Tuesday, 22 January 2019
The observationist: pets
The observationist: pets: I am owned by a basset hound, two terriers, a belligerent cat, a hamster and some fish. I love them all with equal measure but sometimes i w...
pets
I am owned by a basset hound, two terriers, a belligerent cat, a hamster and some fish. I love them all with equal measure but sometimes i wonder who is in charge.
My hound is typical of the breed. Stubborn, greedy (loves a bin), smelly and a hound. He likes nothing better than to roll in a fresh fox turd resulting in a smell so revolting i have to hang my head out of the car window instead of him while he luxuriates in the back with his new doggy cologne. He will eat almost anything and is partial to fresh horse poo (the warmer the better) but will not touch fish. Typical of a basset, he loves to howl. I can hear it start like an air raid siren as soon as i pull onto the drive and it doesn't stop until i'm in the house. I suppose one of the good things about having a dog is that they are always pleased to see you no matter how long you've been away. The cat couldn't give any less of a shit. I can leave the house for 2 minutes or a week and i will get the same greeting from my dogs because they have no concept of time. Because i have three dogs it's always a battle of who can get to me first. The hound, being the biggest and currently weighing in at 4 stone of solid muscle, usually wins. I don't have a favourite dog because they're all so different. The hound is my boy and a bit of an arsehole at times but he adores my kids and would without a doubt lay down his life for them and me protecting us from any perceived foe. So far, this week, he has saved my life from the postman, another dog barking about three miles away in it's own garden and a wheelie bin i left down the bottom of my driveway. He has decided in his hound-like brain that he will only do as he's told for one person-me-and everyone else can go and fuck themselves. I am his pack leader.
My middle dog, a scruffy terrier cross, is my good dog. She is super loyal, very well behaved and i love her dearly. Her only real issue is that she's a total psychopath. She loves all humans and cats but despises all other dogs. It's a bit like taking a tasmanian devil for a walk.
My other dog is also a scruffy terrier cross with such long hair that sometimes it's hard to tell which end is which. People who've met her wrongly perceive her as a bit on the simple side but she is in actual fact an evil genius. She knows she's cute and uses it to her advantage. She'd make a great MI5 agent.
I recently employed a cat to catch mice as we live in the countryside. The cat has other ideas. She does not want to be a farm cat, roaming the countryside to her hearts content only returning to be fed and de-ticked. Nope. She wants to be carried around on a silken cushion and fed constantly. As far as cats go she's a bit rubbish but we love her so she stays.
My hamster, Jeff, is a legend. Super friendly, likes nuts and cucumber, tormenting the cat and watching bargain hunt on the tv. Hamsters are brilliant pets.
Why do we invite these animals into our homes when quite often they attempt to destroy it by chewing, clawing, digging, shitting on the carpet, pissing in slippers and stealing food. They often behave in such an irrational way that at times we despair and say things like 'never again' and 'how long do these live?'
We love our pets so much we will dress them up, buy them presents and mourn them when they die, but what makes us choose a specific animal to share our lives with? Some people have exotic pets like snakes and lizards, some go for rodents or birds, most folk will go for a dog or a cat and those amongst us who are slightly unhinged will have all of these. It's a companion thing. Lord Byron was told he couldn't keep a dog in his student digs so he kept a bear. A fucking bear!!! It's bad enough when i get home from work and my dog has tipped the kitchen bin over again but imagine if you got home to discover your pet had eaten your entire room and two of your children.
Pets can try your patience most days. A few days ago i was in a rush trying to get my teenagers ready to catch their school bus which they inevitably missed so i was forced to drive them to school in my pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. There's nothing quite as spectacular than two petrified teenagers being driven to school by an angry mother in her nightwear ensemble at around 110mph then handbrake turning into the school car park. My youngest asked if i was the stig. Is it illegal to drive in slippers? I don't know. Anyway, i arrived back home to see my smallest terrier (the cute evil genius) running towards me when she saw the car pull up. Sweet. My middle dog, and good dog, was sat on the back door step. I quickly realised that in my haste herding my kids i had forgotten to lock the back door. The hound had jumped up at the door handle and let himself and the two terriers out. He was no where to be seen. After around 30 seconds of mild panic i heard him baying off in the distance somewhere. I turned around to see him about a quarter of a mile away tearing across a field towards some sheep. I shouted him, he acknowledged me, then turned to run in the opposite direction. Clearly having the time of his life he refused to come back. I had no option but climb the fence between my garden and the field and leg it, still in my nightwear, after him. I eventually caught him up and i was so out of breath i could actually taste blood. The best i could muster was a very feeble rugby tackle. It's amazing how fast you can run in slippers when you have to. All those years as a kid chasing the ice cream van paid off. Finally back home he ran straight into the house mud going everywhere. Oh joy. I dragged my disheveled self through the door only to notice that girlchild number 1 had left her packed lunch on the kitchen work top and the cat, who the dog had let in, was stood up there eating it. It was at that exact moment i caught sight of myself in the mirror, realised that not only had my pyjama top buttons had come off and a boob was hanging out but that i also had mud on my teeth. FFS!!! It's quite a look. 'Never again' 'How long do these live?'
I've come to the conclusion that my dogs and cat have no respect for me or my home and i am better suited to caged pets and not one's that roam around thinking they own the gaff.
I know at the start of this blog i said i don't have a favourite pet but actually, and i'm not gonna lie, i do. Jeff the hamster. The fuckin legend.
dedicated to my aunty barbie who chose this week's topic.
My hound is typical of the breed. Stubborn, greedy (loves a bin), smelly and a hound. He likes nothing better than to roll in a fresh fox turd resulting in a smell so revolting i have to hang my head out of the car window instead of him while he luxuriates in the back with his new doggy cologne. He will eat almost anything and is partial to fresh horse poo (the warmer the better) but will not touch fish. Typical of a basset, he loves to howl. I can hear it start like an air raid siren as soon as i pull onto the drive and it doesn't stop until i'm in the house. I suppose one of the good things about having a dog is that they are always pleased to see you no matter how long you've been away. The cat couldn't give any less of a shit. I can leave the house for 2 minutes or a week and i will get the same greeting from my dogs because they have no concept of time. Because i have three dogs it's always a battle of who can get to me first. The hound, being the biggest and currently weighing in at 4 stone of solid muscle, usually wins. I don't have a favourite dog because they're all so different. The hound is my boy and a bit of an arsehole at times but he adores my kids and would without a doubt lay down his life for them and me protecting us from any perceived foe. So far, this week, he has saved my life from the postman, another dog barking about three miles away in it's own garden and a wheelie bin i left down the bottom of my driveway. He has decided in his hound-like brain that he will only do as he's told for one person-me-and everyone else can go and fuck themselves. I am his pack leader.
My middle dog, a scruffy terrier cross, is my good dog. She is super loyal, very well behaved and i love her dearly. Her only real issue is that she's a total psychopath. She loves all humans and cats but despises all other dogs. It's a bit like taking a tasmanian devil for a walk.
My other dog is also a scruffy terrier cross with such long hair that sometimes it's hard to tell which end is which. People who've met her wrongly perceive her as a bit on the simple side but she is in actual fact an evil genius. She knows she's cute and uses it to her advantage. She'd make a great MI5 agent.
I recently employed a cat to catch mice as we live in the countryside. The cat has other ideas. She does not want to be a farm cat, roaming the countryside to her hearts content only returning to be fed and de-ticked. Nope. She wants to be carried around on a silken cushion and fed constantly. As far as cats go she's a bit rubbish but we love her so she stays.
My hamster, Jeff, is a legend. Super friendly, likes nuts and cucumber, tormenting the cat and watching bargain hunt on the tv. Hamsters are brilliant pets.
Why do we invite these animals into our homes when quite often they attempt to destroy it by chewing, clawing, digging, shitting on the carpet, pissing in slippers and stealing food. They often behave in such an irrational way that at times we despair and say things like 'never again' and 'how long do these live?'
We love our pets so much we will dress them up, buy them presents and mourn them when they die, but what makes us choose a specific animal to share our lives with? Some people have exotic pets like snakes and lizards, some go for rodents or birds, most folk will go for a dog or a cat and those amongst us who are slightly unhinged will have all of these. It's a companion thing. Lord Byron was told he couldn't keep a dog in his student digs so he kept a bear. A fucking bear!!! It's bad enough when i get home from work and my dog has tipped the kitchen bin over again but imagine if you got home to discover your pet had eaten your entire room and two of your children.
Pets can try your patience most days. A few days ago i was in a rush trying to get my teenagers ready to catch their school bus which they inevitably missed so i was forced to drive them to school in my pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. There's nothing quite as spectacular than two petrified teenagers being driven to school by an angry mother in her nightwear ensemble at around 110mph then handbrake turning into the school car park. My youngest asked if i was the stig. Is it illegal to drive in slippers? I don't know. Anyway, i arrived back home to see my smallest terrier (the cute evil genius) running towards me when she saw the car pull up. Sweet. My middle dog, and good dog, was sat on the back door step. I quickly realised that in my haste herding my kids i had forgotten to lock the back door. The hound had jumped up at the door handle and let himself and the two terriers out. He was no where to be seen. After around 30 seconds of mild panic i heard him baying off in the distance somewhere. I turned around to see him about a quarter of a mile away tearing across a field towards some sheep. I shouted him, he acknowledged me, then turned to run in the opposite direction. Clearly having the time of his life he refused to come back. I had no option but climb the fence between my garden and the field and leg it, still in my nightwear, after him. I eventually caught him up and i was so out of breath i could actually taste blood. The best i could muster was a very feeble rugby tackle. It's amazing how fast you can run in slippers when you have to. All those years as a kid chasing the ice cream van paid off. Finally back home he ran straight into the house mud going everywhere. Oh joy. I dragged my disheveled self through the door only to notice that girlchild number 1 had left her packed lunch on the kitchen work top and the cat, who the dog had let in, was stood up there eating it. It was at that exact moment i caught sight of myself in the mirror, realised that not only had my pyjama top buttons had come off and a boob was hanging out but that i also had mud on my teeth. FFS!!! It's quite a look. 'Never again' 'How long do these live?'
I've come to the conclusion that my dogs and cat have no respect for me or my home and i am better suited to caged pets and not one's that roam around thinking they own the gaff.
I know at the start of this blog i said i don't have a favourite pet but actually, and i'm not gonna lie, i do. Jeff the hamster. The fuckin legend.
dedicated to my aunty barbie who chose this week's topic.
Tuesday, 8 January 2019
The observationist: Relationships
The observationist: Relationships: Now before i start i do not claim to be a relationship expert. Infact, i think i'm the exact opposite-whatever that is. The only qualifi...
Relationships
Now before i start i do not claim to be a relationship expert. Infact, i think i'm the exact opposite-whatever that is. The only qualification i have is that i have had some relationships. I'm not very good at them. I've been married twice. My friends call me 't' yorkshire Elizabeth Taylor. I wouldn't mind but i'm Irish! In their defence i do live in North Yorkshire and have done for around 30 years. I left Ireland when i was 9 years old which, coincidentally, is when i discovered i could take off my kagool.
My past relationships have always been a bit fraught, mainly because i'm a nightmare to live with. I like a clean tidy home and the men i have allowed to move in with me have not.
I am diagnosed with OCD-the list making anal kind so a bit of an acquired taste. My OCD doesn't make me a bad person or want to iron my hair but it can be overwhelming for those that live with me-mainly my partner. My kids are used to it but my lovely fella is still coming to terms with the fact that he lives with a crazy lady who likes nothing better than a pube free plughole or perfectly drawn curtains. He has decided to give my OCD a name, i think he read it somewhere, and he'll say stupid shit like 'hey, there's no room for Kevin here today'. Fucking Kevin!!! Fuck Kev! He's a twat!
My parents have been married for nearly 50 years. They've been together since they were 15. Can you imagine that? In this day and age it's virtually unheard of. I think people expect to much from a partner these days. We're only human after all. The slightest hurdle, with some, and it's bail city. Dating apps don't help. They are a portal for the deluded and needy. They scream 'look at me. I may be on here looking for mr/mrs right now but i'm probably a bit of a shit'.
Call me old fashioned but i like a half decent chat up line. I'm not a fan of 'do you want a photo of my nob?' If there are any blokes reading this, just so you know, if you send us a dick pic we will show all of our friends, our mums, neighbours, zumba class. woman on the checkout at Asda and my nan. She doesn't get to see many willys these days. So you'd better make sure it's a good one.
Relationships are mostly good which is why we enter into them in the first place but i don't think you really know someone until you live with them. That's when the mask really slips and we have to have a poo at some point. My partner thinks it's perfectly acceptable to sit on the loo with the door open and have a conversation with me while he creates a smell that almost killed the dog and temporarily blinded me once. I don't. I want privacy and to be able to wipe my bum without an audience. Is that too much to ask?
Living together is a test for any couple. It can make or break you. Once you get used to the fact that your beloved has weird habits they will get over the fact that so do you. Habits like brushing teeth while taking a shower, using an unfeasible amount of loo roll, stopping breathing for a few seconds when asleep, talking to themselves after an argument or becoming a crack sniper when using a nail gun. My other half likes to go into the garage and cuddle his motorbike. I like to put my cold feet on him when i get into bed and twiddle his chest hair.
Relationships are a continuous work in progress. If your'e not prepared to work at it and take the rough with the smooth then maybe being with someone exclusively isn't for you.
Arguments and disagreements are common and help to release tension and are an amuse bouche to a relationship so these couples who tell folk they don't argue have probably just met or don't live together or have as much personality as a placenta. I've had some huge arguments with my fella over something ridiculous but my problem is i will NOT back down. Ever. Because i am right even when i'm wrong. He's a good egg though and in an effort to diffuse the situation he'll say 'okay'. Okay???!!! The only thing that enrages me more than 'ok' is being told to 'calm down'. when those two words are uttered, and i'm not convinced innocently by by the way, i will drag up old arguments from three years ago or ask him if he ever wants sex again. That usually wins. I say usually-i mean ALWAYS.
I once made the mistake of going on holiday with an ex as we had already paid for it before we split up. Thankfully we had separate beds but as soon as we set foot in the hotel we realised we had made a huge mistake thinking we could act like adults and enjoy the holiday regardless. We had a massive argument in the room and in a fit of frustration he threw my bed pillows over the balcony and they landed in the pool below. Not to be out done i launched his suitcase over the balcony where it proceeded to open mid air and scatter his clothes in trees, neighbouring balconies and the pool. End of argument. I think i won.
To conclude, anybody who is lucky enough to find 'the one' hold them close, respect them, love them because 'the one' is a chance encounter that you may never get again.
My past relationships have always been a bit fraught, mainly because i'm a nightmare to live with. I like a clean tidy home and the men i have allowed to move in with me have not.
I am diagnosed with OCD-the list making anal kind so a bit of an acquired taste. My OCD doesn't make me a bad person or want to iron my hair but it can be overwhelming for those that live with me-mainly my partner. My kids are used to it but my lovely fella is still coming to terms with the fact that he lives with a crazy lady who likes nothing better than a pube free plughole or perfectly drawn curtains. He has decided to give my OCD a name, i think he read it somewhere, and he'll say stupid shit like 'hey, there's no room for Kevin here today'. Fucking Kevin!!! Fuck Kev! He's a twat!
My parents have been married for nearly 50 years. They've been together since they were 15. Can you imagine that? In this day and age it's virtually unheard of. I think people expect to much from a partner these days. We're only human after all. The slightest hurdle, with some, and it's bail city. Dating apps don't help. They are a portal for the deluded and needy. They scream 'look at me. I may be on here looking for mr/mrs right now but i'm probably a bit of a shit'.
Call me old fashioned but i like a half decent chat up line. I'm not a fan of 'do you want a photo of my nob?' If there are any blokes reading this, just so you know, if you send us a dick pic we will show all of our friends, our mums, neighbours, zumba class. woman on the checkout at Asda and my nan. She doesn't get to see many willys these days. So you'd better make sure it's a good one.
Relationships are mostly good which is why we enter into them in the first place but i don't think you really know someone until you live with them. That's when the mask really slips and we have to have a poo at some point. My partner thinks it's perfectly acceptable to sit on the loo with the door open and have a conversation with me while he creates a smell that almost killed the dog and temporarily blinded me once. I don't. I want privacy and to be able to wipe my bum without an audience. Is that too much to ask?
Living together is a test for any couple. It can make or break you. Once you get used to the fact that your beloved has weird habits they will get over the fact that so do you. Habits like brushing teeth while taking a shower, using an unfeasible amount of loo roll, stopping breathing for a few seconds when asleep, talking to themselves after an argument or becoming a crack sniper when using a nail gun. My other half likes to go into the garage and cuddle his motorbike. I like to put my cold feet on him when i get into bed and twiddle his chest hair.
Relationships are a continuous work in progress. If your'e not prepared to work at it and take the rough with the smooth then maybe being with someone exclusively isn't for you.
Arguments and disagreements are common and help to release tension and are an amuse bouche to a relationship so these couples who tell folk they don't argue have probably just met or don't live together or have as much personality as a placenta. I've had some huge arguments with my fella over something ridiculous but my problem is i will NOT back down. Ever. Because i am right even when i'm wrong. He's a good egg though and in an effort to diffuse the situation he'll say 'okay'. Okay???!!! The only thing that enrages me more than 'ok' is being told to 'calm down'. when those two words are uttered, and i'm not convinced innocently by by the way, i will drag up old arguments from three years ago or ask him if he ever wants sex again. That usually wins. I say usually-i mean ALWAYS.
I once made the mistake of going on holiday with an ex as we had already paid for it before we split up. Thankfully we had separate beds but as soon as we set foot in the hotel we realised we had made a huge mistake thinking we could act like adults and enjoy the holiday regardless. We had a massive argument in the room and in a fit of frustration he threw my bed pillows over the balcony and they landed in the pool below. Not to be out done i launched his suitcase over the balcony where it proceeded to open mid air and scatter his clothes in trees, neighbouring balconies and the pool. End of argument. I think i won.
To conclude, anybody who is lucky enough to find 'the one' hold them close, respect them, love them because 'the one' is a chance encounter that you may never get again.
Friday, 4 January 2019
The observationist: Teenagers
The observationist: Teenagers: I think i'm qualified to write about teenagers because i'm owned by not one but two. Like a lot of new parents i thought this one ba...
Teenagers
I think i'm qualified to write about teenagers because i'm owned by not one but two. Like a lot of new parents i thought this one baby i have is really good so i think i'll have another. Little did i know girlchild number 2 would turn out to be a child with the mind of a 55 year old London cabbie. I also misguidedly had my second daughter 10 months after the first.
Now they are teenagers they make me use words i have only heard my dad use when he accidently put a garden fork through his foot on his allotment.
Absolutely everything i say to them is greeted with 'yeah...whatever...' which makes me want to put pins in my eyes.
They argue constantly punctuated only with eating everything in the fridge about 6 hours after i've done a full weekly shop, the drawing on of eyebrows, looking for a phone charger/wifi or telling me about some injustice they have suffered at school resulting in a detention or isolation (i dream of isolation) . I can only liken a teenager to getting a new puppy. At first they are cute, want lots of cuddles and smell lush then they turn into a big uncoordinated lump who hates everybody and smells like an old people's home. The only difference is that you have to keep your teenagers and telling their siblings or your parents that they have 'gone to live on a farm' is frowned upon. Also teenagers don't usually tip your kitchen bin over or chew your shoes. They just mock everything you wear by shrieking 'oh my God! are you actually going to wear that top outside?' or 'you just don't care about fashion.' Yes i am and no not really.
The only time i have seen another human being have a complete meltdown because they had no wi-fi connection was my youngest teenager when for approximately 4 minutes her mobile phone (iphone) wouldn't connect. I mistakenly said 'oh, my mobile (cheap android) is fine' to which she retorted, and i quote verbatim, 'oh my god!!! that's because your phone doesn't care about wifi!!!' In that 4 minutes the world had ended for my youngest. Sodom and gomorrah? Pah! The taking of christ? Bollocks! Potential zombie infestation? Nowt! 'what fresh hell hath befallen me....actually, no , it's fine...it's back on'. FFS.
My eldest loves doing hair and makeup. Thinking, foolishly, i was helping her nurture her craft i offered myself up as model. The hair bit went well. Beautiful french braid. It looked amazing. My clever precious child. Then she did my makeup. I think the exact comment was 'mum, i'm used to working with young skin'. Well excuse me for taking part in the inevitable ageing process and just living and breathing air and....holy fuck balls...being a human lady who has raised a child with zero filter. I can almost hear my mum laughing into her horlicks and she lives 20 miles away.
When i was a teenager i used to head out after breakfast on my BMX with my mates and wouldn't be seen again until tea time. Summer holidays were the best ever. Kick the can, chasing each other with dog poo on a stick, fishing for sticklebacks, waiting by the landline for hours (always in the hall, why?) for a girl/boy you like to phone. Mobile phones didn't exist. When you were out you were out. Shit bust.
My teenagers would scoff at such an ideal because these days they don't have to wait for anything. The art of conversation is dead. Google and that siri asshole are to blame. 'Bike rides? what are they? Fishing? get a life mother. Old skool poo sticks? weirdo.' To be called a weirdo by someone who "hangs out" with their mates in their bedroom on a screen is rich to say the least.
Actually, hanging out with their mates virtually has it's pros-said mates are not in your home stinking the place out with teenage hormones and eating what's left in your fridge, cons-said mates are carried around the house like a demi god and are witness to you wearing a onesie, drinking gin at 5pm or even having a poo. Why is it ok now for your teenager to burst into your bathroom with their mates on facetube or youtime or instatwat or whatever and come out with random bollocks like 'mum, Sophie thinks i'd suit my hair in a bob. Can i have money for the hairdressers? Will you drive me into town. What is that smell?' A-i think a bob would suit you, B-no, save your pocket money, C-no, ask your dad, D why is sophie in my bathroom while i'm having a shit?
Don't get me wrong. Not all teenagers are self centered opinionated butt cracks. Some of them are alright. Their struggles and teenage angst aren't that different from ours. Fitting in, making real friends and getting through school are pretty much the same. Everybody has to go through that 7 years of strife to get to adulthood. It's hard and confusing at best but it forges future relationships and moulds us into people. Teenagering is tough.
Now they are teenagers they make me use words i have only heard my dad use when he accidently put a garden fork through his foot on his allotment.
Absolutely everything i say to them is greeted with 'yeah...whatever...' which makes me want to put pins in my eyes.
They argue constantly punctuated only with eating everything in the fridge about 6 hours after i've done a full weekly shop, the drawing on of eyebrows, looking for a phone charger/wifi or telling me about some injustice they have suffered at school resulting in a detention or isolation (i dream of isolation) . I can only liken a teenager to getting a new puppy. At first they are cute, want lots of cuddles and smell lush then they turn into a big uncoordinated lump who hates everybody and smells like an old people's home. The only difference is that you have to keep your teenagers and telling their siblings or your parents that they have 'gone to live on a farm' is frowned upon. Also teenagers don't usually tip your kitchen bin over or chew your shoes. They just mock everything you wear by shrieking 'oh my God! are you actually going to wear that top outside?' or 'you just don't care about fashion.' Yes i am and no not really.
The only time i have seen another human being have a complete meltdown because they had no wi-fi connection was my youngest teenager when for approximately 4 minutes her mobile phone (iphone) wouldn't connect. I mistakenly said 'oh, my mobile (cheap android) is fine' to which she retorted, and i quote verbatim, 'oh my god!!! that's because your phone doesn't care about wifi!!!' In that 4 minutes the world had ended for my youngest. Sodom and gomorrah? Pah! The taking of christ? Bollocks! Potential zombie infestation? Nowt! 'what fresh hell hath befallen me....actually, no , it's fine...it's back on'. FFS.
My eldest loves doing hair and makeup. Thinking, foolishly, i was helping her nurture her craft i offered myself up as model. The hair bit went well. Beautiful french braid. It looked amazing. My clever precious child. Then she did my makeup. I think the exact comment was 'mum, i'm used to working with young skin'. Well excuse me for taking part in the inevitable ageing process and just living and breathing air and....holy fuck balls...being a human lady who has raised a child with zero filter. I can almost hear my mum laughing into her horlicks and she lives 20 miles away.
When i was a teenager i used to head out after breakfast on my BMX with my mates and wouldn't be seen again until tea time. Summer holidays were the best ever. Kick the can, chasing each other with dog poo on a stick, fishing for sticklebacks, waiting by the landline for hours (always in the hall, why?) for a girl/boy you like to phone. Mobile phones didn't exist. When you were out you were out. Shit bust.
My teenagers would scoff at such an ideal because these days they don't have to wait for anything. The art of conversation is dead. Google and that siri asshole are to blame. 'Bike rides? what are they? Fishing? get a life mother. Old skool poo sticks? weirdo.' To be called a weirdo by someone who "hangs out" with their mates in their bedroom on a screen is rich to say the least.
Actually, hanging out with their mates virtually has it's pros-said mates are not in your home stinking the place out with teenage hormones and eating what's left in your fridge, cons-said mates are carried around the house like a demi god and are witness to you wearing a onesie, drinking gin at 5pm or even having a poo. Why is it ok now for your teenager to burst into your bathroom with their mates on facetube or youtime or instatwat or whatever and come out with random bollocks like 'mum, Sophie thinks i'd suit my hair in a bob. Can i have money for the hairdressers? Will you drive me into town. What is that smell?' A-i think a bob would suit you, B-no, save your pocket money, C-no, ask your dad, D why is sophie in my bathroom while i'm having a shit?
Don't get me wrong. Not all teenagers are self centered opinionated butt cracks. Some of them are alright. Their struggles and teenage angst aren't that different from ours. Fitting in, making real friends and getting through school are pretty much the same. Everybody has to go through that 7 years of strife to get to adulthood. It's hard and confusing at best but it forges future relationships and moulds us into people. Teenagering is tough.
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