Jesus and the Daves

Just returned from a birthday visit to my Mother which is always an experience.  Experience One involved me having to attend the burial and small funeral service for half a dead mouse she found in the garden.  The ARSE end of the dead mouse at that.  My cousin's cat has recently gone to live with her and despite the evidence being a bit on the circumstantial side, he is the prime suspect.  In fact, not so much a suspect but the official guilty party.  No trial, no witnesses, no nothing - just half a corpse.

The other observation I have involves her TV.  She has about 4 different remote controls and it drives me crazy as I can never work out which one does what!  I don't even know why she bothers; the TV is always set to some US Crime channel and she just watches CSI (NY, Vegas and the dreadful Miami one - how did that ginger arse David Caruso ever get work? He looks like his eyes have been sewn in with red thread, he over acts in a comedy mean and moody way - but he believes it, and is a thoroughly unlikeable person.  Out of the 3 in the franchise, his is the shittest by far), NCIS, Law and Order and god, other similar shows all night EVERY night.  I actually found myself appreciating them, even the one's I'd seen the previous night and knew what was going to happen, and that's why I could never go back there to live permanently.  I might just give up on rational thought in order to sit with an anaesthetised brain watching made up crime.  At least I'll know if someone is poisoning me with Selenium - I'll have horrendous garlic breath. 

...and so to THE conversation.  Before I continue, I have to advise that whilst I love my extended family, they can be very judgemental, mocking and erm.....I won't beat around the bush - EVIL.  I had mentioned to my Mother that I hadn't been feeling very unwell and my (cough) lady internal bits seemed a bit sluggish and, being the hypochondriac that I am, I was assuming I was terminally ill. 

Mother:  You aren't PREGNANT are you?
Me: Well, he hasn't performed that one since Bethlehem actually Mother.

That brief exchange made me reflect and once I again I got lost in bizarre and unnatural thoughts.  I did think that if the Lord was going to pick someone to carry the new Messiah, she'd at least have to be a genuine virgin and not someone who's basically become 're-virginated' due to the very real fact she can't get any!  I then thought about me having a new Messiah and how 'the family' would behave.  Of course, they wouldn't be supportive or believing.  They'd mock us both.  They'd laugh behind our backs and question why he was wearing a dress, take the piss out of his sandals and whisper about his decision to hang about with 12 other guys.  They'd make snippy comments that his hair was too long and that his beard would look like he'd got a vagina stuck to his face.  In fact, his secret family nickname would be 'fanny-face'.  See, I know my family, have heard the stuff they've said about people and know that this would be the way.  No Messiah, new or old would survive my family without ending up with a whole bucket full of neuroses and paranoia's.  My cousin and I have discussed this at length and know that we've gone wrong.  We've only survived by doing strange things for our own amusement and by small acts of evil here and there.  We both know this.  We both know that we're never right.  For fuck sake, she PUNCHED a baked potato and doesn't even know why!  I pissed everywhere at work once 'cause I had to find out whether incontinence pads really worked (they don't.  Well, they do for drips but not for the entire contents of a full adult bladder) In fact LINK to story.

So, in conclusion, I worry for the fate of mankind if I was forced to be the re-virgin mother to the new Messiah. 

Finally, I had a gig in the week and suspect I'd travelled into the world of the strange.  All I knew is that the promotor was called Dave and I only had a sketchy idea of what he looked like.  My cousin and I went into the pub and found a bloke sitting at the bar in the lounge area. 

Cousin Lisa: Hi, we're looking for Dave

Bloke: Oh, I think you'll find him in the bar.

(we duly went next door into the other bar room.  When we got there we discovered that the bar was the same one for the lounge and this bar with one elderly guy serving both rooms.  We could see the first bloke from where we were.

Cousin Lisa (to ancient barman): Hi, we're looking for Dave

Ancient Barman (shouting through to the first bloke): Dave, have you seen Dave?

First Bloke: No, I thought he was in there with you!

(Enter another bloke)

Ancient Barman: You alright Dave?

(Lisa and I perk up our ears)

Ancient Barman to this Dave: Dave, have YOU seen Dave?

Dave: No, dunno where he is...

...and that's how it went.  We did find the correct Dave in the end but the situation made me wonder why all the other Daves didn't just assume they were the Dave we wanted.  Do they spend their family lives never thinking anyone requires them?  As for the gig, it was at a venue I'd never played before.  The set went quite well actually with plenty of audience participation despite the MC quietly whispering an apology to me for killing the atmosphere in the room prior to my set.  Cousin Lisa filmed the set and I might even put it up on YouTube if I can be arsed.  I'll be sure to post a link if I do!

The Blue Ear

If you are a regular reader of my drivel then you will be aware that I surround myself not with sycophants (which would be great) but with hypochondriacs.  If only I could find a bunch of sycophants of my own I wouldn't have to lumber myself with the bunch of arseholes lovingly known as 'my friends (and bits of family)'.  Yep, these people believe themselves to have every life threatening disease on the market (is there a disease market?).  My mother is the best; she's convinced she has both Progeria (congenital disorder which makes you age rapidly) AND Prader-Willi (disorder which causes obesity).  I argue that she's just a greedy old git. 

So, 'Mental Health' work colleague (MHWC) and I were discussing the latest life threatening disease she is facing.  MHWC is still convinced that she has some sort of arm cancer which had in fact been better a few days ago but was now hurting again.  I think we both have a major fear of cancer (there's been loads in my family.  Dunno her excuse) but to be fair, she has started running again recently and so I asked whether it was possible the pain was related to this but no, it's clearly cancer just in the lower part of one arm.  I told her about a weird pain I'd experienced in one of my ears (oh yeah, I consider myself amongst the bunch of arseholes I mentioned earlier) and we, for a moment, had the same thought; who gets pain in one ear?!!!!

Ear cancer!

I reflected miserably that with my luck I'd have to have my ear amputated and would then have to have a cheap NHS replacement which wouldn't match my skin tone.  In fact, if it was an NHS ear it would probably be a cheap blue molded rubbery thing.  My head fell to my chest in misery as I thought about the box of blue ears that the doctor would bring out.  In my mind I saw him holding various specimens to the side of my head and stepping back in order to see how they each looked.  Hell, I just knew they wouldn't have my size and I'd have to have a large 'man' ear until they could track down a replacement.  I later discussed these fears with my pal Bison who told me the blue ear would probably come with a rubber band which would snap around my head to keep it in place.  He then fell silent as if in contemplation before venturing that it would almost be worth having his own ear amputated just so he could have a giant blue ear of his own. 

Y'know, I bet they only have left ears in that box and I'll need a right ear.  I'll have to wear the thing upside down until they find me a lady ear won't I?  Sometimes it's just shit being me...

Oooh ooh, something else to tell you - I was walking down the street yesterday when a bloke stopped to tell me I was beautiful!  Clearly he was either a lunatic or 'played a mean pin ball' if you get my drift.  I tried to carry on walking but he sort of held my arm a bit and asked to look at my eyes properly (!)  I was so appalled I didn't have time to engage my appalled face (think of the great white hunter type with the shrunken head at the end of 'Beetlejuice')

Sket's appalled face



He then told me how much he loved my curly hair.  Clearly my internal 'fuck off' vibe machine was malfunctioning and therefore I was left to deal with the situation myself.  Shiit.

I just sort of let out a ridiculous high pitched laugh, paused and then lamely told him that I once got a gerbil trapped in my hair.

Faaaaaaack.

Still he wasn't put off and shared a story with me about how one of his fish got caught up in some weeds he'd put in the tank.  WHY WAS I HAVING THIS CONVERSATION?  I tried again to escape but he asked my name (like a prat I told him!!!!!), he took my hand, kissed it and I ran away shouting over my shoulder that he was very charming!

I'm never going to have sex again am I?