Guilty Pleasures

So Mister Husband comes home from work and says, “d’you know there are two extra kids outside?”*   I didn’t.  I tore my eyes away from Facebook to half look at him.  “Are there?”  There very well may have been extra kids outside but the truth of the matter was, whoever they were, I wasn’t going to mess with the fantastic job they were doing at keeping our four quiet.  I was enjoying wasting some time on tinternet!  Rollercoaster.ie would be disgusted.  Once upon a time that was the one and only website I devoted my attention to.  These days; not so much.  Very rarely in fact.  It’s been cast aside in favour of Facebook. Rest assured no animal or child have been harmed in the making of this addiction.  Mildly neglected perhaps, but only in a tiny way.  They still get watered and fed which is more than I can say for myself.  And I practically had to be forced into signing up.    Twitter is going to be my next project.  Hey, if Angelina’s leg can have 15,000 followers anyone can.  Yep, Facebook is definitely one of my guilty pleasures.   I’d be lost without it now.   And while I’m talking about guilt and pleasure, one day in the not so distant past (Last week. Maybe. Even.) I cracked open a bottle of wine before half past five!!!  It was only one glass and it was eked out over the guts of an hour but dam it was nice!  It tasted like another one so I had another one.  A few days later I found myself at the fridge door again and my hand was extended towards the wine.  It wasn’t even five o’clock.  I left it there. It’s a slippery slope that one.  There are guilty pleasures and then there’s a drunken lush.  Not such a good look!  Moving on to a much easier one: Home and Away.  Yeah, I know.  What am I like?  But I love this crap!  I’m not into Corrie or any of the others.  But Home and Away is different.  It’s mindless fluff, cringe making, leave your brain outside the door for the next half hour total escapism.  And Brax lives there.  I don’t think I need to elaborate.  Do I?  I know you’re out there too!    At this stage even the Screecher Creatures roll their eyes and say “we know he’s your boyfriend, Mammy.”    I wasn’t aware I was going on about him. But there you go.  Is it ok to “hate” someone on soap land?  Ok, good.  I hate Ruby.  Not fond of these overly confident pushy teenager types a tall a tall.  Anyone else recognise John Palmer from A Country Practice?  He used to be Brendan, married to Molly?  No?  Well, he was.  Oh dear, I seem to have gone off on a bit of a tangent there.  It’s to see if I can link it all back together.  Kind of playing mind games with myself.  It’s supposed to be good for senility so in an effort to keep mine at bay, I occasionally buy a dreadful older woman’s magazine because I really like the crossword in it.  But the last one I bought is still sitting on the counter top in the kitchen.  So much for exercising the old grey matter.  And speaking of grey, (see?  See what I did.  Linking!)  Another of my guilty pleasures is plucking out grey hairs.   I truly love this.  I think it is my new hobby. Some liar out there once said that red heads don’t go grey.  Well, they never met my nana!  A flaming red head in her youth but I only ever knew her with black hair going grey at the front.   I reckon it’s all a big, mad rotten conspiracy to stop you having fun.  Don’t pick your spots, you’ll end up scarred.  Don’t shave your legs, you’ll get ingrown hairs/it’ll grow back as a pelt.  Leave any grey hairs you find, alone.  For every one you pull out, you’ll get two in its place.  Great I say, all the more fun with my tweezers.  Oh yeah, and don’t pluck your eyebrows from the top.  I think that’s because they’ll grow back upside down or something.    Guilty pleasures?  Bah, they’re like rules that are meant to be broken.  It’s just more fun that way.

*Mister Husband was being a tad dramatic.  The two extra kids were the girls from next door.  They’re always over putting manners on our lads and trying to smooth over their rough edges.  Mister Husband was road testing his smart mouth.  See the computer now lives on the dining room slash family room table.  So I can work!  (Listen, all this bitchin’ and moanin’ is going to earn me some money one day, alright?) Because said computer migrated from office slash bedroom to its new location, I spend a lot of time sitting at it.   I admit to it.  Other people have fancy phones that they take with them when they stand at the sink, sit on the loo and go to bed. I don’t have that luxury.  (Reminder – there are 131 days to my birthday (a milestone one!!!!!!) and 147 days to Christmas.  I’m just sayin.’) So they probably spend the same amount of time on their hand held computer as I do at my sit down one.  It just looks worse when you’re sitting down.  At least I don’t leave slices of bread scattered around with chocolate spread on them, or pots of yogurt within easy reach, water bottles filled to the brim on the kitchen counter and peeled, sliced apples and banana’s all ready for their convenience so I’m not interrupted whilst I work.  I don’t! Well, maybe just the once!