Biased Chipmunk Bruises easily

My body is an autumn chipmunk. It squirrels away anything that passes through my lips, sending it straight to where I never want it. I know you may well think the obvious: if food in exceeds exercise out -> Houston, you have a big arse. But really, I must protest, some of us just aren’t blessed with the I can shove anything I want into my face and not have it show up on my arse without a lot of fucking exercise gene.

I walked into a wall today, yes...really. So if you see me on the street, please don’t look at me sideways and wonder, and then be unable to hide that look on your face that suggests I’m a bald-faced liar when you ask,
”What happened?”
and I answer,
“I walked into a wall.”
Just...don’t, ok.

I really dislike the perfume I wore today. It was a gift, I’ve never worn it before, it smells OK in small doses but not when it (and it has) permeated everything. I've showered and scrubbed my skin pink, still it persists.

When you are a mother, you develop bias. Of course your kid is the most gorgeous (mine are), of course they are the brightest (mine are); shit if kids don’t have their parents as their number one fans, who else is going to step up to take the mark? Except perhaps some strange fuck in his late 40’s whose probation stipulates that the son of a bitch should be existing on Mars with Smallpox, Polio and the multitude of childhood diseases we’ve struggled to almost eradicate from the planet. My bias is even obvious to myself at times, like today when I had to bite the bullet and cull some of my extraordinarily gifted child’s artwork, because it has taken over the bottom floor of my domicile, and I just couldn't fucking take it any more...
I found it hard to bin this:



And this:




Oh and this:



Vive le biais!

Annoyed (but not overly so)

That when a friend’s husband found out about my separation, he said, “What is wrong with women these days?”

That I have now watched two entire episodes of Gray’s Anatomy.

That super-league fucked up rugby league forever.

That my mother waits for me to call these days, because I have voIP, and she gets shitty because I don’t call enough.

That no matter how many sit-ups I do, every-fucking-day...I still have a mummy tummy.

That I may well watch more of McMoronic McDoctors, and find myself wishing that there were more McHotties in the show.

That I actually stooped to write the 'words' McMoronic, McDoctor and McHotties.