There is a bird outside in the willow tree that keeps whistling the first line of the Barbie Girl song.  Honestly, I thought I was deluded too, until J asked me tonight, ‘have you heard that bloody bird whistling Barbie Girl?’

Least it’s no longer whistling the beep my washing machine makes when it’s off-balance.  Or a cell phone.  …The amount of times I used to run around looking for my phone before I realised the noise was coming from the tree.

My dearly beloved other-half is cooking chilli sausage, baked beans and eggs.  Dear gods, the last time he ate this, he spent the night farting out little nuclear bomb bursts.  I was hoping to get some action tonight (yes, my big pregnant belly is almost impossible to resist *note sarcasm*) but I think the closest to action I’m gonna get is running, gagging, out of the room throughout the night.  Hell, if his arse is gonna be anything like the last time, I might just sleep on the couch.

I’ve just had a realisation.  He’s not eating Fart Food because he enjoys it.  He’s eating it because it’s a Callie Repellant.

Well mister, I hope the 3am gut ache is worth it.