Time Out


Mr F has his best buddy coming to stay this weekend so I guess there’ll be some Guy Stuff going down. PSA levels discussed, electric sanders compared, tennis games of yesteryear revisited. I don’t want to get in the way so I thought I’d go off and do some Girl Stuff. The question is, what?

Christmas shopping? Get a fish pedicure? See a movie no self-respecting man would watch? Actually there’s nothing on that I want to see. Not a thing. I don’t very often regret not having a television but Jonah Goldberg’s excellent critique of The Walking Dead has made me rather wish for one this week. I peeked at the trailer and it looks craptastic. In the event of your being genuinely worried about a zombie attack it contains every uh-oh movie cliche you can name. As one wise-ass remarked, sensible people don’t get in the car and head for downtown Atlanta even when zombies aren’t on the loose.   

So anyway, I guess I’ll go for a mooch round the shops, try on a few dresses I’ve no intention of buying and then allow myself to be taken out to dinner. And I would just like to clarify that there is absolutely no significance in the fact that my husband and his friend Frank appear in this blog alongside the Undead.  Au contraire.

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