And the latest status.

Of course, not a Myspace status because my old Myspace site has gone. Thanks, Timberlake and co. I reported that in my blog the other week. So, one way or another, my old blogs will need to see the light of day again. They will not remain buried in cyber-hell. Therefore, another reminisce is in order and a reprint of some of the classic roasts of old.

Aug 25 - Archives

Put a sock in it. (Originally posted 30 August 2009)

I don’t know what it is, but some shops must see me coming. They think I’m the ideal person to pile their rubbish items onto. Take the case of the pack of seven pairs of socks I bought from Matalan last week. Nice, they were, until I tried them on and found the heels halfway up the back of my calves. Now I’m a size 11 and these were actually supposed to cover 8 to 11. However, I think it was more like a 15 or 16. I gave them to my son, David who is an infeasible size 14, and they don’t even fit him. I reckon they were designed for a clown and they should have been sent to the costume shop instead. That’s right, because clowns really do have giant feet, don’t they?

Aug 25 - Clown Feet

And a 2013 footnote (sorry … bad pun). I recently bought another pair of socks from the same store. 8 to 11 again. Hmmm, my youngest son is wearing these on his size 7 feet, now.

And talking of buying clothes … (Originally posted 9 August 2009).

And yes, it was also Matalan.

Aug 25 - Matalan Walsall

Why is it that when I go to any clothing retailer, they seem to have every size of jeans conceivable … apart from mine.

I’m a 34/34 (Width/Leg) and no matter how hard I try, my size is never there. Does this mean that it is the most popular and I am basically generic?

And another footnote. Matalan still have no jeans in my size.

And I was just as stroppy in 2009. (Originally posted 30 August 2009)

I got into an argument at a petrol station the other day when some impatient bastard tried telling me to hurry up. I can’t help it. I’m OCD. I have to get the litres on the dial exactly on the .00. You see, 51.00 litres – Great. 50.99 or 51.01 … No no no no noooo! Can’t be doing with that.

I had the last laugh on this one, though as the guy moaned so much about how long I was taking, it distracted me and I went over by .02 of a litre … so I had to start slowly again until I rounded off at the next one.

Awkward – Me?

Crikey. I filled up today and this time it was me moaning about somebody taking too long. Oh well.

Oh no! History repeats again. (Originally Posted 12 July 2009)

This was my tale that week regarding a trip to the dentist.

Oh well, another week over and I made the mistake of checking the calender. No!

I have to go to the Dentist tomorrow. It’s only for a routine check up but I just know there will be treatment to be had.

I never had a problem with the dentist before but in recent years as I get older, I find it increasingly traumatic. I lie there tensed up and just want to get out of the place. I think it’s because I no longer trust my dentist. You see, he is the same both Ex-Wife and Myself used to see when we were married, and still do, only separately now. I don’t know if he’s heard some untrue nonsense or if he has just taken her side, but I certainly seem to get rough treatment these days. The fact he is called Mr Carver is equally disturbing.

Aug 25 - The Dentist Little Shop of Horrors

The thing that gets me at Dentists is the numbness after the anesthetic. I hate it. The first thing I want to do when I got home is have a drink, even though I know it will be the ritual of drinking sideways in case it runs down my face. I remember a time when I had both sides frozen. Now that was fun.

So, tomorrow, if I have to have the needle, I will endure a dribbling mouth and then try to use lip balm without realising I’m actually applying it to my cheeks. Still, at least after a few hours, I can have a cup of soup which tastes of chicken and dental residue

Perhaps I shouldn’t open that big block of toffee, though.

Back to 2013 … and I checked the calendar. Wednesday 28 August. 0830. Guess where I’m going?