This one is special. One - because my daughter actually took some photos. And two - because so did my son. I've thrown in one of mine as well just because it's ridiculous. But still - 45 photos on the camera - of which many are awful means there were enough pictures for you all to marvel at. We do this for you. You're all we think about.
Let's crack on shall we.
My daughter took this one. At least my son doesn't look he's just waltzed home still half-drunk at 9am. He does though look like suspiciously smug Almost as if he's just crapped in her bed and she doesn't even know about it yet.
There's something kind of cult-ish to this in my view. It's almost as if the tiny robots are letting us all know someone or something comes to that window at night.
Here's my contribution. I mean look at her. We play a game she calls Couch Catcher. In which she splays out like a starfish and I am to land the ball on her bellybutton so that she can win the most points. I took this photo because those pants don't fit her. So in true comedy fashion she does them up and the button pops open like she's just eaten two fat helpings of Thanksgiving dinner. As far as the game goes though - it's got a very convoluted points system. She started off just arbitrarily handing out millions of points to herself and deducting them from me for the most trivial reasons. Actually in our first game this conversation happened -:
Me: Ha! I caught the ball I win a point!
Daughter: Actually no. If you catch the ball I win a point and you lose an arm!
Another nice piece of artwork from my daughter. She says this is her mother and I as birds. I guessed that was her mother on the right because it looks like it's wearing lipstick - but I checked the actual picture and they both look like that. So I asked her and she said I'm right because the one on the left has it's bum stuck up in the air. Thanks honey.
There was a short-lived TV Heaven, Telly Hell - on which Bill Bailey gushed so effusively about David Byrne that Sean Lock asked him if he'd let him bugger him. Well - take that level of adoration and multiply it by a hundred and you come somewhat close to how jazzed about Halloween my daughter is. She absolutely adores it. This though is a hanging decoration her grandmother got for her. There's also a vampire one.
Here's part of it too - the kids have been given an entire display cabinet to put their decorations in. Which includes what looks like a massive dildo-ghost candle. That red thing isn't it's nose either - it's licking it's lips with a massive red tongue. Obscene and not even hiding it.
This is the first photo my son took for this blog. He really seems to have matched the tone quite well.
And this is one of me my daughter took. I was considering removing my pedo-beard when she took this. I didn't though. The wife goes out of town again tomorrow for a few days so I thought I'd keep it to frighten off the hordes of available women in the village.
These things freak me out. They're Zoobles. My daughter got them as a gift. Just out of interest we were at a store that sold them so I thought I'd take a look. One - the price of each one made my heart sad. Secondly - the one we looked at had the number #171 on it. Yeah - there are hundreds of them. They truly seem like the sort of thing crazy old ladies and crazier middle aged men collect than a kids toy.
My son's latest thrift-store find. 50 cents it was. I saw this in the local consignment store for $10. I have no idea why kids are supposed to get these (I've been told it's something I - as a foreigner - couldn't possibly understand - which was pleasantly xenophobic) but for 50 cents you can't go wrong.
My daughter says that she thinks these are special scissors her mother has for cutting her on her legs. Well there's testimony for you. Her mother may not read this at all before she goes out of town so I'm enjoying the idea that she may not get to find out that all you people now believe she has hair like a Wookie's armpit until Friday.
Yes that is an AM radio wrapped in a pair of my old underpants. Judge away. I don't care.
And the last photo you get is also by my son. He doesn't understand you have to point the lens up so there are about fifteen photos of a boy's foot. I must say I'm really looking forward to that new strata of Google-freaks being sent here....