Backwards In High Heels

Sell it To Me Baby

Two things have recently struck me about  adverts.

There is a very definite swing to pulling at the eco friendly heartstrings. Doe eyed children tugging at your conscience that unless you buy a certain brand of biscuits you are responsible for blighting their future.

The current one to get my goat is Persil High and Mighty, sorry small and mighty. Cute voice child insisting that if we buy their new small bottles it will mean half the amount of delivery trucks on the road. But I'm sure they wouldn't mind if their advertising was so persuasive that that their sales doubled and thus they had to go back to the full truck quota. What a cynic I am!

The second thing goes back to that old saying 'don't you know who I am?' Especially in the world of hair care, cosmetics and other creams with added proteins and guilt, they can't get better than a celebrity endorsement. The second you see photoshopped Hollywood starlet your credit card leaps out of your purse by itself. Well, if the said Hollywood starlet is so enticing why do they always have to put their name at the bottom of the screen?

As an aside I was once at a hotel reception when an F1 driver walked in and stood in silence as the receptionist looked back with that 'do I look like a mind reader?' expression. The F1 driver came out with the immortal words 'Do you know who I am?'. To which the receptionist bluntly replied 'No' before turning with a big smile to me and saying 'Ah, Miss Hobbs' (I was having my 21st out there and the receptionists were all very sweet and passing on cards that had been sent to me at the hotel).

I suppose, to quote an advert, the receptionist recognised I was worth it!

What A Pain In The Arse

Sciatica is the (nerve) root of all evil. I was hoping February would be a new dawn for poor Mum and her sciatica but it is keeping a vicious hold. I have seen her reduced to tears on several occasions, this from a women with the pain threshold of a block of wood usually.

She is plagued by pain, especially burning nerve pain and cramp which is severely disabling. She describes one of the worst pains as the 'buttock burn' which I think sounds like somewhere in Scotland.

A: "Where are you going on holiday"

B: "I'm going hiking in Buttock Burn".

And the language!

Well today we are onto painkiller #5 and it is....'oh hang on I recognise this prescription' me thought 'it's one of the drugs that killed Heath Ledger'. Indeed, she is on a form of Hillybilly Heroin as it is known colloquially. Thankfully the lowest dose possible but still she thinks she may be the next Pete Doherty or Amy Winehouse. If what I hear her often shout is the lyrics look out for her debut single 'fucking arse tit wank'.

So I remain rushed off my feet, sometimes flustered and often reverting to self medicating with chocolate.

This House Must Be Wicked...

...as there certainly isn't much rest.

Since I last blogged poor Mum has remained writhing in pain and is now onto a cocktail of drugs to rival *insert any rehab rebounding popstar of choice*

After a fortnight of being under 'upstairs arrest' the latest concoction of painkillers has helped her to at least face the stairs albeit with colourful and unladylike language.

I remain nurse/cat warden and haven't lost a patient...yet.

Thankfully I have found time to speak with my bestest matey who has returned to our shores for good.

Yes we've been on the phone and we have had a good moan* about everything. We take our training as grumpy old women very seriously. God its good to have her back in this hemisphere!

*such moans will make it to the blog when time allows. So if you like a good old grump now and then do pop by ;o)