Love is …

So the other night Husband and I were in the thick of living our best rock n roll lives, watching TV in bed when I was certain I could smell something suspicious.

Me: I can smell something, can you?

Hus: Like what?

Me: Like cheese.

Hus: Yeah, I thought it was you.  Smells a bit sicky doesn’t it?

Me: I’ve just had a shower.  When was the last time you got a wash?

Hus (In deep thought and squinting eyes): Erm  … maybe Thursday I can’t remember?

Me: It’s Monday today.  You are gross get away from me.

*Husband deliberately dangles his huge cheesy beard near my face* 

(He actually started to grow it about 5 years ago because I said I hated beards, so like a red rag to a bull he grew one.  It’s now massive, but the joke is on him because I actually love it. He also has a shaved head and some tattoos so in a dark room I can almost imagine he is Ragnar Lothbrok (Vikings- best series ever) which is ideal.  I casually suggested a head tattoo to further support this but I haven’t had any success as yet. I’d never tell him I liked it though because he would shave it off immediately.  He’s a weird creature).  Anyway… where were we …

*Husband deliberately dangles his huge cheesy beard in my face*

As he does this we both get the shock of our lives when we catch sight of a dark shadow hovering at my side of the bed in the dark bedroom which is dimly lit by the light of the TV.  Quickly we realise our stinky old dog, that smells like he is literally rotting from the inside out, has ninja stealthed his way into our bedroom without us noticing.  Upstairs is strictly off limits to the dogs but since our American Bulldog has got old he thinks its a license for him to be able to do whatever he likes and so roams freely around the house without a thought for the rules, or the consequences of breaking them (not that there really are any consequences because we are too soft to enforce anything and he knows this and thats why he owns us)

Hus: It’s the dog.  Definitely the dog.

Me: Don’t blame the dog, it’s you who hasn’t showered in 4 days.

Hus: I bet he’s been dragging his bumhole across the carpet like last time we caught him sneaking around up here.

Me: Oh shit he better not have. You’ll have to smell the carpet.

*I dispatch the dog downstairs and return with a can of Dettol anti bac spray for soft furnishing*

As I enter the bedroom Husband is on all fours systematically working his way round the whole of the bedroom carpet sniffing deeply to see if he can tell where exactly the dog has been.  I join him and we work together.

This is my idea of what love is.  

I’ve never really been one to attract, or enjoy a soppy type of man that would pin me down and insist on stroking my face. I’m just not made that way. 

To me,

Love is laughter,

Love is acceptance (even when your not looking pretty or slim or smelling your best)

Love is being able to say what you think without judgement.

Love is crawling around on the floor in tandem sniffing out dogbum juice

Love is not lacing his food with poison or suffocating him with a pillow in the dead of night even though he did something that annoyed the living shit out of you.

Love is pretending you agree it’s the dog’s bum juice giving off the offensive smell when really you’re about 97.5% sure that the smell is coming from your Husbands crusty beard.

Now then you little Beauties!

Firstly, THANK YOU FOR COMING, lovely to have you here!  I decided to start this blog because for as long as I can remember I have always enjoyed a good story.  In fact, in my opinion there’s nothing better, and over the years I have talked the ears off my friends and family with stories which usually begin ‘’ You’ll never guess what happened ……’’, so I thought it was about time I branched out and found new people to talk to death.  Not actual death, don’t panic, to my knowledge no one ever died of being talked at, but then there’s always a first time so watch your back!

Once you’ve had a bit of a mooch through this check out my ‘about’ page to find out all my dirty little secrets.  This is my first blog and there will be many  more so if you like a bit of jackanory time and want to come back then that would be spank me on the arse fantastic. If you are wondering what sort of shite I will be drivelling on about, I can tell you that you can expect to see rantings and ramblings about some of the following things-  

*Stuff that happens to me or things I observe on a day to day basis that make me think, Fucking Hell I’ve got to tell someone right now before my head blows off.  This could be anything from an excellent outfit choice by a random member of Joe Public that i’ve caught sight of, to my youngest child telling the Asda cashier ALL of my secrets. There will probably be more than one or two accounts of little incidents that have occured  like when I nearly ate a floating turd by accident in a pool in Eygpt or got trapped in the automatic door at the bus station.  I may mention Husband when he has done something particularly nice or has annoyed me so much that I am plotting his slow painful demise, and of course I will let you know when my little ones (that are actually not so little anymore – currently 9 and 12) say inappropriate or rude things because anyone who says that inappropriateness (is that even a word?) isn’t funny needs an immediate operation to have a sense of humour transplant. sibling arguments, pets (usually our 2 dogs).  One is quite old and smelly but beautiful and we love him.  The other is a small French Bulldog that we rescued last year.  She is basically mental and has a plan for world domination, despite this we love her too.  The attempt at parenting that Husband and I are constantly stabbing around in the dark at will also be mentioned frequently I imagine.

*Toilet Humour.  It’s my fave and there will be plenty.  

This isn’t an exhaustive list but it gives you a clue. I’m hoping that this blog will attract like minded people that like to laugh, who don’t take themselves too seriously.  I’d like it to be a place that makes you feel better after a shitty day or just somewhere to come when you feel like you want to hear a friendly voice.  I want everyone who visits this page to know that it is a place of support, in particular women supporting women because as a woman I don’t think there’s ever a time when you shouldn’t.  It definitely WON’T be a place that will be full of stories about perfect families that live in perfect show houses with perfectly behaved children, mainly because I have precisely no experience of any of these things.  My house is messy, my children argue and say things like ‘’Mum has a willy’’, which I don’t by the way, and shock horror Husband and I sometimes have a good old slanging match but I wouldn’t change any of it.  I am exactly where I want to be.  I am probably wearing a 3 day old stained loungewear set in a house that hasn’t seen a hoover in a while but that is still exactly where I want to be. I’d maybe like my loungewear to be cleaner but you cant have everything.