vodka & tonic

last night I slept like a baby, no horrid dreams, no getting up and walking about, no interrupting The Antagonist's sweet dreams, and... what was that my darling?

Oh yes, the first night in AGES I am sleeping properly, and what happens.. The Antagonist decides to get up and start shouting at me. IN HIS SLEEP!

He wakes me up, completely disturbed, his eyes really wild, and he shouts:

"Mrs Meme! can you stop getting up all the time, I can't sleep!!"

Then he lies back down and gently goes back to sleep.

I think we're either haunted or going mad.

I have really got to stop sleeping. I just do too mjch fucked up shit when I am asleep and it is not only driving The Antagonist up the wall, it is starting to worry me as well. Like, who dreams her husband is a three headed monster coming to cut your head off to add to him own. I sure don't. What i *do* dream is that he is a one headed monster coming to eat me alive. yes I kid you not. The Antagonist, in my dreams, is a cannibal.

So in the middle of the night I wake up, all sweaty and shit scared and he is lying there peacefully dreaming of something warm and sweet (most likely me! ;-)) and I CAN'T GO BACK TO SLEEP AS I AM TOO SHIT SCARED!

I need help.

oh yes, we had sex last night. I can't actually remember the last time we had sex, fucked, so to speak, quite like that. Usually these days The Antagonist is too tired or I am exhausted or we simply don't find time. And when we do find time and we do have sex, it has gotten quite regimented and predictable...

But last night, after a massive argument, we went a bit mad, bit like the old days, you know...? Like when it last a little bit longer than you expect and your legs ache slightly the next day, and he looks you deep in the eyes just as you're about to come, and whispers "god you're beautiful, I wish we could stay like this forever"

yes i know. he loves me. :-) I've been bouncing quite a lot today.....

Yes, i've been puking for a week. The risk of leaving nice lumps of half digested food all over my lovely laptop hasn't been that tempting, and hence I've not been blogging. Not that anyone's been here anyway, as hehe, nobody knows about this stupid blog and i don't care to surf around all the blogs that "generate traffic" advertising myself. I am so sick of the blogging game, to be honest. I love blogging and I love writing and I love reading blogs, but I just hate this infantile popularity contest that's going on everywhere. People blogrolling like they've nothing better to do, leaving comments all over cyberspace like dogs marking territory. And then, when someone actually voice an OPINION on either of their blogs, GOD FORBID!, you're immediately labelled anti-social or downright rude. And, NO, i am NOT referring to RUDE ANTI-SOCIAL comments, I mean OPINIONS, THOUGHTS and god forbid, PASSION about issues that (at least in my humble opinion) *should* concern people, not just those of us that aren't afraid to speak up.

Anyway, I think I'll stick to my own corner here, where i can be as rude as the fuck I'd like, and let the rest of Blog-world mind its own passive business...

Last night:

mr meme: "my darling, tomorrow I'll get up with the monster baby, so you can have a lie in"
me: "wow, that;s great, are you sure?"
mr meme: "yes, I'll go to the supermarket and get fresh bread so we can have a fresh breakfast for a change"
me "wow, i must have the best husband in the world"

this morning
me: "darling, she's screaming"
mr meme: "mmrrrgggghhmmm"
me: "shall i just get up"
mr meme: "NO! I am getting up, but it's 7.30!! it doens't harm her to scream"
me: "she's alwasy up at 7.30!"
mr meme: "no she;s not"
me: "erm, yeah doh!"
mr meme: "well, it doens't hurt her to wait. I'll get up in my own time"
me: "But then I can't sleep, as she's screaming the house down, so I might as well get up"
mr meme (really angry): "oh my god! women!"
me (getting up): "well, if you're supposed to doing my a favour then you're not, really, as i can't sleep when she's screaming the house down"
mr meme: ok, suit yourself

I got up.


I hate men! It is more effort getting HIM up to get the baby up than just getting her up myself. At least she doens't argue about it, but gives me a big smile when i come into her room...

i really shouldn't be blogging after 4 beers...

i printed out the first draft of my book today.

i say that, it isn't even close to finishing, but I am 11000 words down and god, they are good words.

had a HUGE argument with The Antagonist about it of course, but after we stopped arguing, he opened a bottle of wine, and after that things took a turn for the better...

I don't think I've actually mentioned my book before, and this is not the time to do so either. I just wanted to brag really.. did I do well? I think I did...

When I go out (which is very rarely) I am very grateful to The Antagonist for staying in with the Baby Monster. I get ready and make sure the man is fed and looked well after for the evening and when I leave, I kiss him softly, tell him I love him and quietly leave the house, making sure the Baby Monster doesn't wake up as I close the door behind me.

When The Antagonist is going out, he announces it matter of factly and laughs loudly as his friend rings the door bell (twice! just in case the Monster Baby didn't hear it the first time). He then announces "Hey hey hey! The blokes are going out!" and him and his moron friends slam the door behind them before they run off down the road shouting "The boys are free! No responsibility tonight! The boys are out! Hey hey hey!"

Sometimes I wonder why he got married at all...

Then I wonder why I did...

There are so many things that comes with married life, or even just with living together.

The Antagonist, my so called better half (we all know who's best!) once used my expensive, luxurious face cream that even *I* only use on special occasions, on his, oh god it kills me to say this, on his FEET! oh yeah. his stinking, hairy feet covered in my silky smooth, really fukcing expensive moisturiser!

I had forgotten all about this, when a post by the always hilarious Mimi made me relive this moment of horror.

Does anyone know where one can buy bathroom cupboard locks??

I would first like to thank all you unbashful bloggers for your optimistic comments about my tit blog. it is reassuring to know you don't have to be Dooce to talk about tits around here (although of course that helps) :-)

Today is monday and if course my little monster child decided she no longer needs 12 hours sleep, 4 will do just fine, so we are both rather jet lagged and tired.

She also decided to find a used Q-tip in the bathroom bin to bring me as a morning present, isn't she CUTE! if anyone wants to adopt, let me know...

this is SUCH a monday morning and I am SO grumpy!

just realised I left a message on Michele's meet and greet and the top post on my blog is about my TITS. How embarrassing!!

hope i get this up before someone comes along...

*blushing....*

My husband has discovered my tits.

I know they are very small and probably hard to find, but after almost a year of marriage, I suppose it was about time.

It started as a joke, when after some wrestling, he managed to photograph them. I don't say this without blushing, and it didn't get any better when he decided to announce his latest hobby to our friends. I felt really exposed.

Then I had a look at the photo (yes i hack his mobile phone, who doesn't?) and I thought, hey, they look kinda cute!

To degrade myself even more, I decided this morning to send him a present.

It is actually really hard photographing your own tits with a mobile phone, but I managed in the end, and after negotiating with myself for some time, i sent him the picture message. Then I realised I was actually getting a kick out of it.

AND ON THE DAY OF THE POPE'S FUNERAL??

I will most certainly burn in hell.....

Today I saw one of those skirts in a shop in town, you know the kind I mean where the belt (regardless of size) is wider than the skirt, and you have to shave your BUM even in order not to offend anyone as you're walking down the street.

Well, The Antagonist and I were in town last summer, when one of these skirts walked past us. Now The Antagonist has never been much of a looker, I mean he *looks* but he doesn't *stare* and most importantly he is quite subtle about it, so I won't get pissed off. Now this skirt REALLY caught his attention. He didn't just look, his tongue was licking the pavement in front of him! I coudln't believe my eyes (it belongs to the story that I was just about to give birth to our daughter, so you can imagine my self-image wasn't at its best).

"Did you notice her?" I ventured to ask him, quite innocently.
"Notice who?"

THE CHEEK!

"The woman who caused you to DROOL like a PUPPY," was my answer, and he got that REALLY GUILTY look on his face, when he can't stop laughing because he can only IMAGINE what's going on in my head and only DREAM of getting out of this mess and only PREY I'll let him off with all limbs intact.

"I didn't see anyone" he insisted.
"oh well," i said,"I guess you missed her then... you'd have liked her. nice arse"

He turned to look behind us, where she was disappearing into the crow.
"Oh, her, no I hadn't noticed her" he said.

Then he walked into a lamp post.

I have never felt so vindicated...

We have had endless problems with our neighbours. And no it's not US, it's THEM.

We live in an old terraced house about 150 years old (yes dad, older than your house, i know it comes as a surprise that ANYONE can live in a house older than YOURS but trust me, lots of people do). Downstairs our charming landlord has been renting out a flat the size of a stamp to various people over the years.

First we had Kevin. Kevin was interesting. I don't think Kevin knew what soap and water was. He certainly didn't know what a job was, and when Kevin's girlfriend (god protect and bless her ignorant little soul) got pregnant he didn't seem to know that no, you CAN'T have an abortion after 25 weeks.

Kevin liked to play guitar. He particularly liked to play guitar at 4 am, and the only thing he liked more than playing guitar at 4 am was to plug it into the amplifier, turn the volum RIGHT up and THEN play guitar at 4am. WITH the window open. Did I mention Kevin didn't know HOW to play the guitar?

The day Kevin moved was historical. We cracked open a bottle of Canard-Duchene, danced around the house naked shouting obscenities and behaivng like ravin lunatics. It was a happy day.

This of course made the hang-over twice as bad. I don't know who moved in next, but let's say they went from one guy, to two, three and finally four guys. I don't even know if they were in the country legally (I would *hate* to make judgements yeah right), but they were four grown men living (may I remind you) in a flat the size of a stamp. Luckily they slept most of the day and worked most of the night, but they did like to argue before they went to work, so between 7pm and 9pm we had trouble hearing the TV. No, we had trouble hearing ourselves THINK.

This went on for some months, when finally one day they all moved out and all went quiet. And I mean eerily quiet. Nobody came, nobody went. We started wondering if the landlord had died and left no one to look after the place, but we would not be so lucky. Instead, one fine day, someone arrived to start doing the place up. For months we had builders (luckily builders only work in the day, so at least we could sleep at night – of course my daytime napping was quite badly affected – not that I sleep in the day a lot or anything….)

About three weeks ago, a northern lady with a big belly (not pregnant, just fat) moved in. She seemed really nice, and quiet, and looked like a typical 30+ overweight woman with no friends and no boyfriend who would go to bed at half nine and make minimal noise.

OH WE SHOULD NOT BE SO LUCKY

This woman has a FATHER. Yes, a father, who comes around, shouts a lot and then leaves again.

What have we done to deserve this? Why can’t we just have peace and quiet..

And wasn’t I right – it’s THEM, NOT US!!