It was a dark and stormy...morning. Well not quite, but dark and buggering cold. But this was just the excuse to purchase Malva pudding and custard. Perfect weather for it. In a rush as late to see Francesca. Scurry into the shop clutching Christopher. Mentally figure I can forgo basket, pram, trolley and any other mod cons as I can manage 2 items- Malva pudding and custard. Well, you would think. Remember my pre-mommy days when I would silently judge mommies that must have looked like I did today. Did not reckon on Christopher honing up on his dummy spitting and teddy throwing skills (hope that this is not a foretaste of things to come...like tobacco spitting and cow tipping). Scrabble around on the floor. About 10 times. Retrieve dummy. Teddy. Dummy. Malva. Wallet. Dummy. ...Plop dummy from floor into Christopher's mouth (for want of any other place to put it barring my own mouth). Psychically cringe from the vibes of those who have not travelled this path. Did that bloody idiot just pop that dummy back into her kid's mouth after it has been on the floor? I'm amazed she hasn't bleedin well managed to drop the darn kid yet. They shouldn't allow the likes of her to breed. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance unless his father has a bit more in the cranial way than she does. She practically leopard crawled the whole way to the till. It's bloody embarrassing...
I scurry out. Head down. Wishing I had on sunglasses. Dark ones. And a balaclava.
Soon cheered up when I saw Francesca though. As you can see from the photo's above- she looks ridiculously good for someone who gave birth less than a month ago. Christopher loved the dog. A new edition in the Rosolen family. For the life of me, I can't remember his name. Roxette - keeps coming to mind though but I know that's not it! Ah shit. Now the mental jukebox has just put Dressed for Success on the turntable. Yes that is very appropriate. Well done chaps. So long as you're all amusing yourselves in there.
There are pictures of me as a toddler with the Schnauzer I used to have- so I have always had a soft spot for these little dogs. I love dogs. Other people's dogs. I am not much into poop patrol in my own yard. And obedience training, when my work on hubby is hardly a staggering success story. Anyway, as he always says- he is a work in progress.
Though it would appear that hubby is less of a work in progress than my brother-in-law. Apparently, my Mom-in-law was helping him to get his house show-ready today as he is selling it. Unfortunately, he split from a girlfriend a while back and she left a small memento of herself. Well. Not so small. A big pink dildo if you will. Anyway, his philosophy being waste not want not and recycling and all- he threw it out for the dog as a chew toy. And, forgot to remove it before his Mom came around. So she was greeted by Fido (or whatever his name is) with a dildo flapping in his jowls. He seemed pretty happy. Hopefully, he is not so happy when potential buyers arrive tomorrow.
I look forward to Christopher being old enough to choose his own doggie one day. I get such vicarious joy watching him with Doggies. In the meantime though- I have got him LUCKY! For his birthday so shhh. Lucky is fluffy toy mongrel that according to the box will follow 15 spoken commands. Incentive to learn to talk I figure. Though will probably not go down to well if I am instructed to play dead or bark a song. I was pretty pleased with myself. LUCKY was the last poor bastard of his type on the shelf. There were other similar command creatures going for R350. LUCKY's box looked like he had tried to chew his way out of it (box didn't say anything about a chew command- hope this is not going to be a problem...). So, get to till and brave embarrassment as previous clientele are hovering about. Please can I see your store manager. He duly appears. I would like (ah can you 2 just piss off- you've bought and paid for your stuff and this ain't a fekking show) a discount on this dog. As you can see the box is very shop-soiled. Manager proceeds to tell me (and my audience)(watch and learn you plonkers) that he cannot. WTF do you mean you CANNOT (thought but not said). You see- this is our suppliers' problem. Ke? But I am a customer in your shop! No need to ask my officious manager to elaborate for me (and my fekking audience. The show's not over chaps) he orates on...You see, we can send this back to the supplier and they will give us the full price back. This sounds surprisingly logical and like I am about to be check mated. I graciously surrender my king. I understand OK, no problem. "But how much are you willing to pay for this thing?" He picks it up and regards it like a Sandton housewife would regard 1-ply bog roll. (Oh shit, you mean I'm still in the game here? Mind goes into a kamikaze dive trying to figure out where my man's bottom line is (while we're on the metaphor of bogroll and all). Audience visibly intrigued. 150 Ront? I ask hopefully, with my voice and my eyebrows raising in a telltale question mark.
So yay! I got LUCKY for R150! Oh come on. You know what I bloody mean.
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