one more sleep…

Only one more sleep until The Boy is officially one year older.

Which means one more sleep until he stops going on about me being an old woman (at least for another 6 months). Yes, I’m 6 months older than him, which he likes to tease me about. To hear him talk, you’d think I was 60 years older. Older and wiser, I like to say.

I think he’ll like his presents – if not I’ll just have to keep them for myself… He always has amazingly high expectations (considering we haven’t won lotto yet), so we’ll just have to see. I think I’ve chosen pretty well, but he'll be disappointed not to get the working Light Sabre he wanted (sorry, Boy).

truly a little Boy at heart

It’s The Boy’s birthday on Saturday, and he is currently swinging between being very excited about presents and not so excited about turning another year older.

He is sure he knows what I’m getting him. Mind you, that’s what he thought last year too, and he turned out to be dead wrong.

I drive him crazy because I believe presents should be a surprise, and won’t confirm or deny anything. I don’t play the yes/no game, because then people eventually guess – I just stick very firmly to my ‘no comment’.

One suggestion, Boy – this could be a good time to be on your best behaviour…

pj who?

Despite The Boy’s protests of innocence, I think it is safe to say that he gets completely and utterly hypnotised by his computer.

Yesterday he asked me nicely if I’d make him a cup of coffee, which I did. We’re talking a proper flat white made with an espresso machine, so it isn’t a quick or quiet process. I made the coffee, leaned across in front of him to put it down on his computer table then left the room. All with absolutely no response from him.

About twenty minutes later he came into the bedroom, where I was lying reading a book. When I said to him “oh, so you’ve finally decided to say thank you for the coffee, have you?” his response was “what coffee?” Despite the fact that I’d made it less than 3 metres away from him, at his request and in a less that quiet process, then had to lean across in front of him to put it down, he hadn’t noticed. Seriously.

So, Boy, you win the Computer-Struck award this week, with a special mention in the What Girlfriend? category. A dubious honour at best.

yes, he paid…

I’ve had a couple of people ask whether The Boy paid up last Saturday night and took me out for the nice romantic evening that was promised (as per the 7 August posting).

The answer is yes – he took me out for a lovely dinner in Herne Bay. Well done Boy – it was a beautiful night. And it only cost you about 5 times as much as if you'd come out the previous Saturday like you were supposed to...

a new money spinner?

The Boy is doing extra-mural studies at the moment, and was working on an essay last night. He asked me to proof read it for him, which I did. I usually proof read his website stuff, so I’m quite used to it and didn’t really think anything of it. His English is generally very good, but he does have a few grammar and spelling quirks that need fixing. Plus, when he is studying he tends to think in Portuguese, so his sentence structures can sometimes be kind of odd.

Sadly for him, he let slip that when he used to have to pay someone to do the same job, through the university, they charged up to $100 per essay… hmmm… sounds to me like I could have a new source of income sitting at the computer desk… I don’t think I could make myself charge him cash, but you’d better believe I’ll be milking it in other ways!

what is the fascination?

Can someone explain to me why men have such a fascination with kung fu movies? I think its definitely a guy thing – I don’t know too many women who are really into them. The acting is always terrible and the action totally unbelievable. In fact, the only kung fu movie I’ve ever seen that I thought was ok was Kung Fu Hustle, and that was because it was taking the mickey out of itself.

Mind you, I’ve certainly never claimed to understand the male thought process, so I guess this is just one more inexplicable example.

pay now or pay lots more later

The Boy & I were supposed to go to a 30th birthday party on Saturday night, for a colleague of mine who is currently on maternity leave. After I’d spent half an hour doing my hair (which I never do, because I’m completely useless at it) and another half hour doing a full-on evening makeup (which I hardly ever do, because I’m too lazy), he decided he was too tired and too sick to go out. Wonderful timing, sweetheart. Especially considering you were well enough to go out Friday night…

So, as penance, he has to take me out on a proper “date” this Saturday. That means a nice romantic night, getting nicely dressed up, going to a nice restaurant and out for drinks somewhere nice afterwards. It would have been cheaper and easier for him if he’d just got off his butt and gone to the 30th, but you know boys – sometimes they’re slightly slow learners.