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Monday, February 28, 2005


Vocabulary 

The U.K National Curriculum for 4 year olds sets targets in I.C.T that, to be honest, are outdated. Last I checked, they had to be able to operate a tape-recorder, of all things. Excuse me? That's I.T history!

When I started teaching, my third grade equivalent classroom came fully equipped with... a BBC computer. I spent the whole year fielding questions from pupils about where the mouse was, and why the graphics were so bad, before I told my Boss it should be relegated to the "Historical Artefacts" box.

Then I was given a real, Windows, machine!

Someone, in their infinite wisdom, had put "Talking First Word" on it. So what does your average young teacher do with such software? Exactly what the average kid would do with it, of course!

Oh, the cuss words, I could get it to say. In so many different accents! Great fun.

Which brings me back to the National Curriculum.

Tara knows all the target vocab: point; click; drag; drop; right-click; open; close; maximize; mimimize; cursor...

However, I do feel she's learnt the most useful, and by that, I mean, most frequently used, non-curricular vocab from observing her parents, my husband in particular.

I'd like to re-write the vocab list to include, at least...

"F**K YOU! STUPID F***ING MACHINE!"

"Just WORK, you useless piece of S**T!"

"B***ocks to you Microsoft, you W**ky heap of C**P!"

Some lessons in smacking the desk wouldn't go amiss either.

Feel free to add your suggestions in the comments.


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0.00000001 % Creativity today. 

I read. I write. Well, I make up Filthy Lies sometimes. But I've got complete brainfreeze on this:

It's World Book Day soon, and I have to dress my daughter as a character from a book.

90% of the boys will be going as Harry Potter.
90% of the girls will be wearing their Disney Princess or Barbie costumes.

Short of sending her into school barefoot with a dirty dishcloth pinned round her as "Gollum", I'm stuck!

I'd be grateful for any ideas. Thanks.


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Friday, February 25, 2005


Evil Glenn's Government Contract 

I can't be sure, but I think he's behind this.


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Gun Culture Upside 

(Badly copy and pasted from today's Popbitch)

Just prior to his death Hunter S Thompson
invented a new sport, Shotgun Golf, with Bill
Murray. His description:

"The game consists of one golfer, one shooter
and a field judge. The purpose of the game
is to shoot your opponent's high-flying golf
ball out of the air with a finely-tuned
12-gauge shotgun, thus preventing him (your
opponent) from lofting a 9-iron approach
shot onto a distant "green". Points are
scored by blasting your opponent's shiny
new Titleist out of the air and causing
his shot to fail miserably. After that,
you trade places and equipment, and move
on to round two.

Go out this weekend and play it in tribute.


Sounds fun, doesn't it? Just make sure you don't end up here!


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Wednesday, February 23, 2005


Heh, heh...She said, "Bone"... 

Following email conversation with Blog-Niece V.W, of One Happy Dog Speaks...

I've been incredibly lucky when it's come to broken bones. Just had two. The first came from tripping up, and subsequently somersaulting down six stairs when I still lived at home. Oh, the fearlessness of the teenager. I leapt back up the stairs and was all set to do it again, when I realised that my arm looked...odd.

Being a teenager, however, that wasn't going to stop me washing and styling my hair and putting on make-up before I left for the hospital.

Who was that person?

The second was more serious.

Alex and I have often joked about the "invisible bungee-cord" that attaches my daughter to me. Forget "Stalking 101", she has an almost Jedi-like ability to track my movements.

"I sense a disturbance in The Force. Mommy has unlocked the bathroom door."

On this occasion, I was innocently putting clothes away, when she decided to sidle up behind me and leave a toy just where I was going to step back. I literally went off my feet backwards, and smashed the very base of my spine into the sharp corner of a dresser.

Yes, it hurt. I decided to put the T.V on, secure everything, and rest. The problem came when I tried to get up too quickly.

Instant blackout.

I'd never felt pain like that before. Pain that slices you to your core. I woke up a few minutes later, and resolved to move more slowly until this "bruise" healed. Then I just carried on as normal. Until it happened again, a few days later.

I knew, of course, that my Doctor wouldn't be able to do anything, but I couldn't risk this sort of thing happening while I was in charge of a young toddler, so eventually, I dragged myself into the surgery.

From where I was sent for an emergency X-Ray.

And a huge lecture.

"Young Lady, the reason you've had this pain is because the jagged parts of your broken spine are cutting into the mass of nerves in the base of your spinal cord. You're lucky you didn't sever it."

Oh.

I was then offered a body cast, and drugs.

O.....K.....

And who would look after my baby?

In the end, I persuaded the Doctor that I'd had this injury for the best part of a week with no pain relief, so, really, I could cope. But, I'll tell you. Something that doesn't heal right away is scary. You think, "I'll never be the same again!". When you're still young, (Well, I was in my twenties), it's beyond comprehension.

I injured my hand over New Year's (Don't ask...I don't know.) Now I can't easily bend my thumb down to my wrist, which I can do with my other hand as usual. It's not bothering me much, now I'm older.

What are your worst injuries?

I'm asking, because, knowing my readers, you'll have a damn sight more colourful tales to tell than mine ;-)


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Monday, February 21, 2005


Mom! 

Or something.

Harvey's Beloved Wife has taken time out from being Evil Glenn's T-Shirt Babe, to start her own blog, Smiling Dynamite.

I just hope she's going to forgive me for that...


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Friday, February 18, 2005


Evil Glenn's Protest: A Filthy lie 

Now if I were the mighty Glenn Reynolds, there would be several subjects I would take care not to mention: Puppies, hobos and Satan being among them. For obvious reasons.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that The Gay Penguins of Bremen had been Instalanched.

It's my belief that it's an attempt to garner a wider audience for his obscene publications. In fact, I think he's behind this group.

Oh, the horror...

UPDATE: It seems the Pengosexual One's protest has been successful. It had to have been Evil Glenn backing this group. Who the Hell else would apply the term "seductress" to one of God's innocent creatures?!


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Bored? 

Create your own South Park character.

(I hope I've linked that right. I don't want to be killed.)

Speaking of which, you can do a great Evil Glenn with this!

If I'm really nice to Alex, he'll tell me how to post the pictures.


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Tuesday, February 15, 2005


Darkness falls across the land. Michael's trial is close at hand... 

You've got to hand it to Michael Jackson. The man's an incredible entertainer. Twice, today, he's made me laugh.

First, I see this story about his "Star" witnesses. Am I the only person to imagine Stevie Wonder on the stand saying he'd never seen Michael behaving inappropriately around children?

Now, he's been rushed to hospital with "flu". My first thought was, "Oh, he probably just sneezed, or something." But if you're Michael Jackson, that's actually really bad! I mean, his whole face could fall off if he isn't careful.

On a more serious note, I really hope the truth comes to light. The Jordy Chandler thing made a mockery of the justice system. The fact that Debbie Rowe sold her children is inexcusable. And if the real victim, whether it's Jackson or the boy is established, they should be compensated with justice. Not dollars.


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Wednesday, February 09, 2005


The Crime Scene 

We had another twenty-four hour nosebleed situation. Starting, naturally, in the small hours of Tuesday. I spent all this morning getting the congealed blood off her face, neck and hair. It was caked on thick from where we didn't dare disturb it once it finally started to clot. Satisfied she was O.K, I let her go to school after lunch.

Then I returned home to, well...

I'm kicking myself for not taking pictures. I could've used them in a Filthy Lie. My house looked like a serial killer lived there. Four year olds aren't known for keeping their hands off anything. There was blood on practically every surface. That didn't take long to sort out, but the laundry!

My washing machine is my new best friend after today. In fact. No. It's reached almost God-like status in the household. Pyjamas, handkerchiefs, three towels, her bedding, our bedding, all looking like we'd slaughtered a pig. There was so much to do, and since my priority before she was better was not the laundry, most of the stains were set. Despite advice from Google on the best way to deal with bloodstains,(cold water only...yeah, that's fine for small stain), I just soaked the lot in cold water and salt, then ran it through the wash at sixty degrees. It's fine!

I am so not a laundry person. Usually, when Tara's had a bleed I just throw out whatever needs a bit more attention but, you know, I'm going to have to learn to cope with this. So I started thinking about stain removal. I've been amazed once before, when someone told me to remove hardened gum from a carpet with ice. I thought it was so cool, I had to do it again!

There are so many sites out there, but you're all people I'd happily take advice from in this area. What are your magic stain-removal tricks?




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Tuesday, February 08, 2005


Harvey has made a children's programme! 

Sex Scandal Rocks Wonka Factory.

Drink alert.


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Sunday, February 06, 2005


Won't You Take A Seat, Sir? 

BeeBee has a post up about men and bathrooms that reminded me of this story:

When I was nineteen, I'd just started at University and needed a job. There was one of those slide and ball-pond activity places in the mall, where parents could drop their kids off for a hour or two. I thought that watching kids play, and getting paid for it would be pretty cool, so I went along and, because I was planning on teaching after Uni, they hired me.

How, how could I have been so innocent? I still have nightmares about that place. I can't stand the noise, the lights, the bright colours even now. It really wasn't the place to be when you've been out the night before, and you're hungover as hell.

Anyway. All the other girls are trainee nursery nurses, and have some experience with little kids. I had no experience with kids at all. With boys, none.

One day I was asked to take this little boy to the bathroom. He must have been two. He wasn't tall enough to take aim. I'm eyeing the potty and thinking, "No. I can't deal with that." I decided to lift him instead. By the waist. So there's me and this poor child who was probably wondering what the hell I was doing. Probably didn't even use the toilet as home. Pee going everywhere. Why? Because I didn't know that boys could pee sitting down. It just hadn't occurred to me! I guess I must also have thought that boys stood up and took aim at the potty too! When I get home, my mother can't stop laughing. "No. They sit down and poke it down." Thank God I live in the U.K. I think I'd have been sued else.

Another thing I didn't know.

Men down use toilet paper after a pee. It's there an all, but they don't use it. No. they shake. And where do these droplets end up? On the tiles. That you have to clean. The walls. The bath. All the places that your children's hands touch. Now I don't just hoist my clothes back up and "drip-dry" after a pee. Wouldn't dream of it.

And, as BeeBee points out, men have "aim" issues from time to time. Especially when drunk. That would explain the "Trainspotting" like state of the men's bathrooms in pubs. Alex knows several people who have mistakenly peed in the wrong place when there has been drink taken. I know a man who peed in his baby son's room, in the cot where he was sleeping!

Which brings me to my point. Why won't men sit down? I mean, is there a practical issue? Or is it just habit? And what's wrong with just drying it?


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Thursday, February 03, 2005


Evil Glenn's Garbage - A Filthy Lie 

I decided to spend a nice day out in the country watching the Sheepdog Trials. Just as the event was about to get underway, an imposing figure in a tweed top hat and opera cloak stalked into the paddock. "All Rise", it intoned, in a solemn, officious manner.

Sally: Evil Glenn! What are you doing at the sheepdog trials?

Evil Glenn: Counsel for the Prosecution. Bring in the defendants!

Sally: These dogs aren't on trial as such. I think you've got the wrong end of the stick...

Evil Glenn: Stick? Oh yes, indeed. I am holding the wrong end! Do you have something I can wipe this congealing blood from my hand with?

Sally: How on earth did you find a hobo to murder in the countryside? This is England's green and pleasant land, and all that! I know that shifty look of yours...

Evil Glenn: Well... I got him on a technicality. A tent is a shelter, not a dwelling. Does it have an address? No!

Sally: You've killed a camper? That's horrible!

Evil Glenn: So, about this trial. You do realise how expensive my fees are?

Sally: Well, it's more of a test, really. Like this.

Evil Glenn: My law-school application! How did you get hold of that?

Sally: I found it in your garbage.

Evil Glenn: Impossible! Castle Glenn is impenetrable.

Sally: Oh, I'm not talking about your Fortress of Evil. I got this from that little apartment you used to rent. You left all your garbage in plain sight.

Evil Glenn: Not the one with those damn nosy, meddling neighbours?

Sally: The very same. I knew immediately that it was you who'd lived there. Feathers in the fridge? Why?

Evil Glenn: Well...it helps keep 'em, uh, perky, you know?

Sally: No I don't know, you depraved bastard! And the filthy mattress on the floor surrounded by junk?

Evil Glenn: That isn't junk! Those things are, erm, souveniers...

Sally: Of?

Evil Glenn: Look. Don't blame me for the stuff my temporary guests brought with them!

Sally: So why keep it? You're a liar, Glenn!

Evil Glenn: That's liar to you!

Sally: So I forgot the italics. Sue me.

Evil Glenn: Don't think I won't try. Speaking of which, Case dismissed! Give me an address where I can invoice you for my time.

Sally: No!

Evil Glenn: Indeed? Any particular reason...?


Oh, that terrible, terrible man. I gave him The Munchkin's details and fled the scene.


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Ladybird, Ladybird... 

My sister's house burnt down yesterday. Well, the house next door did. And theirs has so much smoke/water damage that they can't live in it.

I haven't been posting, but I've been working on a Filthy Lie for tomorrow, so it was kind of in my head...

Ah, that's no excuse, I'm going straight to Hell.

Will Glenn Reynolds have to murder my sister?


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