Somehow I have acquired a reputation for being reluctant to take part in memes. Not sure how, I thought it was perfectly obvious that I’m extremely easygoing and mild-mannered and totally enthusiastic about being tagged in memes. But that’s not what people think! Nevertheless, I get tagged. It’s like – mahahahaha – people are tagging me WITH THE EXPRESS PURPOSE of pissing me off. You jokers! You cheeky little tinkers! Ah, you lot crack me up. So much. FFS.
Before I unleash flying monkeys and a whole world of pain upon the nefarious minds who think up these farking memes, lemme make one thing clear: you usually end up reading memes here cos I really like the person who has tagged me and am planning to elicit some bum-gropage from them at some point soon. In this case, it’s the splendidly beauteous From Fun to Mum who has passed on the baton of meme, and I cannot refuse her. She’s too lush. I want a piece of her spicy Italian meat. And I don’t mean pepperoni.
This meme is called the Yummy Mummy Meme which just makes me itch in an angry way already. The term ‘yummy mummy’ is heinous and anus. Cake is yummy. Chocolate is yummy. Gin is uber-yummy. Mummy, however, is frazzled, covered in shit and about ten hours’ sleep away from anything resembling yummy. So fark it. Yummy farking mummy indeed.
There are some questions to answer. Let’s see how pissing yummy I am, yeah?
What is the first thing you do when you wake up?
Ignore Moo squawking in the other room. Scratch my arse. Sniff my finger. Hide under the duvet. Have a wank. Drink tea. Avoid mirrors. In no particular order.
Do you shower daily? Are you an early morning shower or an evening bath type?
I shower twice a year and usually only if there are holy men present ready to exorcise my demons as I do so. Yes of course I shower in the morning, though I have been known to make use of baby wipes and dry shampoo if I have no time to wash. Last time I got in a bath, I pushed a baby out of my vagina so I won’t be doing that again in a hurry.
Do you wear make-up daily?
No. I favour the ‘wild woman of Borneo’ look.
What’s in your make-up bag?
Twigs and buttons. A mouldering mascara. Baby wipes. Tiny, savage people.
When you are having a slummy mummy day, what do you wear?
Nothing. I go nude. Let it all hang out. This is why the guys on the building site across the road prefer my slummy mummy days.
Nails: how often do you get them done?
I’ve NEVER had a manicure. Ever. However, I tweeted a photo of my talons yesterday (see below) and folk seemed think they looked pretty good as is. So that’s something to be pleased about, I guess.
Your top tip for tired eyes?
Scoop ‘em out and pop another pair in. A spoon is handy for such a manoeuvre. And some other eyes.
Are you a Starbucks or Costa kind of girl?
Why, is one more yummy than the other? I did not know this. I drink from both. Which one is the yummy one? I can’t believe I’ll have to choose. Now I’m totally having an existential crisis.
How many children do you have/want and why?
I have one already. Ideally, I’d like thirty nine or so. That way, at least one of ‘em would end up rich and famous and therefore able to keep me in gin and diamond shoes when I’m ancient. Sadly, I have no partner to oblige me in this baby-making shizzle. So please send me your sperms. And a turkey baster.
What is your favourite place to shop for children’s clothes?
The local butchers.
Flats or heels everyday?
I can’t even think how this renders me yummy or not. Flats.
Oh my days, that’s it. I thought the questions would go on forever then, like some sort of interrogative purgatory. But it’s over. IT’S OVER. And now I’m supposed to perpetuate the agony by tagging other people. Y’all know, though, that ain’t my style.
Please, if you wish to ascertain whether you are ‘yummy’ or not, go crazy and tag yo’ good self. Otherwise, take one last lingering look at the giant picture of my hand, and then imagine me scratching my arse with it. Good day!
I like coffee.
This is why I SHOULDN’T drink coffee:
- I am awake and it is 12.04am
- I can say without any doubt that I will still be awake for a while yet
- drinking coffee makes my edges go fuzzy
- drinking coffee later makes me feel nauseous and hungry at the same time, never a good combination
- rather than energise me, coffee seems to UBER-ENERGISE me, and I go a bit frantic
- and paranoid
- and I over-think stuff
- like, ‘He’s not answered my text. THERE MUST BE SOMETHING DIRELY WRONG’
- and, ‘If he doesn’t answer my text within two minutes, I AM PHONING THE POLICE OR THE COASTGUARD’
- before remembering that the coastguard would be largely useless in the sort of emergency I’m visualising
- mainly because Hertfordshire is INLAND
- and then I wonder whether there is any need for an Inland Coastguard
- maybe a Landguard
- and they wouldn’t have boats
- probably cars
- in which case, they wouldn’t need life-jackets either
- so, just the police really
- and, he’s texted now and everything’s FINE, so I should stop writing a letter to David Cameron regarding the formal introduction of a Landguard within the emergency services
- because David Cameron would never do it anyway, being a mook of a noob of a man
- so yeah, coffee makes me digress somewhat as well
- and I get paranoid, and sad, and awake EVEN MORE
- and I become morbidly introspective, which I’ve been warned about before
- I puzzle over who emailed me a photo of a hand before I realise that it was me
- and then I think, ‘Doesn’t my hand look OLD’
- is it possible that my hand – just one of them – is ageing more swiftly than the rest of me?
- what would I do with a shrivelled hand?
- open a museum?
- who would pay to get into a museum exhibiting one shrivelled hand?
- then I remember that museums are free
- in which case, LOADS of people would come
- this makes me - the coffee’d me – feel rather proud
- I am awake and it is 12.21am and folk are bidding g’night on Twitter
- and I feel proud cos I’ve just thought of the Landguard, and a museum exhibiting only my shrivelled ancient hand
- I really should not drink coffee
This is why tea wins.
Tea or coffee?