The Swear Box...

Don't let me catch you swearing in my house. Not now we have a swear box. Butch, Tim and I were slightly worried by our increasingly casual attitude towards mild cursing. So we decided to put a stop to it by using the timeless Swear Box. We searched high and low for a suitable object to use, and settled on an old whiskey bottle box that I had. I cut a slot for a coin in the top, and we were off. We made a little label for it with masking tape, and I wrote on the white board in our kitchen 'every curse costs you ten pence. Blasphemy costs you twenty pence.'
Rob, the comedian that he is, added a joke about my mom on the Swear Box label, and so the third rule was born: 'Rude comments about mums cost thirty pence'. And the list has grown. Whenever a new rule comes into existence, we create a new label to go on the bottom. To date we have:

The Swear Box
Every curse costs you ten pence...

Your mum cost me ten pence
Rude comments about mums cost thirty pence.

Holy Smokes!
Blasphemy costs you twenty pence.

Swearopoly
The C word - Mayfair - one pound
The F word - Park Lane - fifty pence

If you're in, you're in...
Be you resident, or guest, when you're in the house, the rules apply.

Quote, Unquote
Swearing in the context of a quote, no matter who said or sung it, will result in a fine.

There is also a disclaimer attached to the original ten pence fee on the top that reads:

*Embellishments apply.
Please read all rules thoroughly to avoid disappointment...

Tim suggested that we use a third of the money to help support a tourettes charity; he's found one in Scotland, apparently. Butch thought that it might be a good idea to use the rest to throw a party for the tourettes sufferers that we're helping out. Get them to fill the box up, like...

Although that may be a rather silly suggestion, we're all amazed at the success of the Swear Box. Or are we? It's been up and running for three weeks, and it's got six quid in it. But the past week has been largely fruitless for those poor tourettes sufferers. Butch, Tim and I are operating the rules on ourselves when we're out and about too; the only condition for others is that they have to pay if they swear in our house. We're kind of pleased that we've saved up six pounds, but at the same time, that adds up to a lot of swearing...

I'm back in the class again tomorrow, teaching English. We're looking at defining words, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve for the lesson. I'll let you know how it goes, but secretly, between you and me, I'm quietly confident. The PE/Games/Phys Ed/Gym/Whatever you want to call it class the other day gave me a whole lot more confidence, actually, and I feel ready to take this on tomorrow. I'm certainly not as nervous as I was about my first lesson doing maths. I also have a lot more theory under my belt from college this time, so I feel like I'm better prepared.

My dad and uncle came up last night. My parents are decorating my old room in their house. They say that they want it to be a nice room for Bethany and I to stay in when we're married and we visit them. They thought that she might want something more...carpeted. I say that they don't know her as well as I do... Whatever they do with the room, the result was that they wanted rid of my old bed and wardrobe. This was music to my ears, because I'm sick of the bed that was provided by my landlord. It was just a bed base, with a tired old mattress on it. And my wardrobe was small, flimsy, and the drawers were falling apart. So I got my dad to bring up the bed and wardrobe that they wanted rid of. Superb! Although they are my old ones, and we bought them 8 years ago, I only lived with them for 3 years of that, so they're practically new to me. There's slightly less space in between my wardrobe and my bed now, but there's more room down the side, and I can store boxes of stuff under the bed. There's stacks more space in the wardrobe too. It's brilliant. I think I may move everything around a bit, but I'm going to leave that till Bethany arrives, because we're going to decorate when she's here too.

Speaking of which, I'm going to go to the supermarket. The love of my life arrives in 8 days, and, although I want to make sure that there's plenty of food in so that I can cook for her and she won't starve, I also need to ensure that all the really nice food has already been eaten, so that she can't have any. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Seriously though, I'm going to the supermarket. Then I'm going to cook up a tasty meal, and finish my lesson planning. Then to bed. My nice, new bed...