Why I love the milk float ...

Well well well, it HAS been a long time since I updated.  I am going to share a storey with you about my near death experience that happened whilst living in Canterbury. 

My life was saved by a milk float.  That’s right people I owe my life to a milkman and his rickety old milk float. 

Let me set the scene…. It’s 3.30am I am wondering home with Maria McGilesinian.  We are lost.  So lost. We’ve recently moved house and we’ve not too familiar with the roads especially in the dark.  It’s late.  It’s cold.  It’s a dangerous world out there.  Especially for a shark like myself.  People often do not understand that I am a shark with a heart.  When I’m on dry land I cannot rely on my mermaids to protect me.  I thought I would never get home, we tried everything; rubbing a street lamp in the hope a genie might appear, clicking our shoes together chanting “there’s no place like home”, I dropped a penny on the floor in the hope it would bring me good luck, I even raided the bins for a chicken foot.  And then, just as I was about to engrave my will onto my fin and admit defeat, a milk float approached, it slowed down, the driver looked at us, smiled and asked if we were ok.  We explained how we were lost, very lost.  We gave our address and he chuckled to himself and said get on. I dread to think what would have happened had that milk float not appeared.  A world without McCruickshark just doesn’t bare thinking about.   So on we hopped to this nice milk float, he then drives…literally just round the corner….and there before us was our lovely new home with the nice black door.  A little embarrassed at how close we were, but still managed to nab ourselves two free bottles of milk.  We get inside, relieved to be in the warmth and rest our tired little feet, and I go to put the milk in the fridge… CRASH BANG WALLOP… that’s right I’d forgotten about that step into the kitchen and fallen flat on my face covered in milk.

From that day onwards whenever we went out we left a trail of bread crumbs just like Hansel and Gretel.  Worse case if the trail doesn’t lead us to our house least I get a house made of cakes and sweets.

The time I got in the wrong car (!)

Yes folks, I have indeed fallen victim to the rare but still very traumatic 'I get confused which is my car syndrome'.

Let me explain... I had just experienced Point 3 from my petrol station madness post. So was, understandably, a little flustered. I'd parked at Tesco, gone to get a few bits and pieces in a rush, hurried back to 'my' car and decided to eat my sushi box before I drive home. I looked down and saw the gear stick, a really nice, sort of sparkly gear stick. Then I looked at my nice clean, somewhat bigger than I thought, dashboard and began to feel really quite satisfied with my car. My seat was comfy, my dashboard was large, there was a rather nice smell and I had sparkles on my gear stick!

So there I sat, munching away on my sushi and started to think about my life and how I clearly don't appreciate the things I have. Just as I was about to discard my sushi box onto my passenger floor I noticed something. The floor was clean...there was definitely something wrong. Something very very wrong. That was when it dawned on me, after 10 minutes of me re evaluating my life and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside knowing things clearly aren't as bad as I think, it turns out I'm not in my car at all.

Then I saw my knackered little Corsa parked next to this snazzy little number. I get in my car, discard MY sushi box on MY floor, and drive home safe in the knowledge that my car is in fact a shit heap, things are as they seem in my life and you can get sparkly accessories for gear sticks!

Wanted!!!

A rare opportunity has become available in my tank...

I am looking for a male shark who is tall with dark eyes and thick brown curly hair. You must be available on a Sunday preferably afternoons to accompany me on nice walks.

If you are rich and a good cook that would be an advantage, but I will accept applicants with a willingness to rob a bank and enroll on a cookery course.

Previous petrol station experience is essential, along with a functional sat nav which I can use.

Please be aware that I am a very busy person and this excellent opportunity is only available on a Sunday and for a trial period of time over the summer, extensions may be considered if your lucky.

All succesful aplicants will be contacted and asked to atend the interviews scheduled for the 31st April.

Due to equal opportunities I am unable to discriminate but I would strongly advise people who are either poor, bald, shorter than 5''4, female, or have a Rhino allergy not to bother. I think we can safely say your application will be lost in the Atlantic.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Petrol Station Madness

I'm beginning to think perhaps I'm just not cut out for driving. Let me share with you a sequence of events...

Petrol Stations. They have previously been the source of sever embarrassment for me:

1) I have driven into the petrol pumps.

2) I have parked so far away from the pump that it wouldn't stretch far enough to reach the hole thing where the petrol goes in. Ended up practically straddling the pump trying to stretch it around.

3) I have got to the petrol station tried, for a good 15 minutes to open my petrol cap only to fail. I even attempted to prize it open with my bare hands which incidentally made my fingers bleed, in the end I gave up and drove home. It was later confirmed, by someone with a functional brain, that there is a) nothing wrong with my car, and b) that I actually need to unlock my petrol cap before attempting to open it.

4) Been so heavy handed with my petrol cap that it snapped right off in my hands.

5)Parked so close to the pump that after a huge struggle to get out of the car I couldn't for the life of me get back in. I mean I was SERIOUSLY close to the pump. It was embarrassing. People were waiting for my pump but I just couldn't squeeze in. So yes, I admit it, I climbed through my window whilst in a mini denim skirt. I laughed. The people waiting for the pump were laughing. And when I got home and shared this with my family, they not only laughed but also pointed out that I could have just gone through the passenger door.

So to conclude, those mini clips you find on you tube with people causing all sorts of chaos at petrol stations are real, and more than likely ME!

23 years old and still can't dress myself.

Well it's now 2010 and I have been officially awful at updating this blog, but alas I am back and ready to entertain.

Firstly a little update, I am, unfortunately, still human, but I noticed some of my teeth are beginning to go a bit more pointy and shark like. It's a slow process changing into a shark, but it will be worth the wait. My Australian tan has now vanished, and my teeth are back to normal colour. Turned out the whitening gel wasn't permanent thank goodness. I haven't had any more train disasters, partly due to the purchase of a car. That's right people, I am on the roads and yes you should beware I'm a terrible driver.

I have been having a few problems with my clothing recently. I'm now managing to dress myself okay and have had no more flashing incidents, but its when I come to remove my clothes everything falls apart. A little while back I was planning my outfit for a weekend away, and thought I'd give one of my newish dresses a trial. So I put it on, did the usual twists and turns in the mirror and decided it was a maybe. Went to take it off, and couldn't for the life of me get it off, I tried everything, every odd position I could think off, nothing. The result? I slept in it, wore it to work, wore it to my friends, slept in it again, got drunk, confessed to friends that said dress is stuck. It took three people to get it off me. I knelt on the floor, hands over my head. One friend stood on the bed pulling one side, another friend pulling the other side and the third friend assisting with the bottom of the dress.

I thought I had put that episode behind me. I really thought I had. Until about two weeks ago, I was getting ready for work, I put on my coat, did up the zip, and the zip started coming apart from the bottom. I tried to take it off but couldn't, and I really didn't have the time to keep trying as I was running late. Our office at work is usually cold I thought I could get away with it. So I arrive to work, and manage an hour before starting to feel really quite hot. Eventually I had to seek assistance. But this time I knew the routine, bend legs, arms above head, coat off, self respect...gone. It's a little like the hokey cokey ''knees bent, arms stretched, raa raa raa''

That is all for now.

Flashing on Trains

I went to visit a friend last week, Catrinder McWinder Wiffendorinian. It was a lovely day and we enjoyed a nice picnic. I did get chased by a fat duck which I didn’t enjoy but nevertheless it was a lovely day. On my way back to the Borough I asked a nice woman on the information desk at the station if she could tell me how to get to Peterborough. She looked at me oddly but that may have been because I was humming the Sesame Street Song, but I changed the lyrics in my head to Peterborough it went like this,

“Can you tell me how to get, how to get to PETERBOROUGH!”

Goodness knows how my song writing skills have been overlooked for so long. Had I been able to write our Eurovision song I think we could have been onto a winner.

As I got on my train and sat on my seat, I noticed a few people were staring at me but I thought that was due to my Simon Cowell teeth. They do glow a bit in certain lighting. There was a bit of an incident regarding our toothpaste when I was away. Turns out me and Sammy Mc Coxinian have been cleaning our teeth with extreme whitening gel for the last two months. I have been trying to understand how such a mistake happened but have yet to conclude on that one.

Anyway, the ticket man came and I noticed him looking at me strangely and also noticed his eyes staring a little south from my face. I thought he was a bit of a perve, until I happened to glance down and notice my new top from H&M had fallen right down and was resting on my stomach. My brown tights were pulled up to just under my off-white strapless grotty bra all of which were on full show. Why did no one tell me? People of Sheffield, you let me down.

Trains have never been my strong point, I have a history of getting on the wrong trains, I have a history of ‘forgetting’ to pay, and now thanks to H&M’s poor quality I have a history of flashing.

A message

This is a message to all men. When you use toilets, especially unisex large toilets please can you put the lid back because I tried to sit on a toilet seat earlier this week and ended up in it.

I probably should have checked the seat was down before I sat on it.

I probably should have better balance.

I probably could have waited until I got home.

But I didn’t and as a result I ended up with a wet bum.

That is all.