Blogging, Dentists, Wii-ing and Grifting

I imagine it would have been sensible to start my blogging career by telling you why I decided to start a blog. The short answer : I'm not really sure. The longer answer is that a facebook friend of mine got a blog. I stupidly asked Mr B "what is this blogging business all about?" and somewhere between the scrubbing of the bathroom and the Nandos-instead-of-eggs-for-dinner, he set up a blog. For me, not for him. Isn't he just the kindest thing? The moral of the story is : if you want an answer to a question (which isn't going to get you into bother), ask Google and NOT your other half. And yet, despite my ever growing confusion about this blogging business, I am still writing it. Go figure.

Today was not a great day. I had to go to the dentist and, let's be honest, (unless you are some kind of sadist), no-one likes going to the dentist. So, I dutifully spent about fifteen minutes this morning brushing my teeth (until they squeaked with cleanliness) and then chewed my way through two packets of Wrigley's Extra at work. I am sure my colleagues think I am demented. It was semi-successful. I have a follow up appointment but only for x-rays and a scale and polish. On the negative side I discovered that I have a filling which I was not at all aware of. I find this somewhat disturbing as I am sure I must have been there when it was put there...

At home (after seeing some rather horrific pictures of me resembling some kind of whale on a work night out)I decided to get on the Wii Fit and do some exercise. Bad move. I have not been on the Wii Fit for precisely 36 days, a fact which the goody-two-shoes was only too happy to point out. It then proceeded to give me a tip that I should exercise more often. Honestly, the cheek!! And if that wasn't enough, when I stepped onto the board, it had the audacity to say "ouch". Let's be honest, it might as well have shouted "you fatty" and had done with it.

Following this, a frittata for tea (because apparently eggs are acceptable for weekday tea, just not for Sunday dinner) and episode two of the new series of Hustle, I decided to try my hand at grifting. Nothing serious, you understand (I have no desire to get myself arrested for exaggerating things on a blog), just a little fun with Mr B. Having discovered that he polished off my Galaxy chocolate whilst I was sleeping my life away (in the aforementioned drug-induced coma), I hatched a cunning plan to get more chocolate. It went something like this:

Me: "You ate all my chocolate"
Mr B: "I only ate two strips"
Me: "And the strip you ate before tea"
Mr B: "Well that's only three strips"
Me: "Well that's half the bar"
Mr B: "There's more than six strips of chocolate in a big bar"
Me: (bluffing) "Yes, there's seven"
Mr B: (flustered) "No ... There can't be. I didn't eat half a bar ... I didn't"
Me: "Are you sure about that?"
Mr B: (whilst putting his shoes on) "Yes, I'm going to get another bar to prove you wrong"

This was followed by a stomp up the street and a swift return with chocolate (and, even better, two small bars because they didn't have a big one, so he has no idea how many strips are on a big Galaxy bar. Neither do I for that matter.)

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.