Your Questions Answered

I'll take a moment to answer a few questions that I have been asked quite frequently.

Question: Girlfriend, why in God's name would you move from a comfortable, established life-style in the UK where, you know, you can GO TO LONDON ANYTIME, maybe pop over to PARIS on the EUROSTAR, get crunked (you KNOW what I mean) in AMSTERDAM, eat in outdoor cafes, drink pretentious overpriced cocktails and discuss the latest Big Brother gossip to live HERE??!! Here, in this one-horse town that has no shops, no cinema, nor even a restaurant that doesn't feature the Golden Arches? I mean, DAMN girl, you CRAZY.
Answer: Hmmm, when you put it that way, I must have been insane...oh my GOD....
But to answer the question, I would have to say The Weather. I capitalize it because the entire time I lived in England I felt it was a major character in my life and I began to resent its constant intrusion. Snow in May? Winter coats in July? Rainfall for the entire month of August? Bah! Enough is enough! Besides, I was unemployed at the time and thought to myself, "Self, let's go be poor in the land of Sunshine!" I have a nice tan now.

Question: Hey! Weren't you married to that English guy? You know the weird one that talked all funny? What happened with that?
Answer: Well, yes I was, thanks for reminding me! Soon after we arrived, he met a local lady here in town, partook of her famed Southern hospitality to the extreme and they did a runner. Henceforth, he shall be known as The Wanker, if mentioned at all.

Question: Do you really live with your mother?
Answer: My mother was recently widowed and so we decided to all move in together. Me, The Wanker, my daughter and two dogs bought a joint house with mumsie. Yes, I KNOW... but that's what we decided, dammit.

Question: Say what? You shipped your dogs all the way over here? How much did THAT cost?
Answer: Yes, I did fly them over and it cost more for two dogs to fly in crates than it did for a family of three to fly Business Class. Which is ironic, as one of them was free and the other cost 25 quid from the Manchester Dog's Home. But it gives me pleasure to know that a mutt from Collyhurst roams the streets of this nice little town full of high society labradoodles and peekachoo thingies.

Question: Who's that guy you're with now and how did you end up with four kids, four dogs, two fish and a constant migraine?
Answer: The guy I'm with now is a lovely man I met as a reward for being married to The Wanker for so long. However, he has made it clear that he wants nothing to do with my blogging activities and would really rather nobody read it, especially not anyone we might actually know.

He had two girls and a dog from a previous marriage, I had The Princess, two dogs, two fish and a live-in mother (who had her own yappy dog) from MY previous marriage.

Together we produced The Boy who, at the tender age of two, is already a criminal mastermind. Haha, I jest! He's merely a criminal mastermind in training pants at the moment.

Question: Hey! I once met a guy named Joe Schmo who lives in London, do you know him?
Answer: No. You. Moron. *

Question: Why does everyone in Europe hate us Americans? After all, they'd all be speaking German right now if it weren't for us!
Answer: (Bangs head against the wall and gets a little weepy). Please don't make me explain History again! My head hurts now.

Question: No, seriously dawg, those Brits would be Heiling Hitler today if it weren't for us!
Answer: Oh alright, it's the shoes .... American tourists always wear shiny white sneakers and sweatshirts with stupid logos on them. You can spot them a mile away. Happy now?

Question: And what's up with those damn Frenchies? I just can't eat my Freedom Fries now without feeling all enraged!
Answer: Well, you got me on that one, the French are bastards. Lie down, sir, your rage will be re-directed towards homosexuals and their sinister gay agenda soon enough.

I think that covers the basics. I will, of course, answer any other questions that come my way in future posts. As long as it doesn't involve trying to work out what the hell is wrong with Britney Spears and why she refuses to wear underwear. That is for greater intellects than mine to puzzle out.

*
As always, there's an exception to every rule. One fine day in this podunk town, I met a lovely local man named Silvanus who said to me, "oooh, I have a cool funny friend in London named Nick Revell, do you know him?" And weirdly enough, I did. Go figure.