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NiftyFiftyShades

~ Failed Domestic Goddess

NiftyFiftyShades

Monthly Archives: April 2016

Finding The One

26 Tuesday Apr 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Etiquette, Humour, lifestyle, Midlife, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

family, funny, Love, midlife, women

The institution of marriage is a serious business and should never be enterprised lightly or wantonly according to my good friend Mrs. Mills.

A report in yesterday’s Dail Mail claims that an algorithm has been developed to find Mr. Perfect.  Whisky Tango Foxtrot!!

image.jpegWhat to look for in a man? Brave, intelligent, suave, sophisticated, thoughtful, kind, handsome, funny?  Wrong, solvent, hygenic and not afraid of the odd bit of housework .   Find a man who can keep you in the style you would like to become accustomed to who doesn’t have his own personal odour.  Forget GSOH or SWM, when placing your personal ad in The Farmers Journal include HLOD(has loads of dosh) and DS (doesn’t smell).

As an expert on such matters, I feel it’s my duty to share other qualities often overlooked when it comes to choosing your man.  No need to resort to dodgy matchmaking sites making dubious claims while charging an arm and a leg.  Neither internet or algorithms have a place in cupids plans.  Ignore my counsel at your peril.  My advice has over the years prevented many an unsuitable attachment

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  1. imageYou may need a measuring tape for this one. A man may be judged on the length of his sideburns. Sideburns should never exceed 4 cm in length.    I recommend carrying a small ruler or measuring tape on your person on first dates. Immediately discount any potential suitors overstepping the mark. When it comes to the sideburn rule, all severities in (even Bridget has to ask Mark Darcy to reconsider the length of his sideburns).

 

 

image2. The correct level of forgetfulness. A man should never remember anything you say, but still retain the ability to remember anniversaries and birthdays.

 

3. The perfect man should suffer from body dysmorphia, when it comes to his partner that is. He will always view you as ‘a mere slip of a thing’, regardless of your weight or size. The words ‘fat’, ‘chubby’, ‘stout’, ‘well rounded’, ‘child bearing hips’ will never pass his lips. These words will simply fail to exist in his vocabulary.

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image4. A man should never let the side down on the dance floor. The ability to tango or quick step should be held in the highest esteem. This shows an innate talent to interpret and communicate feelings through the physical form. Word of warning though, draw the line at sparkly unitards if your man is over the age of 24. Mr. Fifty loves nothing more than to start the day with an invigorating foxtrot.

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5. A man should be able to hold his whiskey. This comes in useful if you’ve had more than a few ‘lemonades’ and need a steady hand to guide you home.   If just doesn’t work if both you and your partner are a bit on the wobbly side.

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image6. A man should never indulge in excessive grooming. Anything more than a haircut every 6 weeks is vulgar excess.  Remember, the entire household grooming budget is for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

image7. Never date a man who wears socks with sandals, a clear sign of a deeply disturbed mind.

 

 

 

 

MCDOCEL EC042

OCEAN’S ELEVEN, George Clooney, 2001, © Warner Brothers

7. If your suitor answers to last name Clooney, first name George, discount numbers 1, 4,2 and 5 above. Also 3 and 6. He’ll do just fine.

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Some ideas for personal ads?

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Inner Poise

20 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Beauty, Humour, Uncategorized

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Tags

Etiquette, funny, women

imageDo you feel angry more often than you should?

Do you sink into despair simply because it’s Monday, or let a bad hair day ruin your life?

What you need is inner poise.  Mere mortals may seek to attain this most elusive of traits, but to a true domestic Goddess its second nature.  Inner poise is about self respect, class, appreciation, etiquette.

 

 

Follow these simple guidelines to help you cope with the trials of everyday life. Watch how it brings joy and sunshine to everything you touch.

 

imageEnsure chocolate levels are kept up.  I recommend 500g of chocolate or two Walnut Whips daily.

 

 

 

 

imagePractice wearing a crown.  A tiara will do if you can’t get hold of the crown jewels.  I recommend you begin with walking around the house, carry out your normal housecraft wearing your crown before attempting to venture outdoors.  This will ensure excellent posture, a prerequisite to inner poise.

 

 

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Acquire a pet.  Preferably a poodle which adds a touch of style and glamour to your disposition.  It has the added benefit that you won’t have to shake hands with any local riff raff you may encounter while going about your business.  A snarling pooch will keep unwanted approaches at bay.

 

 

 

 

imageTake a yoga class. A guaranteed shortcut to inner poise, while meeting interesting people.

 

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Dress impeccably, remember less is more.

extreme-ironing

 

Embrace adventure.  Try extreme ironing if you haven’t already.  I’m not exactly sure why this helps to develope inner poise, but it works for me.

 

 

 

image.jpegNever utter the words ‘Um’ Yea’, ‘Hi’ or ‘Yo’.  Acquaint yourself with the terms ‘Hello’ and ‘Yes’.

Always insist that your date picks you up.  A gentleman will always open doors for a lady with inner poise.

bridgetjonesChannel your inner Bridget Jones.  Bridget’s unique brand of grace and poise is an inspiration to all.

imageReply promptly to dinner party invitations, RSVPs or declines. If you can’t attend have a good excuse to hand. I always say “I’m having my pearls restrung”, but “I’m having my toenails curled” or “I’d rather stick pins in my eyes” work equally well.

 

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Ditch the  wine in favour of pink champagne. Never ever drink beer, the drink favoured by the great unwashed, loved by tradesmen everywhere.  Champagne is the drink of smart sophisticates. You may find that the more of it you drink the more inner poise you feel.

 

 

 

My Favourite Swing Coach

12 Tuesday Apr 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Sport, Uncategorized

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Golf

I’m not talking about dubious games involving couples and car keys, but the US Masters which took place this weekend.  You may want to slip into a pair of plus fours and start shouting ‘Fore’ at the tv.  I’m talking golf.

imageFour days of no housework, no cooking, crisps and takeaways for dinner.  A weekend where I hang up my domestic Goddess crown,  normal life suspended while we curl up in front of the TV to worship at the altar of golf.

Is it only in Ireland that people go slightly do-lally?.  An office  ‘Masters Competition’  has been organised by colleagues where you choose 3 players whose combined odds are greater than 100/1.  The winner is whoever has the lowest score when the 3 results combined.  Fantasy Golf in the newspapers, another Masters competition among family and friends, not to mention trips to Paddy Powers to study form and place bets.    All before the first tee off.

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It wasn’t always so. The only female in a household of four men, I’ve developed a talent for keeping well clear of sports (I took up singing to avoid Monday night Champions league).  But somehow golf is different.

image.jpegI can’t say when exactly my devotion began, I think by osmosis.  If I leave the room while watching The Good Wife, I return to find it magically switched to Sky Sports News while the ads are on. There was no epiphany, just a form of gentle brain washing combined with years of exposure to golf talk.

imageMaybe I was drawn to the sheer beauty of Augusta, although knowing my deeply shallow disposition, it was probably the clothes.  I clearly remember watching ladies golf and loving the cute little pastel shirts with matching check shorts.   Whatever the reason, I can now talk shop with the best of them (I even know what a swing coach is).

golf4This year’s Masters provided the right amount of highs and lows.  Fellow countrymen McIlroy and Shane Lowry had promising starts but fell apart on day 3.  The back nine on the final day is what really sorts the mice from the men and this years didn’t disappoint.  Westwood, one of my favourites, had a chip-in eagle on the par-five 15th to put this former number one within a shot of Willett, only for a bogey on the next and two final pars to leave him short.  Danny Willett, seemed to come from nowhere on the last day to claim the glorious green jacket. .Never mind Rory, there’s always next year.

I wish every weekend could be a Masters weekend. ..

Now, back to being a Domestic Goddess.

golf-augusta

Some strange bets on offer include…

  • What will the winner wear.. Hat -215, Visor +185,  Nothing +1015
  • Will any player make a hole-in-one skipping ball across pond on 16th during Wednesdays practice round..   Yes: +400  No:-725
  • Will the winner of the Par 3 contest win the Masters … Yes: +2250   No: -500
  •  Who will the winner hug first..  Child:+485, Parent: +1015  Wife Girlfriend:+125, Wife holding child:+165, No hug: +1215
  • What meat will be served at the champions dinner.. Beef -125, Chicken +225, Pork +625, No meat  +525.  
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Baggage Carousel Phobia

10 Sunday Apr 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in lifestyle, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Travel, women

imageI’m travelling to Berlin next week. I’m taking carry-on luggage only.

Waiting at the baggage carousel for my case to appear is a major stress factor for me. Like a deranged whacko  I break out in a cold sweat as soon as I hear the motors cranking up, shaking inside I cling to my better half to prevent hyperventilation. My neurosis is well founded. On a trip to Egypt some years ago, I  waited and waited at the carousel in Luxor airport but no case appeared. I still remember the horror of it, the trauma still fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday.

As a present for a significant birthday, my husband booked a trip to Egypt, a luxury river cruise along the Nile from Luxor to Aswan. Visiting many wonderful sights along the way, Philae Temple, Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Karnak Temples, it promised to be a memorable trip. It was of course memorable but for all the wrong reasons.

imageAnticipating opulent old colonial chic I purchased a large new suitcase to accommodate my Nile wardrobe.  New swimwear, expensive sun creams, day dresses, deck shoes, ‘going out’ dresses, my diamonte earrings for sipping Pimms at 6pm (conventional wisdom dictates that one should never wear diamonds before the cocktail hour). You name it, it went in the case. A girl has standards and I had to look the part on my grand tour. We were booked onto a boat called ‘The Romance’ , described as having a sophisticated relaxed ambiance. What could be more perfect. We’re talking classy, none of your tacky cruise cabaret here.  A packed itinerary would ensure I got to show off even my floral tea dresses (afternoon tea would be served on deck at 4pm daily). I had the correct attire for any occasion even if like Agetha Christy I was called upon to solve the odd murder.

The case, way too heavy was placed to one side by the check-in lady with a big ‘HEAVY’ sticker plastered on top, beside the turquoise ribbon tied to the handle for easy identification. Off I skipped to the duty free, happy to unencumbered by a huge case.

I was beside myself at the other end, when no case was forthcoming. I anxiously searched as each person picked out their luggage, growing more agitated by the second, until finally the conveyer belt creaked to a halt. No turquoise ribbon in sight. The coach to bring us to the boat was waiting outside, while all tried locating my treasure chest. Eventually, after much form filling, I boarded the bus to glowering stares by the other passengers who were kept waiting.

imageWe arrived to the boat late at night ready to set sail at 10am the following morning. The next morning I put back on my crumpled clothes I’d worn travelling the day before. My shoes were not suitable for any grand tour. I looked around the boat, bereft at the sight of a pool on deck and me with not a bikini or swimming togs to my name. Baba, one of the porters working on deck felt sorry for me and insisted on taking be shopping before the boat sailed. I was about to hit the high street in Luxor. Suddenly feeling more optimistic, “I’ll pick up a bikini and flip flops as well as a couple of dresses”.

Well, not exactly, the city centre was crammed with tuk tuks flying about the busy streets. All women wore full black burka’s. Baba took me to his cousin’s shop called ‘Santa Clause’, the only shop selling Western clothes. On the one rail of available non burka clothes, I chose a couple of pairs of linen trousers, and 4 tee shirts. The trousers didn’t fit and the tee-shirts made from industrial strength thick cotton. The thickness of the cotton designed to protect my modesty.  Still, beggars can’t be choosers. No bikini’s, no kaftans, no sun hats, not a flip flop in sight. ‘Santa Clause’ wasn’t exactly baring gifts. No sun glasses, no makeup… I could go on.

Next stop, a shoe shop and Baba’s other cousin. Not really a shoe shop more of a plastic sandal shop. Cheap plastic bejewelled sandals that cost two pounds.

‘She needs knickers’, my esteemed companion whispered to Baba. This is not a simple matter. Nether garments must be kept under wraps, modesty prevents shops displaying such shameful items. I was taken down an alleyway to the side entrance of a dark shop. More cloak and dagger whispering, then many many boxes produced. The first box, peach frilly nylon was all that was on offer but that clearly wouldn’t do. As each box was opened, the same peach frills appeared. Despite the appearance of choice, there was none. So peach nylon it was. ‘7 pairs please’.

I returned to the boat with my purchases (which set me back a total of 28 quid).

For the next 7 days I traipsed around every Egyptian monument and temple in my plastic footwear, I belly danced in my cotton tee-shirts and in spite of everything, had an absolutely wonderful holiday. Actually, it was kind of liberating not to have to care about dressing up.

I would not want to repeat the underwear experience. The nylon was stiff and scratchy, and had tiny leg holes. I clearly remember suffering pins and needles when the blood supply to my legs was cut off, telephoning home and my sisters laughing themselves sick at my predicament. On the last day, I committed a crime. I’m ashamed to say I littered the Nile, throwing my horrible peach knickers overboard to float away forever.

Bad Trolley Etiquette

06 Wednesday Apr 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Etiquette, Humour, Shopping

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Tags

funny, midlife, parenting, women

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As a mother of three adult students who manage to consume several crates of bananas and many cartons of eggs on a daily basis, not to mention whole boxes of cereal in one sitting (my middle son can munch on a bowl of seven Weetabix while waiting on dinner), supermarket shopping features heavily in my daily schedule in order to keep the larder stocked. Hence, I consider myself an expert on trolley etiquette. I’m talking supermarket trolleys of course, not hostess trolleys, which incidentally I’m also an expert on, but let’s not digress, that’s way too deep and a whole separate blog.

imageFellow domestic Goddesses will be well versed in the intricacies of maneuvering through aisle traffic, but I’ll share my tips with those less informed. Let’s be clear about this, many a woman’s reputation has been ruined on the slip of a wheel or the destruction of an apple pyramid among the aisles of Fallon and Byrne. From extensive observation of supermarket behaviour, I have deduced that men are the root of all evil in the supermarket. All this dithering hither and yon, seeking out preferred items, not knowing their pilchards from their sardines, causing untold mayhem in the aisles, preventing women from sailing through the deli section unimpeded.

imageNo wonder men suffer more accidents when constantly subjected to trolley attack by women. Statistics show that tall, dark, handsome men are particularly accident prone, leading me to suspect the intentions of some.

imageSome younger women are equally misbehaved. On a recent excursion to the supermarket I encountered two young ladies in the pickle aisle taking selfies with the mini cucumbers, trolleys askew (preventing access to the mini gherkins). Such reprehensible behavour, I immediately jumped in, photobombing with a full size cucumber.

 

I think it’s high time I reveal Nifty’s difinitive guide to trolley etiquette.

imageDrive on the left. May cause confusion for visitors outside Ireland and the UK. I’ve written to the minister for Transport on the matter, requesting the installation of traffic lanes and possibly even traffic lights in all Supermarket aisles.

 

Greet people you know with a wave, smiling as you sail on by. If you meet your close friend who relays all the juiciest gossip, it’s perfectly acceptable to hog the aisle. Salacious gossip takes precedence over everything.

Make sure to pick up a fresh haddock, you may need it later.
Don’t stop at aisle intersections. Barge your way through. If you show weakness people with take liberties.

imageIf you reach for your favourite aromatic duck only to find another hand has grabbed it simultaneously, position your trolley to give a sharp prod to the ankles of your opponent. Again, this requires focus. Skilfully quide your trolley back down the adjacent aisle while your opponent is hopping on one foot. This manoeuvre works well for anyone who gets your goat up, young ladies wearing pyjamas, pretentious shoppers who loudly ask for Lobster Gazpacho at the deli counter.

 

Always use the express queue. The item limit is purely a precautionary measure. If challenged by someone behind, simply point at their basket asking loudly “Is that your haemorrhoid cream”.

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If you happen to take a pineapple from the bottom of a pineapple mountain and it results in a fruit catastrophe, quietly retreat backwards to the adjacent aisle. If it’s a banana mountain in disarray, hide behind the next aisle and watch for slippages. A little amusement to brighten your day.

 

 

 

 

imageIf you are in a hurry it’s perfectly acceptable to skip the queue. Simply distract the person at the top of the queue by pointing outside shouting “Is that George Clooney”. At this point you swoop in with your trolley towards the cash desk, unloading your items on the conveyer belt before anyone can object. If anyone does complain, slap them across the face with your fresh haddock. It will usually stun for long enough to allow you to proceed unhampered.

 

Park in the trolley bay if you feel like it.

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Or you might come back to this.

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Take out a subscription to receive the popular magazine Jolly Trolley Today.  I must say a more comprehensive and informative publication on this fascinating topic you won’t find. A must for any domestic Goddess worth her salt.

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Blindness by Blogging

02 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by niftyfiftyshades in Beauty, Humour, lifestyle, Midlife, Personal stuff, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

 

imageOptician:   That comes to  Eur 638.75

Me:             Are they 24 carat solid gold?

Optician :  No

Me:              Are the diamond encrusted?

Optician:   No.

Me:              Have they been hand crafted by nymphs.

Optician:    No.

Me:              Have they been lovingly buffed by French nuns.

Optician:    No

Me:              But they are nice and designery…

Optician:   Yes.

imageMmm!! Which to choose.  Blindness or spectacles

imageMy blog is almost three months old.  It began as a technical challenge, playing about with WordPress, trying different themes, mucking about with plugins, most enjoyable.  Now that I’ve acquainted myself with the wondrous mysteries of the Twitter machine I’m addicted.

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Only problem is, my eyes are sore.  The dreaded day has arrived, I must wear spectacles full time.   I’ve managed until now with glasses just for reading.  I’m perfectly happy to go about my business half blind rather than cave in and wear glasses full time .  It doesn’t bother me one iota if I can’t make out the number of an approaching bus.

Alas, things have taken a sinister turn… headaches, eye strain…this blogging business has left me with ‘tired eyes’ .   I must confess, I’m tempted to choose blindness and headaches over spectacles, vanity over common sense.

imageFocus on the positive..

Glasses suggest intelligence (not geekiness  or nerdiness, no… intelligence).

It’s another way to accessorise, and we all know accessories doth maketh the woman.  I’m thinking cute librarian look.

Will no longer squint to read.

May be mistaken for an Indie rock star  (well, it could happen).

imageGlasses add an aura of mystery, sophistication, serenity.. in manner of Grace Kelly.

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May prevent domestic accidents, like taking your dogs’ worming tablet instead of an indigestion tablet.

May prevent traffic accident ( I think being able to see is a requisite to driving).

Gorgeous George still gorgeous with glasses……

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I  will NOT  focus on the negatives…

Will lose them every 5 minutes, will spend 3 hours daily looking under cushions.

Will think I’ve lost them when still on my head.

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Will sit on them resulting in a tangled mess.

 

 

Will get fogged up every time I stand near the cooker (maybe that’s a plus – excuse to avoid cooker).

Will fall asleep with them on and wake up with indents in my forehead.

May be mistaken for Indie rock star.

imageWill need special goggles if I ever get a sudden urge to take up diving, skiing, bunji  jumping, female boxing,  surfing or even just frolicking in the sea.   However, the alternative view could be to my advantage – ‘sorry, can’t go frolicking in the sea today  –  havn’t got the right glasses’.

No longer blissfully unaware of huge pore situation and other facial imperfections.

 

 

Still not convinced.  Might need some other sort of glasses to help me decide…

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Read about my failings as I muddle through midlife

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