Saturday, July 28, 2007
My favourite so far.
Also the LittleFatBastid’s favourite but that’s because it holds lollies.
...
...
Thinking the BumCrack will be my “signature” on them.Labels: Missus Clever Troosers
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
3:15 pm ::
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Friday, April 06, 2007
We Shall Remember Her!
Lest they forget just how good, special and clever I am.
Behold My Le Grandeur!
The old tarts last craft project with me will be..."Chair Tags"...taadaah.
[ZeeClickItBitch]
Gunna velcro dot them to the back of their dining chairs...
Will cut down on the grumbling when a newbie sits in a regular's chair.
Will help the new coordinator learn the old tarts names...they like it when they're called by their name. Guess it helps them to remember WhoTheFuck they, themselves are.
Will assist new volunteers or more so help that stupid [with a capital S] volunteer that I dislike with a passion because she's a greedy selfish bushpig cuntessa *finger typing rest* remember where to stick their cups of tea or coffee when their bums aren't in their chairs.
Still undecided whether to stick my name on this show and tell one or one of our ex-tarts [she moved away]...I plan to velcro it up on a cupboard door...just so them bitches don't forget me.
I was gunna put a sign up [may still] above it..."Those Dearly Departed"...and when a "chair tag" is no longer required it can be immortalised here on the dearly departed door also. But beings they are nearly all one footstep out of Gawd's Waiting Room, maybe they wouldn't appreciate the reminder.
Hmm.
Fuck that, I reckon I may still do it.
Ye Olde Bitches must be remembering me.
Did I mention my Hillbillie mother-in-law wants to get me on at the nursing home she works at?Labels: Missus Clever Troosers
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
10:49 pm ::
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Tuesday, March 13, 2007
And a good time was had by all.
Sooomewhere ovaaah the raaainbow Sydney Harbour Bridge in a train is where I found myself Monday just gone, at eight-thirty in the morning. What were you slack bastids doing when I was making my way with my trusty mate Sooes acting as prime navigator [she did a simply faaabulous job too!] down to my immigration appointment at the US Consulate? Huh.
Bet yers were all just having blasted fun and frolics weren't yers?!?
So woooo look at me, nearly done with all this fuddycruddy stuff.
Although I must say, this latest "hoop" was the easiest. Nothing really went wrong. Was like I was being "rewarded" for my, my, well my goodness. Arhaaha. Oh lookout. I snorted when I laughed then. But really I was nudged along very nicely. From the bag x-raying security dude at the first checkpoint who noticed I was sitting in the wrong spot "Maam...you can go to the front row of seats, with those three" and then noticed me still sitting in this row when the other three were trotting off leaving the room for the guarded elevator ride up to the next floor "Maam...you can go with those people now".
The lady security guard who along with the male security guard enjoyed my "victory arms" being raised and waved about when I made a success of walking through the metal detector on my third attempt. Bloody belt buckle and my watch. You'd think I'd know to take that stuff off huh. Next time I will write them on my hand under the "remove" heading.
The pretty young clerk at window number 3 [Hawaiian I think] that dealt with my paperwork...which must have been in order as she didn't send me to the back of the line. Bless her...was very bloody nice and helpful. I was so glad my ticket wasn't called by the loud cow at window number 1. She insisted on having her windows loud-speaker turned on.
Everybody could hear yer business being repeated back at you.
Fer instance I now know that ticket holder number eight is a divorcee with a four year old daughter; a girl living in NY and that she'd just flown back to Sydney last night to get this sorted. She was getting slightly stroppy but calmed down a level when loud cow informed her and us that she was there to assist her blah blah. The ticketed number ten's have a daughter whose name is Scarlet. They came in to pick up a "transportation" letter so she could enter the country of her parents birth. They were getting a bit pissy because Mary who had emailed them to do this, couldn't remember emailing them in the first place. No, the ten's didn't have the printed emails on them. And the Hispanic lady at window number 5...[this clerk also made use of his loudspeaker but wasn't nearly as loud as number 1 cow; he had a very nice voice...shame about his face tho]...was deported in 2006. Not sure who did this deportation, if it was us, well we didn't do a very bloody good job of it did we uh...she's still here. Or maybe she snuck back over. Dunno.
The bloke that "interviewed" me was a bloody big spunk. Whoever gave birth to him should be rewarded. Now, whoever you are, can you make me one that's at least 20 years older. Thanks. I was index finger printed and asked a few questions and then I had to hold up my right hand and solemnly swear that all the details provided by me were true and correct. And then sign the document.
Luckily I uncrossed my left fingers before I bought that hand up to hold the paper while I did just that huh.Labels: Bastid Lawyer/Immigration, Missus Clever Troosers
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
6:31 am ::
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Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Look at me, look at me, look at meeee...
Made these tonight.
Might just chuck them at my sister, see if she can sell them at her street stall later in the month.Labels: Missus Clever Troosers
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
9:56 am ::
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Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Another Tuesday bites the dust...
And curses I had to call stinkun bingo. I swear [well yes I dooo] I age six months each time I have to call those bloody numbers. My nightmare is, the only job I will qualify for in yankytown is as a bingo caller. Ohh wouldn't that just be topppps. "Hello my name is _ _ _ _ _ and I call bingo".
18...one eight, the amount of times Wrennie has whinged so far.
24...two four, the size of wood I am gunna use to whack Zola with if she interrupts my number flow for the umpteenth time.
73...seven three, fer the looove of gaaawd set me freeeeeee.
They were all happy little campers with their craft activity...as they damn well should be. Although their enthusiasm might, I say miiight have had something to do with the bloody big hurt-me-quick stick I had in my hands. Will post some photo's of their prowess with the paintbrush next week when we put the finishing touches on them...yeah I know, you's cain't waaait for them, but yers are just gunna bloody haftah.
Mind you, I found out the one I did as the example had been dropped by one of them envious old tarts and the bit's got broken off...aren't they horrors! Luckily I took a 
of it before I left it in their jealous dropsy hands. After re-looking at it I could use some re-schooling in painting myself, just quietly. I was tempted to put The LFB's thong pic in the frame but thought naaah that would just git their lechy dried up juices a flowing. I clean up enough after them, let alone cleaning those puddles up.
When I dropped Large Marge off she said "I love YOU" naturally my reply was "yeah, yeah Shut It and get outta my car Old Lady"...naaah I didn't, I told her I loved her as well. Twas the highlight of my day that was.
Ahhh thank bugger tomorrows Wednesday.Labels: Missus Clever Troosers, Topz Peeplz Skillz
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
4:28 am ::
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Friday, September 08, 2006
Sewing Nazi Stats...
amount of times, I said shit, fuck and bastid after sticking myself with the pins = five six.
amount of times, I muttered I am. never. doing. something. like. this. AGAIN = three.
amount of times, I knocked the container holding the pins off the table = one.
amount of dropped pins scattered on my floor = twenty eight.
amount of times, I trod on a missed dropped pin that stuck in my foot = one.
amount of times, I said bloody oath I'm mrs clever clogs = two.
amount of times, I said carrap that's not straight = seven.
amount of times, I said stuff it I'm not doing it again = six.
amount of times I unpicked a line of stitch = one.
amount of times, I table surfed while trying to get a complete photo = five.
amount of times, I told myself that I need to fix that uneven table leg = four.
amount of times, I said once it's done, it's DONE! = nine.
amount of times, you need to click on the photo to enlarge the thumbnail below = one.
Labels: Missus Clever Troosers
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
10:24 pm ::
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