The Bathroom

I may have mentioned before that I get bizarre thoughts every time I go into my bathroom.  I've only shared one of the scenarios that haunts my head with you and that's the one where I wonder what would happen if aliens kidnapped me and I was placed in some weird alien zoo in what they think is my natural habitat (the bathroom) and only feed me whatever they have analysed has been in my stomach on the day I was taken.  Yeah, I know.......probably shouldn't be sharing the thoughts I get.

Anyhoo, I have a new bathroom scenario now.  Have you ever seen that film The Mist? It's based on a Steven King story and all the people get trapped in a supermarket by a mist which contains monsters from another dimension or something?  It's always been my dream to be trapped in a supermarket. On my own of course, not with a bunch of freaks and weirdos.  Any way, I was sitting on the loo, looking around and my dog sort of threw herself at the closed door in a futile attempt at making me let her in.  She demands play ALL the sodding time, even when I'm on my knees with my head down the pan bringing my guts up.  I'll eventually turn around and find a squeaky fried egg, a squeaky chop, a formerly squeaky bone and a chewed up plastic Ozzy Osborne dropped around my feet and a ridiculously hairy dog in the 'ready' position (head on floor, arse in the air - you know the type of thing) waiting for me to kick stuff at her.  She's some kind of sheepdog throwback.  It's a nightmare.  Y'know, once I tried to test whether she had any Lassie-like skills and did a dramatic, heart clutching death in front of her to see what she'd do.  Sat on the back of my fucking head, that's what she did. 

...but I digress.  To recap, me sitting on loo, dog banged door.  So yeah, the simple act of the dog banging against the closed door of the bathroom gave my freaky brain the opportunity to start thinking stuff I should really keep to myself.  Initially I got a thrill that I was on one side of the door and if a bunch of small monsters took over the house (no, I don't know why or how either....) they wouldn't have the brain to know that the door wasn't still part of the wall and then I could live in there without them knowing.  I looked around the bathroom as I have done many times before and nodded silently to myself that I could happily live in the bathroom.  I then spied that the window was slightly open.  With horror I remembered THE MIST and then got lost in thought about the little monsters in the house and decided they'd come out of the mist.  SHIT - I needed to close the window before the flying bug things flew in, stung me and made my face blow up until I was dead!  OR the monstrous spiders could get in and their webs burn through you and the man was full of spider-monster eggs and OH. MY. GOD close the window Sket!

I couldn't be arsed to close the window.  Heck, it was only bizarre spewings from my ridiculous excuse of a brain any way.  I worried about my dog (The Kraken - it's lovely when she's asleep.  NEVER wake the dog) and decided that if the monsters came I would be brave enough to quickly open the bathroom door and drag her in rather than live with the guilt of having allowed her to be killed.  Hell, it would be nice to have some company but would she give me away by whining when the hunger got to her.  I'd already decided I'd be able to live on toothpaste for a short time but a dog?  Nah, the dog'd NEVER accept a bit of minty toothpaste for dinner.  If the monsters realised there was someone living behind what they thought was a wall they might attack the door and then I'd be fucked.  I decided they probably wouldn't like being sprayed with water from the shower head but then I'd have to live in just the shower cubicle and never sleep in case they climbed over the top to get me!  What if tentacle monsters or the spiders or something came up through the plug hole?  I'd be fucked!  By the time I was rescued I'd be mental and knackered and possibly blind 'cause I'd had my contact lenses in for longer than the prescripted amount of time! 

...at least I'd have minty breath.

I need to just go to the loo, do my business (of powdering.  I'm a lady and we don't create waste products, we emit a perfumed powder - that's why we have Ladies Powder Rooms) and get the frig out of there. 

Ooh, quickly - Samuel Pepys said something about 'caring not a turd' about something in his diary.  I love this man.  I wonder what he thought about then he went to the loo?

My bit of Pepys-ing.  Peter Falk, the greatest TV detective of all time - COLUMBO died yesterday.  My house mate's mother once told her she was like Columbo which made her proud until the woman said 'Yeah, he was a scruff too!'

...and finally.  I had to attend Court in the course of my work (the work which actually funds my comedy and real life) and thought I'd dressed appropriately.  Unfortunately, I'd put on day glo yellow and orange socks and hadn't realised that, as I sat po-faced with my legs crossed, everyone was blinded by the aforementioned socks.  My manager was sitting opposite and made some comedic comment to our Barrister and I don't really know what happened but I panicked a bit and just spewed out a load of nonsense that I always ensured I wore something bizarre so I could be easily identified if I were murdered and that I was also wearing Animal from The Muppets underpants.  WHY did I say that?  I then went on to reflect that the actress playing me in the reconstruction would have to wear the same socks and that she might feel a bit embarrassed. The Barrister just sat there.  Didn't laugh or acknowledge any of the shit I'd just said.  Neither did the woman in BHS who jokingly told me that the coats were displayed by the nightwear which was a strange place to put them and I'd said it was because we'd ALL, at some time put a coat on over our PJ's to go to the shop...

Oh Christ - why do I bother to get up in the mornings?

Shovel Weirdness

So, I came home from work today and was excited to see that the Tidiness Nazi was out which meant so were the ferkin' dogs.  I love it when the dogs are out.  Pet ownership is a lifetime of misery if you ask me (not that anyone ever does).  I think I'm possibly being a bit harsh, the old dog (Batdog) just lies around and stinks.  The other one, the young dog, is the thing which makes my home life a total misery.  Bloody cute and hairy but too much energy and relentless?  FUCKING relentless.  All sodding night, running up and down, dropping toys on your lap, at your feet, on the floor, everywhere.  I call her The Kraken 'cause NO ONE wants to awaken The Kraken when it's asleep!  The Kraken has Border Collie in her so she's basically a stupid looking sheep dog.  When I have a shower the dog, one toy at a time, drops stuff into a small mountain at the cubicle door then disappears.  Well, you think she's disappeared, turns out she's in 'the position' all focused, alert and ready to chase the thing or herd it somewhere.  Last shower I had the dog had 'assumed the position' and must have been there for 40 minutes not moving, just waiting..........

So yeah, got home and felt more excited at having the place to myself than I should.  I notice a shovel by the front door but guessed the Tidiness Nazi had cleared the blocked drain or something.  Got through the door, grabbed my post, stripping off as I did and grabbed a handful of chocolates which I necked as I legged it up the stairs preparing to put my pyjamas on and get into bed for a crafty hour of watching tv undisturbed.  Lovely.  Unfortunately, I only got about 40 minutes of respite before the hairy, licky one burst into my room and jumped all over me (yeah, the stupid creature loves every hair on my head for some reason).  I heard the Tidiness Nazi downstairs.

"Did you put the shovel by the front door?" She yelled up.

"Erm, no.   I just got home from work.  I thought YOU had done something with the shovel."

"No it wasn't me"

(weird - someone has randomly put a shovel by our front door!)

A couple of minutes later the Nazi came into my room.  I managed to push the Kraken off my head/chest area where she'd decided to sit and smother me with her love.

"Y'know that shovel?"

"Yeah"

"It ain't our shovel.  In fact, some one's nicked our shovel from the side of the house and left us with the dirty one by the front door"

 "So, you're telling me that some random stranger, between the time you left the house at 2pm and when I got home at about 4.30pm, robbed us of our shovel and replaced it with THEIR OWN shovel?"

"Erm yeah!"

I love the randomness of today's weirdness but y'know what I love even more?  The shovel thief decided to alert us to the theft by leaving their own shovel right by our front door.  To be fair, if they'd put their shovel along the side of the house where ours was kept we wouldn't have bloody noticed until possibly next year.  The shovel thief (or shovel swapper) wanted us to know.  Wanted us to know that our perfectly good shovel had been coveted by someone with a slightly less perfectly good shovel.  All that was wrong with it was that it was a bit older than ours and was dirty. 

I guess I'll be laughing on the other side of my face when the weird shovel covet-er turns out to be a strange murderous stalker and whacks me over the head with the bleeder.  Hell, the side of the house where the shovel was kept has a massive shed there which is right under my bedroom window.  I'll not be laughing when there is a recreation of Leatherface waving his Texas Chainsaw around in the air (whilst balanced on my shed but with a shovel) outside my window. 

Still, I'll sleep through anything.

Then again, I know from experience that I have no survival skills in the wee hours of the morning.  When I was a child I had a bulletin board over my bed.  Atop this bulletin board I had a horseshoe which had come from one of my relative's horses.  Dunno what exactly happened but one morning at about 3am the horseshoe fell down and landed on my young sleeping head.  I seem to remember waking up with a start but just lying there waiting for the murderer's next blow.  How shit is that?  I'd like to think I'm a more pro-active potential murder victim nowadays and would at least grab at the weapon.  Then again, I sleep the sleep of the dead at the best of times, least of all when I'm actually being made dead.