The Career Change
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Bye-bye rat race. I’ve found a new occupation
I’ve got myself a new career, more suited to my station.
It makes such perfect sense – why did I not think of it before!
I’ve already done it all my life, but I’m going to do it more.
I’m happier with my choice of work than a cat astride a creamer
For I’ve decided to spend my life as a professional day-dreamer.
When it comes to exercise, and other physical activities
I have to avoid it – blame my socio-cultural proclivities.
But if the spirit is willing and the flesh is weak,
Then I’m with you in spirit, so to speak!
A mademoiselle, who’d never been kissed,
often wondered what she’d missed
till she decided on a tryst.
A tryst, she’d heard, was just a must
for anyone in search of lust.
She went and found herself a date,
and cautioned him not to be late.
‘Eet’s not’, she said,’better late zan never,
I jus won’t ang around forever.’
She had a rather lengthy list
of dos don’ts for this perfect tryst.
It had to be somewhere romantic
with outlook on the wild Atlantic.
She told him that she liked surprises,
but none that could end up in crises.
unfortunately……..
On the big night, her date was late.
He never made it out the gate
His tyre was flat and that was that,
he went inside, hung up his hat
and said ‘There’s no way I’m risking that,
(did I mention that his name was Pat?)
with yer wan who wants it all just so
I think she’s wonky, don’t you know.’
So he stayed home, the date was missed.
Madamoiselle remained unkissed and triste.
I aspire to a certain level of sagacity
Though I imagine that would take a similar level of tenacity
and I know I’d never make the grade when it comes to tenacious
so I guess it’s a pipe-dream that I’ll end up sagacious.
….with apologies to Burt Bacharach
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What do you get when you write a blog?
A voice in your head as it fills with bubbles
and after a while your output doubles….
but I’ll never write a blog again.
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Can’t tell you what it’s all about.
Somedays there’s lots and somedays nowt.
Now no more domains, domains assigned to me.
Please, please please, could someone remind (to) me….
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What did I get when I wrote a blog?
Someone somewhere else, a little connection
Could this ever take the place of affection?
I’ll never write a blog again….
We Have Reached New Heights
or
You Seen One Mountain, You Seen ‘Em All
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A man saw a mountain and said I must climb that.
From the top, he looked out, and said That’s sublime, that
He huffed and he puffed, his dream had come true -
he was touching a sky of the bluest blue hue.
His entire life had been focused on this
But now stuck up a mountain, what might he miss?
Then off in the distance, he saw the next peak
and made mental note to climb it next week.
Dear Santa,
You know I think you’re tops, but this year I need you to pull out all the stops. I need just one thing, but it hasn’t been invented. I REALLY REALLY need it, to stop me going demented.
I’ll tell you what it is, I need a vacuum cleaner, but not just a regular one – no, I need something leaner. Something that I can attach to a two year old boy – so it would be great if you had a way of making it look like a toy. I need it to be fairly heavy duty and capable of cleaning up mess, no mater how fruity. For example, the contents of a flower pot, scattered round the house, followed by the detritus of a once-stuffed mouse. And if it can cope with glue and paint, all the better. In fact, it will need a special setting for anything wetter. Which reminds me, could it have an attachment for mucus extraction? It would really save the tissue bill, and please the environment faction.You know what would also be very handy? An auto-cleaner programme for that ultra-sticky candy and days at the beach when everything is sandy.
I’m sure you’ll know what I mean, and you’ll know that I’m being good. There’s just no time for anything else – I’d try it if I could! So I’m counting down the days till this marvelous machine will come,
Until then, fly safe Santa.
Lots of love,
A Mum.
The Loss Adjuster
-or-
The Bastards Took Everything…almost
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There are some things which aren’t classed as funny,
like the loss of love or looks or money.
But if I were asked what I would choose
if told pick one thing NOT to lose
(there’s a story going round I’d pick my cat, but that’s a vicious rumour)
The only thing I’d REALLY want to keep is my sense of humour.
For instance, if in France and told ‘Defence de fumer!’
I’d grin and say, ‘Bien sur, Madame!’ and with a sense de humer.
At dinner if they served me up calamari instead of octopussy,
I’d crack a joke and eat the lot and not be so goddammed fussy.
Quite often something happens, and people say, Man, that’s a bummer….
But I don’t mind so much, you see, I’ve got my sense of hummer.
As final proof my choice is right,
rather than terminal shortness of sight:
If I woke up tomorrow and found I’d died,
At least I’d see the funny side.
Is there a term for emotional inflation,
you know, for those things that used to cause elation
but somehow through time, they’re no longer enough -
Is there a word for that sort of stuff?
When we thinks
we sees the links
and very quickly reach for inks.
The links, we thinks, when down in inks
helps with sorting out the kinks.
