My Sunshiny Life











{November 8, 2009}   Swear Box Smile Challenge

swear box

I watched the Fantastic Mr Fox the other day and instead of swearing they’d say the word ‘cuss’.  It was sweet and innocent, unlike my sometimes very unsweet expletives.  So I’m going to undertake a radical plan to sanitise my vocabulary.  Bring on the swear box!  Unfortunately I can’t go out and buy a box because I’m not buying ‘stuff’ in NO-vember, so for now I’ll pop my 50p pieces in a jar.  I might need a big jar. 

Every challenge needs some rules.  Mine are simple.

All swear words are 50p.  Bugger is not a swear word.  I need referees who will point out when I slip up.  The swear box challenge will finish just before Christmas, but my new found habits will continue (fingers crossed, halo shining).

Sarah has been threatening me with a swear jar for ages so will be most pleased to see me taking up this challenge.  Sarah – it doesn’t include the word Jesus.  That isn’t swearing, that is an exclamation. 

(Post Note Edit: After much discussion and negotiation with a panel of judges; bugger, JEEEEEEESUS! and Oh My GOD! are now included as swear words.  My charity fund is going to be bigger than I thought!)

I’m going to donate the proceeds of my swear box fund to charity, not the LMS new Citizens of Humanity Jeans Charity either.  Every year I say I’m going to donate money to help a cleft palette child and this is the year I’m actually going to follow through.  The proceeds from my potty mouth fund will start the ball rolling and I’ll top up the balance for my bit of Christmas charity …  I need £150 to pay for a complete cleft palette operation with the smile train.  I hope I end up topping up more than I have in the swear box!  Check out the fantastic work from the cleft palette charity at www.smiletrain.org.uk

angelica-before

Angelica before the operation

angelica-after

Angelica after the operation

Advertisements


I went to a media party tonight which was a bit boring.  They had the same five canapes doing the rounds, which was a very disappointing show in the culinary stakes.  I have more variety sitting down with a bowl of scooby snacks to watch TV!  I’ve been calorie counting of late (see afrorementioned Scooby snacks comment to see why) and avidly filling out all my food on Daily Plate -( a dieting girl”s dream).  Now it doesn’t take much for me to get pizzled when I’m eating my own body weight in food every day, let alone surviving on meagre rations.

This is my defense!!!

So I was at the party, drinking wine, watching the canapes going past and talking to a guy who had some weird celtic name, so I asked him what it meant.  He told me what it was, and then I told him that my name meant white breasted.  God knows why I thought I should share this information with a complete stranger.  It is a story out of my ‘Bronwyn’s Life Stories Repertoire’, but normally reserved for people I know slightly better.  The man got a little bit fresh with the information and asked if it were true – now I’m fair skinned and was wearing a summer dress so it’s pretty obvious! What did he think, that I had Jamaican jugs hiding under there.  I gestured in the general area and shrugged – he said I needed to prove it and I just laughed.  This story has the potential to be exaggerated in the cold light of day, which is why I’m laying out the facts here… so a certain Mr D in the office can’t embellish too much!!!!

Not feeling like I’d caused myself enough embarrassment, I later said that I couldn’t drink any more wine as I had a big day tomorrow and needed to be on the game… um, that was meant to be on the ball.  So I made the wise call to take my hussy little self home before I could do my sterling reputation any more damage.  If they’d had more than five canapes there I might have stayed longer, maybe it’s just as well they didn’t!

glass-of-white-wine-61



{February 24, 2009}   Social Tourettes

So the social ettiquette when someone is at your house for dinner is to be genial, polite and friendly (but not too friendly)… WELL that lasted about half an hour.  Lovely Sands was cooking pancakes for us – will blog about that separately on dinner@mine.wordpress.com tomorrow.  I just had to share this part, which isn’t about the cooking (which was lovely!), it’s about my severe case of social tourettes.  So Sands invited me (probably best, because I live here and would have been loitering picking at her food anyway) and her friends Paul and Simon.  I got here late, yes what a surprise, and made small talk with Paul while watching Lisa cook pancakes.  We sat down to the table and the first topic of conversation was what we did for a living.  Paul runs his own company so I asked him what it did.  He replied recruitment.  Ok, I am known for being slightly blunt but I’m not normally socially retarded – I just blurted out, ew, yuck, I hate recruitment people.  Then realising my error I tried frantically (and rather unsuccessfully) to recover by explaining that we get about 10-20 calls a day from recruitment agencies who adopt all sorts of tactics to try and reach our bosses.  (I think I exaggerated for the sake of the story and said 100 but that didn’t help much).  They come through on our sales line which is how I end up answering the phone, hoping it’s a potential customer!  But no, it’s a pushy recruitment agency who has already ignored our IVR message about our no recruitment agency policy (see, here I go, on my rant about recruitment again).   I then went on to explain that some of them are really pushy and abrupt and quite often I hang up on them.  Sands chose that moment to go out to the kitchen and I happily followed her.

Damn that I was born without a filter!



et cetera