Mind Your Language

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellows,

I apologise if I have put the theme tune in your head. You know the one I mean. It went ba ba ba - ba ba ba - BA BA BA - doo-wah - dooby-doo - dooby-doo-WAAAH.

So yeah, sorry about that.

Today Tanvi swore at me. Well, at me AND Lemon, actually. She said, "It's just more shit I have to do."

"You've been sitting near Symon for too long," said Lemon. 

I introduced Steve to the conversation. He is an Englishman and happened to be sitting at our bank of desks. I explained to him that I had been trying to teach Kiwis to swear and asked if he also found lack of Kiwi filth restricting. He agreed that it was. "Especially when it comes to the C-word," he added. 

Then he told a joke about an man who went to a fancy dress shop for Halloween and was given an English rugby jersey. 

"No, no," said says Man in Joke, "I said I want to look like a COUNT."

That made us all laugh because we secretly knew he meant c*nt really. But we're still not allowed to say it.

Lemon then told me there had been some language in her house recently, mainly from her daughter who is having issues communicating with her father.

"It's all his fault," said Lemon. "I mean, what would you say if your daughter bent over and her jeans ripped?"

"Nothing! Obviously," I replied.

Lemon waved a hand. "EXACTLY," she agreed. "But not her father. He was all, 'You're too big for those jeans. That's why they ripped. If you wore a bigger size of jeans that wouldn't happen because you're too big to wear jeans that size which is why they ripped.' He just wouldn't drop it."

Lemon TRIED to tell her partner to shush, but he kept on. 

"Can I borrow some of your jeans, mum?" Lemon's daughter asked.

"Of course!" said Lemon. "I knew they wouldn't fit her," Lemon told me, "but I would never say that."

"YOUR MUM'S JEANS??" echoed Lemon's partner. "YOU WON'T FIT THOSE. YOU'RE TOO BIG FOR THOSE JEANS. YOU'LL RIP THOSE TOO BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BIG FOR THOSE SMALL JEANS."

Lemon looked at her daughter who was now wearing a look of pure unadulterated MURDER on her face. Perhaps her father sensed this and offered some advice.

"You could borrow some TIGHTS maybe," he suggested.

That was it. A supernova of filth. I felt for poor Lemon's daughter.

"I saw her go into my room to get the jeans. And then return them five minutes later," said Lemon sadly.

"What about the tights?" I asked.

"Oh she hates my taste in tights," said Lemon. And if I haven't put this across before, let me re-emphasise that she is a woman of individual tastes. "I have these Rick and Morty tights," she explained. "And I love them because their faces are small on my calves but then BIG and FLAT on my arse. It's so funny."

Because she is more concerned with humour than with glamour, Lemon is one of the most confident women I have ever met, body-image wise. She is completely comfortable with who she is and does not give a shit. It is a shame this has not communicated itself to her daughter.

"It's not always good though," Lemon told me. "Did I tell you about the time my daughter drew me naked?"

I indicated that she had not. 

"Well," said Lemon, "When she was little I picked her up from kindy and noticed all the other kids had pictures of their parents on the wall. But there were none of me. I asked the teacher about it and she went into her drawer."

The teacher pulled out a sheaf of crayon and painted pictures of Lemon. All of them featured nip and bush. "Would you like them for your fridge?" asked the teacher, helpfully. 

Lemon politely declined. 

"It was even worse when I brought her to work with me one day," Lemon told me. "I had to tell my daughter not to draw pictures of anyone. One woman asked me why and I pulled out a picture she'd just done of me."

"That's really quite disturbing," said the woman.

In case you are thinking that we did eff all work today, you'd be 95% right. But then I spent some time training Lemon to use a tool to generate test data. At one point she got stuck.

"So when would I use the 'update' option?" she asked.

I wasn't sure how to answer without being patronising.

"Errr. When you want to update the data?" I suggested.

Lemon flicked me the finger and called me a "Count". 

By George, I think she's got it.

S.

p.s. Today's picture is of Punky doing his thing where he freaks us out staring at things that are not there. But it is funnier if you imagine this is him reacting to the story about the naked pictures.