Tribal Wives Christmas Sweater Set Edition

London City Mum recently asked me where the hell is Baltimore? Don't worry LCM, I'm not offended. I had no bleedin' idea either before I got here! Well it's a one hour drive from DC and three from NYC. LCM also tagged me to write about the local womenfolk, the Tribal Wives so to speak, in my vicinity. She also asked for photos. Yes she's one demanding bitch.

A bit of info for you lady. Baltimore is divided into Baltimore City and Baltimore County. Now the city bit has quite a few problems with poverty and is also inhabited by the sort of colourful characters documented in the movies of Baltimore native John Waters. Unfortunately I live in Baltimore County which is pretty dull but has good schools. But back to Baltimore City - it certainly has some colourful fruitcakes and since I attract wierdos like the plague I've drunk cocktails with most of them. And if you want photos then okay, here goes.

Hey did anyone ever tell you you look like John McEnroe?

Here's me looking fab in pink at an 80s party (I was off duty). Off duty from what you might ask? Well I don't like to brag but I'm actually an Officer for the Baltimore Fashion Police.

Here's me during a spell at the Fashion Police checking for VPL violations (Baltimore City branch).

As you can imagine I am also kept pretty busy around Baltimore County in my capacity as Fashion Police Officer. Most of the women at the school gates are cookie cutter drones in pastel coloured jogging shorts and I have made quite a few arrests for 'having zero individuality' and 'wearing a baseball cap back to front.' But at Christmas all that changes. Pale green shorts are replaced by godawful Christmas sweaters, indeed, The Mummy Tribe where I live could best be described as the Christmas Sweater Set. Now I've no idea why anyone would want to pull a picture of a reindeer and grinning Santa over their bosoms at Christmas but apparently that is the American way. And if you want a funny story about this here's something that happened a few Christmases back:

So, Friday night, my daughter Scarlett says can she go caroling with a group of her friends. As soon as I discovered that I would not have to supervise the event I said, yes, of course. So I take her to a house nearby with what passes for normal decorations, even in middle class suburbia i.e: a see through plastic snow globe the size of a man, with a dancing penguin inside, piped music playing So Here It Is Merry Christmas and two human sized blow up Snoopy's wearing Santa hats balanced perilously on the roof.

Anyway, the mother who answers the door was crying out for me to make an arrest on behalf of the Fashion Police. I was going to say: "I am arresting you on three counts of screaming fashion disasters, namely 1. knitted red headband with snowflakes on it holding back hair 2. earrings shaped like Christmas baubles 3. red sweater with glittery bits and reindeer motif." But it was Christmas so I let it slide. Instead I said, "Is it all right if I just drop Scarlett off for the carolling party?"

"Oh?" said Baubles with a frown. "So you're not coming? I think it's going to be great fun."

"Yes, I'm sure it'll be fun, but ..." mind scrambles for an excuse.

Baubles peers at me as I notice screaming fashion disaster 4. bright red lipstick on a ruddy slightly chapped face. "Actually, you look a bit ill," she says. "Are you ill?"

The cheeky cow! No, I was not ill, but that was obviously the only excuse that was going to get me out of this. So I said, cough, cough, "Yes actually, I do have the flu, so I'd best be off. Don't want to infect the kids you know!" and hastily shoved Scarlett in the door.

When I got home I noticed that my husband was dressed in a suit and a wine red shirt and looked pretty damn hot if I do say so myself. He was going to his office Christmas party later which I wasn't going to. Later, when he went to pick up Scarlett, he told me that some of the mums had been drooling over him.

"I suppose it was because I was dressed up nice while their much older husbands were lolling about, guts straining against festive sweaters."

"No doubt," I said.

I suppose I should be pleased that I am living with the hottest bit of man meat in suburbia. But I'm not, because I'm a miserable sod.

I wonder if some of these desperate housewives will start popping round with the excuse of wanting to swap some great new cookie recipe when actually just wanting to ogle my husband?

For a laugh, I asked him if he'd do any of those mums, but he said he wouldn't because none of them are attractive enough. But I think what was really putting him off was those sweaters. Go on, I dare any of you to get aroused thinking about a man or woman in one of those godawful sweaters. See, you can't do it can you?

And now, do visit other hilarious Tribal Wives insights like Vix's Tribal Wives rules of survival for Britain, Misssy M and London City Mum or this hilarious piss take of mommy bloggers by Readily A Parent.

And now I'm gonna tag Mrs Woog and The NDM because I'm desperate for an expose of Australian housewives - warts and all. Lori has already got the ball rolling on that front with her cheeky expose of Yummy Mummies in the Leafy Sydney 'Burbs