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What if I need to get to Tijuana DVLA?

Dear DVLA,

Everything has a time frame.

If you Google getting from one place to another, Google gives you an approximate time frame. For instance, Google tells me that it will take approximately 11 hours and 10 minutes on a non stop flight to get to Tijuana, Mexico. It also tells me I’m going to need to fly there from a London airport and since you guys aren’t playing ball with me, Google says it’s going to take me 10 hours and 7 minutes to walk to London City Airport from my house.  Google obviously isn’t taking into account that I could potentially pass out en route. I hope it’s factored a Starbucks somewhere on my walk to prevent any medical disasters.

So tell me what if I need to get to Tijuana? What the hell am I supposed to do then? 

See DVLA, if you just gave me my freaking license back I could be sitting in Tijuana with a bottle of tequila in 12 hours and 3 minutes. In 12 hours and 20 minutes I could be passed out on the floor  of a dodgy pub wearing a sombrero and flip flops,  after having devoured the worm with party goers laughing and dancing around me. If we do this shit your way, it’s going to take me 21 hours and 17 minutes to even get to Tijuana, in which the only place I am going to pass out is right outside the plane stepping off the damn thing from sheer exhaustion NOT wearing a sombrero and flip flops.

Which to you sounds more economical DVLA? None of this seems remotely humane.

I’ve been waiting for four months for you to process my application. At first you said, hey give us six weeks to get back to you because honestly the coffee here is absolute crap and we can’t work any faster on the cheap £1.99 jar of instant stuff. I understood. I thought, you know what, that’s fair. After more than six weeks later you guys said, well we’ve finally got Ted in the other department to type up a letter to your neurologist and he’s actually posted it. We’re sorry it’s taken so long, but Ted’s wife left him over Christmas and he’s been crying all over your previous letters and we thought it was unprofessional to send those out. It’s going to take another six weeks to see if we get a reply. I thought, ok so the DVLA obviously doesn’t give out personal leave time very well, but you’re probably under staffed and Ted is clearly dedicated to his job and it’s all he has left. I just hoped that my neurologist was having a better time in his love life and could get his secretary to type up a letter in less than six weeks.

So when today, my update consisted of well yes, we got a letter from your super efficient neurologist WEEKS ago and now we’re going to pass this onto our medical team. They will evaluate the letter, decide whether or not your Neurologist is paying his secretary enough money based on whether she can type and spell properly, get a handwriting analysis  investigator to analyse his signature and figure out if he’s telling us the truth or not about your medical condition and sit and have open therapy sessions with one another because all of this could potentially drag up some deep seeded emotional issues, especially with Ted because his wife WAS lying to him for 14 years. Then we’ll calm him down and get him to write you ANOTHER letter whenever all that is finished to let you know what our decision is about your license. I was pretty much devastated. Especially when I nicely asked you on the phone how long all of this was going to take, expecting a standard six weeks time frame and you jerk wads said Uh, there is no actual time frame on this part of the process. Do you know how heartbroken Ted is? It could take months of personal therapy and since he is our priority and our coffee is STILL the cheapest £1.99 crap, and we need to do a background check on your Neurologist to make sure he’s not wanted for fraud in any other countries, this could take….. you know what we don’t even know how long this could take.

You guys could have at least lied to me and said it would take possibly six to eight weeks and not just leave me hanging like this. 

I know I’ve been off the road for like four years. I get that. I know you’re swamped with sob stories about people who have to endure public transport and I’m also aware that walking is incredibly good for my health and will keep me from all sorts of other medical problems. I know, I’m a grown woman who knows all about calorie intake and output, I get that.

But seriously, when Ted’s marital breakdown is affecting my ability to just drive down to buy cat litter in bulk, or just be able to nip down to the store on a rainy day without hesitation, or get down to Tijuana to save a friend from a Mexican drug lord named Paco and wind up passed on on the floor of a dodgy pub wearing a sombrero and flip flops, well…..

I have a problem.  

Either give Ted some proper personal leave to sort his life out and get a temp in, who at least will work faster than Ted is right now provided she wasn’t single over Valentine’s Day this year- or just say truce and issue me with my license so I can get on with my life on the road. This isn’t a difficult choice you guys, it’s not like Paco is in your office yelling at you in Spanish in a poncho being scary, waving your cheap jar of instant coffee around like a hostage. He’s in Tijuana, in flip flops, probably with a whole case of Tequila maybe even eating a burrito.

Which is where I need to be you heartless bastards. 

 

Your Ultimate guide to Valentine’s Day

funny-valentines-day-love-quoteFour year’s ago I did a series of four posts in honor of the big Day O Love, which turned out to be quite popular. I guess I felt there was this need to reintroduce people to getting Valentine’s a little more right and to avoid more sulks and deep frustrated sighs that their partner’s had absolutely no idea how this whole thing worked. Plus, it’s a holiday that’s become a little less fun and more of a pressure that probably feels like an interrogation session.

You guys, it’s supposed to be fun. 

So I figure, let’s all stop insisting that it’s an over commercialized load of hog wash and get down to actually thinking that expressing your love to your partner is perhaps not a bad thing. Whether you make a huge deal about it, or a little one, everyone likes a little appreciation now and then right? Right. But if professing your undying love to your other half really leaves you feeling cold sweats and nauseous, then I’ve got a few little suggestions that might help give you a starting place.

So Ladies and Gentleman, your Ultimate guide to Valentine’s Day.

A guide for the Ladies – the low down on getting Valentine’s right for your man

Ladies, let’s get off our high horses and come down to the understanding that we really aren’t always getting it right for our men folk. Allow me to leave you with that for a moment, catch your breath and stop shouting at my blog things like “But he LOVED the leopard undies, candy heart on a stick, mushy card and teddy bear I bought him last year!” Did he? So where is that stuff now? Short of that, if you asked him what you got him last year, he might give you that panicked look of doom that sets the off the siren sound in his head and red lights because craappp trick question! I don’t know stop asking me woman!!! – he can’t remember.  Just no getting mad if you actually ask him – just contemplate your defeat at not quite getting him something he swooned over. Do this over coffee, because coffee makes things better.

It’s hard for us to admit that we can completely miss the angle for guys, but if we were all getting it right more men would be excited about Valentine’s Day. So here you are Ladies, a little guide to getting it right with your men!

10 things NOT to buy him for Valentine’s

How to make his Valentine’s memorable

 

A guide for the Men – all you need to know about nailing Valentine’s for your Lady

Alright guys, I’m about to de-code the female thing for you and get you operating in the right direction here to completely stay out of the dog house for Valentine’s Day. I know, the aisles at the stores are full of pink, red and white, with an infestation of hearts, making you really want to hurl and run out before you catch the need to take up arts and crafts. It stinks of mush there eh? You know this could make or break the rest of your month and send your record of days without incident either back to zero, or an all time high. No pressure. But she might cry or get all quiet and either result is probably not what you hoped for. Stop thinking that quiet might be bliss.

Here you go, a little help from the Crazy Lady in helping you score brownie points with your woman and hopefully, some brownie points in other places too when she sees what a catch she’s got. Wink wink, nudge nudge.

10 things NOT to buy her for Valentine’s 

How to make her Valentine’s Day unforgettable

 

I hope you guys stuff your faces with chocolates and drown in so much passion that its difficult to wake up Saturday morning without shouting out your bedroom windows how freaking awesome your partner’s are. Or at least feel the urge to bring a cup of joe to your other half in bed with a smile and an elbow nudge.

So here’s to happy dumbstruck faces all across the world this Friday! 

May Cupid strike you in the butt cheek with his arrow. Happy Valentine’s!

 

It seems my life lacks batteries. And sleep.

Out of juiceYou guys are going to have to forgive this post.

I’m writing this post in a serious state of sleep deprivation and a lethal amount of coffee in my system. In fact I think there is so much caffeine happening that it could probably keep a large gorilla going for the next week, at least. I am now wondering if that tenth cup was really the way forward…..

How many cups do you guys think qualifies as an overdose? 

Great, now I’m strung out and paranoid. This has all the makings of an after school special, which I’m pretty sure is not a good thing.

So I get to last night, to which everything had a plan and to which the Universe decided screw your plan lady, we have other plans. Before I knew it all the stuff I was supposed to be doing turned into playing nurse to my little boy….for the entire night. We had a sick party from 11.30pm till the crack of mutha freakin’ dawn. We’re hardcore like that. He ended up being incredibly sick and yet somehow managed to continue to be terribly cute in the process. How do the kids manage that anyway? I’m not entirely sure how they get to be cute sick little mini people when they are ill. Me on the other hand, less cute, more like Medusa meets the Exorcist. Not the most attractive image I have to say. I wonder what age I lost the ability to be cute while ill? I bet that’s not a milestone my parents remembered to jot down in my baby book. I must remember to guilt trip them later about that.

While today I actually had plans to be social and do awesome things, I’m instead indoors with sleep deprivation wondering why I have a serious lack of batteries in my life. Because obviously this is a life threatening problem that I should be bothering myself with right now. I’ve come to the conclusion that I have some weird aversion to buying them. My daughter, who is attempting to be really helpful and demanding at the same time, needed some AGAIN for the xbox remote (I swear I just replaced those ones) and we ended up scrounging all the remotes in the house to find two that worked like a couple of hobos. Then I realized that there are a great many things in my house that I need to get batteries for and yet I continue to avoid buying them.

I really need to address this fear of battery purchasing, it’s starting to inhibit my life.

I think it comes from the refusal to actually make the toys in this house electronic again because they all seem to go off at inappropriate moments waking children who should be sleeping up. Like when I’m meant to be playing Tooth Fairy and I’m wanting to be really silent and slip in like a pink fluffy ninja. Not to mention driving me into being mentally challenged during the day when they hit the same buttons over and over. Maybe I should consider hypnotherapy to work this out. Or perhaps I should consider investing in rechargeable batteries, which means only facing this fear ONCE to buy the damn things.

But then I think I’d just end up forgetting to recharge them or being super impatient when I needed them RIGHT THEN to settle world war 3 when the xbox remote isn’t working.

Screw it, I’m just raising my kids as Quakers now.

If any of this post made actual sense to you, I sympathize.  You too must be on the brink of a  nervous break down. I’d recommend the coffee to help you cope, but I’m pretty sure I’ve drunk it all and am currently seeing pretty colours in the midst of my zombie Mom mode.

Yeah it’s like that.

I gave birth to Spiderman

You ever have one of those days as a parent that makes you want to just dye your hair, change your name, join the witness protection programme and piss off to Cuba?

Please somebody else say yes, before I have a breakdown.

This is where I have one of those really honest moments on the blog and get all heart to heart to say, toddlers are like the hardest mini people to raise ever. It’s that psychotic transitional period of life where there are absolutely no reasoning skills, no sense of danger, this frustration because they can’t communicate nearly half the crap they can understand and they end up screaming like cavemen because that green cup is the one you threw out of the car window last week and we don’t own it anymore! I’ve only got the yellow one, yellow is good right? IT’S JUST A FREAKING DRINK! You can’t even stay angry, because they have a built in cute mode. Do you know how infuriating it is to be getting properly angry, feeling your blood boil and then have a cute miniature person look up at you and say sowwy Moommmieee. You can’t even be mad, because it makes you a completely evil and twisted human being at that point. How sick is that?

When you start off parenting, you have this amazing set of ideas that you are going to utilize and by the time you get to toddlerdome, they practically force you into turning into a homicidal maniac. Nobody plans on having a nervous breakdown, it just happens.

So here I am with child number four. Yes I’m a slow learner, thanks for figuring that out. I have this theory that boys are like 100 times worse than girls at this toddler thing, mostly because they tend to do things that make absolutely no sense outside their own imaginations. They also seem to do stuff that looks like a fantastic idea to them, but is incredibly dangerous, like eat explosives and launch themselves off of bridges. I am more likely to find my three year old son sprinkling rat poison on his breakfast cereal than sugar and it should be noted….. I’ve never bought rat poison in my life people. Somewhere this child has connections and is on a mission to see how much I actually pay attention to him.

The worse thing however right now, the one absolute thing I am struggling with beyond all comprehension….

This child is Spiderman without the safety webbing installed.

If there is a surface he can get to, he’s on it. He’s throwing himself toward the wall off it and usually within 2 inches of some sharp corner to land on.

If there’s a surface he can’t get to, he’ll get a large toy complete with wheels to stand on in order to get to it, to climb up on it, to throw himself off toward the wall and usually within 2 inches of some sharp corner or samurai sword to land on.

I’m fairly sure I can’t force him to live in a giant plastic bubble, as somehow that is probably considered inhumane and cruel. (Seriously?) So I just really want to know where the hell I can buy the safety webbing? What sort of spider bit Spiderman in the first place and would I be completely off my nut if I considered getting one to bite him? I mean if it results in him getting the safety webbing to ensure that he’s going to leap from thing to thing and stay in one piece that would be totally responsible right? I’m only trying to do the best for my son, he’s really freaking me out. Either way, all my worst case scenarios that are constantly going through my head every jaw dropping leap suggests that one of us is very likely going to end up in hospital. Either him with a broken something, or me having a heart attack.

He’s the only child I thought I should probably buy one of those child leashes for- and did- but he just sat down on the ground and challenged me to drag him along the street within two minutes of walking. Smart kid. Of course I’m claiming those genes in him, obviously. I don’t even know what to do anymore, or what I should do, or need to do, or want to do. In fact all the to do’s are gone and my brain has been replaced with just a panic button. I don’t really know how to do anything but that anymore, it’s all getting a bit too Evil Knieval for my liking.

I’m going to check eBay for some webbing. I’m also going to look into the giant plastic bubble idea just as, you know, a back up plan. I think I might just get away with it if I can get him to sign a legal document stating that it’s a completely personal lifestyle choice for him.

Yes….yes that might do the trick.

Lock up your girls! We all know chicks are a sucker for a rebel.

Lock up your girls! We all know chicks are a sucker for a rebel.

Hijacked by Pirates and still no Johnny

Hijacked by Pirates.

Hijacked by mother freaking Pirates you guys.

There are times in a girl’s life when getting hijacked by Pirates sounds really hot. I’m not entirely sure why a ship load of smelly men with barrels of rum would seem appealing, but I’m not going to deny that the feathered hats and swanky boots don’t do it for me. There’s nothing quite like a man being manly in feathers and begging to check out yer booty.

So I’ve had a lot of time to mull this over, so what?! Stop judging me.

However it has come to my attention, since getting hijacked by Pirates well over a year ago, that the whole thing just didn’t live up to any of the expectations that I had in mind. There was absolutely no rum, rope or walking the plank involved at all. Ok there was rum, but it wasn’t supplied by the Pirates. No one got me the cute off the shoulder Pirate top and corset I asked for, which I would have looked awesome in by the way. I never even scrubbed a single deck. In fact, it was all a bit minus the Yo ho ho and more I’m declaring mutiny on this ship unless you give me my freakin’ blog back.

I can’t even begin to tell you about the therapy I don’t need now on account of this whole Pirate hijack being a complete disappointment. You have no idea.

So the first time I became aware that the blog was being held hostage, was the day I came to write a post and saw a picture of a couple of guys with machine guns. Machine guns, whoa. There was a bunch of words relating to some political statement about how they rock and somebody else’s Mama sucks, instead of the usual weird stuff on Artistically Nuts. It was such a powerful message that I completely forgot what it was. Way to go Middle East political movement guys, your message was read loud and clear in four languages and was a complete waste of your time. Somebody give these jerks a golf clap!

Since Pirates do not sport machine guns, like ever, the first Artistically Nuts hostage take over bid was just to advertise about an extremist group operating somewhere really super secret, for reasons I am still not sure about since there was no recruiting page or anything. So it wasn’t to gain any new members, it was just bragging rights. Huh. I guess it’s cheaper than a billboard?

I think that finally these guys realised that there wasn’t anything happening with all their free advertising here and I managed to shove them off the blog and get rid of their photos of them with their super spiffy Nerf machine guns. I figured that was that, we could get back to blogging about more useful stuff like my lady undercarriage situation, which was a lot more dire than a foreign gang war. Obviously.

But just when I thought that I’d gotten rid of my problem, those damn machine gun wearing dip-wads sold me off to actual Pirates.

Holy Mother of shiver me timbers.

A few days after being lured into my false sense of security, thinking I’d got one over on the extremists, I came on the blog to fluff things back up. Right there in front of my eyes was a picture of a Jolly Roger and a sign that said “You’ve been hijacked by the Pirate Crew” I could feel it right there in my bones, these guys were the real deal. They had a Jolly Roger and everything. I had to come up with another plan, I had to be much more savvy against real Pirates. I had to think on my feet and start scheming.

I had to get completely wasted on Rum.

How the hell I was going to get rid of a crew of real Pirates was something that my Worst Case Scenario handbook didn’t cover. In fact, it turned out I had given that Worst Case Scenario handbook to my Father as a Christmas present many years ago and thus I never actually owned it myself anyway. Either way I was screwed. I started looking through my files in my file manager (thankfully I hadn’t been locked out of there by the Scallywags) and noticed that the Pirates had renamed one of my photo files “XXX”. That’s when I knew I wasn’t just dealing with ordinary pillage and plunder Pirates here people, I was dealing with

Porn Pirates.

Oh. My. God. I didn’t even know real life Porn Pirates existed. I had no idea this was a situation I could ever even encounter in my life. Was I meant to prepare for a porn Pirate hijack when I started the blog? I didn’t know. I had no answers, so I started to think really hard about the entire situation I was in and put all the pieces together. That dear readers, was when it all made sense. That’s when the light bulb went off and I realised

I was about to score naked pictures of Johnny Depp.

This was fast becoming the luckiest damn thing to ever happen to me in…..well ever. Artistically Nuts was suddenly going to shoot off the charts in readers, my blog was going to become the hottest and most read blog in the history of any other blog, in the history of the internet. History of the internet people. This was huge. I couldn’t breathe. It all made sense. It was all coming together. I had watched enough Murder She Wrote to put two and two together and there was no other conclusion. Pirates could only mean Captain Jack Sparrow, which leads to Johnny Depp, which gets us back to the XXX files, which leads to Porn, which leads to naked pictures of Johnny Depp on my mother freakin’ blog. There was only one thing to do, I had to be patient and since I am absolutely crap at doing that
I had to get completely wasted on Rum……again.

So I waited, for so long I started growing armpit hair and leg hair which got to the point that little tribal people moved in. Nothing was happening. After many months of waiting, begging, pleading at the porn Pirates to please, oh please put my naked photos of Johnny up on my blog, but not a single picture arrived. I checked everyday, sometimes so much so I could swear I got a glimpse of Johnny but I suspect now that was due to the scurvy. The desperation set in, at this point I’d have settled for a pic from a mobile phone of Johnny in cycling shorts. Can’t you people at least deliver me a pic of him in CYCLING SHORTS!? I wasn’t even being demanding, morale was running low and I started to plan out my mutiny.

That’s when I was forced into Googling really technical stuff in order to steal back my own blog. There was hours of work involved typing all that crap, those are hours I will never, ever get back. Somehow, through universal cosmic order and some weird loophole that I must have stumbled upon, I reclaimed my blog back from the porn Pirates and began the process of restoration. It was tough going, it took a lot of coffee, swearing and bashing my head against the keyboard (which actually helped at a few key moments, don’t ask). So here I am back to the old Artistically Nuts (with a new logo) and the only thing missing are the photos those jerks stole from me and never replaced with my naked pics of Johnny.

So what was the freaking point in that porn Pirates? Was there some sort of thrill I’ve missed in stealing my pictures? Were they sold on the black market for Rum or what?!

So far, I still have no answers. But most importantly, I was forced into the extreme disappointment of not seeing Johnny Depp naked or even sporting spandex. So, in order to make this wait worth something and to at least bring some light into your lives and mine, I’ve taken to googling the closest thing I could find.


You’re welcome you guys. It’s the least I could do to spare you the horror that is waiting for the porn Pirates to deliver it. Those guys are a bunch of selfish bastards.

 

I hope your ship sinks in the middle of the damn ocean by a bunch of internet geeks you selfish porn pillaging jerks!

 

On a side note, it’s good to be back. Someone get the coffee on will ya?

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