Stuffed

So, yes. Hello. It’s Thursday. It’s December. How the hell did that happen? As with any prolonged absence to this space, I’m trying to think of the best way to sum up the last couple of weeks without boring you (and myself) half to death. We started recycling – that’s an odd place to start, but there you go. Andy recently nicked one of the famous Liverpool blue recycle bins from the bin farm outside our gate (I’m completely convinced it was our bin to begin with but Andy was all paranoid giddy like a 5 year old that just pocketed his first Snickers from the gas station) and we’ve started putting things that are blue bin approved in it. Badgers strangely are not blue bin approved…they go in the green “nature shit” bin. Of the many countless things that I am completely uncouth about, add “I’m not a big fan of recycling” to the list. Well, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. Go Recycling! I’m just one of those lazy assholes that usually can’t be bothered. But now I have to be bothered because Andy yells at me anytime he finds a soda can in the regular trash and with the same amount of angry annoyance that he yells at me when I forget to turn off the switch to the cell phone cord thing when my phone is done charging.

So, yes! There have been quite a few things going on recently and starting from the beginning of it all was Andy’s 41st birthday. I can tell you that Andy turned 41 because he’s a guy and according to him, he doesn’t care about that shit (shit being “growing older and greyer and grumpier and no longer should be wearing skinny jeans”). Andy and I got the whole evening off and we spent it like we used to spend entire evenings off, which is to say that we went drinking. If you are friends with us on Facebook, you will have received all the numerous updates throughout the evening – unless of course you have blocked our updates and if that is the case, shame on you – including all our pub ‘check-ins’ and worry about being shot from a sniper sitting on top of the Echo Arena. If you are only friends with one of us on Facebook then I’m sure whose ever updates you were getting was like listening to one half of a conversation and you have probably blocked us – probably for the best really. If you are not friends with either of us on Facebook, then I can present you with this tidbit of the evening….this is Andy being so emotional about all the Facebook ‘Happy Birthdays’ he was getting that he could barely drink his vodka coke. Trust me, when you are half in the bag, this picture is HILARIOUS and must be shared with the world.

At Barcelona Bar of course.  We live here during our childless hours.

It is very possible that all my “friends” on Facebook have blocked my posts.

When we finally recovered from the haze of our hangover (I’m so out of practice from binge drinking that this actually took me two days) we had to begin cleaning. I might have mentioned awhile back that our house wasn’t going to be properly cleaned again until my sister came into town. Well, she came into town....and she brought along with her Dave, her originally from Liverpool boyfriend.

Maggie: "I hope the house is fucking clean.  I want to eat my Thanksgiving dinner on the toilet seat."

Seeing my sister again was pretty much awesome all around. She’s one of those types of people who love kids – all kids of all ages – and I pretty much had an unpaid but very willing nanny for the 3 days she was here. She changed one of Henry’s big shit bomb diapers! You seriously have to love kids to be willing to do that. I only do it because I haven’t managed to train the cat to do it for me yet. I suspect she’s just playing dumb. The cat that is, not my sister.

She played on the swings with him...

She fed him...

...they became BFFs

Thanksgiving also happened while my sister was in town. Even though my sister and I were both suffering from PMS, we managed to pull off a pretty successful UK Thanksgiving without any crescent roll tragedies. It was also quite interesting to celebrate Thanksgiving with two turkey day virgins (that being my mother and sister-in-law). I was a bit amused when my sister-in-law texted me earlier in the week to ask about protocol. Did she need to bring gifts? I happily informed her that Thanksgiving was simply about eating until you burst, drinking until you can’t drive home and watching some American football. I actually couldn’t believe that both my mother-in-law and sister-in-law sat through an entire 3 hour Packer vs. Lions game on a shitty internet stream without so much as a whiff of a complaint. They also contributed to the typical family “talking about poop, or pooping” story telling that seems to surround most our holidays.

Enjoy the food now folks...the talk of poop comes later.

Maggie (direct quote): I suppose that probably looks bad, huh?

The last night my sister, Maggie, was in town we surrendered the Henbot to his nan for yet another overnight stay and went out drinking on the town again. It was a good time but not Facebook update worthy, even though I balanced a bunch of glasses on my head.

Dave likes me.  Maybe.  Probably not.  People with half beards are hard to read.

Stopping at the chippy that made Maggie sick.  Yay chippy!

I don't know why we are all bending over.  Insert your own joke here.

I've got serious talents.

Alas, three days after Maggie arrived, she left. I was sad, Andy was sad, and the Henbot practically wept. Henry formed a serious aunt crush on Maggie and it took days for him to realize that nobody was going to coo at him anytime he farted. Having Maggie around was great, though it made me realize how much I miss home at times. It also seriously made me wish I had a part time nanny.

On a side note, I’d like to mention that I’ve started a new blog. The new blog is about Henry and being a parent and all that shit that I try to keep off of here. Basically, it’s not for everybody, but it’s there if you’re interested. I’ve only a few posts up at present but it should be updated as regularly as this one.