Pooh and more pooh

Does my bum look big in this photo?

Ha. Well, this is the current state of affairs chez The Janitor's Cupboard.

Whatever this thing is that we've caught, it's a bugger of a thing. With clogged sinuses, hacking coughs, watering eyes, we're a must for all social occasions. Want to get rid of that pesky guest? Sit them next to us.

As we're all affected, at least we can still group hug.

You're welcome to join us of course.

Just watch out for the elephant droppings.

Toxic chicken

If you're not reading this gowned, gloved and masked, RUN AWAY!!!!!

The only person holding out at this moment in time is The Janitor but we're working on him, believe me.

Normal service shall be resumed shortly. Hopefully.

Get me out of here!

Forget the bird flu.

Even as a family of rubber chickens, we're not currently concerned.

We have much more potent issues.

Remember the Janitor's spots originally thought to be chicken pox and then rediagnosed as allergy? A week later and they're spreading.

Now TheBabyCleaningWoman has also been sick and has thrown out a few spots. Current medical thinking is that the pox could in fact be correct.

And what's more, I'm getting a sore throat, my glands are hurting and I'm itchy. Everywhere.

I'm hoping this is purely a psychological phenomenon. The power of suggestion and all that....

If not, GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!

Got a spare room, McKay?

Where in the world is TCW? (1)

Fed up of that same view out the window?

Want a change of scene but don't want to actually move your butt out of that comfy armchair?

Fear not! Welcome to TCW's vicarious travel series.

Where am I?

Clue:

Avoid the local speciality Fung Chao.

It's definitely not chicken soup for my soul.

Life's a beach.

I've decided I need a holiday.

Alright, alright, I'm not artist but you catch my drift.

And you try masking a full frontal naked man leaping with an umbrella. I could have posted the original for your titillation but, as said before, this isn't that kind of website.

What strange things they get up to on this particular island.

Seems perfect for me. Compared to that, who's going to take notice of a rubber chicken in a hot pink bikini?

Bring on the oil, cabana boy.

And make that extra light virgin olive oil.

The Final Straw

Okay. Commandeered the master bedroom.

Check.

Conquered the bathtub.

Check.

Catburgled Thebabycleaningwoman's milk.

Check.

Life sure is good.

Now where's the tequila?

My Inner European

Your Inner European is Russian!

Mysterious and exotic. You've got a great balance of danger and allure.

And a gun in my hand by the looks of it.

Nothing like that to force the point.

Mysterious AND exotic. Got it?

*preen*

возбуждающий чистильщик

Who's Your Inner European?

Jacques Catsteau

I've come to the conclusion that The Janitor's Cupboard is a wierd place to live.

Wierd. Pure and simple.

Chicken pox that turns out to be an allergy.

To TheCleaningWoman perhaps?

Cats that sneak in my bubble bath unbeknown to me and frighten the bejesus out of me when I get in.

The cheek of it. I don't even let The Janitor share my bathwater.

I had the sneaking suspicion this new cat was more human than feline.

Now I know for sure.

Seems that it's not only humans who can have a bad hair day.

A pox on our house

I had a heart to heart with The Janitor.

I told him I wanted him to try something a little more daring, a little more racey.

This was not what I had in mind.

There's very little erotica in applying calamine lotion.

*itch* *itch* *scratch*

I so hope I'm not getting it. Sigh.

Hang on a moment!

Maybe I just need to think outside of the square?

*off to play join the dots*

Bumblebee Tuna!

A week ago I made the mistake of digging out the old Ace Ventura movies.

Bumblebee tuna!

Silly but funny. Except now I have the above phrase stuck in my head.

Sitting here working.

Bumblebee tuna!

In the supermarket, at the checkout .

Bumblebee tuna!

Standing up to deliver a presentation at work.

Bumblebee tuna!

AIEEEEEE.

There's no escape. Or is there?

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.
Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna. Bumblebee tuna.

Is it engrained in your head yet? Muuhahhahahahahaa!

Dirty Barry

Move over Clint Eastwood. There's a new sheriff in town.

Fed up of those troublesome youths in your neighbourhood? Want them moved right along?

Who ya gonna call?

Seems a Sydney suburb has the answer to all your prayers.

For the next six months, a local council has decided to subject the ears of its youth to the entire catalogue of Barry Manilow.

Constant Copacabana and other assorted Barry titles through loudspeakers in car park troublespots is expected to 'kill' the atmosphere and move the youngsters on.

Effective possibly. Humane??? Questionable.

The chief danger of TheCleaningWoman in a carpark is not so much in the loitering and playing up, it's in the parking. Yep. It's tragic. Therefore, it could be in the council's interests to keep this area CleaningWoman free.

Now, personally, I have nothing against Barry (though I hasten to add that my music collection is not that eclectic) so this isn't going to cut it.

So, local council, may I suggest a selection of the following:

My Heart Will go On

Eye of the Tiger

Top of the World

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

Ring my Bell

Like a Virgin

Who let the Dogs Out

Yep, any of those would do it.

What would move you right along?

On the edge

Welcome to my life. This represents why I have been a little quiet on the blogging front of late.

Not that it seems anyone would notice. After all, no one ventured forth and declared their seven deadly sins. Unless, of course, you're all without sin?

Ah, phooey.

Anyway, life currently is a mad mix of work, study and family commitments, all served up with a dash of illness.

While I probably need a visit from Dr. House, I've chosen to succumb to the sofa with Dr. Joel Flesichmann, aka the medico from Northern Exposure, instead. After such a long time, I still love the gentle humour of this series.

And what better medicine is there than a good laugh?