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That clucking mouse needs to give up the drinking.

January 3rd, 2013 · 5 Comments

Happy new ye….hang on…are you one of those that didn’t send me a Merry Christmas! comment?  If you are, I have gone off of you.  If you aren’t, I apologise and will finish what I started at the beginning of the paragraph: ar!

But if you ARE….oohhh…me and you…we have fallen out.

Well, here we are.  A few days in to 2013.  A time where you may or may not have finished all the leftovers from Christmas.  Your hangover may finally be leaving from the NYE party.  You are now counting down the days until you think it is suitable to return those unwanted gifts from your other half and get something you actually want.  And then hope they don’t notice.

Yes, I had a lovely Christmas.  Thank you for asking.  It has been the post-Christmas thing that has been an issue.

I don’t quite know how, but over the course of Christmas the house seemed to become a haven for leftover turkey, lamb and cheese. 

Those 3 items were all I ate between Dec 25th and last night.  It hasn’t gone.  I swear that each night over the Christmas break, the cheeses had a party.  Because we had inadvertently bought some slutty cheeses (you know the ones.  Yeah…I might be cheddar, but you are brie…lets get it oooooon!)  and left alcohol out, each night they got pregnant and reproduced more cheese.  And then we got to New Years Eve.  We were on the homeward stretch of the cheese eating.  It was almost gone.  We had a NYE party.  People brought more freakin CHEESE.  The fridge restocked itself. 

If I leave my fridge door open, my house will smell like a podiatrist’s waiting room in the middle of summer.  And the windows are closed.  And the aircon is broken.

I have eaten so much cheese that I am fairly confident I am turning in to a mouse.   I am pretty sure if I think back over the last week and the times that I have visited Number 2 Land (had a big poo for those of you that killed too many braincells over Christmas) that I am now as clogged up as the pores on a teenagers face.  I am literally ready to explode.  I have also taken a shine to woolly coats and…erm…what is a male turkey called?  Or are they like humans and have whatever name their mum gave them?  Google tells me they are called “Tom” or “Gobbler”.  I don’t want to say I have started to find gobblers attractive.  Nor anyone called Tom when I think about it.  What is a girl turkey called?  I would assume they would be called Sandra, but you know, I honestly don’t know.

But it is the mouse thing that I am most bothered about.  I didnt notice at first but I started to hunt down cheese.  I would open the fridge to get a drink….CHEESE!  No, I didn’t drink cheese.  But I would SEE cheese.  And eat it.  And over the course of the week, I began to start looking like a mouse.  On the 29th, I donned my running gear, buggered off to a race and picked up the warpaint on the table…and without even realising, I painted whiskers and a black nose on to my face.

No…really:

 

And you know it is true as why would I go out of my way to look like a complete idiot on purpose.  I mean, it isnt like I put a very nice 1950s style blue with white polka dots halter neck dress on for New Years Eve.  OK, so I did.  But you sure as hell aren’t getting THAT photo.  Nope, you didn’t say Merry Christmas.  So you don’t get to see me wearing that.  I guess you are bloody glad you ignored my request now. 

It hurts when you are mean to me.  I looked fetching.  Suuure, my wife refused to come anywhere near me, but I think that while she said it was “Because I looked like a really ugly cross dresser” that it was actually because she found me devastatingly attractive. The other reason why is because every time I went to kiss her she turned away…I think to check that everyone was getting to see who she was kissing.  And then forgot to turn back and actually kiss me.

So this has all led me to my New Years resolutions.  Something I can likely succeed in this time.  Last years (harness anti-matter, walk on the moon, be nice to my children) were all too hard and unrealistic.  So I am going for easy-street.  They are:

1 – Not to wear that dress again.  It caused uncomfortable chaffing around my neck the next morning when I went for a run in it (again, you aren’t having that photo either.  You will have to add me as a friend on Facebook to see those ones.  Don’t know my profile?  Your loss.  Kinda.)

2 – Harness microwave power to resolve world hunger

3 – Find God.  Without dying.

5 - Give up alcohol and cheese.  And lamb.  And turkey.

6 – Learn to count to 7.

7 – Get healthy by staying away from that mouse trap.  The piece of cheese on there is tempting me over.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

© 2013, Sy. All rights reserved.

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Tags: General Madness

5 responses so far ↓

  • 1 Mrs TNo Gravatar // Jan 11, 2013 at 10:31 am

    I liked you in the dress. I think I was kinda turned on.

    My New Resolution is to go to gym. Ho hum.

  • 2 Flying Saucer JonesNo Gravatar // Jan 11, 2013 at 10:45 pm

    Is it wrong that I enlarged the picture of you in a blue dress and replaced my photo of Miss November with it?

  • 3 OzPeteNo Gravatar // Jan 14, 2013 at 7:57 pm

    Psssst: Sy – there’s a rather small, quite scary, one-legged man chasing you up the hill!

    Oh, no, actually I think he’s coming to shake your hand for choosing the same excellent haircut as him! Is it required as part of the Struggling-Up-A-Hill club?

    Anyway, glad to see you smiling!

  • 4 SyNo Gravatar // Jan 15, 2013 at 3:34 pm

    You are only human. I am a little disgusted that I am only on November. You EASILY could have painted a santa hat on me and made me Miss December. Long ears…Miss Easter. I am dreamy…Miss Valentine.

  • 5 SyNo Gravatar // Jan 15, 2013 at 4:22 pm

    Yeah, it seems the young blokes think the crazy stuff isnt for them. Those with hair. Damn them and their hair follicles.

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