I Like Not That

Image by debaird™ via Flickr

Some news items that caught my eye:

A father gave his child the name ‘Like’.  

Even though – get this – ‘he actually has fewer than 120 friends on Facebook and doesn’t really care for the social networking site.’

Well that’s alright then, as long as he doesn’t want to profit from it or get his name in the media…oh, oh, wait a minute…

It’s not as if he has the excuse of being famous; we all know how stupid that makes a parent at baby-naming time: Fifi Trixiebelle, Peaches Honeyblossom, Pixie, anyone?  What were you thinking, Mr Geldof?

Maybe I’m not such a bad mother after all: ‘Tory Boy’ and ‘Spud Bud’ have a nice ring to them in comparison, don’t they?

Over in Michigan – which I have always considered to be a sensible State – a woman sold a two-year-old child on eBay. 

It appears she did it to ‘see how eBay works.’  Wouldn’t a used DVD have sufficed?  I’ve often wanted to give my children away but it never occurred to me to make a profit from them.

In case you’re worried but too lazy to click on the link, the child was removed from the woman’s care and ‘is in her mother’s custody.’ 

I must confess I’m still worried: why wasn’t she with her mother in the first place?  When I said I’ve often wanted to give my children away, what I meant was, over my dead body, rigor mortised hands clenched round their pudgy little wrists and a ‘Noooooo’ scream etched on my blue yet still attractive face.

Have sex to save the rainforests

It’s a thing, apparently.  An article in the Metro discusses ‘Eco-porn organisation F*** For Forest,’ an ‘erotic, non-profit group.’  They have 1300 members.

There is going to be a ball of some sort, at which ‘a small space where people can be exhibitionists’ will be provided.

I got this last bit from Wikipedia but you’ll have to find the link yourself because this is a family blog: In their first six months of existence the group received seed funding from the government of Norway.

You couldn’t make it up.

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Women Are From Mars

While we’re on the subject of space, a kind lady from Mars came out of the blue, offering to fill a Malteser-sized hole in my tummy with the next best thing: new Galaxy Bites.  

I am under no obligation to tell you they are gorgeous.  But they are.  A chewy caramel centre covered in Galaxy chocolate.  Heavenly. 

We had three packets between four of us – Tory Boy was home for the weekend, to watch City’s triumph after a morning in Knutsford bungee jumping. 

I think he acquired a taste for bouncing on his head, as a baby: I was a little over-zealous with the baby oil on more than one occasion…picture him as an infant in Julia Robert’s escargot spoons, flying into the arms of a convenient waiter…’Slippery little suckers’ said the Pretty Woman, just like the nervous mother squooshing her baby out of the bath and onto the carpet, like a seal pup flopping onto the ice but with less padding and no moustache.

Just as with the biltong and the Niknaks, the Galaxy Bites were measured out into bowls so that no one, especially no one who happened to be doing the dividing in the kitchen by herself, could pop an extra one into her mouth when no one else was looking.

The unanimous verdict was Yum, with the corollary that they would be an acceptable substitute on Malteser-free days.

I’m having a few of those Malteser-free days at the moment:

• no blog-reading visitors of late
• Hub not needed to apologise for anything
• not been in a bad-enough mood to need cheering up
• and the pressing need to go on a bit of a diet

When ‘slapping thighs’ doesn’t mean Christmas pantomime, but can’t get into your pants any more, you know it’s time to give up the…well…erm…um…wine!  I’ll give up wine!  I’ve got half a bottle left over from Christmas in the fridge which needs chucking out; that should do it.

Now, how about some chocolate to celebrate my weight loss?

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To celebrate the launch, Galaxy Bites is holding a Twitter hashtag campaign asking chocolate lovers to reveal their favourite moments of bite-size indulgence.  Pop on over and check it out.

Disclaimer: I have not been paid to write this review.  Opinions are my own.  As always.

Joke 55

From the fruitful Sarsm.  I’m beginning to think she should have a Joke A Day challenge of her own.

“How would you like to pay for this?” the sales assistant asked, after folding items the woman wished to purchase.

As the woman fumbled for her purse,  the sales assistant noticed a television remote control in her handbag.

“Do you always carry your TV remote?” she couldn’t help asking

“No,” came the reply, “but my husband refused to come shopping with me and I figured this was the most evil thing I could do to him legally.”