Ills of Boydom

Or rather, this is the third day at home for the small lad. He has a really great husky voice happening but wants to go to the doctor. Pity our doctor is not available for some reason today.

Meanwhile Cookie Monster is playing Big Bad Wolf playing Grandma to get the awful looking bird seed cookies off Big Bird.

Chris Lilley might well be a genius, but I don't like his characters. I can see where the humour is or should be, but caricature isn't always amusing. I didn't like Burn After Reading for the same reason: laughing at the genuinely unintelligent is just mean. If anything, particularly in Burn After Reading, it made my heart hurt to see people get in their own way and not realise what they've done.

The letter of the day is Q, which unless they're about to start in with English spelling of either Chinese or Arabic, should be the letter(s) Qu. English the Evolution, coming to a children's show near you!

Time to run a bath so hyperactive sick boy can have some "relaxation" time and I can have a slight rest; meaning I can go and get some work done. For this afternoon's project, I have a request to make pom-poms.

I feel like we're living out in the country. It's been four or five phone calls and I've conclusively failed to get through to our doctor. While I don't really need the backup (to wit: permission to keep small lad at home), the cough is deep and booming and the laryngitis pretty ick. That hasn't stopped his nibs from leaping around the lounge room, nor splashing about happily in the bathtub. I had to pull stern Mum face to stop him splashing all over the bathroom floor.

(Not that it worked, nor do I mind all that much. For a sickie lad, he has been very easy, even if he does keep confusing my foot with the cat. No, not a fever induced hallucination, more a failure of the peripheral vision.)

Pom-poms are a no, repeat, we do not have pom-poms. Much more fun to play Fruit Ninja on the iPad and watch the re-runs on ABC2. I dudded myself this morning on a voice-over for the "new" Bananas in PJ's ads and was told to stop it. "You know B1, This isn't right, we used to be dressed up people, not this animated nonsense." "Yes B2, I've been feeling a bit unreal myself." "Muuuuuuum! Stop it!"

At least it wasn't Yo Gabba Gabba, the bossiest, children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard excuse to cash in on kids shows ever. Strangely, small lad seems to like it. It lost me the day it told its viewers that they must be very quiet when they were playing, because being loud was bad. They're kids, kids make noise. That's what they do, and parents tell them to be quiet.

Having descended into the beginnings of a rant, I had better be off. Everyone reading, have a marvellous day, and I'll try for more interesting blah blah blah soon.

The Things You Say Without Thinking

On the phone about paying insurance. Everything finished, it's all fixed up and I say "Well, we'd still better not burn the house down then".

It occurs to me as those words are leaving my mouth that if our house does burn down it could look like fraud.

Woops.

Luckily the Customer Service Representative had a sense of humour and told me it was far too cold at the moment for that kind of thing. Yes, I reply, our only option is my uncle's two bedroom, which would get a bit wearing after five minutes.

I like joshing with customer service. Mostly because they get an awful lot of crud thrown at them by very angry people. The number I rang was the internet support - so they probably get even worse (IT'S NOT WORKING!!!!!!). (Did you turn it on?)

The best customer service call I had was with my bank a few years ago (I know, that seems an oxymoron, doesn't it?). I gave the rep the wrong information, apologised. He replied that worse things happen at sea.

I replied that hopefully at sea you don't get an automated voice saying "If you have run aground, press 1."

I love that story. I'm only sorry I was laughing too hard to say "If the Lost City of Atlantis has risen in the night, press 2."

If you like this entry, press 6. Then press 9. Then mash the keyboard with your palm and see if the resulting mess is a lost play of Shakespeare.