American food programmes are dangerous

I'm sitting here on a Monday night, Jo's out doing something community-minded, I've finished the work I HAD to get done today, so I'm sitting in front of the telly with a glass of red watching Americans eat outlandish amounts of food.

I'm watching "Man vs Food".

For those of you who haven't seen or heard of this programme, it is based on this chubby bloke travelling around the USA and eating "local" cuisine. Generally this means huge amounts of barbeque or burgers. I mean plates that would happily feed at least one adult and a couple of kids, plates that make my mum's special Christmas plates look tidgy. The scary thing is that I find myself getting quite peckish whilst watching it.

Each episode culminates with the presenter taking on a food challenge. You know, one of those "if you can eat this stupid sized burger in under 45 minutes without spewing up we'll give you a t-shirt" type challenges. That part tends to put me off food a bit. This week's challenge = 15 hot dogs covered in mustard and chilli in an hour. His prize? He gets to rename the challenge. WHY?

So that's my life right now. Rock and roll, huh?

You may be wondering what I'm having for dinner. Cauliflower curry (it's what needed using up). Go me! Go my arse!

It's been nice knowing you.

Something other than the boy

That's what I'm going to attempt to write about.

This is quite a challenge, but I am determined to be one of those rounded modern mothers. You know, the ones who have interests outside their kids, which of course I do. Like watching TV and spouting on about old stuff for hours on end. Oh and moaning about my clothes being too tight, so then taking dog for a run, followed by eating shedloads of food.

In fact, the high point of the last couple of weeks for me may have been purchasing some microfleece pyjama bottoms and a thermal pj top for next to bugger all. This may not seem like much to many of you (although I know Catherine will be green with envy), but our house is freezing in winter. Bloody freezing. Not so bad as the place we lived in when I was a kid that got so cold one winter that my pet hamster tried to hibernate, but we are severely lacking in central heating, double glazing, sturdy insulation, blah blah blah. It has been known for me to sleep with my electric blanket left on low, though I do fret that I may demonstrate the wick effect of human combustion - now I think of it that is about as much motivation for running as a person could need - but it keeps me warm at night without having to attach myself limpet-like to the Mrs.

BUT microfleece and thermal jimjams, a decent pair of woolly Costco socks (bought some 11 years ago in Vancouver), and I am the proverbial bug in a rug. The Mrs still "claims" I sleep starfish style in the centre of the bed, but I have no proof and so deny all.

What else? Not much really. So here's a nice picture of Wellington.

Close up

See? You can hardly see a thing! And this photo was taken last week.

Now the boy's previously scalded bonce only glows a fierce red when he is throwing an almighty strop. Like he did on Sunday when the toy I had bought him was deemed stupidly expensive and taken back to the shop. Jesus, that was epic.

Things currently making me frown

1. seeing a bloke in full waterproof gear cycling in Antarctic winds with driving rain and wearing flip flops
2. how bloody freezing the house is despite having the heating on
3. that bloke that presents "Grand Designs"
4. the fact that it is only Tuesday
5. news reports that the British government are going to start sending child refugees back to Afghanistan