Can’t talk long, we’re going out to a restaurant later!

As new parents it’ll be one of the few times we’ve been out just the two of us since our 18 month old was born. Yep, that’s the only reason…

I hope my wife doesn’t make me try and bribe the Maître De like Chandler and Monica.

Much like him I’m exceptionally awkward when it comes to informal financial transactions. I just don’t get all the social rules in place, it’s much too complex.

I think this may be why everyone thinks I’m tight.

“The One With the Archaic Washing Line Agreement”

The holidays are continuing and Phoebe’s got Joey a drum set! At least it’ll stop him spending half an hour in the toilet.

What with the drumming, long toilet breaks, (and closet alcoholism) it seems I’m now most similar to Joey!

I hope this doesn’t mean someone’s secretly trying to steal my roommate from me. (My roommate being: my wife).

That’s what’s happening with Joey, as Phoebe’s desperate to get Rachel to move back in with her. Don’t these people have any other friends? Or even a partner to shack up with? Perhaps Phoebe would be better off trying to persuade the man who keeps the pigeons on the roof to leave his wife for her?

Unlike Phoebe, Ross can be forgiven for not having time to make new mates, as he’s finally spending a bit more time with his son. It’s pretty sad that this is the first holiday season they’re spending together… Maybe Ross isn’t the real reason here for all the lack of contact? It’s no secret Carol and Susan aren’t the biggest fans of his.

Sorry, I shouldn’t gossip about my friends like this.

It’s nice Ross has a bit of time to spend with Ben. A chance to teach him about Hanukkah™.

Unfortunately, this boiled down to dressing up as “The Holiday Armadillo” as no other costumes were left. (Probably for the best they didn’t have an orthodox Jewish Rabbi costume given the shows history with racial politics.)

I say unfortunately, but it was actually hilarious. What was weird though is there actually seemed to be some Christmas™ magic going on. The second my daughter saw the Holiday Armadillo she shouted “Ho, Ho, Ho”. HOW DID SHE KNOW?!?

As you can imagine, when Chandler then showed up dressed as the big man himself (Santa) her and Ben lost their shit! It’s a shame I’ve spent three weeks trying to explain to her that Christmas is over…

They weren’t the only ones excited. Monica was a little TOO into Chandler dressed as Santa if you ask me. Imagine him, rolling round on top of you, with his belly like a bowl full of jelly. Stinking of whiskey and reindeer poop. No thank you.

Hang on, what’s all this, why has Joey come in dressed as Superman?

Is this really happening? Or am I dreaming this?! Did I have one too many Baileys over the holiday season?!?

Real Live Sitcom Moment:

Things with the house move are picking up. Our buyer’s come back with all those detailed questions where I have no idea what the answer is.

The weirdest thing they picked up on is, despite fully owning our house and the land it’s on, we’re subject to some agreement made in the 80’s that includes a very very strict rule.

Under NO circumstances are we allowed to hang washing up outside.

I have no idea of the reason of this. Are they worried it’d confuse birds? Did Thatcher think it was indecent for people to have their knickers on display? Is it all some conspiracy involving Big Laundromat??

I must confess we obviously completely forgot about this the second we moved in. And I’d say there’s a good, ooh, two weeks of English summer a year we’ve been drying our clothes outside?

God, I hope we don’t get a visit from the laundry police.

MMMMMmmmmm, Candy.

Monica’s given some out for the holiday season. It caused quite the stir amongst the neighbours and she struggled to keep up with demand!

I was a little surprised when it turned out it wasn’t accidentally laced with something. She really is just that good a cook. I don’t know what I was expecting, it’s not like this is some crazy sitcom.

MMmm, it is delicious. I’ve taken some to my new job.

Or I would have, if a new wave (and a decade of NHS underfunding) hadn’t caused the working from home directive to be reinstated. So it’s been a strange first week, trying to learn the ropes remotely. But it has been remotely interesting.

So far it seems to be the perfect mix of nice, easy, tasks below my capabilities and new things I’m unfamiliar with. It looks like I’ve made the right decision.

 “The One Where I Start a New Job”

Perhaps, like Rachel, I should have got a new haircut for the new job. She’s rocking a great new bob, which I assume wasn’t cut by Phoebe.

She’s also continuing the whole Tag (NOT A NAME) thing. Which is simulteously awful and inappropriate, but also a very popular male fantasy. Or at least it was in the days before Step-Porn swept through the dark recesses of the internet. The most unsettling and unexpected of COVID side effects.

Things are already getting a bit steamy in their office, and Tag (still not a name) had to take the hit for a saucy email which most definitely would have got her fired. I mean, him doing it as a joke would have got him fired too, but he somehow gets away with it. Bloody male privilege.

You know who else is a privileged male? Ross. His kids almost seven and he barely sees him!

Here he is now, last seen nine months ago in an alternate universe. I didn’t notice at the time but he’s looking a lot older than he did two years ago… I don’t mean two years older. More like, five? Weird.

I guess it’s not that odd we hardly see him. This show’s called Friends™ after all. Not “Parents” ™.

(Incidentally, if you want to watch “Parents” ™: it exists, is called “Workin’ Moms” ™ and is frikken excellent.)

Ross has kindly bought Phoebe a bike which is an absolute sight, yet my wife adores it:

Everyone’s surprised when it turns out Phoebe doesn’t know how to ride a bike. Mate, she literally just told you she never had one!

So Ross again stepped in to help her learn. I do love when Ross and Phoebe spend time together. It’s so refreshing. After a wobbly start, he encouraged her to keep trying, as without her to ride it the bike WOULD DIE.

Wait what?? Oh my god. My poor bike, it’s been in the shed with a rusty chain since before the pandemic. Shit. I really hope it’s only in a coma.

Real Live Sitcom Moment:

We had a pretty sedate New Years™ this year. Not as bad as last year, obvs, but a little weird. We spent it with my family but, after the Christmas™ debacle with my own Ben Number One, we didn’t want to commit to the evening. So it was simply a relaxed family afternoon then home for a movie.

My wife went to bed straight after (pregnant) but I decided to see in the countdown with some videogames. I got to 11.45pm before deciding “eh, that’ll do, I’ll send my messages now and go up to bed.”

After last year I’d forgotten one crucial thing, got into bed and put my head on the pillow as the countdown was about to happen. At which point loads of fireworks started going off.

Oh yerh! That’s a thing…

Forty minutes later I finally fell asleep, to a lone drunken man shouting “HAPPY NEW YEAR!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”

Yerh, to you too, mate. You too.

Christmas has come and gone and, after last year’s timing debacle, I’m delighted to say the Friends™ are celebrating Thanksgiving!

We were also able to celebrate properly this year! Allowing some exceptions for new parenting responsibilities (R.I.P. Christmas Eve trip to Reflex™ in Watford…)

So I’m thankful for that. But not as thankful as I am for this:

Rachel’s thankful for something too. Not only is her new assistant round, he’s broke up with his girlfriend! She ponders the question “when is the right time to hit on someone who’s newly single” and Monica replies “if it’s your assistant, never.”

Correct.

“The One With a Bit of Tradition”

It was great to be round the Friends™ apartment for Thanksgiving. Monica ran out of space to cook, and had to go use Ross’s oven. Mate, that’s across the street! Think that food will be cold by the time you get it up all those stairs again.

I would have offered my own oven for her to cook, but we were busy preparing a Christmas dinner for my wife’s buddies. And I’m not sure jetting it over in a Concorde™ would be great for the environment.

They were trying to name all the US states. Err, the Friends™ were, not my wife’s pals. We don’t care so much for American Geography. Ross got a bit obsessed with it, not even eating till he did it. Dude, how can you stand that on a day like this?

On the day itself we had to wait all of thirty extra minutes for Christmas™ lunch at my mother-in-laws. And it was killing me. One thing the baby and I have in common is our moods completely go to shit when we’re hungry.

Now I’m not saying babies ARE like dogs. (Happy to say that I am like a dog…) But you know what else are disasters when they’re hungry? Dogs. And it turns out Phoebe has been keeping one at Monica’s! I think there’s a pretty decent case to be made that Phoebe is the worst flatmate out of this lot.

Also, what the hell kind of name is Clunkers?? Sounds more like a Chicken or a Duck (may they rest in peace).

Chandler hates dogs, and to be fair, I’m not a huge fan either. In my experience they’re either too big, too small, or too loud.

My brother-in-law’s got a Retriever, a breed I used to not mind so much. But seeing it next to my one year old has changed that a little. That thing could eat her WHOLE. I’m not sure cats are any better in this regard. Even now the size ratio of our cat to baby is a constant reminder of Tiger King™. (May Carol Baskin’s husband rest in peace…) But at least the cat and baby can be in the same room without a constant fear of him making a go of it.

This came to fruition over Christmas™ when we went to the park and the dog barrelled over, I was a bit too slow to pick her up, and she got a big old face lick.

OK, maybe not too serious, and she took it in her stride, but man. I do not need that level of fear in my life.

Real Live Sitcom Moment:

If you’ve been reading since the beginning (and if not, why not?) You’ll know that a few years ago I ended Christmas™ by drunkenly watching Bad Santa™ with my other Brother-In-Law.

The following year we attempted to start a tradition by watching the sequel but were thwarted by an ill child.

Needless to say the third attempt was trashed by the pandemic, but this year... This was gona be our year! Nothing could stop us. The curse of the Bad Santa would be broken.

Except, no. Once again, it was not to be. It’s possible no mere mortals can break this curse.

After Christmas dinner we drove to my family’s, for an evening of drinking and games. We planned it to perfection, all staying round so we could get properly Christmas-ed up. The time came to put the kids to bed so the party could REALLY start, ours going down like an angel. But, much like with our attempt to go bowling in the summer, my nephew would NOT play ball. After hours of trying we pleaded with him “will you go to bed here, so we can stay together? Or do you want to go home?”

The little sadist refused, and off they went to their own beds, my dreams of finally watching Bad Santa 2™ (and spending Christmas™ with my entire family) dashed.

Altogether now: At least no one got their head stuck in the Turkey!