A Teenager is making me grey, bald and in need of a face lift

It is notorious the world over the effects teenagers have on their parents. Every parent was once a teenager, but it doesn't make the situation any more easier to deal with. At this moment in time Rock Chick has learnt the secret and dangerous art of how to make me and Sparkling Eyes grow old. I check my hair in the morning to see if it is all there, to see how much of it has migrated, to see how much has turned grey. If the light is dim enough I get away with the thoughts maybe there has been no change. But then, Sparkling says something I hadn't even considered was happening. She tells me I'm losing hair from the back of my head. An acute sigh is released from my lungs, because I can't see the back of my head it must be OK. But how wrong it appears I am. Unless Sparkling is just saying this to make me worry and make a bad situation even worse, folliclely speaking.

Rock Chick has a boyfriend. He's a little bit older, not much but a little and in teenage years a little can be a lot. Although Rock feels she has "control of the situation" I get that feeling which says when someone says they have control, it means they don't. They say it because they need to hear it for themselves, it's not for the benefit of other's. This makes me worry. So another hair goes grey or another wrinkle appears. Those crows feet are beginning to look like eagles feet now. I don't know what it is like to be a teenager in today's world. But I do know what is on the mind of boys. I do know there is actually nothing on a boys/teenager/young male's mind other than one thing. The one thing I don't want to mention. So I will not. But my own want is for Rock to get on with her education and understand her choices of today and the next 3 or 4 years could effect the rest of her life. I want the best for her in every respect. If I could put her into a biological suspended animation so she could concentrate on studies, getting exams and then concentrating on University I'd get to the Doc as quickly as possible. At the same time if she is to make mistakes in her life then she has to learn and will only learn from her own mistakes. Even if I can see her walk into one, as though a blind man were about to walk over a cliff. I can't do anything, if I did then I would seem like the bad guy. The big bad man who would not let Rock Chick do what she wanted. Then she would go out and do whatever she wanted to do and spite would be the reason. God how teenage girls are so ruled by hormones.

When I got drunk. I spoke to L & B man about it. I told him my concerns and I also wandered how he had managed to come through those same concerns with his own daughter. I then noticed his grey whisps are more pronounced than usual and thought of University Girl. In the meantime Sparkling is taking drugs to calm her blood pressure. I'm having sleepless nights, nose bleeds, bloating, farts and an over liking towards alcohol. Though I'm sure it's not all down to Rock Chick, the grey hair, eagles feet and balding or thinning spots may well be. Personally, I'd love to get a cattle prod, the type which has high voltage electric shocks running through them, and with every horny teenage boy who looks at Rock Chick I'd like to see how high pitched they scream when a few spare volts goes through their nether regions. OK I know you can't protect them all their life, but hey the mains electricity supply has been quite stable for many years.

This morning I was Tortured

Last night was great. I got drunk, well and truly drunk, but it was only this morning I realised how drunk I was, a night of Guinness followed by Baileys mixed with Jack Daniels. Sparkling of course has reminded me not to mix my drinks, although a little late. I must of understood how drunk I was because I began to drink water and even had a cup of coffee, but it was not enough. Not enough to save me. So I woke up, not quiet in this world, but in some other place between a ship in a raging sea and the horizontal position of bed.

I believe it was all L & B man's fault, he being the perfect host would appear with one drink after the other. Guinness first, two pints, then maybe 2 or 4 glasses of JD and Baileys. I was badly intoxicated. Sparkling wanted to continue listening to music TV, eventually I managed to persuade her to leave. I didn't really. She just decided it was OK and it was then about 3 a.m. This is a long story to get to the point of how I was tortured. But I'm getting there. I think I should never drink again, but I know I will, if only there was some way around it. Maybe gene therapy against the morning after.

Some time at about 8:00 a.m a shadow of consciousness crept upon me. This was not the only shadow, for an even bigger one was present. The ghost of hang-over present. It was very present in the room, very. It was dark, not because the days are shorter and mornings are darker anyway but because of too much alcohol. It felt worse than flu, which seems to be knocking people out all over the place at this time. By comparison the 24 hour flu bug would of been a walk over. Now the torture began.

Sparkling asked me to tickle her back. But she was talking and the sound of her voice although usually very nice was like a gong in Big Ben. After some time i lay quietly, in that place where you just don't know when or if you have to puke. I was hanging on. Hoping desperately I'd not have to run to the toilet and take a closer look at the enamel. The room span round and round. I thought if I stayed still, stayed silent long enough it would pass. Sparkling asked me how I felt? And I told her about a raging sea her response was to rock me gently and asked if I felt I was on the waves. I did then. Even worse than the hang-over by itself. Sparkling carried on, she chatted about how there was extra bacon in the fridge, just for me. She talked about chocolate and Turkish Delight. I don't know how I kept it together.

Later on, some time after mid day. When all was quite. There was a little creeping outside the bedroom door. I didn't pay any attention to it, except think it was considerate not to wake me up. The next moment the door burst open. Sparkling followed Rock Chick. Then "flash" and again "flash" there were several flashes. I was caught on camera, blinded. Rock Chick was laughing. I raised my hands in defence trying to shield my eyes from the flash. Rock Chick told Sparkling to hold my arms down. I then let them take the pictures, ones which now incriminate what Crazyman looks like when hang-over. My retinas are still burning from the flashes.

About 6 hours later I got my own back, talking through TV programs, Sparkling said I was better with a hang-over. I don't believe that. I'm better now and have been able to chronicle this event, until next time that is.

Merry Chrimbo one and all

Turkey's in the oven

Well the Turkey is in the oven, the duck is in the oven, my head is not in the oven, fortunately. Though I'll not say a word about dropping a tea bag. In fact where did I put my cup? Not inside the turkey I hope. No I found it hidden behind a chrimbo card.

I am spending Chrimbo with the wonderful Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. Rock is growing up into a beautiful young lady. Taking a picture of Rock and Sparkling together was a wonderful it places me in time and place, Chrimbo 2008.

Sparkling is fluffing about wondering about timing of the turkey. Last night we sat watching a little TV and Sparkling had a tear as she watched the children of a third world country. I thought about it as well and was nearly in tears myself. We are so lucky with our lives and don't have any concept of the struggles other people have. So at this time we should think about them and not groan at our own lot. At this moment I decided one of my new year resolutions would be to sign up to a charity and make donations. Well it's something and one item more to help charity in the world. Be there a god or no god, humanity needs to look after itself.

The turkey is smelling great. It must of been the Georgio Armani perfume I added earlier. Hey even turkeys like to smell good. My belly is grumbling, I want food. Rock Chick says she wants food as well, but we have to wait another hour. We considered it should be brought forward, come round now coz we're hungry.

If no one is in the forrest when the tree falls does it make a sound?

Sparkling misread my last blog and thought I had been trying to electrocute myself. It's what happens when you speed read over something. I don't mean electrocution. I mean misread.

Today Mr and Mrs Talkative came over with the not so talkative children. They were given their Christmas presents early and proceeded to open them with the zest a child usually has. Something an adult can never really do. Unless they still have a little child deep within their personality, or are suffering from some mental illness. Though I'd hope the two are quite different.

I needed a walk so took along Princess T with me. She is only 6 years old but has taken on a growing spurt. So much so, her ankles are now showing in her tracky bottoms. Her hand was small in my own as we walked around the lake, and her fingers got cold. I kept holding her hand in both of mine to help warm it up. She was a little concerned about the route we took worrying a little, but I persisted and we walked all the way round the lake and back home. As she had shoes on I picked her up and carried her under my arm whenever there was a puddle. She is such a sensitive little soul. Last time they visited I played draughts and when I took 3 pieces in one go she began to cry. It was stupid of me. So I put her pieces back on the board and learnt the lesson it was me who was supposed to cry (pretend) while she whooped me. It was only fair because little princesses are supposed to win.

As the house was full, the leaning tree decided to fall over. It did so and took with it some decorations. Big momma said "oh noooo" but it can't be helped when the uninitiated in instruction reading are allowed to put up Christmas trees. We quickly put it back up again and it leaned a different direction as though it was fed up with leaning one way and needed a change.

I spoke to Sparkling who told me of her night out. She had taken off her boots and when she did her feet swelled up to the point she could not put her boots back on. So in her intoxicated state decided to borrow L & B man's trainers. These are a whopping size 11, big foot trainers. On the way back home with this clown like footwear Sparkling fell over and landed on her arse. OUCH. Next time she goes out for a social and alcohol I advised she take her own trainers. I'm sure though if I said this to her in person I'd be getting one of them thrown at me. For having a big mouth.

Note, I have not and do not ever intend to electrocute myself. If I am found one day suffering from such a shock you are free to suspect foul play.

Elephants, Dad's army and action man.

I've been partaking in a little experiment, it didn't involve taking drugs or being locked in a room to see how I react to electric shocks. I had to do very little. I just let the stubble on my face grow. This morning it was the fourth day, and unlike the perception a bearded man is better than a bearded lady, my facial hair was pretty soft. But obviously not as pretty as a bearded lady, though I think for some reason there are very few of them about. Unfortunately my newly acquired action man look was looking even more rugged and so it had to be removed. However, it was removed while listening to an old radio special of Dad's Army. It's amazing how serendipity acts in this way. The shave took longer than usual and the play seemed to drag on, but I must admit it was pretty funny.

Sparkling has not peaked at the elephant I am told. Well she's the one who told me. It is under the bed. I expect I'll have to do some wrapping up when I get up to see her. Now how do you wrap an elephant? Carefully. Sparkling is pretty excited over Chrimbo, because the family will be at her house. It will be fun, busy, crowded and a turkey festival. She asked me last night whether I knew how to cook a turkey. I'm not much experienced at turkey cooking I must admit. I once saw Mr Bean with a turkey on his head, but cooking, seems a whole new universe away. I am sure it will be fun. I actually like cooking with Sparkling, it's usually accompanied by a glass of wine a radio playing music and discussion. Once when cooking a languistine I pretended the languistine was alive and shoved it in her direction. I don't think I've ever seen Sparkling react so quickly in her life, a hand shot out and whacked me accross the face so hard my glasses ended up hanging off one ear. She apologised, but just couldn't help reacting like it. My face stung red hot but it was so funny. I couldn't stop laughing even with a red cheek.

Talking of an elephant reminds me of one of my favourite ditties. How do you eat an elephant? The answer is simply a little bit at a time. I was told this by a fellow student when I began doing tertiary studies many years ago. She was in turn had it passed on from her father who was a doctor. Though I don't know if he was an elephant doctor. This saying helped when I was revising. I'd break down each subject area and spend a period on it, have a rest and then get back to studying again. It was hard work. Took a lot of perseverance and self motivation. It's odd how I had forgotten this and is something I should not hide too far in the recessed cupboards of memory.

I think this year's turkey could very well be an elephant, especially to feed all the mouths at the Chrimbo lunch. I suppose a little alcohol will help it go down regardless of what the end product turns out like. I wonder if there is a recipie for turkey flavoured with some kind of alcohol. Better get checking the web.

An elephant in my room

This morning UPS delivered a parcel to Sparkling Eyes. It was a little thing I'd ordered using the wonderful Internet. As a Chrimbo prezzy for Sparkling. The best thing I did though was to tell Sparkling it was going to come and make her promise not to open it. What a stroke of genius on my part. Shortly after UPS dropped the parcel off I had a text message from Sparkling. She said the parcel had arrived and it was enormous. It was like having an elephant in the room. Oh how wonderful I thought. And she wasn't allowed to open it up, yet I could tell how curious she is, I can see her now eyeing the parcel, and so wanting to open it. Touch it, feel it, shake it, smell it, anything which might give her a clue as to what it was. Mind she's got a pretty good idea it's an elephant, on account of it being so big. But the thing is she doesn't know what kind of elephant it is, whether it's Indian or African, whether it is yellow with pink spots or just plain purple with golden tinsel. Nope. Her curiosity is in overdrive right now. If I didn't know any better I could see Sparkling dancing from toe to toe just starring at it, the cogs in her head going round and round, the wondering, the curiosity. All of which is mounting up minute by minute as she guesses what is inside.

Poor Rock Chick has also been subject to the third degree. But the Rock is strong, she knows how to cope, fingers go straight in ears and she starts humming. Saying no matter what Sparkling does she will not crack under torture. Not for egg mayonnaise or Belgian chocolate the secret will not pass her lips. Awwe how brave of Rock Chick. I can only guess what she has to put up with this moment. But true to her word I know she will be.

Because it is so large Sparkling has requested Rock Chick open it up and then wrap it up in paper. I said OK, but can't help feeling a little dubious at this dastardly request. Sparkling noted it didn't matter whether I agreed or not she was going to tell Rock Chick to do this. Which may mean in the next day or few hours the secret doesn't last so long. The anonymous parcel may be uncloaked, awwwe. I sure hope Rock Chick is able to do this without Sparkling's interference, then I wonder, if the parcel is wrapped it makes it easier for Sparkling to tear just a small bit and get a peak at what is inside. Oh well, secrets of such elephantine proportions sometimes are found out before their time. But let me say this Sparkling, if you do get to peak I will be disappointed. With a little luck she may feel a pang of guilt and decide she wont look. Trunks crossed we'll just have to wait and see.

Aliens stole my hair

There are some pretty big conspiracy theories out there, when I say out there I mean out there, as I gesture with one hand and wave in the general direction of a void. Any void will do. Such as the moon landing. The one where NASA didn't actually land on the moon but on some studio set in the Nevada desert, or was it with the Nevada desert as a prop? I can't recall but you get the general gist of what it is all about.

However has anyone considered the smaller and much lesser alien controversies. Well not controversies as such because this would mean a lot of people know about them. I'll elaborate. What about the alien influences which happen on a smaller scale than NASA's invasion of the desert? Who speaks of these? The abductions which involve smaller objects, or things. This is because I'd like to step forward. I am an alien abductee. Yes, I am. OK now just get over the shock of this, but I must warn it has happened at a personal level. I wasn't in my car driving along the motorway. Which is stupid. Firstly because I don't have a car and secondly if anyone knows what the motorways are like in the UK no self respecting alien would ever attempt to do any abduction because they'd be on BBC news 24 within minutes of it taking place. Going back to the personal level. I believe my hair has been abducted.

It's not like me to seek public recognition or even go to the newspapers and become wealthy with my story. This is just not my style. Even if I mentioned George Takei was driving the space craft at the time I'd be laughed out as some kind of maker-upper of tales. I know it wasn't George because he's been staring in "I'm a celebrity get me out of here" no, it was just someone who looked a little like him. But an alien. And it's not like this event has happened just the once. A major story will give the ins and outs of what happened one night when Mr Smith drove home and then his engine failed to start. No mine is one which has happened over a number of years. Should I say more recent years. Hair has been removed from my head. There. I feel a great relief now I have let this information out to the world. What a burden it has been. Aliens have been stealing my hair follicles. Here and there over the years. The result has been the gradual thinning of a once proud mane of hair I used to have.

This morning as I looked at my face in the mirror, I noticed there was less than the normal fluffy stuff on top and wondered how can you make your hair look more than what it is? So I gave it a good washing and watched as it dried off and began to fluff out. The realisation dawned on me, and I understood. I've been a long term subject for alien studies, except they don't want my body because Sparkling and Rock Chick have already sold it to medical research. No these aliens are now taking away from me the only thing I have left. Except for my eyebrows. Yes, the hair on my head. One hair at a time, like a dripping tap and now I see it's effect.

It might seem strange but the reality is hair is pretty important. Because your hair holds a record of your dietary habit. Well depending how long it is. I had a few months of my dietary habit chopped off during the week by the hair dresser. The thinning can only be due to reduced hair follicles because they have been abducted. It is the only logical and reasoned conclusion I can come to. As the years wear on I may become bald. But it's something I'll get used to, no thanks to the little green men who visit me. Which has got to be on a frequent basis, although maybe not so frequently now. I'm prone to sleeping with one eye open, it scares them off I'm sure.

Anyway, I wonder if I can throw them off the track, perhaps get them to abduct somebody elses hair, or use another ploy. Web sites for hair pieces anyone?

An extra arm please - why thank you

I woke up this morning and to my surprise I had grown a third arm. I thought to myself "that's handy Harry stick it in the oven" but seeing as it was already attached and I didn't feel overly peckish I decided not to chop it off and roast it. Not this morning. But it has come in very useful. Especially after getting over the initial phase of wondering how I was going to hide this additional appendage from the sight of other people. Being a trend setter I'm sure I would of been mugged with requests of "how can I get one of those?" a secret I was not going to give away, because my fairy god mother would be in overtime mode and she's got too much to do this time of year. So in a way the additional arm was there to help me and her. Given some adhesive take I was able to strap it to my body so it looked like I'd put more weight on round my belly than usual. My excuse would be too many mince pies at this time of year, people would empathise and take no further notice. So I did the usual day of graft and got home to unwrap my extra bit and begin the second job.

Second job. This is wrapping presents. How wonderful this extra arm has been. It is a Chrimbo dream come true. I was able to both wrap and at the same time tear off a strip of adhesive tape to stick the paper down. In a job which normally takes hours I was able to shave off more than a minute. I can eat my sandwich, drink tea, stroke the cat, surf the web and pick up the next item to be dressed for Chrimbo, scratch my head, sing Dixie and play the banjo. This takes me back to the days when I used to sing "all I want for Chrimbo is my two front teeth" after they had been smacked out by a rebounding swing ball I'd set up in the front room and hit with just a little too much zeal. What a life changing situation to experience. I definitely recommend this to anyone. Particularly as genetic research is coming on with such bounds and leaps there's no reason why new born babies couldn't have the extra arm rather than grow it just before Chrimbo. It would save time on fashion and getting used to, because you have to balance yourself differently, especially when tight rope walking. Which I haven't done today by the way, but have on my diary penciled in for Tuesday.

Sometimes it is necessary to snap your fingers and realise it was all just a dream. What on earth is this extra arm doing here?

The lop-sided Chrimbo Tree

Big moma got her new friend the aged builder man to put up a recently acquired Chrimbo tree. I arrived home after a stint in the gym feeling quite knackered to say the least. The tree looked odd. It looked scruffy, disheveled, like it had been rejected and lost it's self esteem. And it leaned. Moma asked me to have a go at sorting it out. It's odd how innocent and unsuspecting traps can be sprung on the unwary. I at this point was the unwary. The notion of assembling such a thing seems at first quite simple, but when someone else has already had a go and you are then left to pick up the pieces and correct the error, it can take a little longer than if you had started it from the box in the first place. This was the case in this instance.

Sometimes people can be slotted into groups. It makes it easier to judge what they are like as an individual. One group are those who read instructions, the other group are those who don't read instructions, get stuck in because they believe they know better and are smarter than the item requiring assembly. It is in my opinion this group who cause headaches, especially for me. Builder man unfortunately was a member. It instinctively means something. Instruction are usually there for a reason and if you have already assembled something before then fine you know all there is to know. However, if things change, like Chrimbo trees and there is a set of instructions then in theory it would be easier to read the instructions first. Theory. What a wonderful word. However, the word theory is an abstract term to people who just jump in there all gung ho. They then commence to give gung ho a bad name.

I spent about an hour trying to correctly assemble the Chrimbo tree with the help of the instructions. Unfortunately because builder man had put a certain bracket item on a top section of the tree and I was unable to remove it the tree will forever be lop sided. It will lean more than the Tower of Pizza, more than a drunk walking uphill with stilts on and more than a large sailing yacht about to capsize. The picture I hope is quite clear now, crystal some might say. So for the next two or three years our Chrimbo tree will be a leaning one. All because someone didn't bother with reading the instructions. There is a name of such a person but for the sake of the innocent I'll not say it here.

How many idiots does it take to change a light bulb? Better sit in the dark and find out.