My fur child jumped on my iPhone this morning, causing Siri to ask “What can I help you with?”
Well Siri this morning you can help me with my poor taste in men, my lack of style, my mangy hair and my hangover. Then you can drive my kids to school, clean my flat, shop for food, disturb the mad voices in my head while I slumber and book me a holiday. Today I’d like to write, read, swim under a waterfall, sing, dance, do a yoga class, finish my tax return, laugh, have lunch with friends, eat lobster, watch a movie, drink expensive champagne, go sailing, walk on the beach, go to Bali and still have dinner on the table early
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.
Call me judgemental (go on, I love it), but I am trying to raise my children to be able to function in society when they are adults. To be reasonably polite and kind and treat other people well, be they garbos or barristers, I believe you have failed as a parent if your kids:
Are enrolled in a ‘talent’ school. Go for it kids, learn singing, dancing, playing a musical instrument, line dancing (maybe) whatever, but please don’t let children near anyone who claims to be able to teach your kids how to become famous
Cannot say please and thank you
Can’t look another human being in the eye when having an intelligent conversation
Listen to Justin Bieber beyond the age of 9
Use ‘verse’ as a verb
Believe that going to a shopping mall is a ‘can’t live without’ life experience
Feel the need to upload their entire life on Tumblr
Are still living at home beyond the age of 25
Think that ‘director of beauty’ is a job description
Know how to operate a firearm under the age of 10
Dear readers feel free to add to this list
A woman said to me at a party recently, “You really have to get it right when you’re picking the husband who is going to be the father of your children.” I wanted to punch her in the face and say, ‘thanks so much for reminding me that I’m a really bad picker. That’s why I went out of my way to choose someone who refuses to support his children.”
I’m such a bad picker it is best that I only have imaginary boyfriends. Last night as I reheated old beans for dinner, I said to I-mag boyfriend, ‘where are you when I need you?’ My fantasy boyfriend makes the bed, buys me expensive restaurant meals, takes out the garbage and doesn’t mind that I am a professional fool.
Maybe us old feminist gals don’t have time for in-real-life boyfriends. How can we plan the revolution when we’re busy whispering sweet nothings into someone’s hairy ear? Luckily social media saved me from my mad late night musings and I didn’t have to be depressed and alone for too long. Another new boyfriend sent me a Facebook message at midnight which just about saved my life:
Hello,I’m Justin jack ,an Engineer live in England a divorcee.Your profile caught my attention! You look so cute and charming, saw your profile and was moved with what i saw. I will like to know you more.I want to learn more about you.I wait for your response.