Greetings! As you have probably gathered from the sparsity of my posts, things are still rather manic over here. I've been busier than a bee on methamphetamine, except without any of the gurning. Not that I have ever seen a gurning bee mind you, or a bee on methamphetamine. That would be cool. I would put it in a jar and sell it to a circus.
Anyway, I digress. Amongst other things, I tried being gainfully employed, but I broke a fingernail and gave it up as a bad job. Working is well over-rated, a bit like olives and tuna.
Then I undertook some manual labour. Yes dahlink, the patio at the back of my new house was covered in a kind of green algae, and for some obscure reason, I decided to pressure-wash it on the coldest day of the year.
I donned my old motorcycle waterproofs (yep, I used to be into motorbikes in a big way) and stepped manfully out of the back door brandishing my jet-washer.
I tentatively pulled the trigger and BAM! The pressure of the water hitting the tiles catapulted me backwards onto my arse. Arse. This was turning out to be more strenuous that I had originally anticipated.
Suffice to say that it took me over three and a half hours to clean the bastard, and by the end of the saga, I was COVERED in mud from head to toe (because of splash-back), and I definitely had hypothermia. In fact, I am surprised that I didn't have to have any digits amputated. I was colder than a penguin's chuff, and it was only when I took my waterproofs off, that I realised that I had forgotten to put any trousers on underneath.
Not only that, but my trigger finger has been swollen since I completed the task. You know those big yellow foam hands with a pointy finger; the ones that people take to baseball games? My hand looks like that except that it's not yellow.
Naughty George has also been most confused since I jet-washed the patio. Essentially, his browsing data has been deleted, and as a result, he has been pissing and crapping all over the place to re-establish his bookmarks. Totally minging.
So, that was a synopsis of my foray into manual labour and I can safely say, that I rapidly headed back to quaffing Bolly and being hand-fed grapes by a porcupine.
Oh, I nearly forgot. On the subject of Naughty George, the complete git managed to get himself into another right predicament. What is it with my mutt?
The other weekend, I nipped up to Leeds to spend a weekend with my chum, Sarah. We spent a rather marvellous day in York with it's medieval architecture and then headed back to her house to chill out.
It was about 8pm when I realised that I hadn't seen Naughty George for a couple of hours. I ran around the house and quickly established that the mutt was nowhere to be seen.
"Naughty George has gone missing!! I exclaimed to Sarah in a bit of a breathless fashion.
"Again? You are BERLUDDY KIDDING!" replied Sarah, her voice rising to a crescendo, "That little bastard is SO HIGH MAINTENANCE!"
"Sorry," I said sheepishly, "I'll go and look for him."
I mobilised my torch and started a sweep of the grounds. Sarah, feeling guilty because I was out in the cold and dark on my own, soon joined in the hunt.
We spent an hour and a half pounding the streets, and calling his name ....... alas to no avail.
At 9pm, I decided that we should call it a day, and I tried to focus on the positives, like how much money I would save on dog food, which cheered me up a bit.
So we headed forlornly back to Sarah's house. As we went through her garden gate, Sarah suddenly exclaimed: "I haven't checked behind the garage!"
She ran into her back garden and shone the torch down the tiny gap behind the garage.
Seconds later ....... "I'VE FOUND THE LITTLE BASTARD," she hollered back to me.
I ran over to survey the situation, and indeed Naughty George was wedged into the tiny ever-diminishing gap behind the garage, unable to back out because there was a discarded car battery behind him.
"Bloody nora," I exclaimed after realising that the gap was WAY to small for either of us to access, "any ideas on how we can get him out? Maybe we should starve him until he is thin enough to fit out of the other end."
"I'm calling the Fire Brigade," announced Sarah in an authoritative way ignoring my starvation idea.
I know that calling the Fire Brigade is a waste of taxpayers money, but I couldn't leave the little git wedged in situ to die a cold and lonely death.
Sure enough, after a 15 minute wait, a Fireman (hoink) turned up to help us with the NG dilemma. RESULT.
The fireman assessed the situation and sighed, "this is going to be a tricky one."
So for two hours, the poor guy was balanced precariously on the garden wall trying all manner of different ways to coax him out ranging from sausages to squeaky toys.
Then finally success! The fireman applied a firm stick to Naughty George's kak hole, and the shock made the mutt lunge forward into the neighbours garden.
Hurray for Mr fireman! Naughty George was saved, albeit with slightly grazed ears and a sore ring.
Even better, the fireman was going to charge me for the service because it was non-urgent, but because we had made him cups of tea and given him biscuits, he let me off. Kerching.
That mutt has got a lot to answer for.
Anyway, I digress. Amongst other things, I tried being gainfully employed, but I broke a fingernail and gave it up as a bad job. Working is well over-rated, a bit like olives and tuna.
Then I undertook some manual labour. Yes dahlink, the patio at the back of my new house was covered in a kind of green algae, and for some obscure reason, I decided to pressure-wash it on the coldest day of the year.
I donned my old motorcycle waterproofs (yep, I used to be into motorbikes in a big way) and stepped manfully out of the back door brandishing my jet-washer.
Pic.No.1 Talibannie Annie with her amazing big weapon and Zoolander pose
I tentatively pulled the trigger and BAM! The pressure of the water hitting the tiles catapulted me backwards onto my arse. Arse. This was turning out to be more strenuous that I had originally anticipated.
Suffice to say that it took me over three and a half hours to clean the bastard, and by the end of the saga, I was COVERED in mud from head to toe (because of splash-back), and I definitely had hypothermia. In fact, I am surprised that I didn't have to have any digits amputated. I was colder than a penguin's chuff, and it was only when I took my waterproofs off, that I realised that I had forgotten to put any trousers on underneath.
Pic.No.2 BEFORE - This was my patio covered in green slimy shit
Pic.No.3 AFTER - This was my patio once all the green slimy shit had been blasted off
Not only that, but my trigger finger has been swollen since I completed the task. You know those big yellow foam hands with a pointy finger; the ones that people take to baseball games? My hand looks like that except that it's not yellow.
Naughty George has also been most confused since I jet-washed the patio. Essentially, his browsing data has been deleted, and as a result, he has been pissing and crapping all over the place to re-establish his bookmarks. Totally minging.
So, that was a synopsis of my foray into manual labour and I can safely say, that I rapidly headed back to quaffing Bolly and being hand-fed grapes by a porcupine.
______________________________________________
Oh, I nearly forgot. On the subject of Naughty George, the complete git managed to get himself into another right predicament. What is it with my mutt?
The other weekend, I nipped up to Leeds to spend a weekend with my chum, Sarah. We spent a rather marvellous day in York with it's medieval architecture and then headed back to her house to chill out.
It was about 8pm when I realised that I hadn't seen Naughty George for a couple of hours. I ran around the house and quickly established that the mutt was nowhere to be seen.
"Naughty George has gone missing!! I exclaimed to Sarah in a bit of a breathless fashion.
"Again? You are BERLUDDY KIDDING!" replied Sarah, her voice rising to a crescendo, "That little bastard is SO HIGH MAINTENANCE!"
"Sorry," I said sheepishly, "I'll go and look for him."
I mobilised my torch and started a sweep of the grounds. Sarah, feeling guilty because I was out in the cold and dark on my own, soon joined in the hunt.
We spent an hour and a half pounding the streets, and calling his name ....... alas to no avail.
At 9pm, I decided that we should call it a day, and I tried to focus on the positives, like how much money I would save on dog food, which cheered me up a bit.
So we headed forlornly back to Sarah's house. As we went through her garden gate, Sarah suddenly exclaimed: "I haven't checked behind the garage!"
She ran into her back garden and shone the torch down the tiny gap behind the garage.
Seconds later ....... "I'VE FOUND THE LITTLE BASTARD," she hollered back to me.
I ran over to survey the situation, and indeed Naughty George was wedged into the tiny ever-diminishing gap behind the garage, unable to back out because there was a discarded car battery behind him.
"Bloody nora," I exclaimed after realising that the gap was WAY to small for either of us to access, "any ideas on how we can get him out? Maybe we should starve him until he is thin enough to fit out of the other end."
"I'm calling the Fire Brigade," announced Sarah in an authoritative way ignoring my starvation idea.
I know that calling the Fire Brigade is a waste of taxpayers money, but I couldn't leave the little git wedged in situ to die a cold and lonely death.
Sure enough, after a 15 minute wait, a Fireman (hoink) turned up to help us with the NG dilemma. RESULT.
Pic.No.4 This is the garage that Naughty George got stuck behind
Pic.No.5 This is the gap that Naughty George got wedged down (you can see the white battery that stopped him backing out). I couldn't get a picture of him actually stuck because I didn't want the Fireman to think I was weird
The fireman assessed the situation and sighed, "this is going to be a tricky one."
So for two hours, the poor guy was balanced precariously on the garden wall trying all manner of different ways to coax him out ranging from sausages to squeaky toys.
Then finally success! The fireman applied a firm stick to Naughty George's kak hole, and the shock made the mutt lunge forward into the neighbours garden.
Hurray for Mr fireman! Naughty George was saved, albeit with slightly grazed ears and a sore ring.
Even better, the fireman was going to charge me for the service because it was non-urgent, but because we had made him cups of tea and given him biscuits, he let me off. Kerching.
That mutt has got a lot to answer for.
Poor Darling George. It probably looked like a good idea until he got stuck. AND I am equally sure at that point he said, Damn, I hate to disappoint Anne but maybe the fireman she has to call will be super good looking. (as most fireman are)
ReplyDeleteWhat??? Fireman over there charge for being rescuers of small animals. I am sure that is part of their job description. And if you really think about it, you might of saved fireman guy's life. Had he been called to a real emergency he might of been hurt or killed. As I see it...he OWES YOU for saving his life.
What a coincidence...I've been pressure washing today. I wasn't as prepared as you and it started off with me cleaning out the rabbit and getting totally distracted and deciding he needed a new vista and so I started preparing the grotty end of our garden. He's not thankful at all...keeps hopping back to his previous location and looking at me accusingly (I think). On another point, I work with firefighters and can confidently say in all the years in the fire service I've only known a handful (so to speak) that were your archetypal good looking macho hero...x
ReplyDeleteI did laugh when you realised that you'd left off your trousers! Mad woman.
ReplyDeleteThat NG gets you into all sorts of scraps and usually costs you money, you'd better keep him on a leash.
Nice to see you posting, I always enjoy your blog.
C'mon! When no-one was looking, you shoved NG behind the garage just so you had an excuse to get Fireman Sam to come out to play. Didn't you?
ReplyDeleteOh, and good job with the pressure washer. How much do you charge?
Nice to see you back and looking mighty fine in your gear! Poor George:-( I must admit that it's nice to hear that other dogs can be more "challenged" like ours. Thank goodness she found him!
ReplyDeleteJust as a matter of interest, how did Naughty George get his name??
ReplyDeleteYou should compiule all of his misadventures into a book- Naughty George and Me. Happy VD Miss Anne.
ReplyDeleteThe logical thing to do would be to take the jet washer with you, just in case anyone or anything else gets stuck!
ReplyDeleteDear me you do lead an exciting life, I am intrigued to know how you did not realise you were minus trousers when you got set to tackle the patio, I mean they are not hard to miss even when your delicate little size.
ReplyDeleteAs for N.G. he is a little devil. He keeps you on your toes more than a flock of mobile bible bashers. They are called a flock because most people tell them to flock off when they knock the door!!! (I know terrible I will get my coat.)
Hot damn woman! Is there nothing that dog won't get himself into? LOL Please tell me that something about the NG experience was worth it. Like...he wasn't just a fireman, but a FIREman *wink* *wink* *nudge* *nudge* =)
ReplyDeleteFirstly, happy for NG's rescue!!
ReplyDeleteSecondly, what is (hoink)?
Thirdly, you are so funny Annie! I love your adventures! Thanks for this one!
Fireman or no fireman YOU ALWAYS GET A PHOTO it's a golden rule that. You've let people down there .. :-)
ReplyDeleteYou look like the colonic irrigator from hell in the first picture.
ReplyDelete"Bend over, you my boy, are getting an anal probe"
look at me...commenting twice in the same month! Maybe I'm done lurking..... :-) But....about Naughty George: Did you discover what might have lured him in there? Would he have gone after a rabbit, mouse, or other furry creature? I'm just trying figure out what in his doggy brain said, "Hey, George, what say we go down this really tiny tunnel. That's brilliant!"
ReplyDeleteAnd...I love you all suited up to blast the slime. If you'd been in white, I would have thought you were a member of the Ghostbusters.
Hahaha, I love your warped thinking Cheryl! But I am sure you are right about the fact that we saved the fireman's life by calling him out. NG is such a drongo though.
ReplyDeleteBloody rabbit. That is well ungrateful of it. You should have it's hutch facing a brick wall instead as punishment! Do you want to form a jet- washing splinter group with me?
ReplyDeleteYeh, I have to admit that it was a bit nippy without any trousers on. My dog is a git. He was in a secure garden and the gap behind the garage was the only potential danger. Glad you like stopping by, it's equally nice that you take the time to comment!
ReplyDeleteHa ha, you've seen behind my thinly veiled ruse about luring firemen! Charge? I will most definitely not be getting behind a jet-washer any time soon. Too bloody cold and too much like hard work!
ReplyDeleteWhy thank you, and nice to have you comment. Yeh, my dog is a complete bastard. The upside is that he makes other people feel good about their mutts!
ReplyDeleteYou always make me laugh! That was the most ironic question ever. Nice one.
ReplyDeleteWhy thankyou Michele! Did Doug do any romance. Bloody hell, write a book about NG's exploits - it would be a tome! How are you after Gizmo chick?
ReplyDeleteBloody inspired! Jet-wash the little bugger out of small spaces. Thanks for the tip Nick!
ReplyDeleteYeh, I am intrigued as to how I forgot my trousers too. I hope I don't do it again sans waterproofs. God NG is a total and utter nob. He is constantly naughty. I had to laugh at your 'flock of bible bashers' that was good Robert!
ReplyDeleteNope, the little bastard will always actively seek out trouble! I was gutted about the fireman. I wanted a bit of nudge, nudge, wink, wink but he wasn't like the ones that you see on calendars. Doh!
ReplyDeleteLOL Jim! And thanks for the compliment *blush*. I actually thought we'd never get the git out. Ok, now for a bit of education. You know when you see a good looking guy? Well, HOINK! Is what you shout. I like to think of it as a sign of appreciation!
ReplyDeleteI know. With hindsight I should have been out there with my shutter speed set on 'continuous'! I stand reprimanded and promise not to let you down next time ;-)
ReplyDeleteFunny that, I was talking to someone about colonic irrigation recently. My theory is that two marketing guys had a bet with each other as to who could sell the most outlandish product to the masses. I reckon the colonic guy must have won!
ReplyDeleteWell I have to say, I like it much better now you aren't lurking! God knows why he went down there. He just seems to have a knack for trouble the little bastard. Glad you liked my suit, I like to think of myself as a bit of a clothes horse *wink*. But wouldn't the ghostbusters look be good?
ReplyDeleteI bet you or friend Sarah shoved NG in there just so you got a hunky fireman. Good plan, am going to try that immediately with one of our cats.
ReplyDeleteI've missed you! Where have you been? Wait, maybe I'm the one who's been missing? I don't know. Guess it was worth NG getting stuck, eh? There are some firemen around here who are fine specimens of the male species too. :)
ReplyDeleteWow! Firstly, I am glad to read George is okay; however, next time, include pictures of the fireman/men, pleeaassee!
ReplyDeleteSecondly, I love the picture of you with the pressure washer. Hopefully spring will arrive soon and I will be able to use ours to clean-up the house and yard. By the way, your patio looks fabulous, darling.
Lastly, I have been trying to convince Brahm I should quit my job and stay home to take care of the house, the dogs, and ... oh ya ... Brahm. He, on the other hand, is not as convince I should be a kept man. I think I might also have to use the 'broken finger nail' reason to not work. Suggestions?
Have a great weekend, Anne. Glad you are back posting blogs.
You totally rock the ghostbusters look!
ReplyDelete*groan* Why can't they ever look like the ones in the calendars?! Whhhhyyyyy?! Isn't that something along the lines of false advertising? Can we sue calendar manufacturers for emotional and mental distress because of their fraud?!? I think we should be able to! Only seems fair!
ReplyDeleteWhy thank you Brahm. Apart from the cold, it was an ok job, as jobs go.
ReplyDeleteLOL! So Kevin being a kept man has been vetoed then? Kudos for trying!
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I know! We get lulled into a false sense of security by the calendars, and then get let down in real life. Except if you are a fireman reading this. You are really good looking in real life.
ReplyDelete_____
I know, I know. I missed a trick not including pics of NG, and even more so of the fireman *wink*. Glad you like the patio dahlink! I can't wait until spring arrives and I can start planting.
ReplyDeleteHa ha! Good luck with trying to be a kept man ;-) I think you have got a task on your hands. I always find that the 'I strained a finger putting in my hair product' is quite a good excuse too!
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Awww thanks Pam. I am going to try and pull my finger out more on the blogging front!
ReplyDeleteYeh, it was well worth NG getting stuck because the fireman came out ;-) I must find another gap for him to get stuck in.
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Now. . .if you could just have taught naughty george to pressure wash the patio, that. . .could solve all your problems. And that fireman might come back. And, that'd be good blogging material, not to mention, I don't think there are too many pressure washing dogs out there. It's just a thought.
ReplyDeleteI don't care...I love George. He may be a royal pain in the arse, but he's my favorite Curious George. The deck looks great...sorry about the hypothermia. Also love the Talibannie Annie. You gave me a good laugh!
ReplyDelete"Talibanny Annie!" BAHAHAHA! Poor Naughty George. Although that is a clever way to meet firemen. Over her all firemen are Adonises. It's a requirement. Hope you got a date out of it.
ReplyDeleteRocking that power washer......not GI Jane at all.
ReplyDeleteWhen in doubt 'George did it!'. I'm going to use that policy at work, from now on. I think it could get me out of so much trouble.
ReplyDeleteListen, are you around tomorrow?
Yeah ~~ NG ~~~ keep them humans wanting more from you, sweetie! I do weird things to my guys too like sniff me arse and lick their hands ~~~ love this!! That fireman was a darling to not charge you ~~ must be your feminine wiles that charmed him out of his boots! LOL You wish, don't you!!
ReplyDeleteThe spray wash really did work. We need to do our deck that Jim built over ten years and has never been sprayed. Just maybe this year it'll finally get done!
Sorry for this long delay in replying Feb was a total write off month.....!
Have a great day and when is your new post coming?
Please, pretty please!
Ron
I can only assume you've got a lot on your plate, but I miss your writing. Always fun to read your adventures. Just thought I'd tell you...
ReplyDeleteAgreed!
ReplyDeleteIts been a month. Not that I've been counting or anything. I'm just saying. A month is a long, long, time. And. . .well. . . .I agree with Annie. . .let me stop before I start crying.
ReplyDeleteHELLO - have gone from just thinking you are flat out like a lizard drinking, to being somewhat concerned that all is not well!!! Where are you.
ReplyDeleteAwwww, thank you for your concern ;-) I'm not dead - Huzzar! Just been a little busy. And I keep promising myself to blog more. I shall try ....... honest guv'nor!
ReplyDelete_____