PSA – don’t eat the oreos

Everyone loves delicious oreos.

Mmmm, right? Nobody can resist the tasty taste of oreos because there’s something for everyone. Love biscuit? Got you. Love squishy things in the middle of biscuits? You’re covered. Love ripping things in half to feel superior over something for once when you’re trapped in a horrific existence where you’re in control of nothing? Also this!

There are, however, flavours of oreos that should not exist and this is one of them:

Whatever you do, don’t eat the ice cream flavour oreos.

I found these being sold for cheap and my curiosity got the better of me. They look okay, let’s give these a go, I thought. I was so very, very wrong.

When you first put one in your mouth everything seems okay, nothing out of place here. It’s the aftertaste that really kills the entire experience. The closest thing I can compare it to is it’s as though you’ve swallowed a blueberry vape. Someone turned the vape juice into a solid and stuck it in an oreo.

It’s disgusting. You have been warned.

Giddy Strider’s Fields

I am a huge fan of the band The Long Blondes.

They only managed to release two albums in their lifetime before breaking up (if you don’t count the early singles collection of course), which is a damn fine shame. They’re on regular rotation at home and in the car.

You know when you think you know the lyrics to a song but then when you’re singing along you’re missing words out? Such was the case recently when playing one of the singles from their first album, ‘Giddy Stratospheres’. It’s a catchy song about breaking up with someone because they’re boring and dragging you down; lovely stuff.

Not wanting to appear foolish, I decided to look up the lyrics to see if I was singing the right words. Heaven forbid that someone should hear me and think I was some kind of fake fan! The horror!

Unfortunately the first effort that came up appeared to be AI giving it a go and, well, see for yourself:

If you sing it this way, it sounds as though the guy’s girlfriend won’t take him to somewhere called Giddy Striders Fields. Perhaps it’s his favourite place for a kick about with the lads? Maybe he likes riding the horses at the weekend? Who knows.

I don’t think I’ll be able to sing the right words now given the sheer lunacy of AI and their attempt.

Death of Quirky

It had to happen sooner or later.

Here I am, sleep- deprived, lumbering around like a zombie. The heat isn’t making it any better, neither is having to be up most hours trying to make a baby go back to sleep. I have bruises up and down my legs and arms from accidentally bashing into things. My spacial awareness is at an all time low.

I remember opening up the cupboard door and watching in slow motion as the glass that hadn’t been put back properly left the safety of the shelf and collided with the kitchen floor.

I had been using it almost every day since we got them back for Old Man Kevvers 40th birthday. It’s the perfect size for refreshing juice on a hot day.

No more pint glass for me.

At least I have the memories. Does anyone want to watch me walk into the pub?

I don’t feel so good

I feel a little off today.

There’s a tightness in my chest. The room keeps spinning and I definitely have a temperature. I need to open a window, hang on.

There. That usually makes me feel better but… but not today.

What is it? What’s making me feel… oh no, I’m gonna need to… quickly someone pass a bucket!

*heaving followed by squelching noises*

Oh. Oh no. What have I done?

A touching tribute

Walking through London recently, I came across what would otherwise be just another shop selling tacky shite to tourists.

I nearly ignored it completely until I noticed the act of public service they were performing. The whole of the shop window was not being used to sell their tasteless wares. Instead, it had been given over entirely to display a deeply moving tribute, providing a focus for the grief and gratitude of all those passing by.

In the window was this.

Yes. It’s Queen Elizabeth II, with Marilyn Monroe’s hair.

Just how we all remember her.

Cloves? No idea

The world is full of mysteries. There are so many things that we still don’t fully understand. I personally struggle to understand a lot of things. Sometimes it’s easier to make up your own ideas than taking the time to read a book and get the jist. That’s 50% of parenting anyway, making your kid believe that you have all the answers.

Oh, you expect to get them from me? Don’t be silly, I can’t answer your questions. Who do you think I am? I’m no science master like Kevin, all I’ve got are my street smarts and the money maker (aka my viso / volto).

That’s all I got.

Have you ever considered cloves? What they are? Where they come from? No, me neither. Cloves are a thing that is and you have to accept them regardless. The sooner you do the sooner we can all move on.

You still want me to explain them? Go on then.

You might think that cloves are the aromatic flower buds of a tree in the family Myrtaceae Syzyglum aromaticum, but you’d be totally wrong. They’re really toenails from donkeys that have been “lightly spiced” with effervescent apples and fervent aggression. Put it this way; have you ever put a clove in your mouth and felt happy? No. No you haven’t, and if you have then you’re a liar.

Cloves are made bitter to suck the very life out of you. There’s all this talk of helping with looking after your teeth and improving the flavour of your cooking and it’s all nonsense. They want you miserable and they will stop at nothing to turn you into a brittle, chafing dish of a man. They taste of misery squared. Do me a favour and steer clear of cloves.

Gorilla the (money) spinner

Hey everyone, it’s time to sing a song. A lovely song with lovely lyrics where everyone can have a great time, like those classic songs of the 1940s about losing your watch down a sewer grate or looking for milk in all the wrong shops.

This is a song about purchasing a fake gorilla.

“I want you all to know, I want you see to see,

What this terrible absence is doing to me.

I need to find something special for my garden,

I need to find something brash, oh, beg your pardon.

I wandered round and round, ’til I finally found

Something deeply profound.”

“There it was, sitting, waiting for my presence,

There it was between foxes, hares and pheasants.

Animal jumble bumble, humble though I was,

I was thoroughly pleased until I saw the cost.”

Wait, wait, stop the song.

Thirteen hundred pounds? For a gigantic plastic gorilla? What kind of insanity is this? I can’t afford that. No wonder there’s a thin layer of dust all over its back; it’s because nobody wants to splurge that much on something so decidedly useless.

I’m sorry, everyone. I promised you a heartfelt song and what I delivered was gorilla vitriol. You’ll have to find your good cheer and mirth elsewhere.

The way forward

When your time comes, where will you go? How do you see yourself passing from this life to the next?

You might not have thought about it, but you probably should. Best not face the grim reaper without a plan.

I wasn’t sure how I’d go about it until the other day when I happened upon this grand Victorian monument in a London cemetery.

Then I had a look at the clear label at the front, and knew what to do.

Pouring
Beans

Category: Grim