Took Sasha the cute Lhasa Apso out into town for a meal on Saturday night, in a dog about town sort of a way. Attempted to leave a review of the restaurant on Trip Advisor yesterday, but was dismayed to find that I need to be registered on Facebook to do so. I don't go in for all that rubbish. I mean don't get me wrong I'm pretty computer savvy as border terriers go, I have after all got my own blog and a cult following in Romania. But as me Dad says, in a Groucho Marx sort of a way, he wouldn't want to belong to a club containing both his ex bitches and his ex bitch-in-law would he? And rightly so. Whilst we're on the subject hands up who's on that Friends Reunited codswallop. First off if they were that much of a friend then you'd still be in touch with them wouldn't you? I got an email from them once, I'll interpret for you (in brackets), it went something like this: Hi (I've just split up with my husband), how are you doing (I bumped into Fiona from 5C the other day, she told me that your wife had done a bunk with the captain of the rugby club), I've been thinking about you a lot lately (I've got no friends and I've been wracking my brains trying to think of someone from school who was vaguely fanciable and I came up with you), how do you fancy meeting up for a coffee and a chat about old times (I can then tell you what a bastard my ex husband has been whilst sussing out if you've still got any money left), do get in touch I've been trying to track you down for ages (have you ever heard of rent a stalker). Pippa xx (I know that you can't be so stupid that you don't know what xx stands for). I went obviously xxx (her daughter was home). Pooh count: just the one, the consistency of a Mr Whippy ice cream it was, and not dissimilar in shape now that I come to think of it. Although warmer obviously. Well, when I say it was warmer I didn't actually touch it to check. I just assume that it would have been several degrees above the natural ambient temperature of a freshly curled Mr Whippy ice cream. And without the raspberry sauce or a flake.
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.