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Thursday, August 16, 2007

Blinds and Moet do not mix


"Why don't you get a man in?"

This is the usual response from my mother. For clarification, this is referring to my propensity to conduct late-night DIY, not referring to her other frequent and similar comment: "Why don't you get married and have kids?" This is to be translated as: "Where are my grandchildren?"

I've given up answering the second question. In fact, I give up mentioning the names of any male friend because if I do start a man-oriented anecdote, mum will say: "Why don't you marry him?" "Because he's gay" is the best response.

The other day, a male rang me on my moby at mum's house and when I got off the phone, she said: "He sounds nice, why don't you marry him?"
"Mum, that was our pastor."

But I have digressed. "Why don't I get a man in?" was the question that kept repeating like a record baby, round round, right round, in my cranium when, at 9:30 the other night, I decided to fix my living room blind. I'd successfully put a couple up a year ago, so I could fix this one... oui? After all, I can fix toilet seats Loo Trouble Anyway, the blind had been playing up slightly at the weekend, and by sunday it was, technically speaking, more screwed than Jodie Marsh at training camp for the US marines.

In fact, it would neither rise nor fall, remaining half-way up like the Grand Old Duke. The cords were jammed. This was not what I had anticipated when I went home on monday. I thought I could have just clambered up onto the bookshelf, untangled the cords and Bob's your uncle. Well, he's not. Neither was "uncle" Vern either, who wasn't really my uncle, and disappeared "downstate" when I was five. This was, co-incidentally, at around the same time a nice lady came to see me and give me my first Barbie.

But It Was Not To Be. Monday evening, I came home, opened the bathroom window, washed my face and put the cat out. Locking the door behind me. So, in bare feet, I had to go downstairs, and climb up the drainpipe to the first floor, open the window with one hand and heave myself up into the bathroom.

That was not the best start to the evening, especially as it had been raining. To steady my nerves, I sought the oldest rescue remedy known to womankind: Champagne. Men - take note - chocolate only works if a woman is: a) under 21, b) fat c) married.

Anyway, two glasses later and I felt bold enough to reassess the blind situation. It was really not a good idea. I almost untangled the cords, but realised that I would have to cut the end off one to enable me to feed it through. This having been successfully achieved, I then tried by the simple laws of physics, to use the friction and pull of the rotation system to re-thread the cord through. It did thread it through - but it would not come out of the other hole. After a few attempts, during which I dropped the scissors on my foot, I realised I would have to take the entire blind off. It was attached to the ceiling/lintel thingy and required a good deal of screwdriver-based efforts and another glass of Moet to get it down.

By now, I realised that I should have removed the trinkets from my bookcase top before attempting this feat. I now need two new mirror photo frames. Never mind.

Getting it onto the floor was easy. Until Monty sprang through the kitchen window and decided that this was a new game called "Let's sit on the blind and when mummy tries to pick up the cord, jump onto her arm, cling onto her hand with your teeth and every front claw, and give her the back-foot scratch attack." My arms look like a blind suicide attempt victims' thanks to this new and fun method of home entertainment.

The incident required a second/third/fourth Moet (starting to lose count, and blood). Managed to discover the secret of the pulley system - a clever and simple Archimedian technique. I love physics, it's so rational and basic. But then there was the problem of putting the blind up.

Of course there was no point in removing the remaining items on my bookcase which had escaped the first Night of the Long Blinds. Champagne glass number one of my best set is now at the local dumpster.

Holding it with one hand, and attempting to screw it back into those cheeky little rawl plugs is not a feat I wish to repeat. By 10:30 I was done. A whole hour of my life, wasted. Precious blood, sweat, champagne and tears had been shed. Never in the history of this world has so little been achieved by so few after so many Moets.

Of course, I was ravenous after my victory and decided to make myself a carbonara from scratch. I pride myself on never having bought a shop-made sauce in my life. Hence I am the carbonara queen. What I had not banked on was the fact that, another Moet later, I was wetting myself with laughter at a repeat of The Simpsons (the funniest episode ever, or was that the bubbly?) and only realised something was wrong when the fire alarm went off.

I had left the spaghetti in the saucepan, standing upright, and it had caught fire. There was only one thing left to do. with my lightning reflexes and a steady nerve, I picked up the nearest thing to me and poured the remains of the Moet over the gloaming pasta. It has to be said, it was one of the nicest carbonated carbonaras I have ever had the pleasure of making, and eating, in my life.

Or was that the Moet talking?

69 comments:

your mother. said...

Why dont you marry that nice Hitch?
He can cook,
Can shin up ladders and has a power drill.
Lets face it you're not getting any younger.
Im worried about you.

monty said...

I agree
I have heard that he owns Europes largest cat nip farm.

Steven_L said...

So how do you cook your carbonara then? Eggs only? Eggs and cream? Eggs and creme freche? Egg yolks and creme freche? Smoked bacon? Pancetta? Ham? Come on, spill the beans.

Priding yourself on being able to cook a spaghetti carbonara is a very cosmopolitan thing. Us sheep-shaggers can knock up a quality carbonara in 10 minutes after 2 whole bottles of fizzy wine. We can't afford to drink Moet. I only make carbonara when I'm pissed mortal, skint and starving.

Getting married in London is a mugs game, all the men are either gay or only want you for a green-card.

Dan said...

Moms! You gotta love 'em. Mine stopped asking whether we were going to have kids many years ago. Oh ... and she stopped trying to get me to go back to church even before that! :)

They love us and mean well.

Newmania said...

Nice to know you are practising your cooking mermaid . You`ll make a lovely wife when that last shred of independence has been ruthlessly crushed. I hope you are also practising your bedroom wiles as well ,that gives you the full package .

You will fetch many camels

david santos said...

I come to congratulate you with your work and to desire a good Month to you of August in vacation. In Portugal already we walk for beaches and to live the heat of the Summer.

Gorilla Bananas said...

I suspect it's your cheeky cat that's putting off your suitors. Discipline the cat and look out for a handyman with a tool belt.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

I wont divulge which was the funniest comment I read here today. But I'm still laughing over it.

GB, the cat is only 8 months old. Kittens can get away with anything. A suitor who can deal with my cat will be able to deal with me.

Newmania - "last shred of independence"? HA! NEVER SURRENDER! That's not the Dunkirk Spirit old man! Bedroom wiles? ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Oh if only you knew how funny that was. Your comment wasn't the funniest, by the way.

Dan - I know - you finally give in and get married, then it's: "when are you going to have children". You get one child and everyone says: "When are you going to give him a sister or brother?"


The best come-back I've heard from a single male friend of mine is this:
Smug Couple: "D, why are you still single at 32?"
D: "F*** off back to Ikea"

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Steve_L - you don't spill beans over carbonara! You countryside alliance yokel. Go chase some foxes or something.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

David - Hola! And thank you, congratulations WERE in order, but this shady lot just laugh at me. Have you ever watched the Princess Bride? Top film.

The Hitch said...

allways listen to your mother (and cat)

Ikea happens to be a secret passion for me , i just like buying all that shit on the ground floor even if I dont need it.

Another place I used to visit all the time is called STAX its a huge Ironmongers warehouse oop north , i used to go with another afficionado and fondle huge boxes of screwdrivers that were £1.50 and marvel at pick handles for £2.50. Its man thing you wouldnt understand.
They sold everything, bogs rolls in packs of 48, christmas decorations , Im going all misty eyed thinking of the place.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Christmas decorations? I LOVE Christmas decorations. Two years ago I spent £200 on them. I have the best tree in London. Now I'm going misty-eyed, or is that the glaucoma?

mutleythedog said...

I think you should have left it till the morning then phoned the Hitch. Even if you don't marry him you might as well exploit his sexual obsessions to get your things fixed.

How did you actually burn the carbonara? Or was it just the spaghetti that burnt? I will marry you if you like I am good at it - you would be my third... practise makes perfect I say.

The Hitch said...

Mr Mutley

"sexual obsessions"?
It wasnt me getting a blow job from the 19 year old daughter of my hosts last weekend (more's the pity).
Anyway , the offer of free pants still stands.
Im not bothered about the postage costs I have a huge pile of stamps in front of me. I had intended to make my fortune by sending out begging letters to Russian oligarchs , however, that nice Mr Abramovitch sent some of his assistants around to see me . they Broke my legs and said that they would kill me if another envelope dropped through his door.
So as you see I need neither pants nor stamps.

Old Tarf said...

Your grandmother used to say. "Everything tastes better with a little carbon. It's good for your bones anyway."

She wasn't the best cook in the country but you had to admire her sense of humour and the spin doctoring.

Considering your grandfather had 5 trades. I think the eagerness and lack of skill with handyperson type situations runs in the family.

It's five o'clock somewhere.

The Hitch said...

Mr Tarf

The only thing that tastes good with a little carbon is red meat , spaghetti doesnt qualify.
Although , being Canadian no doubt your idea of culinary sophistication is to shave the moose before you eat it (+;

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

All you focus on is the spaghetti!! MEN! turn your minds away from food. I need sympathy for enduring being locked out or breaking my stuff. But all I get are lousy proposals of marriage and recipes for carbonara.

This blog is getting like a mother's meeting. Turn up the testosterone. Drills! Fixing things! Monster Trucks. RAAAARRRR

Anonymous said...

but there is no fun in getting a man to do it if you have to pay them, that is why you need to marry a man so he does it for free. Or with a reasonable amount of nagging.

The Hitch said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
your mother said...

The Hitch is too good for you.
No wonder your boyfriends keep leaving you . You try too hard to try and be an Alpha female when in reality what you need is a bit of a slap down and a good ********.
Real men prefer real women , not a bloke with tits and a *****.
Until you accept that you will remain on the shelf.
Summer doesnt last forever darling.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

You see? Boys in the girls' room,
Girls in the boys' room
I'll set you free from your androgyny

Hitch/Mother, I don't need to try to be an alpha female. I AM the Alpha female.

ps Hitch, I don't mind you pretending to be my mum online, but can you stop stealing her washing and wearing her clothes? She's getting a little freaked out...

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

mutley - you're either good at it, or very bad.... take it that you mean fixing blinds?

The Hitch said...

I dont fancy you anyway
so Ner Ner Ner

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

oh my tiny heart is broken. Cruel World!

The Hitch said...

I know that I fascinate you (+:

I was interrsted in you, I even thought how nice it would be to stroke your wobbly tummy.
Then I decided that you are isnane and would no doubt turn out to be what we men call "a fucking nightmare"
Hitch.

Old Tarf said...

Young Master Hitch-For your information we do not shave the moose, we devour it on the roadside as is.

You must of heard of road kill stew. Or as the posh call it mystery meat, or in Uk "SPAM".

I do not know what your fetish is with Moose but I guess you are just a young BUCK not yet spent.

It's five O'clock somewhere.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Wobbly tummy? F***ing nightmare?

Insane, yes, wobbly belly, no. I am affronted. It's flat as a pancake and nearly rock-hard.

Admit it, you're just jealous because I turned you down in favour of mutley /ed/idle/gorilla/everyone else...

but I still have a special place for you, next to my staplers.

The Hitch said...

Bull shit
But have a good weekend anyway.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

There are many people here who have seen my belly who can attest to the truth of its sleekness.

And to the truth of my insanity. My employers call it my "diversity".

The Hitch said...

I like a bit of a tummy on a girl.
I shall say no more.

john.g. said...

Oi, wobbly bits! Great post!! xx

Lilith said...

OOoooh! Poor Mermaid, your DIY biorythmns were all out! I try not to laugh at the knife rack Boyfriend put up at a jaunty angle...

Lilith said...

No, you're not Hitch's type. He likes miniscule blondes who are witty and sexually adventurous..OH! Methinks Hitch protests too much..

mutleythedog said...

Hitch also likes the odd BJ from a mate...so he says. You do realise Old tarf is the Mermaids pater don't you people? Thats why I proposed marriage - better make it clear I have honourable intentions - even if the results are a bit mixed...

The Hitch said...

Mutley
I did not say that as well you know.
And yes i realise that tarf if mermaids heavily armed father.

Steven_L said...

'Steve_L - you don't spill beans over carbonara! You countryside alliance yokel. Go chase some foxes or something.'

A greek lad I once lived with as a student (he even had a dodgy Palestinian friend on his MBA course who was president of the Universities 'Islamic' society that all my Paki mates avoided like the plague - this was the niave pre-9/11 days) once cooked me carbonara.

He didn't like eggs or parmesan cheese so he made it by frying a sprinkling of finely chopped onions with the bacon and then tipping double cream on top and cooking it for about 5 minutes so that the onions favour the cream sauce.

It's not carbonara, but it's nice.

Personally I'm a eggs and creme freche man with lashings of black pepper and parmesan.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

"And yes i realise that tarf is mermaids heavily armed father."

Indeed. And he can see your house from his van.

Lilith - thank you for the sympathy. Although I did manage to erect an enormous wood cd/dvd/stuff tower in my flat at the weekend without ANY mishap or problem. One of my friends even bought me a girly set of scredrivers, hammer etc to assist me in my endeavours.

Mutley - "The results are a bit mixed" - I wouldn't be so picky third time round hon!

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Steve_L... I am a creme fraiche gal myself, with fresh chives for a little extra flavour. I'm not too fond of egg yolk however.

John G... THERE ARE NO WOBBLY BITS. well, none where there should not be any wobbly bits. Nor is my DIY prone to wobbling after it's finished. My toilet seat, blind AND CD/DVD/Stuff tower are all perfect.... sounds of crashing

Newmania said...

What happened to that nice picture ? Don`t worry about getting fat mermaid there are many chubby chasers in th world and then again many from chubby runners who don`t get to the door on time.

Just wear floaty ckother and pretend to be intellectual that waht most ugly people do..( believe me I know ...)

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

I AM NOT FAT! Flippin' eck - you lot would give Kate Moss a complex about her obesity.

The Hitch said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
The Hitch said...

Mania
With you on the photo , although no doubt it attracted to much attention from pervs such as Mutley and myself (my intentions are far from honourable).
And Mermaid isnt fat, she just has a big bum , although this could be an illusion due her having to wear special jeans with room to vom into (she does that a lot).

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Such a big bum that, in fact, you had to post that twice so both my cheeks could sit on it.

The Hitch said...

I just thought of something really smutty to say , but seeing as how I'm scared of your father I will keep it to myself.
Well its a grim day at Hitch towers , leftover curry for lunch , having to chase a builder , letters from HMRC to deal with and at a cross roads in my life .
I would do an online tarot forcast but I know it would come out s***

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Poor Hitch! Sorry to hear that. But change is always good, no matter which way down the crossroads you go (as long as you dont turn around and go backwards!!)

Lilith said...

At 8 stone and a little bit Mermaid CANNOT BE FAT, let alone have a big bum...unless she is only 4ft tall...

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Actually, I'm a midget like the guy off Austin Powers

The Hitch said...

He had a big bum as well

Anonymous said...

all this talk about bums is boring when are you going to do a new post?

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Okay already! Okay okay okay!

The Hitch said...

could you mention Monty the cat ?
I was going to say I have never seen a cat with such huge ears , but I have , my mothers cats, they also have buck teeth.
They are sisters , but one is sleek and beautiful "BeBe" the other "Dotti" is like a big hairy football on legs.
Both 16 years old and speyed so If you are reading this Monty , no chance of a date for you.

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

Hitch. I will upload lots of monty pics for you in my next blog. even though he has nothing to do with it.

mutleythedog said...

Is this the place to ask about a Mermaids "downstairs" bits?

electro-kevin said...

I noticed on my recent trip how many fifty year-old men there were with forty year-old wives - all with young kids doing the camping thing. I guessed, because they were camping, these were remarried men - I hope to be past all that by the time I'm fifty.

What's my point ? There isn't one really. Just that blokes do have the luxury of hanging back until their forties which, I think, is our prime - no rush, lads. I'm not sure if it's the same for women who want children (body clock and all that) but with IVF and better health who knows.

That was a really boring contribution. Want me to tell you a poo story ???

Mermaid of Moorgate said...

EK. What was that? But glad you are back from camping. I think I'm going to do the "Two for the price of one" - marry a bloke with a son my age. Then I can taunt my stepson endlessly and flirt with his friends.

Mutley - Mermaids have tails. They have to be thin or they would not be aquadynamic...

The Hitch said...

mermaid
I have a very sexy step mother 4 and a half years older than me , so the bitch has being doing it on purpose for all these years ?

A few years ago , one new years eve my aunt accused her of doing it.

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