1) Your flat mates keep asking you to drive them to school
2) You have 50 cents in your wallet
3) Your kids have eaten three kilos of fruit before you’ve even left the supermarket fruit and veg section
4) You don’t have a husband
5) Every item in your wardrobe is made of cougar, puma or leopard print fabric
6) Your kids’ most oft used sentence is, “Mum is your job cash in hand?”
7) Your youngest child says, “This would be a good dress for you to catch a husband in,” only in crowded shops
Here’s my sweet, romantic poem in honour of Valentines Day:
Roses are red, violets are blue
I didn’t get a thing today so f#*^! you
Were the flower delivery trucks parked at your door when you awoke? Did you hire someone to manage the line of men? I bet I received a better present than you today. I received self raising flour, drinking chocolate, a crumpled UNO card and bubbles (in the bath when my daughter farted)
What else did I get for Valentines Day?
Emotional turmoil – check
Feeling forlorn – check
Eviction notice – check
Sad, lonely and blue – check
When I was coupled up I didn’t get Valentine’s presents. I got the kids and he kept the used woman from the second hand stall at the markets.
Are you spoken for? Spoken about? Taken or taken for granted?
ARE YOU MY HUSBAND?
A single mother left her babies in the nest with a teenager in charge. The kids screamed so the mother left in a hurry.
“Damn,” said the mother. “I’d like to find a husband. I’ll be back.”
So away she went, a long way from the deep dark suburbs.
She did not know what her husband looked like. He might have walked right by her. She did not see him.
Where is my husband?
She looked at the golf course. She saw a sporty young man in a golf buggy. Are you my husband?
The young man just stared at her like she was deranged.
The sporty man was not her husband so she walked on.
Then she came to a pub. She saw a pot bellied drunk at the bar.
“Are you my husband?” She said to the man.
“Me wife kicked me out, I could be your hubby,” he said.
“No, you are a yobbo, you are not my husband.
The pot-bellied drunk was not her husband. The young sporty man was not her husband. Where is my husband?
She came to a strip club. She saw a man who looked sharper than a rat with a gold tooth sitting in a booth.
“Are you my husband?’ she said to the man.
“I could be your husband tonight baby, “ said the man.
“No, you are not my husband, you are a player,” she said.
She looked on the Internet. She found a man whose photo was 20 years old.
“How could you be my husband?” He replied. “I am gorgeous and you are an old cougar.”
“Where is my husband? Where could he be? I will have a husband, I will, I know I will find him”
The single mummy ran, she saw a road worker showing his bum crack. No! He was not her husband. She ran on and on.
She called to a good-looking older man, but he did not stop, he went right on.
The mummy walked on and on. “Where am I?” said the mummy, “I want to go home.”
So the single mummy went home and when she got to her front gate, the mummy saw a cute man visiting her neighbours.
“There he is, there is my husband!” she said.
“Do you know who I am?” said the cute man.
‘Yes, you are not a yobbo, you are not a player, you are not too young for me, you are not too old for me, you are not too good looking, you are cute and you are my husband.”
And they lived happily ever after in separate houses keeping their five children from three different marriages at arm’s length.