I hope I am not boring you with all this talk about the Thingy. It’s just that as he or she is supposed to be here on Sunday I get more and more nervous which coupled with my diet of chicken, vegetables and salad, means my arse is like a chewed orange and that I will be yet again waffling on about kids here on the blog. As I do, I picture in my mind many of the thousands of daily readers saying to themselves “Bugger this baby bollocks, I am scrolling down to the questions” although you probably wouldn’t use the words “bollocks and bugger,” would you?

Anyway, thanks to Skype I get to talk quite often with my sister Sue Drip who as you may know lives in Hong Kong.
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These days if you wake up with the flu, the American navy will come round to your house, bend you over a table inject you with plasma and take samples of your liver to their biochemical warfare centre in Atlanta. And when they’ve gone away, men in nuclear spillage boiler suits will want to know if you’ve had any contact with Las Pigos de Mexico.

This morning I woke up to find I have a runny nose, a sore throat, and every few minutes my eyes fill with water: all the ingredients you need to make a convincing Nyquil commercial for the television………….I don’t have swine flu………I have man flu ……… which is even worse. And it’s an illness women do not understand. It’s not a cold …….. that’s what women get………this is, as I said……………man flu.
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What a load of old baggage. I say this because yesterday someone sent me a link thingy which has some comments on it from the cruise boards about baggage. This “thread” had started because a guest who recently sailed on the Carnival Destiny had stated that Carnival had ruined her suitcase. It was she said perfect and without a scratch when she handed it in at embarkation and when she received it the bag had a huge rip down the side and had a curious yellow stain on it……you are expecting me to do a joke about one of the Customs and Border patrol dogs pissing on it aren’t you………..well, I won’t.

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“How do you expect me to have a baby while you look like that?” said my beautiful wife Heidi.

“What do you mean?” I asked thinking she may be referring to the nine-year-old favourite pair of underpants that have more colorful markings on and in them then the hull of a NCL ship?

But in fact it wasn’t that she was embarrassed by vintage pair of Chateau de Skidmark ……… nope…………Heidi can’t possibly have a baby…………….because my hair is too long.

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I can’t go out on my own or with my friends unless Heidi comes with me……….just in case……….the Thingy burrows his or her way out through the love tunnel and says hi to the world. So………I resorted to murder.

Last night, I killed seven men. I slaughtered the first couple of chaps by blowing their heads clean from their bodies with a good old-fashioned double barrelled pump action shotgun, and then for the third one, who was nine-feet high and wearing body armor that was bristling with alien technology, I had to use a pulse cannon. The remaining four I used a mixture of knives, axes and a crossbow.

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It’s Saturday and I am bored. I have done everything Heidi has asked of me. I have emptied the dishwasher, done the grocery shopping and after blogging I have nothing else to do. I have no hobbies. I could be like my friend Danny who every weekend stands in testicle high freezing cold water trying to out wit a fish. My mate Alan buggers off to The Cliff pub and spends his Saturday afternoons playing chess for the pub team………………………me………………….well………………I have bugger all to do once this blog has finished.

There is nothing to look forward to unless the Thingy arrives which if he or she is anything like Heidi it will decide to be born right in the middle of game 7 between the Heat and the Atlanta Pigeons. Ohhhh………..well there is one thing I can look forward to and that’s the arrival of my new cell phone.
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So I found myself yet again sitting in our neighborhood Starbucks nursing a huge bowl of black coffee while Heidi was in a shop being “fitted” for some breast feeding bras. I have no idea why she is being fitted for these and why she just can’t cut a hole in the ones she has……….but that’s another story.

I want to talk about Starbucks for a moment. Do you remember when I was in LA a few weeks ago and I wrote about how dreadful the coffee was at the Starbucks Stephanie and I went to? It was a cup of frothy milk with a thimble full of coffee that tasted like it had been brewed in a pair of my underpants.

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