Sorry for being a twat by Emily Smart
Sometimes, my absolute twattery makes me laugh out loud for several minutes. When I later think back to whatever the stupid thing was that I said or did, I laugh all over again. This is either a sign of madness or total acceptance that being a pillock comes quite naturally to me. I just had such a moment. I did a screen print of a web page for a work colleague and, as I was pressing send, I noticed that the Google search box in the corner stated very loudly, “Do you need a script for Viagra?” Now I have many medical issues, but I can categorically assure you that erectile dysfunction is not one of them. If you’re wondering why I was looking it up, the answer is that Wendy and I were plotting to get Jon some Viagra for his 40th birthday. Don’t worry Jon, you’re safe, we can’t get the shipment over from Canada in time.
Word associated with Ronnie Corbett in a bad eighties sit-com
Anyway, I digress. I wanted to write and apologise to my fellow bloggers for leaving them holding the fort while I have been doing whatever it is I do all day. In my defence your honour (in keeping with their current theme of prisons and sentencing), I have been rather busy. I am not alone. Everyone is busy all of the time and most people don’t bleat about it. I am clearly a busy bleater.
Since I checked in last, several things have happened. None of them particularly exciting or interesting, I hasten to add. My part-time job has turned into more of a full-time one, my other copywriting jobs seem to have gone into over-drive, and my free-time (laughing again) is spent folding washing, loading dishwashers and shouting at my children to hurry up – insert the words ‘hurry up and’ before each of these phrases – clean your teeth, get ready for school, stop beating your brother/sister with that rather blunt heavy looking object. Weekends are spent enclosed in my office writing things people will never read – rather par for the course in my line of work. Any moments over and above the 18 hours in the day doing all of the above are spent arguing with the other half – I call it partner-baiting, when you’ve had a crap day and you just want someone to feel as shite as you do, so you start niggling at them – oh yes, and sleeping. Thank God I was blessed with an incredible talent for sending out the Zs.
My dog is on steroids
In between all the usual things that everyone experiences during normal waking hours, we’ve also had some additional bits and bobs to deal with. Our hypoallergenic dog, bred specifically for people with allergies, has developed his own allergies. The irony is not lost on me or the cat. This allergy means that Magnus is constantly scratching and licking and it’s clearly bothering the poor pooch. The vet has said he can’t stay on the ‘roids because it makes him depressed (the dog, not the vet) and it’s not a long term solution. I am more concerned that he (the dog, not the vet) is going to start sporting tight trunks, bronze his body and develop muscles.
In other exciting news, we moved our daughter to a new school, we’ve had a gas boiler fitted and the old hot water tank taken out so we now have an extra shoe cupboard (don’t ask). We’ve bought a tumble dryer which has an inside light – why the hell it needs one I don’t know, it’s not like we live down a pit – and we’ve taken on the lovely curly-haired Alba to watch TV with the kids after school. Honestly, baking and crafts are over-rated, give the kids an iPad over a pencil and paper any day of the week – particularly on Saturdays and Sundays when I’m in charge.
Always time for a wine
You will be pleased to know that in spite of real life taking over my real life, I have still found time to get drunk. On a few occasions. Okay maybe several. And we’re back to full circle with me laughing at myself for being a twat of gargantuan proportions. As I’ve got to go and get the kids and make dinner, I’ll give you the selected highlights:
- Me and posh Clare got chucked out of a – oh, let’s just call it a 5 star hotel in central Auckland – for gate-crashing a work convention for people who sell hearing aids. We pleaded to stay longer, but unfortunately it fell on deaf ears (I am turning into a dad, that was a really bad dad joke. I actually apologise to all dads). Suffice to say, I don’t think we’ll be going back there any time soon.
- I went to my partner’s very important work do and got left at the bar while the speeches were going on. The words ‘child’ and ‘in a sweet shop’ spring to mind. Needless to say, it was very messy. I may have offended several dignitaries, business leaders and the Dean of the Business School.
- I got a ‘no thank you’ when I offered up my ‘rack’ for modelling bras for an entrepreneur’s lingerie company – can’t think why he wasn’t interested in my 36 double Es.
- Strangely, a group performing in an Oirish boozer down by the waterfront declined my offer of assisting with backing vocals a while back. As I pointed out to them at the time, it’s not everyone who can ‘Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah to ‘Brown eyed girl’.
So just to recap then, I have now apologised to Angela and Trevor, various restaurant/bar owners and patrons throughout Auckland town, the crowd at The ‘cough’ Hotel, everyone who has any kind of association with the Auckland University Business School, and all the dads in the world that do or do not tell rubbish jokes.
I’m still waiting for an apology from Van Morrison: how did he ever get away with those lyrics?
verbalberbal 
Thank god your back Emily I really needed your wit and a good laugh today! when I was a flight attendant in the 90s we crashed all hotel ballroom parties especially those with ice sculptures. Never been caught you need a few tips from me. Meg