Standing in the kitchen with shower water still lingering in my ears (just telling you this in case it is relevant to what follows) I was dealing with my first slice of toast when out of the blue my buttering action became much more deliberate and I heard myself growling "real men smear."
Now I admit here and now that living on my own, I am prone to a spot of talking to myself but this morning I found I'd added a new dimension to this sign of mental regression. I was telling myself off for talking to myself. And not in my head either. Oh no I was loudly telling myself off for talking to myself and it went on for some time. I said it was a bad sign and that if anyone heard me I'd be carted off to the loony bin for sure. Then I found I was telling myself off for telling myself off and thankfully at this point I stopped buttering AND stopped talking out loud and went internal.
But the damage had been done and when the buttering resumed on the second slice of toast, another "real men smear" popped out, to be followed by my attempt at the high pitched girly scream uttered by Nathan Lane in the same movie.
Ok if you've never seen "The Birdcage" then not only will most of this post make little sence at all but you've also missed out on one of the best movies of all time.
So there. Not only have I admitted I might be seriously losing it in the kitchen but I've also admitted I love The Birdcage. I just don't care.
Now it's time to enjoy my breakfast.
"Oh God, I pierced the toast !!! "