions? Freaked.

3. How old were you? 26

4. How did you find out you were pregnant? I think it was a stork!

5. Who did you tell first? No idea!

6. Did you want to find out the sex? No, we already had the sex this was the by-product!

7. Due date? Yes there was bound to be one!

8.Did you deliver early or late? Exactly on the date! I am a postman after all!

9. Did you have morning sickness? No but for every day since!

10. What did you crave? Beer.

11. Who irritated you the most? Everybody.

12. What was your first child's sex? A fumble in the bike shed I think?

13. How many pounds did you gain throughout the pregnancy? Nothing, I spent a bloody fortune!

14. Did you have any complications during your pregnancy? Sleeping with a fat fidget?

15.Where did you give birth? At the hospital!

16. How many hours were you in labor? I only voted labour ( you missed the u) once!

17.Who drove you to the hospital? Someone should have driven me?

18.Who watched? It wasn't the Discovery Channel you know!

19.Was it natural or c-section? It all seemed very un-natural so must have been a c-section?

20.Did you take medicine to ease the pain? No! I was numb from the alcohol

21.How much did your child weigh? What? Pik and Mix at Woolworths?

22.Did your child have any complications? Crying, shitting and puking!

23.What did you name him/her? You had a him/her?

24. How old is your first born today? 17

25. Where does he/she live? In the bedroom!

26.Does he/she have children? Fuck, I hope not!

As you can see I don't really remember much about this traumatic time!!

Saturday Morning!

The last post I wrote (which seemed so popular) was the dream I had the previous night. It ended when I woke in a cold sweat not sure if I had an hour to live, it was that real!
On a lighter note; I was out delivering early today and had to knock the door of one of my first drops with a parcel. It was about 7:10 when I lent on the doorbell and not expecting an answer I went next door and delivered their mail. When I got back the door was opened by an elderly, sleepy looking man in his pyjamas. It was then I realized the doorbell was stuck on and had been ‘ding-donging’ for the best part of two minutes. The old boy looked at me, looked at the parcel, looked at the doorbell, ran his fingers through his hair then let out the loudest fart I’ve ever heard!
I handed him his mail and the parcel at the same time trying not to laugh while apologizing. I left him shaking his head and poking his bell (not a good look) and went on my way with a spring in my step. Being easily pleased things like this make getting out of bed worthwhile!

Nightmare!

He opened his eyes and felt a shudder coarse through the whole of his body. None of this made sense! The building was cavernous but felt claustrophobic, the air was warm but he felt an icy chill in his bones and, probably most importantly, he didn’t want to be there though he knew it was where he was supposed to be.
He looked around, that was a feat in itself. The room was as dark as night but he could see, his eyes being able to penetrate the blackness. It was as if he was wearing a miner’s helmet with the light on the top piercing the dark. He felt his head, as if to check for the helmet, there was none, but he already knew that.
He was standing in aisle of what appeared, at first glance to be a warehouse, in between two rows of racking. The racking was built out of a thick angle-iron and was battleship grey. Its shelves looked like they were made from scaffold boards neatly buffered together. The shelves were so deep he couldn’t see the back and went so high he couldn’t see the top and, they were empty. The floor was hard and cold. He knew it was black marble even though he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see his feet either they were covered in what appeared to be a rolling mist. It reminded him of dry ice at a Motorhead concert only this was a dirty grey and felt heavy on his toes.
He reached out to touch the shelves and although they we close he couldn’t reach them. He walked towards them but they got no closer, he didn’t know why he’d bothered because he already knew this as well.
He shuddered again! He didn’t know why or how he knew all this stuff, he just did. Also, he wasn’t alone!
There were people shuffling past him all the time searching for a way out but resigned to the fact there was none. They were all different; young and old, male and female, black and white but all with one common denominator, a black sack. Well that’s what it looked like, a black sack tied with a thick rope thrown over their shoulder and dragged behind them as they moved along. He knew it wasn’t a black sack and he knew what it was though he tried not to think about it. He wouldn’t even look behind him to see if his was there, he knew it was.
Something appeared out of the darkness and stopped next to a shuffling figure. He couldn’t describe it! He could look at it, stare into its eyes, but couldn’t remember a thing about it when he looked away. It had with it a box. The box was transparent but he never looked in it, he was transfixed on the rainbow of colored lights flashing around the top. It spoke to the person who nodded then stepped slowly into the box. As they did so they left behind the ‘black sack’ which in turn dispersed into the misty floor.
He watched as it approached other people who in turn nodded stepped into the box leaving behind their ‘black sacks’. Then it approached him, inviting him to enter the box, he shook his head, it nodded and walked away towards the next person. He let out a sigh of relief but soon it was back inviting him again.
“No thanks!” he said.
It looked at him and shook its head.
“You’re wasting time; you need to get into the box.”
“What time?” he asked already knowing the answer.
“You have an hour to say your goodbyes and now you are wasting time, your time.” It said with no emotion.
“You aren’t death! Death has a cloak and a scythe but you…….” He didn’t finish his sentence because in his heart he knew and started to step into the box.

Make Friends and Influence People!

I thought after the serious post last time I better lighten the mood a bit! You think he might be regretting something about now?

PS: Kahless gave Ivana an award you can see it here

The Meaning of Life?!

You hear phrases like: everything happens for a reason, what will be will be and for every action there is a reaction. So, if you do something are you responsible for what happens to others?


e.g. Every morning when I drive to work I get to the bottom of my road, turn right and head on over the hill. If on Monday instead of turning right I turn left and use a different route and there is a crash on the bridge. A five car pile up, the third car is where my car would have been if I'd taken my usual route. The car is crushed and the driver is dead! Is that my fault? Am I responsible for his death and the repercussions for his family or would it have happened anyway? Karma?

I'm not trying to get heavy or anything like that it's just been playing on my mind a lot lately. Is our influence on our children that important? Do they turn out the way they do because of what we instill in them or would they turn out that way anyway because, I don't know, because they would? We have two teenagers who have been brought up exactly the same but they and their outlook on life are completely different, why? Shouldn't they be both the same? It screws with my brain!

I heard somewhere someone say "We are not responsible for our kids we are responsible to them." I guess this to mean that we have a responsibility to clothe them, feed them , school them, teach them right from wrong and set them out on the right road but we are not responsible for how they interpret this and the path they take!

I never listened to my step-father and would do the opposite to whatever he said, black would be white as far as he was concerned. Looking back whatever he told me was usually right, he'd probably been there and done it, but would I have turned out the way I have if I had done everything he told me without finding things out for myself often the hard way?

Perhaps we aren't supposed to know the answers to these questions but I'm happy for any hints! By the way next week will be, "How long is a piece of string?"