All That's Certain is Death and Taxis AKA 'Baby, you're a firework'

Today it will have been three years since Gran died. We had a bit of a party for her at the weekend where we ate loads of food and danced to 'Get Down On It', which was her favourite song. It was quite nice until Cousin Peter drank too much and started having pretend sex with the teapot. That would have been okay if it had stopped there, but his wife Trisha started making comments about his performance in the bedroom and he threw the dog at her. Luckily she caught it.

As it's been a while now we've started to think about what to do with her ashes, as we can't keep her under the sink forever. It took us ages to dry her out when we had the leak. She's taking up quite a bit of space as she was a big lady, she was 6'3 and 30 stone when she died (she would have been taller but she had that old lady thing where you get a bit crooked and lose a few inches in height) so she's filling up almost half of the Tesco carrier.

Mam wanted to do that thing where they turn the ashes into a diamond and put it into a piece of jewellery which I thought would be quite apt as Gran was always down the pawn shop, and that way she'd still be able to visit. It was a bit more expensive than we thought though and we only had enough money to turn her into a bit of coal, which is apparently only halfway to a diamond. Mam asked if they could turn her into a cubic zirconia instead, so we're still waiting to hear how much that would be.

Cousin Terry wanted to put her into a firework which we thought was a good idea too, but he lost two fingers doing a practice one so we decided not to go ahead with that. It was a massive coincidence, though, the firework he was carrying exploded right on the doorstep of his ex wife's new house. Maybe it was Gran giving him a sign or something.

It was pretty sad but we did all have a laugh at all our funny memories of her, like the time Terry accidentally left her in the taxi, turns out that the funeral director would have come to the house to get her, so Terry needn't have had to paid for a taxi after all. We managed to get her back before anyone realised and she was put into lost property or something. Luckily the taxi driver didn't realise she was dead and when Terry finally caught up said they'd had a great conversation, all about the state of the country today and how no one has any morals these days. Gran would have agreed if she'd been able to, she was all for morals, she was. In fact, she split up with Edwin because he made a racist comment about Mr Khan. Luckily she didn't have to go through an expensive divorce because the fact she was still married to George meant the marriage wasn't legal anyway.

Hola!

Hola!

Please forgive my lack of blogs lately. I’ve been in a Spanish prison for drug smuggling! I know, right!  

It all started when Dawn got us an amaaaazing deal staying at a dead posh place called the Casa de Net a Maracas Hotel.  Two weeks, full board for 99 quids. Apparently tourism isn’t doing too great here at the moment since they banned people from drinking in the street. Total idiots, how else are you going to get even more pissed on the way to the next bar?! Anyway, it was dead ace, the breakfast was all you can eat, although by the second day I was told to limit it to five platefuls which was a bit annoying. The beach was good too, and it was pretty secure, I left my cans of lager on the beach and the next morning they were still there. The opened one was a bit flat but at least no one had nicked them. We met these dead fit blokes on the beach the same day we arrived. They were from Newcastle and one of them’s cousin was friends with someone from Geordie Shore! I love Geordie Shore. If I win the lottery I’m getting my nose done like the girls in it. Like Michael Jacksons nose but more tanned.

Anyway, Dawn copped off with one called Greg and my one were called Sean.  He was so fit, like that actor from Emmerdale, you know that one that says ‘eeh’ a lot. We did it five times that first night, in the pool, on the beach, in the club, although the club shag was only a quickie as they started playing the Macarena and the dance floor got rammed, so we had to move back to our table.  Later on that week I won a dance competition, for ‘best bellydance’ which was good. It’s actually the easiest dance to do as I only need to wobble a couple of times and my belly jiggles for at least three minutes afterwards, all I need to do is move my arms around slightly. 

On the last night we were dead sad about leaving Greg and Sean. I was so depressed Sean packed my suitcase for me whilst I lay on the bed eating chocolate and drinking sangria from the bottle. I’d lost a lot of my clothes due to drunkenly stripping off all over town and forgetting where I’d left them, although luckily one of the hotel staff found my knickers stuffed in the pocket of the pool table, which must have got there when I was playing with some balls. LOL.

Luckily the loss of clothing meant that there was enough room in my suitcase for the souvenir Spanish donkey Sean wanted me to take back for his friend. The postage was too expensive for Sean to send it by airmail but he’d spoken to his friend and he said it was fine to pick it up from mine or Dawn’s in Manchester. That just shows how thoughtful Sean is, he wanted to give his friend a nice Spanish present for his birthday. Most men just say ‘I’ll get you a beer’. Which is okay at first but when you’ve asked for the new Beyonce album, and you just get a pint of John Smith’s it’s a bit shit, especially when you paid for a bargain bucket, two bottles of White Lightening, three Pina Colada condoms AND a box set of Steven Segal films for theirs. 

Anyways, when we got to the airport though the sniffer dogs went mad. I wasn’t too worried at first because as Kev always said, my natural body odour smells ‘beefy’. When they came back from checking my suitcase I was mortified when they said there were drugs. I told them it was all Sean’s doing and it must have been in that bloody donkey, but turned out it was a bag of weed I’d stuffed in the fake hairbun I’d bought from ‘Pound Country’ a couple of months ago.  I’d put it in there for when I did my ‘Peru Two’ smuggling hairband craft video for Youtube.  Kirsty Allsop has made millions from craft so I thought I would have a go, too.  It’s going well, I have fifteen views already, although one of them was me, I think.