I should start blogging again.

Jaz said that I should probably start blogging again. I have a feeling he has never read any of my entries and he has no bloody idea what I've been going on about. My guess is he is probably, most definitely, sick of my running commentary on every single thing and clocked that my verbal diarrhoea re-surfaced each time I come away for too long.

Poor man. He has no idea that my desire to bludgeon people with blunt objects has got fuck all to do with my menstrual cycle. No idea at all. I just time my verbal assault to fit that time of the month so that I behave like a fully-functional woman, all stereotypically-pre-menstrual-y and stuff.

I came away to have a baby, just in case you're wondering, if you're not on my personal Faceshet account. He's three months old now. A slobbering little lunatic. He has yet to showcase the full extent of his lunacy but if Genetic Make-Up is a proven fact then I am sure some of mine and Jaz's would spill onto his person's personality. He is an amazing cuddler when he is not trying to force himself awake by spasming violently and planking. Amazing little human being with his own brand of Eau du Bebe Sick. Oh how I love him and his little sticky-outy ears and grabby Monkey Boy toes. Love. Every time I stare at him sleeping I get filled with love for the spit-encrusted baby. And then he will usually violently jerk himself awake, be extremely annoyed that he fell for that jiggy-bounce trick again and moan. Then, I will just look at him and think 'Oh, you silly little gibbon'. That was the toned-down version. Days on end of not enough sleep and what comes out of both my mouth and Jaz will make you question our characters.

So yeah... I will be back. But don't you worry. I won't be posting any of those Elf on the Shelf shite or Mummy and Baby Craft bollocks.

Until then, have a Happy Festivus, Restivus Pastafarians. Hope you attended Mass at the Church of The Flying Spaghetti Monster and properly aired your grievances at dinner.