Friday, 27 May 2011

Goat, Garden, Groceries, and Grappling with Hooks and Eyes!

"Sir Alan" - Sugarloaf Mountain

Goats: Rubbish Motivators
 T..G.I.F!! Yes, you heard me - That Goat Is Fired!!! I picked that up from a Brazillian take on "The Apprentice". Basically, it is a documentary about goat farmers on the slopes of Sugarloaf mountain (which has been given the nickname "Sir Alan"). This week, one of the Farmers was convinced that he had one Goat that was not only of superior intellect than the rest of the herd, but that he had been able to train said goat to look after the flock instead of him. The farmer left his herd under the supervision of this "Intelligoat" for three days - but when he returned to check on them, he found that all but the superior goat had been killed by wolves and holidaying tigers. The farmer was forced to concede that although highly intelligent, the goat he had chosen to lead the others had terrible interpersonal (intergoatal?) skills, which resulted in the entire herd feeling alienated towards it and ignored it's warnings about the wolves - and the tigers in hawaian shirts, with cameras round their necks.
The Farmer had no choice, but to sack the goat in question, hence the "That Goat is Fired!!"
I do have to say that that is the best photo of a Goat that I have ever seen. That is one mean muther of a goat - in the picture it really looks like the goat is staring right at you as if to say "You wanna piece of me - bring it on, Biped!!"

Of course, we all that there is another meaning to T.G.I.F.........namely,  "The Garden is Fine!". This phrase will be said up and down the country this weekend by weary men who just want to enjoy the Bank Holiday weekend in peace - not spend half of it trapsing round garden centres buying gnomes, plastic frogs, or one of those back half of a dog statues that you put on your lawn to make it look like a Terrier being sucked into the earth by a giant worm. And they definitely don't then want to spend the other  half of the weekend "doing the garden" like they (alledgedly) promised the wife last Bank Holiday. Us men work hard enough as it is the rest of time - hunting and gathering, making fire, etc. The weekends is our time to rest and re-charge our batteries. If the women want the garden done so badly, they should get out and do it instead of watching "Loose Women" or "Jeremy Kyle" every day.

Women eh? Next they'll be wanting the vote!

I'm joking of course - the true meaning of T.G.I.F is Thanks God It's Friday, and that is very true today. Mainly, because it is Friday, and it "thank god it's Wedensday" doesn't have quite the same ring to it. But I am also glad of today because I got paid today. As a result of having some money in my bank account, I promptly paid off my overdrafts, did a "big shop" (I spent £71 instead of the budgeted £40 - but I did buy lots of things that will last me the rest of the month i.e. buy two for £3, bogof's etc.), put money aside for going out next weekend, and generally got my self sorted for the month. So it has been a good day.

I also managed to fit in a walk with the Best Dogs in The World, have another fabulously bizarre conversation with my friend Harriet about whether a human could lick its own bum like a dog can, or if a person could only reach just above the knee. No, I don't know why we have these conversations either - but they sort of define our friendship. I also collected my push bike from my ex-girfriends house, so now I can ride it and get fitter - once I sort the gears and the brakes out.

Incidentally, I want to add something to the long list of "things" that a man should be able to do: A man should be able to push a bike along by holding the saddle only, and turn using precision balance. It is an art form, and something that should be passed down from generation to generation.
I don't know what else is on this list - changing a car tyre should be on there I suppose, along with how to  apply a tourniquet, and the ability to undo a bra single handedly.

At the moment, I can just about do the bike steer thing. My bra is in the post.

Not my bra, obviously - oh you know what I mean.

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