While I’m In Trouble I Might As Well Wear The Hot Pink Tights My Husband Hates

The following conversation occurred multiple times this week.


Roscoe “You know it’s Father’s Day this weekend?”


The Great Unwashed indignantly “Yes.” Even though I had completely forgotten but sometimes I like to be the reasonable one who is always right for a change.


Roscoe “Don’t forget to call or do something for your Dad.”


The Great Unwashed “I already have something planned.” I didn’t but Roscoe has a habit of picking out the perfect gift months in advance then wrapping it up beautifully on the anniversary/birthday/holiday in question and I wanted him to think that for once I had too.


Roscoe “Don’t forget that your Dad is leaving Friday so you need to do it before then.”


The Great Unwashed in an aggravated tone “I know!”


So this conversation happened a couple of times this week. As I hadn’t actually mentioned my made up gift once, Roscoe came to the correct conclusion that I didn’t have anything. This led to more reminders, which led to more white lies on my part.


Hence I might have been really embarrassed and in just a hint of trouble for forgetting yet another occasion last night when my Dad called to tell me he was about to leave the country for two weeks and wanted to say he loved me and would miss me on Father’s Day. However luckily I had gone to bed at eight so the call went straight to voicemail. Roscoe left for the States early this morning so he didn’t hear my cursing when I listened to the message from my dad. I have exactly four hours to sort out something a gift before Roscoe returns.


My Ideas For A Father’s Day Card And Gift So far




I love you so much that my deep affection is so entwined with my being that I forget that it exists and therefore forget to acknowledge it.






Dear Dad,


Once upon a time you forgot me at a Garden Store. This year I forgot Father’s Day- shall we call it even?






Dear Dad,


I’m a bad daughter, you should probably trade me in for a new one.  I’d go for a less disorganized model.






Dear Dad,


England, Ireland  or wherever you are going celebrates Father’s Day in September. In keeping with the customs of the country you are visiting we’ll celebrate then.


This may be a complete lie. Also I’m sorry that I can’t remember the country you’re travelling to.



Although it appears that the child is the one having the most fun, what you cannot see is the joyful smile of the forty year old man who spent three hours in the hot sun assembling this fantastic gift. Photo Courtesy of gcnexus.com

Although it appears that the child is the one having the most fun, what you cannot see is the joyful smile of the forty year old man who spent three hours in the hot sun assembling this fantastic gift.
Photo Courtesy of gcnexus.com

Dear Dad,


Once we bought you a giant trampoline for Father’s Day. You never once used it. It was a pretty selfish gift. I decided to do one better this Father’s Day and not buy anything for either you or myself. You’re welcome.






Dear Dad,


My only talent as a daughter lies in my creative writing ability. I hope you enjoyed this belated Father’s Day post. I love you. Always






Roscoe has returned from the States with a shiny new stethoscope. While he was gone I thought of two ideas for a Father’s Day gift- golf clubs and a new fishing reel.


It’s unfortunate that my father doesn’t golf or fish.


The wall.

I’m going to put on my new hot pink tights that Roscoe hates, text my Dad a link to this post and then own up to the fact that I didn’t have anything planned.


Hopefully my tights will be so loud that Roscoe won’t be able to hear the sound of me forgetting yet another holiday.


NEWSFLASH ! The Great Unwashed is No Longer About Weird, Funny Incidents But About Talking Smack About Diana

I’ve been writing for almost a decade now, and it’s only been through much encouragement from various family and friends that I was finally able to leap that last hurdle and start a blog online. As opposed to starting a blog offline, which is normally called a journal. Anyway, so last night I telephoned my sister to tell her that I had started a blog, was immensely excited and that I was releasing it to our friends and family in four days. To which she replied “That’s great! Although I’m going to have to be honest, I don’t think I’m going to read it. I’m with Granddad, your writing is a little too weird for me.”

Thus I have an announcement to make, this was going to be a blog about my daily life and anything funny I could come up with but seeing as Diana has told me that she isn’t going to read it, I’m going to change the focus to “A blog that talks smack about Diana”.

So here we go. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m new at this smack talking thing.

Diana has a lot of brown hair, much like the brown bears that live in B.C. She also sleeps a lot, kind of like a hibernating bear. And she says that she never knows what’s going on much like hibernating bears  who are terrible at replying to invitations or emails in the winter. She also hates chicken and enjoys eating fish, but doesn’t know how to cook it just like brown bears, who just eat fish raw from streams.

Or possibly, this blog will just be about random things, because when push comes to shove, I’m really not very good at the whole “smack talking” thing, in fact the above paragraph makes very little sense. But I’m pretty sure that Diana will read my blog now just to make sure I don’t compare her to woodland creatures.