Left Alone With A Full Moon

dear dave. . . again

2012-02-25T00:57:00.001Z

Dear Dave,

After the last time I wrote to you I was really hoping you would consult me about any future decisions regarding this country you are ~~driving into the ground~~ supposed to be running.

I guess you didn't learn eh ?
What will it take for you to realise that I am always fucking right.

I don't watch the news very often and I refuse to buy the papers as I have no use for propaganda and celebrity gossip, so I haven't been keeping an eye on you.
But today I happened to read one that someone left on the train and what do I see.

Apparently you are colluding with the fucking French.
And you know how I feel about them.
If you don't then maybe you should read this.
Some plan to jointly build a pilotless aircraft with them ? WHAT IS UP WITH THAT ???
Even I, with my limited knowledge of politics know enough about their history to know that they cannot be trusted when it comes to anything to do with war.
How very ironic that the country whose attitude is usually "nothing to do with us...." whenever the rest of the world decides to get involved in a conflict in some godforsaken corner of the globe wants to build the latest in warfare technology with us.

If it's a success they will take all the credit (and no doubt cream off the profits ) and if not we will get all the blame.

And as if that isn't bad enough apparently you have struck some deal with them over nuclear power.
Doing what exactly ?
What the fucking fuck.
The sweetener for us, the British public, is that this deal will mean jobs.
Please tell me you haven't agreed to process all the nuclear waste from the country that has more nuclear power plants then any other ?

Seeing as I'm taking the time and trouble to write to you let me have a brief word about Syria. I understand that you are having meetings about the situation there. Whilst I'm sure the Syrians who are opposed to what is happening in their country appreciate the efforts of anyone who tries to help, I watched a news update the other day where a reporter was showing your picture to the people and none of them even knew who you were.
So what makes you think they are going to listen to you ?

And how can you possibly hope to resolve the situation when there are not representatives from all the different factions involved in the conflict present ?

We all know you're not likely to actually call for a military intervention, there isn't any oil in Syria.
Although I'm sure if you asked your new mates the French they might suggest you hurry up with the new plane so you can bomb the fuck out of the place, just to check it works.
It's not like they're going to let you test it anywhere they have a vested interest in after all.

And before you start telling the rest of the world how to run it's affairs perhaps you need to try and sort out the mess you're making of this country.

I'd like to thank you for listening, but I bet you don't.

the cats whiskers

2012-02-23T23:37:00.000Z

I am what some people call a "cat person".
One day I will be the crazy old bird who lives with thirty and is found dead having been consumed by her own pussy.

Having recently read a couple of pet related posts I thought I'd write one myself.

It's not that I don't like dogs, I would love to have a Jack Russell, but it's not fair to leave a dog alone all day.
I grew to love Jacks because my sister used to have one, she was a grumpy old thing (the dog not the sister) with a worse case of the mentalpause then me but such a character.
Should that be mentalpaws ?
When son was little we sometimes had her for the week-end, and she very quickly learnt the things he did that always caused me to shout at him. The end result being that as soon as she heard him kick his shoes down the stairs she would run out and bark at him before I had a chance to shout.
I learnt to watch the TV for any adverts that had the sound of a doorbell. Because if she heard one I would have to get up and pretend to open the front door to get her to stop barking.

My sister used to make matching hats for her boyfriend and the dog.
(I know what you're thinking, and yeah madness runs in the family).
One day I got chatting to a little old lady at a bus stop who had a Jack Russell and she told me that she had seen the funniest thing while walking her dog on the common. A man and a dog wearing the same hats.
I didn't tell her.

My Dad also has a Jack. Sometimes she wears my glasses.

Meet Daisy, I think she thinks it makes her look intelligent.

A cat doesn't care if you're out all day, in fact a cat prefers it when you are because then it doesn't have to share the bed / sofa / heating with you.
It only needs you to be there to feed it - in fact mine seem to be under the illusion that I only come home because they're hungry since as soon I get in the door I am expected to fill the food dish before I have taken my coat off.

Even if Son came home half an hour before and fed them.

Maybe I should show them this. As a threat.

I think those people who assume that their predisposition to perform tricks means that dogs are cleverer then cats are wrong.
I think it means they are smarter.

And don't feel the need to please or impress anyone, as the world revolves around them since they are the superior species.
Most cats think they are in fact the cats whiskers.
I have known cats that will fetch a favourite toy, and had cats that worked out how to open a door or window, and not just those that involve a push. The cat we had when I was a kid would stand on the bottom bolt of our back door and hook one paw through the handle whilst banging on the catch with the other one, at the same time he would kind of push his weight against the door until it opened.

For weeks my Mum was moaning at me and my sister for leaving the door open.
Until the day she heard it being banged and saw what the cat was doing.

When you want to teach your dog a trick it thinks "I best learn this because it makes my master happy", when a cat wants to learn something (and a cat learns a trick because it wants to - not because you want it to) it thinks "What's in it for me".
And if the answers nothing then forget it.
Who needs a cat treat when you can catch a mouse.
In fact often it's the cat that thinks the human needs a treat. You learnt to feed me so here, have a dead bird, you deserve it.

Of course just because your cat doesn't need you doesn't mean it's not going to make you pay if it feels you have let it down.
I used to have a little silver tortoise shell, her routine was to come on my bed in the morning while I was drinking my coffee for a fuss. Whether I wanted to fuss her or not.
Then I got a job that meant I was away a week at a time.
Eventually I had to put a lock on my bedroom door because her way of ~~pissing me off~~ showing her displeasure at me for going away was to leave a turd curled up in the middle of my bed.
The night before I came home.
Once I left that job all was fine and I no longer needed to lock the door, but when I went on holiday I came home to find a runny turd IN MY HANDBAG !!
It went straight in the bin - contents too. There might've been money in that bag but I wasn't going to look.

A couple of years ago, by which time I had another three male cats, it became very obvious that she was not happy. She hardly ate and started to look very ragged - even though the vet could find nothing wrong with her - so a friend said she would take her. Within a week she was looking happy and healthy again, obviously she wanted to be the only cat.
About a month later the same friend told me she had gone away for a week-end and came home to find a "present" on her bed.
I laughed and told her to check her bags.
Maybe I should've warned her. . .

I'm not one of those people who thinks her pets are children, but I do love them. I mentioned a few posts ago that we have recently lost one.
His name was Nelson.
Because he was a black cat Son had wanted to name him after a famous black person and I didn't want a cat called Tupac.

A few days ago Son informed me that he thought we should get another cat, as he had a dream and Nelson (he was very devoted to Son) had told him it was fine.
I said I would, but not just yet, and that when I did it would be a female.
"Ok, but we are going to call it Naomi"
"Why ?"
"Because that is Nelson Mandelas daughters name"
"Is it, how do you know that ?"
"Naomi Campbell, she's his daughter"

I'm sure I don't know where he gets his brains from.

My second favourite tshirt.

My favourite one says "I'd like to fuck your brains out but you don't have any". A statement that is only backed up by the amount of men who read the first bit and get sleazy without bothering to read the rest.

When Son was about seven I adopted a black and white cat from a friend of a friend as it's owners were living in a third floor flat. What they failed to mention was that this cat was not neutered. The huge furry bollocks it possessed were a source of fascination to Son, who would lift up the cats tail and show his friends.
"Look, my cat has huge nuts ".
However the huge furry bollocks also meant that the cat was spraying in the house and so they had to come off.
I explained about this to Son, as he was certainly going to notice when they weren't there anymore, that the cat was going to have an operation to remove them.

The dogs bollocks ? Nah cat's are bigger.

A few weeks later Son went for a check up on his eye, he had been born with a slight squint and the treatment was to wear an eye patch for a couple of hours a day on the good eye to strengthen the other one. It was checked every month, the plan being that when there was no further improvement for three months he would have an operation to correct it.
As it turned out this appointment was the one where he reached that stage, and so after the usual eye tests we had to go and speak to the surgeon.

So there we are sat in this very posh mans office and he says,
"So young man I think it's time we brought you in for a little operation"
At which Son jumps up, grabs his crotch and says,
"You're not cutting my nuts off".

I had to explain about the cats operation.

If you really wanted to see a post about my actual cats then here's one I made earlier.

jibberish

2012-02-20T00:14:00.000Z

Last night I decided to go through my list of followed blogs and I have come to the conclusion that I am in fact the jinx of new blogs.
Seriously, I found eight that I started to follow when they first began that have not posted since. If it was just one or two then I wouldn't worry, but EIGHT ?
(And this is all within the last few months).

Yup, I think it might be me.

Apparently it's fine if I join an established blog, but you really don't want me to be amongst your first followers, guaranteed to make you lose your mojo faster then you can reply to a comment.

Normally when someone gives me an award I tend to just add it to the ~~trophy cabinet~~ award page, because I do appreciate the thought behind them, but generally I ~~can't be arsed to~~ don't comply with the various conditions that tend to come attached to them.
Rules are made to be broken and all that.
And anyway when they give out the Oscars do they place conditions on them ? Or tell the recipients that they have to pass them on to 45 other people ?

If I get an award I want to wallow in the glory and adulation, I don't want to pass it on and share it.
Call me selfish I don't really care.

Same applies to the tagging posts.
You end up with a feed full of posts from one of the little blog communities all saying the same thing.
But I was recently tagged by Workingdan and found another tag response I started saved in my draft posts, so since ~~I have nothing interesting to write about~~ I'm bored I've decided to reply to them.

Dans first.
I have to answer these questions :

1. Of all the species in the world, which one is your favourite to eat?
I am so tempted to write one very rude word in response to this. But I won't, I'll stick with the female of the species instead and say chicken. Although I really like fish too.

That explains it then.

Surely if you're craving something you're either hungry or pregnant.

2. What is your favourite recreational substance and why?
I could actually give the same answer as I was going to use for the first question, but I know what he means so MDMA. Although it's been a very long time since I had any.
3. What is your favourite joke to tell?
I have so many - all filthy and all courtesy of my Dad, but I'll stick with this one :
What is the difference between a clitoris and a pub ?
Men can usually find the pub.
4. What do you like most about my blog?
Oh come on ! Could there be a more attention seeking question ?
I think I am supposed to make up four questions of my own and then tag some people.
Fuck that.

This is the other one, it was so long ago I can't even remember who it was that tagged me in it, but I liked the idea. I suppose if any of you are as bored as me you could do it too, being as I haven't got to think up questions to pass it on.
It was called Three. But then it would've made no sense to call it Five.

Three TV programmes that make you cry laughing.
Curb Your Enthusiasm
Pete versus Life
Peep Show

Three songs that made you cry.

Three things (not children) you consider your pride and joy.
My records and technics decks
My cats
My shoes

Three things that constantly annoy you.
Bad spelling and grammar
Rude / stupid people
Train delays

Three things you want to do before you die.
Visit Vietnam
Fly in a military jet (it has to loop the loop too).
Fuck Vin Diesel. Yeah I know, he's gay, but it's my list.

There was another dozen 'three' things, but that's quite enough of that.

I don't know if many of you across the pond will of seen the news a few weeks ago about the cruise ship that sunk in Italy, or be familiar with how inappropriate the UK press can be at times. But this is an actual front page from one of our papers a couple of days after it happened.
Unbelievable and very unfortunate.
And funny.

But then what do you expect from an English paper. . . .

Mind you, I think America has a few problems too.
I have had a feeling all along that Obama might not be quite what he seems. My original thoughts when he was being compared to Martin Luther King were that America was missing something - the man is a black moslem - surely that's more akin to Malcom X ? But apparently I was wrong.

Look at this,

Notice anything odd ?
No ? Well look at this,

That is Doctor Who and his Tardis. Now look again. . . .

Makes me wonder. . . .
We all know that the doctor changes his appearance every time he rejuvenates.
The first black president may in fact be the first black Dr Who.

But don't worry, if he does turn out to be a bad guy Batbear can save you.

As if being a bear isn't scary enough.
I wonder if he lives in a bat cave or a bear cave.

Yeah I'm rambling now.
I will leave you with this, and actual sign on the door of a chemist near where I work.

No, I don't work anywhere near a safari park.

it's not right, but it's ok

2012-02-17T22:44:00.000Z

And so Whitney becomes yet another person to enter that ever increasing group of musicians who lost their lives as a result of living the high life too hard.
Of course it's tragic, but given her well publicised descent into drug and alcohol dependancy can anyone really be that surprised ?

Apparently this now makes her a legend.
Why ?
If it was a random junkie found dead lying in a back alley in a pool of vomit everyone would say they deserved it, if they bothered to have an opinion at all. Just because you're rich and famous are you immune from the reactions the rest of us would get if we decided to push the self destruct button ?
There are many people who turn to drugs as a means of escape from whatever horrors life has thrown at them and nobody gives a fuck, other then to think they are bad people.

Hmmm.

What annoys me is the public mourning that seems to follow any of these deaths.
Why are all these idiots suddenly acting as if they lost a friend ?
Suddenly social networks are full of outpourings of grief from people who might not have even said they were a fan last week. It's like Diana syndrome all over again, everyone wants a piece of sympathy, everyone has a favourite Whitney song that they are going to ~~torture the neighbours with~~ play over and over, and of course once again lay the blame for her demise squarely at the feet of Bobby Brown.

Be sad for her and her family if you must, but it's not a time for more recriminations and unless you personally knew her why are you so upset ? It's true that she always had a good church girl reputation before they got together, but who really knows. And if any of these ~~losers~~ mourners really cared they would realise that right now Bobby is grieving and trying to help their child through the worst time of her life.
Same thing happened with Amy Whinehouse and her husband - even though she already had a bad girl rep when they got together, he still got vilified in the press for being responsible for her addictions.

That pisses me off too. Unless someone holds a gun to your head or physically forces you to take something then it's nobodies fault but your own, in fact it's not even a matter of fault, it's actually a question of choice.
Albeit a bad choice.
Snort or smoke ? Weed or crack ?
You decide.
When it comes to taking drugs for purely recreational reasons the only difference between celebrities and the rest of us is that they have enough money to afford better quality drugs and plenty of them.
More choice.
Which of course means stronger and therefore more likely to produce a dependancy far quicker.

When I first discovered the joys of getting off my face the only thing I could afford in any quantity was speed, but I bet the rich and famous can get anything they want.
I do know people who tried drugs and didn't like how they felt so never did it again.
I loved it, and during that period of my life I only had relationships with fellas who loved them too. Anyone who was concerned about my drug use could've easily looked at that and blamed the guys, but the truth was I WANTED to get smashed.
All the fucking time.
And when your life is going down that route chances are that the people you will meet and attract are on the same path. Imagine trying to have a relationship when one of you is permanently smashed and the other is stone cold sober, it would be like spending your life arriving at a party six hours late.

But mutual partying can all too easily turn into mutual destruction.
I've been there.

I think that often what causes the downfall of celebrities when it comes to drink and drugs is actually the lifestyle that enables it in the first place. There are a lot of people who like to get smashed and party but because they are ordinary folk who have responsibities like going to work and taking care of other aspects of their lives they can't be continually wasted. But when you don't have to do the mundane things that keep the rest of us grounded it must be very easy to just party all the time - and then it can all too easily become a dependency that isn't fun anymore.

I don't think there is anything wrong with the occasional joint, I used to smoke weed every day, even after I stopped everything else.
But the occasional crack pipe ? No such thing.

Personally I kind of liked bad Whitney better.
I could relate to her.
My Love is Your Love is the only CD of hers I own, far superior to all the sugary disco ballady crap she made before it.
Although I used THAT song (which I actually hate) as a child behaviour modification device.

You know how every parent has the thing they threaten their kids with to get them to stop whatever devilment they are getting up to ?
Well of course most times "The Look" is enough, but there’s always those times when parents are forced to resort to the Naughty Step or GO TO YOUR ROOM!

I had a better one.

Mine was STOP IT OR I’LL SING THAT SONG. The song in question being I Will Always Love You.
Seriously, I would just sing “iiiifff iiii ……”
And son would say,
“Alright alright I’ll stop just PLEASE DON’T SING”
Honestly, it worked. Every fucking time.

Even now he hates my singing, and I don't blame him it's truly awful, but one of the joys of parenthood is returning the embarrassment your little ~~brat~~ angel ~~knowingly~~ unwittingly forced upon you when they were small.
Has to be done.
And I've never been one to miss an opportunity for a spot of revenge.
So when Son went out and left his mobile at home I recorded myself singing the Whitney song all the way through. High ~~screeches~~ notes and all.

Then set it as the ringtone for when I called him.

And waited until he was round his mates a couple of days later then called him.

And for that I thank you Ms Houston. RIP.

♥♥♥ be my valentine ♥♥♥

2012-02-12T01:56:00.001Z

I'm reposting this for a few reasons.
a) It's relevance to this time of year means that it's currently getting a lot of hits.
b) LAWAFM was a month old when I wrote it, so a lot of current readers won't of seen it anyway.
c) My opinion of the subject matter hasn't changed.
d) I'm too fucking lazy to write a new Valentine post.

Yes folks once again it’s nearly Valentines day, that special day when you and your loved one can give each other gifts and cards as a token of your affection for each other.

Or feel suicidal and socially inept because you’re single.
Well having seen some of the recent facebook status updates from single people I get the impression that’s what’s happening with them. And the coupled up ones seem to be dropping large hints.
Actually I thought that the purpose of a valentine card was to send it anonymously to someone you secretly admire ?
Which presumably should mean that if you’re single and not entirely happy about that then you would look forward to the day when you wake up to 628 cards from would-be lovers ? For fuck sake at least postpone the hairdryer in the bath until after the postman’s been.

I still remember the first time I was given a valentine card - from a boy in school when I was about 13 - this card was HUGE and presented to me in front of all my friends.
The people who feel suicidal because they have no-one to send them a card should try feeling how I felt when that happened, embarrassed just doesn’t even come close.
Shamed perhaps.
And that was nothing to how the boy that gave it to me must of felt at my initially horrified reaction, which then turned to laughter as a means of saving myself from the endless piss taking that would’ve followed from my friends if I’d even appeared to like it - I didn’t anyway. I sorta feel a bit bad about that now, I mean HOW much courage did that take ? Now I’m wondering if he ever gave anyone another card - who knows maybe he was so traumatised by the taunting that followed that he gave up on love and joined a monastery.
Kids can be vile and we were.

However as an adult I don’t subscribe to the whole valentines debacle, even when I’ve had a partner.
I think it’s just another commercial exercise for card companies and the like to make money, much the same as mothers day and fathers day really.
Except that as mothers day approaches you don’t suddenly see people writing “oh my gosh I must have a baby otherwise all my friends will be getting cards and I’m just going to be sat at home alone with nobody to breast feed and a stretch mark free body”. And if anyone did they’d be told they were fucking sad and stupid, but valentines ? Seems you can feel as sorry for yourself as you like and all your friends will commiserate.
Wankers.

I’d like to think if someone loved me they didn’t need to have a date in the calendar as a reason to show me that they did. You can bring me chocolates and gifts anytime you like, and it’s much more likely to be appreciated if it’s done just because someone saw something and thought I’d like it, then because they felt like they have to as it’s the 14th feb and the fucking great huge display in the shop reminded them.

Truth is I don’t think I have a romantic bone in my body, and all that forced lovey doveyness just makes me want to puke.

Feel free to print this off and give to your loved ones.

(Great idea Jamie)

I don’t really like cut flowers either - essentially if you give someone flowers you’re giving them something that’s dying a slow death, so anyone who dares to bring me flowers is getting treated a bit scornfully.

I’d once had this massive argument with a boyfriend two days before valentines - not that I was even aware of the date, like I say it’s never bothered me and it never will - its all the facebook comments that prompted me to write this.

But, we’d had this row that I started because really I wanted to finish with him, but the fucker had walked out in the middle of it and not been seen since. Presumably thinking I’d forget about it (no fucking chance, I’m like an elephant). So anyway there’s a knock on my door and there he is - holding this large bunch of flowers.

Four things there I got an issue with

Him
The CUT flowers
The that fact he walked out on the row
I think he got the flowers as he thinks they’re gonna make me forget about issues 1-3

Lets just say he moved off my doorstep pretty quick….swiftly followed by the flowers. My friend (his housemate) rang me a while after telling me what a bitch I was because he got them for valentines and not to make up for the row.
Silly cunt shoulda got me chocolates…at least I might’ve been nice to him while I ate them.

And there’s another pressure there really - if you are part of a couple on valentines day what exactly should you get for a present ?
I’ve noticed a few people who seem to be having problems with this. How much of a gesture is too much, or not enough ? Given that if you do it’s supposed to be an expression of love what if your relationship is still quite new and the L word hasn’t even entered into it yet ?
I knew someone whose boyfriend had said he was getting her something very special and the silly mare got herself all excited and was convinced that he was going to propose. So much so that before the big day had even arrived she was talking bridesmaids and bought one of those wedding magazines….turned out the present was a collectors item teddy bear.
For ages afterwards if I saw her I always said the same thing “lets see your ring then Julie…oh no, sorry, I meant your teddy “.

I think I’m better off remaining cynical about the whole thing
Even if being single means I have no choice.

Anyways I’ve rambled on enough about this, plus I have to go and sweep the path ready for the postman - you never know..........

Update : after posting this a friend made a valuable suggestion regarding the issue of what to buy a loved one for valentines day, "you can never go wrong with lube. It's never out of fashion and comes in a variety of colours and flavors. Lube, the gift that shows you care".

Thanks Jamie.

found it

2012-02-05T17:48:00.000Z

Ever get the feeling you are being watched ?

As I'm sure I've said before, although I kind of have what some people might regard as spiritual beliefs I have never believed in God. The idea of some white haired kindly old fella sat on a cloud watching over us is just the stuff of fairy tales and myth to me. And if there was some all knowing omnipresence directing us from on high then considering the fucked up shit that happens in this world he (or she for that matter) can hardly be what you'd call benevolent.

But I have just looked at my feedjit and seen this :

Fucking hell. Someone from 'God' has looked at this blog.
I checked the stats and they came here direct too, no typing of "man fucks steak", "I need kinky sex in Goa" or "anal gadget" brought them here.
And yes, those are actual keywords from the last week.
Is there a name for people who have sex with food ? I don't want to know.
Maybe 'God' was checking up on the perverts of the world and figured LAWAFM was a good place to start. And if he or she looked at the search keywords I can understand why that mistake was made, but I am a little bit worried in case I am now going to hell.

Yeah, as if I wasn't headed there long before I even had the internet never mind a blog.
Ah well, in for a penny in for a pound. One of the things I brought back from India was some Viagra to sell, you can buy it for next to nothing over there but the tablets go for a fiver each in the UK. I'm not one to pass up the chance to make some easy money, and it's not actually illegal ~~unlike the bag of weed I brought back from Jamaica~~ so why the hell not.

A couple of years ago I belonged to an 'adult' dating site. That is, a dating site where people are actually upfront that they just want a shag, as opposed to 'proper' dating sites where they pretend they are single/fifteen years younger/looking for a long term relationship.
(One day I will write about the ~~disasters~~ experiences I had there).
There are a couple of guys I met there who I knew would buy some Viagra. I rejoined the site, found their profiles and left a message. You can't leave an email or phone number - the site filters them out, so I've been checking back every couple of days for their reply.
One of the guys got back to me in the week and said he would be online Friday night, in the 'live' chat you can give an email if you're creative..."sexy and. Horny. (all one word) Find me at the live one in UK"... so I log in to talk to him.
Which means I'm showing as online for ages, so I keep getting other fellas trying to chat.

Of course I'm gonna take a look at their profiles aren't I ?

And then I got a 'wink' from this. . . .

warning : do not scroll down if you are eating or of a weak disposition

*big enough gap to read the disclaimer before you see it*

ready ??

YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT ?
Bear in mind this is essentially a "find a fuck buddy" site, you would think a person would want to show themselves in the best physical way possible.
Maybe he thinks as we both obviously consider our tits to be our best feature we'll have something in common ? Nice tan you got around the neck there mate too, and no you aint gonna see mine.

Apparently his wife knows he's on the site as her "illness" means they can no longer have sex. More like she's sick of him trying to climb on top of her and his waistline is the real reason. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that it was her idea he join the fucking thing in the first place.
There was a message attached to the 'wink' that asked if I fancied a chat, I ignored it but then he messaged me again saying "I take it you don't want to chat".
Red.Rag.Bull.
"No, sorry, but I have a rule. Never talk to men with tits bigger then mine."

I might start visiting that site more often. I have a feeling there will be some glorious blog posts from it.

Or I could arrange to meet people and take one of these along with me on the dates.

That, my friends, is an ANTI-RAPE CONDOM.
I kid you not.
It is 'worn' in a vagina, and once penetrated can only be surgically removed, otherwise the spines inside it will rip the outside of your penis to shreds.
Someone sent me this picture, and I have to say it's quite possibly one of the most thought provoking things I've seen in a long time.
For a start, can you imagine living somewhere where the chances of getting raped are so high that you even need to consider wearing one ? Just doesn't bear thinking about does it. Such places do exist of course (it's things like this that only confirm my ideas about god) and apparently it was developed for use in Africa. I watched a documentary a while ago about Rwanda and what happened out there, but I'm sure in other parts of the world those things occur too.

But of course then my brain went off on it's own warped little tangent.
Going out ?
Keys. Check.
Purse. Check.
Mobile. Check.
Anti-rape condom. Check.

I know what I was like when I first got my can of Mace - (It's illegal in the UK, get caught with it and you will be charged with carrying an offensive weapon, so a mate brought it back from France) - I was walking down the road at night positively HOPING that someone would try and start trouble with me 'cos I was just dying to spray some fucker with it.
Keys. Check.
Anti-rape condom.Check.
VERY Short skirt. Check.
High heels. Check.
Slutty make-up.Check.
Enough vodka to make me look like an easy target. Check.
Yeah come on ! Rape me and see what you get you motherfucker !

And then there's that whole thing about a woman scorned. . . .
Found out your fellas been cheating ? Here's a way to make damn sure he never does it again. I know a thing or two about revenge and the lengths some women will go to. We've all got a bit of an inner psycho floating around inside us somewhere, now you can fully express that by letting it loose (no pun intended) in your vagina.

As my best mate is very fond of saying NEVER underestimate the power of the pussy.

And talking of animals I went to the shop with my friends six year old son yesterday ( I have been helping her sort out her house, as they are going away for a six month break to visit family abroad ) and there was a very friendly large dog tied up outside. He stopped to pet the dog for a bit.
So we are in the long slow moving queue in the shop and he says.
"I like that dog Cowgirl, I'd like to take it home with me"
"Well you can't, it belongs to someone, and anyway you're going away for a long time"
"I'll take it with me"
"How are you going to do that"
"I can pack it in my case"
"But it will bark"
"I'll do something to it to make it keep quiet...."
"But it will still wriggle"
"Then I'll tie it up so it can't move"
"Ok, so you're going to tie it up and gag it, stuff it in a suitcase and smuggle it. I think you will get caught and be in a lot of trouble with the police and the RSPCA".
He then got distracted by a display of chocolate for a bit, and was chatting to another little lad in the queue, which was still moving very slowly. Why do shops only have one cashier at the busiest times ? After a while he says,
"When we leave I'm gonna see that dog again and take it."
"I doubt it will still be there, we've been in here a very long time"
"I bet it is, in fact (he nods towards the man behind us in the queue) I bet it's that man's dog"
"Ask him"
"Excuse me, is that big black and white dog outside yours"
"Yeah (laughing) as a matter of fact it is"
At this he turns to me with a very self satisfied look that says I was right and you were wrong. But I had the last laugh because I explained to him that as the dog did indeed belong to the man behind us, that meant that he had heard all about the plan to steal his dog and stuff it in a suitcase.
Luckily the fella thought this was as hilarious as I did.

I think I might be back.

There were other reasons apart from the post holiday chill that occupied my thoughts.
Last Saturday we lost one of our much loved cats, and this week I have been composing possibly the most difficult post I have ever had to write.
It wasn't for this blog, but I think that I needed to get that done before I could return to normal service over here. You might remember the post I wrote ages ago about a blogger friend who was having a tough time, what I didn't say in that post was that she had a brain tumour.
I returned from India to the news that she had died, and the post I have been working on is the final one for her blog, as her sister very kindly asked me to write it, it's done now and I am very happy with the way it's turned out.
I feel like I needed to do that for her.
This blogging world we inhabit is like a separate little universe (although apparently 'god' still watches it), we form our own little communities around groups of blogs and forums, and one of mine was in mourning and tasked me with laying a blog to rest.
And as with those we lose in real life I guess you can't begin to move on until you've done that.

But yeah. . . .bring it on !!!

And now I have about a thousand blogs posts to catch up on reading.

has anybody seen my mojo ?

2012-01-30T22:20:00.001Z

I think I've lost my blogging mojo.
I had it before I went on holiday, I figured I'd left it at home with my laptop but it seems to have run away.

I keep trying to write the main post I wanted to about India, a bit more in depth about the place and the people and the effect it had on me, but the words just don't seem to want to come. Every time I've started it I just haven't been able to continue.
I think I'll leave it.
Honestly it would be impossible to do it justice anyway.

But even so there have been one or two things that have got on my nerves the last couple of weeks, and I had that "I think I'll blog about it" thought - but it never happened. I'm hoping it's got a lot to do with this fucking awful flu bug, as I've only just started to feel properly better the last couple of days.
I am (or I used to be) very OCD about the blogs I follow, so I decided that the best way to catch up on reading was to wait until there was a new post then read back, but I still haven't gotten round to doing that with all of them. And I love my followed blogs, you guys are like my own personal library.
So yeah, missing my mojo.

Even the mentalpause seems to have taken a breather.
Well at least that's what I'm hoping, although it's possibly still here and I've not noticed for a while due to the heat of India swiftly followed by sweaty flu. I suppose it's a good thing to be able to take lifes little calamities in my stride and just laugh at them - except that apart from the flu there haven't really been any since I got back.

So I guess I'm going to apologise to those of you who are waiting for the return of Sarcastic Angry Bird ( I have got a couple of things I've started writing that I AM going to make an effort to finish in the next few days ), and also to anyone who was looking forward to the promised post about India.
As all the pictures I've posted so far were kind of themed I've made another album on skydrive with some of my favourite random pictures, if you like you can view it here.

I'm off to see if they sell Mojo's on ebay.
I might check behind the sofa as well, missing things often turn up there in this house.

Goa . . . #3

2012-01-22T18:18:00.003Z

I've been trying to write this post for about three days.

It's just not easy to look at a computer screen for long when your head is pounding and you feel like shit because you have the mother of all colds.
I think my body is trying to tell me that it wants to be back in the sun.
I haven't slept well either, it's been impossible to get comfortable, and a couple of nights ago I managed to convince myself that I just might have malaria.

Thanks brain.
Or course after worrying myself silly in the middle of the night sense kicked in come the morning and I realised that it's probably just flu.

I'm not someone who usually keeps a diary - well not since my Mum found the one I had when I was a teenager - but whenever I go on holiday I do, so I have been reading back through the one I kept in India. And it's a good job too because there were some things in there that I had forgotten about already, just about the little interactions I had with people and things I saw.

However my favourite story is one I have no problem remembering.

In our apartment was a guide book for Goa which I was reading and it mentioned snakes. It said that when walking about, especially at night and in the country, to take a flashlight with you.
From the gate to our complex you could walk two ways, one way was well lit and took about five minutes to get to a very busy part of the town, but if you walked the other way it was about 10 minutes of dark country lane before you hit the main road. This particular night we went the country lane way, I'm in front with one friend, the rest are walking behind us, and I have my torch.

My mate asked me why I had the torch, so I explained what I had read in the book and said I was on "snake watch".
She started to take the piss, saying it was hardly a country lane and laughing at me. About a second after this a car coming towards us stopped and in it's headlights crossing the lane was a fucking HUGE python. It had clearly just eaten as there was a large lump in its middle.
Normally at the sight of this I would've freaked.
But in view of the conversation I just stood there pointing at the snake and feeling very vindicated.

Because if I hadn't had my torch and that car hadn't come up the road. . . . .

After that if we went anywhere at night nobody took the piss out of me for being on snake watch.

I had a few animal encounters in India, although that was the only bad one. As well as the monkeys I've already spoke about I got up close with a couple of elephants. We went to a place where they let us get in the stream with one and wash it, and you can then climb on it's back and have an elephant shower from its trunk.

You'll have to excuse the blanked out bits, we had my friends granddaughters with us in this picture and I don't think it's right to put them on here. But that is me, I'm nearest to her head.

Cows are everywhere, Goa is a Hindu state and they are considered holy and allowed to roam free wherever they want. It's quite bizarre though, not just seeing them on the beach, but you will see a crowd of people walking down the road and there will be a few cows in the middle of them. Sometimes they are in small groups, especially where there is food to be had. In the middle of the main street where we were there is a statue surrounded by plants, and we often saw a couple of cows tucking in to them.

A bunch of pretty flowers to impress the visitors to your town or a snack spot for the local herd.

Supper time.

There are also stray dogs everywhere you go. Everyone says not to touch them, because of parasites and mange, and although many do look the worse for wear they don't look as if they are starving. The advice is that if you are bitten by one you need to have a rabies shot, but I have to say my impression is that they are generally quite docile. I guess they know that people will feed them, I gave our leftover lunch to one that came and sat by us on the beach but then the cheeky git went and cocked it's leg on my sunbed !

This ungrateful dog !

The Indian crows are quite cheeky too, and will approach you if they think they are going to get fed, but not too close. Although I took this picture walking up the lane by our apartment, at first he was halfway up the tree and as I stopped and got my camera out he came and sat on a lower branch and was about two foot away from me. Fucking poser.

We found this HUGE caterpillar one evening.
Not surprising really, as we also saw some beautiful and HUGE butterflies although despite my best efforts I could not get a picture of any of them.

And this little lizard was on the wall of our roof terrace every night, sometimes he brought a friend along too. I tried to entice it to come closer with fruit, but I guess there's more then enough insects in India to keep a lizard happy. Most nights he hung around near the wall light, so he was well fed.

I have one more post about India that I want to write and I promise that will be the last one, this must be getting a bit boring for you lot now. Of course I can't promise to never mention it again, the place affected me in a way I've struggled to explain to the few people I've spoke about it to.
But I'm going to try in the next post.
And share a few of the stories from my diary.

And after that normal service will be resumed.

Goa. . . #2

2012-01-17T22:39:00.000Z

I'm starting to think I really am a changed woman.

Something happened at the week-end that pissed me off. . . for about five minutes. Then I found myself thinking "so what, no big deal, let it go".
And I did.
Pre- India Cowgirl probably would've wrote a scathing blog post about it and other related times when similar things had happened, but instead I just decided that getting annoyed was a waste of energy. Life's too short and all that.

Guess I really did chill right out on those beaches.

Well who wouldn't ? Just look at it.

Speaking of which.. .
Fucking amazing, every single one.

The beaches I went to are in North Goa and all are golden sands and border the Arabian Sea. It's quite tidal - you have to be wary of strong currents if you go out too far or when the tide is right out, but the waves are great for airbed surfing (my ~~only~~ favourite sport) and the sea is warm.

Every beach has it's own shacks, and you can get drinks and food from them. Tell them you want to have lunch when you arrive and they come round with fresh fish for you to choose from, which they will cook for you and either bring to you on your sunbed or serve in the shack.

Along the shore line there are lots of tiny shells, some with the fish still in them. At Ashwem there were so many crabs it was a bit off putting, especially when we saw the size of some that were in the sea. But I have never seen a real star fish before so that was quite incredible. As the tide went out they were everywhere.

There are always people walking up and down the beaches selling things, clothing, jewellery, drums and various souvenir items. To be honest at times they can be a nuisance, there I am trying to tan myself and constantly being asked if I want to buy a sarong. But at the same time I got some real bargains by haggling (they expect it) with them. And it's worth buying stuff because then they will sit and chat to you, and we had some very entertaining times with them. I also got a real insight into their lives. These people have to have a licence (which costs more then most of them can earn in a season) to be able to sell on the beach. If they are caught they are usually made to pay 5000 rupees, which is a bribe (Goa police are well known for being corrupt) not a fine ! That's about 60 UK pounds, but an awful lot in India and as one girl told me they don't really sell very much and generally only make about 10 - 20 rupees per item.
And all of those that I spoke to are just trying to support their families.

Some of the women also offer pedicures and manicures and I had my legs and eyebrows threaded for a couple of pounds.
There are also masseurs that have their own shacks on the beaches - no wonder I chilled out.

My favourite beach was Vagator. It's reached by climbing down steps that have been built into the side of the cliff . . .

. . . but when you get there. Oh. My. God.

The beach is best known for being one of the favourites of the hippies that first went to Goa, and is the site of the famous carving of Shiva into the rocks.

He's looking a bit worn now, and half of him is buried in the sand, but for me this carving (I have many friends who have been there and taken pictures) has always represented Goa. And finally I was there.

I met this Hindu holy man standing next to the carving. It is customary to give them a small donation, which I did, and received a blessing as thanks. But I also noticed that he had six toes on each foot !

It's quite strange to see a cow on a beach. Not something you might expect, even in India where they roam the streets freely, but this picture kind of sums the place up for me.

We even had one on that came and ate our left over lunch, let Pete tickle under it's chin and then laid down behind our sunbeds. And it was a bull, apparently they are not known for being congenial to humans and will butt you away, but this one obviously thought he found a kindred spirit.

And this . . .

is the sun setting for the last time on 2011 at Morjim Beach.
What a way to end the year.

Of course I took way more pictures of those beaches then I have posted, links to some more are below.
Ashwem Beach
Mandrem Beach
Morjim Beach
Vagator Beach

I'm still trying to catch up on reading the blogs I follow, but I'm beginning to realise that that's never going to happen. I've been trying to do so as each of you write a new post but I was away for so long it's been taking me ages. Apologies if I appear to be ignoring you - I'm not.
I just need a few days holiday to catch up on the reading, and that's not going to happen.

And don't worry, despite what I said at the start of this post I'm sure it's only a matter of time before normal ranting angry Cowgirl returns.
Sooner or later someone/thing is bound to wind me up.

Goa. . . #1

2012-01-13T22:11:00.000Z

Tuesday was my birthday.

Urghhhh. Another year older.

Except I forgot. If it hadn't been for someone commenting on the date I wouldn't of realised until I got home from work to find a card from my Dad. Before I went away I was dreading this particular milestone, but it seems that my holiday has given me a new focus as well as a great tan and good memories.
Thank fuck for that.

I have so much to write about India that I'm not really sure where to start, but as I already put up a picture of the monkeys I guess that story can be first.

And how amazing that this happened on the 1st January, what a way to start the new year !

We set out to visit the Dudhusagar waterfalls which are to the East of Goa.
From the village of Mollem we took a 45 min jeep ride over some very rough terrain through the forest. Not for the faint-hearted - you get thrown around a bit, but great fun. The road is just a dirt track really and at times the jeep has to pass through the river. They deliberately keep it this way so that the site is not too inundated with visitors, but during the monsoon it is inaccessible anyway. The forest is inhabited by leopards, bears, monkeys and vipers - as we were driving through there were funnel webs everywhere so plenty of spiders too.

The start of the dirt track, it was impossible to take pictures once we got going as the ride was so bumpy.

Taken as the jeep passed through the river bed.

As we were passing along one stretch of the river we spotted a deer and the driver stopped the jeep. I will never forget the sound the deer was making, it echoed through the forest. We had our driver and a guide with us and they were both amazed to see it. Apparently it is a very rare sight in India, but then we saw the reason it was staying put and calling for help - it was being hunted by a pack of foxes. Our driver actually got in the water, chased the foxes away, and helped it to safety on the other side of the river.

You can see the reddish brown of one of the foxes behind the tree stump in the background.

He said this was very lucky for us all (even more so for the deer) and when we reached the car park at the end of the journey he wanted to see the pictures I had taken and was calling the other drivers over to show them. The man was a hero and it was quite clear from their reactions that the others thought so too.
I have his address (he has no email) and have promised him that I will send prints of the pictures.

As soon as we got to the car park there were monkeys waiting to be fed (they sell bags of fruit and nuts for them in the village).

We then had to walk the last part of the way to the waterfall. This involves climbing over some - at times - quite large rocks, and passing over the river on two precarious little bridges but the forest is absolutely beautiful.

Then we reached the waterfall itself.

The railway runs along about half way up the waterfall, the picture really doesn't do justice to how high it is.

The name Dudhsagar means "sea of milk", it's easy to see why it got the name but apparently during the monsoon it resembles one even more.
You can swim in the pool if you like, but we just sat on the rocks and enjoyed the amazing view and yet more monkeys that came and sat with us. They are very bold, and yet at the same time still quite wary of people. The guides tell you not to touch them, but I doubt that's even possible. It was enough for me that I was sat on a rock on new years day and a mother and her baby came and sat less then two feet away from me.

There's a lot I want to say about Goa and it's wonderful people in general, and I have a few stories to share as well. It's too much for one post so I plan to write a few and add just some of the pics to each. I will make albums on skydrive for the rest so you can see them if you want without using up all my picassa allowance.

In the meantime if you would like to see all the pictures taken at the waterfalls here's the link.

the bitch is back !

2012-01-08T15:17:00.002Z

And I am tanned, relaxed and totally chilled out.
I loved Goa - best holiday ever, I have washed an elephant, hand fed monkeys, laid on gorgeous beaches, ate delicious food and shopped (a bit too much), really didn't want to come home - stepped off the plane and England is FUCKING FREEZING.

Thanks for all the comments left while I was gone, and welcome to the new readers. I will get round to checking out your blogs at some point, and catching up on the ones I follow. But at the moment I have a suitcase that was twice as stuffed coming home as when I left (and it was pretty stuffed then) to try and sort out.

I have lots of stories, and I somehow managed to take about 700 photos, so best get ready to be thoroughly sick of me posting about India.
In the meantime here's a snap of one of the many highlights. . .

just hot air

2012-01-05T22:00:00.000Z

If you think you read this before you probably did.

This is a re-post as the original was linked on another blog and I wanted to break the link.

Why do so many people have such a problem with farts ? Especially if a woman lets rip.

Ok if it stinks it’s not nice, but as long as you own up to it does it really matter. I find it hilarious how embarrassed some people can get over them - my own preference is to announce when one is brewing. At least that way I can gauge the potential reaction of everyone around me, and if it looks like there’s someone whose likely to be deeply offended I can ~~point my arse in their direction~~ move away from them.

Apparently to the Greeks it is a real insult and not at all socially acceptable. I worked with a Greek guy who said that even though he had been with his girlfriend for two years he would never fart in front of her. Of course my question then was what did he do if they were getting busy and he needed to fart - he said he would leave the room.

So your naked, horny and with a long term partner yet you leave the room ? What the fuck ? I asked how he felt if she did a fanny fart, but he just looked VERY embarrassed and left the room.
I guess that answered the question then.

Unfortunately how we came to even have this conversation was because this was one of the kids homes I worked in, and when one of the boys had farted at the dinner table his reaction had been completely over the top.
Big mistake.
Once the little ~~monsters~~ darlings knew he had a problem with farts he was forever damned to be subjected to them. If he was around and one of the boys suddenly ran up and stood by him we all knew what was coming.

The team manager and I then took to waiting until he was outside in the garden having his morning cigarette then join him for our morning farts. And the manager was a big Cornish fella - he could blow a fart that you could use to sail a ship.

Actually I think South Park might’ve been on to something when they made the episode about people spontaneously combusting because they were afraid to fart.
There are a few documented incidents of Spontaneous Combustion, the ones that I’ve read about in England appeared to happen in olden times when people were much more uptight about everything, so I would think even less inclined to fart, and women were laced up tight in corsets so it might’ve been impossible for them.

Lets face it if you have to hold it in it hurts - do that often enough it’s gonna have a derogatory effect sooner or later.

And if you’ve ever seen anyone light a fart you’ll have no doubt there’s potential for explosion.

The first time I ever saw anyone do that I thought it was the funniest thing ever. Well I was about 17, the problem was the boyfriend that did it liked my reaction so much he then proceeded to set light to it EVERY time he farted.

It soon got a bit old.

When I was even younger me and my two best mates taught ourselves how to fanny fart at will.
Our favourite source of amusement was to sit at the back of the bus and do them.

Even though they didn’t smell the looks of disgust we would get from other passengers was hilarious, people would make faces and wave their hands as if it stank - sometimes even moving seats.

That just made us worse.

I laugh about that even more now because none of us really understood what we were doing, we were young and naïve.

Farting has always had comic value - there was famous music hall performer in the 1800’s named Josef Pujol whose act was to fart musically, and the audiences of the day found this very funny. I wonder how those same people would have reacted had it been the person sat next to them, although the music halls were considered risqué at time - they were after all the original home of burlesque.

Did anyone ever fart while doing the Can Can ?

People are odd though, I’ve been sat in the Cinema and someone’s farted (no, it wasn't me) and the reactions varied from laughter to disgust, yet if someone farts in a comedy film everyone finds it funny.

I laugh at my own farts - and I don’t care if that’s as bad as laughing at your own jokes.
I do that too.

Who knows ? Wherever I might be by the time you guys see this post it certainly won't be snowing.

Yup. Fooled you, this was a scheduled post !! I'm still on holiday !! See y'all soon :)X

cowgirl presents . . . #6

2011-12-29T22:00:00.000Z

Hi folks,
The highly esteemed and very 'bumable' dirtycowgirl, has bestowed upon me the honor of guest posting on her behalf whilst she is away ~~being lazy~~ sunning herself in warmer climes.
As ~~she didn't have the time to ask anyone else~~ an offering of gratitude, I bring you the following post...and remember after reading this, that hate crime (against me) and stoning (also against me) are both criminal acts in the western world.

There's a striped legged Okapi in my bathroom and it's standing by the sink.

The Lil man has an irrational fear of spiders and will often fall into throes of hysteria at the mere sight of one. It really is quite odd. I've no idea where he gets his strong aversion to arachnids from. (Cough)

I'm not even really sure how his phobia begun. (Cough cough) It really is quite unnerving to see. (Not really, dem things is HUUUUGE!)

ARGHHHHH !!!!!

Sometimes he will spy an arachnid the size of a pin head from a pace of a 100 yards away and then a mild frenzy will ensue and by mild frenzy, I mean running around the house and wailing in a high pitch that only dogs and marine wildlife, such as Dolphins can hear.

He will often exaggerate it's proportions: "I'm not lying mother. It really was the size of a four door, 6230cc, 4 speed automatic, 172 horsepowered 1969 Bentley".

As well as it's activities: "And then it barred it's sharp poisonous fanged teeth, gave a deep growl from deep within it's stomach and almost blinded me with it's deadly venomous toxins"

I really haven't a clue where he gets he skill for the over dramatics from. (A-hem)

So when on Saturday morning I heard this-

"MUM, THERE'S A HUGE MONSTER OF A SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM!"

Yes, this really was the best I could come up with for 'monster'...Bite me!

I expected to see a spider the size of which, I probably would only be able to identify by way of a very powerful microscope.

By the time I had fetched my trusted Electrolux 2000 and gone to rescue my child from the gaping maw of the savage and mutant monstrosity, it had inexplicably vanished.

Lil man panting and breathing quite heavily from fright: " I think it's gone behind the mirror".

Me panting and breathing quite heavily with the exertion of carrying the blasted Electrolux 2000 up fourteen bloody steps:" Okay, we'll wait here for a few seconds and see if it reappears".

30 bloody minutes later...

Me:Okay, it obviously isn't ready to show itself yet. Do you remember what it looked like?

Lil man: Yeah, it had an orange body and six legs.

Me: OK.

Lil man: Oh yea and one eye.

Me: *Blink*

Lil man:(*Blink*) You're going to ask me if I've been smoking crack again aren't you?

Me: Nope. I've made a promise that I shall no longer use those particular words again.

Lil man: Who did you promise?

Me: The readers of my blog.

Lil man: But the readers of your blog don't live here.

Me: I know.

Lil man: So how would they know if you've said it or not?...Oh...You're going to write about this aren't you?

Me: Yep.

Lil man: Well I doubt that your readers will be interested in this . . . any four of them. . . .

Me (trying my best to ignore him as it takes all my effort not to grab him by the back of his scrawny neck and shove his head down the toilet, whilst laughing maniacally with glee): I think we should Google it and find out if such a creature exists.

So with that, we gathered around the computer, though I wasn't sure if two people could be classed as being able to 'gather' seeing as, well you know, there are only two of us.

Me typing out relevant info: So we're looking for an insect with an orange body and six legs?

Lil man: And one eye, don't forget the one eye.

Me: Mmm. Let's leave that piece of information to one side for the moment shall we?

Lil man: OK. . . (Watches silently as I type) What's 'Hot male on male action?"

Man action, not Action Man . . .stupid Google search!
I'm pretty sure I dated this guy once. . . .

Me: WHAT??!!

Lil man : ' It says there Hot. Male. On. Male. Action.' Look, it's down the side of your browsing history. What is it?

Me: Oh. .um. .ooh it's hot in here. . .It's um. . .about. . er. . .it's about. . .

Lil man: And what's 'Breakfast on Tiffany and Inspect her gadget?' Shouldn't that be Inspector Gadget? I think they made a typo.

Me: Well. . .it's. . .it's. . .Oh look! (as info comes up on screen via wiki answers, that font of pure knowledge.) Orange insect with six legs. But it says here that this one has stripes on it's legs. Did the one you saw have stripes?

Lil man ponders for a moment: Mmmm, yeah, I'm fairly certain it had stripes. . . (ponders some more) Yep, it definitely had stripes.

Me: Well according to this, our insect is called an Okapi.

Lil man excitedly: Quick, click on to images.

So clicking on images, we both expected to see this:

But what we saw instead was this:

Me as jaw hits the floor: This is what you saw in the bathroom? You're telling me, that THIS is exactly what you saw in the bathroom?

Lil man: Of course not, don't be silly...it was a little bit smaller than that.

I lily, will be appearing at a mental institution near you soon.

Lily

If that tickled you, go and check out Lily's blog. It's the absolute opposite of all those soppy mushy vomit inducing mommy blogs - she is single, and a parent but the similarity ends there.
http://theincoherentramblingsofasingleparent.blogspot.com/

cowgirl presents . . . #5

2011-12-22T22:00:00.000Z

Ladies and gentlemen I give you Gweenbrick.

Now go and check out his blog - it's absolutely hilarious.
Keep a look out for the product reviews, Thomas, and my personal favourites, the Jeffrey posts.
http://www.gweenbrick.com/

cowgirl presents . . . #4

2011-12-15T22:00:00.000Z

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Stupidstu. .

Stupidity, slutty women who ride horses and a bunch of cunts!

Well I would firstly like to say hello to all of DCG’s regular followers and then straight away warn you that this post may contain more swear words than one of DCG’s regular posts?
In fact, what the fuck am I talking about? this girl has a mouth like a hung over brickie!

So with that out of the way, firstly a little bit about ME. (Shameless plug for my blog coming).
I have only been blogging for a couple of months now and to be honest mine and DCG’s blogs are similar in the way they aren’t really about anything ~~interesting,~~ just a load of shite thrown together about anything that we find funny or relevant at the time. You may all be aware that DCG at the moment is starting to show her age of 28 ~~my arse~~ by blogging about her son going through puberty ~~about 15 years ago~~ and her and the Man-o-pause ~~she can’t pull anymore because she sweats a lot.~~

So my post is about one of the first things she blogged about and this will hopefully bring back some of the good old days for her whilst she is sunning herself in India stoned out of her mind!

The one thing me and DCG really have in common is we share a love of something, something pure yet misunderstood by most people as being offensive when really it is a source of joy and laughter in our lives!! That thing is the beautiful word ……..cunt!

I know that some people take offence to the word but below I have got some pictures and to me the only thing the word does is make the pictures funny and certainly not offensive. Hopefully we can break some boundaries today people?!

I know that after I have had a night on the tiles I certainly need a rest!

This classic works well either way round! ….Think about it! This was on DCGs original post but for me it’s a must have! If you have read my book club post then you would know that if a penguin or penguinette says someone is a cunt it has to be true!

Now I am sorry but if this man, the late great John Peel can wear a t-shirt saying that HE is a cunt then how is that offensive? Just imagine a loved one, maybe your auntie Mavis wearing one saying Auntie Mavis is a cunt!! Hilarious!

I will leave you with something that is directly taken from DCGs fabulous post as I think it would be a fitting way to finish up and I quote …….

“I am proud of my cunt, it has been the source of some fine times, and played a major role in my greatest achievement - the birth of my son. And yet I realise that by writing the word here some people might have an issue with reading this, I daresay some might even not read this post at all simply because of the title. I often use the word in my facebook status and as a result I've had quite a few people delete me.”
Cunts”

If DCG has actually gone ahead and posted this then I would like to thank her for ~~very foolishly~~ allowing me to guest post on her blog and I think you will agree with me when I say that her blog is always ~~full of shit~~ entertaining and I hope she is having a blast in Goa off her face on ecstasy?!
I don’t know how many of you have ever met DCG for real but I got this footage of her when I was ~~stalking her~~ at a street party so please enjoy!

Thanks for reading,
Stupidstu. <-------check him out !

Stu's blog is still quite new, but if you like me when I'm being sarcastic and rude you will love him.
He is also currently sunning himself on a beach in some far away place as he and his lady have embarked on an epic adventure - he gave me this post before he left - but he will be back posting in January too.

byeeeee !!!

2011-12-08T22:28:00.000Z

Well this is it.

This will be my last post for a month, and this time tomorrow I will be thousands of miles away in the sun.
To say I was a little bit excited is the understatement of the year.

Christmas on the beach is something I have always wanted to do, especially since Son grew up and I no longer had to pretend to enjoy it, and could freely admit that I actually hate this time of year.
However I do have a nativity story of my own that I love.
It was a long time ago (no, not that long, I'm not talking about Bethlehem) and Son was still mummy's special little boy. Ok, that was actually longer ago then I am prepared to admit, but he was three at the time and attending nursery school. He loved it there, all the other kids would cry when their parents left them in the morning, mine used to get upset when it was time to leave.
I went to get him and as it was one of the days when we had no lift this meant a walk to the bus stop. It wasn't that far, unless you were three years old and had just endured a long day of games, afternoon naps, making cakes, painting, story telling and generally enjoying yourself.
So he starts to complain.
Usually I would've carried him some of the way, but I had been Christmas shopping before I went to get him and had a few bags to carry. All he was carrying was his (now empty) lunchbox but apparently that was HEAVY.
He started to walk really slowly for a few minutes before stopping altogether, then puts his ghostbusters plastic lunchbox on the pavement, sits on it, folds his arms and says,
"That's it. I can't walk any more. I've got a baby in my tummy and it's coming out RIGHT NOW"

I spent the next few days wondering what on earth they were teaching him. But the next day he was there I got an invite to their nativity play and then it made sense.
Mummy's special boy had figured if it was a good enough excuse for Mary to stop and rest then it was good enough for him.

I realise it's going to be ~~hard to cope~~ quiet without me, but there are some guest posts appearing here over the coming month, and I do have almost a years worth of posts you could always read back through if you find yourself suffering from cowgirl withdrawl. In fact by the time I get back it will almost be LAWAFM's first birthday.
Thanks to all of you who have visited, followed, read, commented. I'm still blown away that so many of you take the time to read the ~~nonsense and constant moaning~~ interesting stuff that I write here.
I started blogging for me, but you all make it worthwhile :)

I love you guys.
See you next year !!!
XXX

I even made you all a Christmas Card. Well I adapted it from what was going to be a followers badge.

Don't expect too much effort I have packing to do.

My printer's broke otherwise I would send some out, but if you really want you can copy and print it yourselves.

In the meantime. . . here's some Christmas cheer I ~~stole~~ borrowed from the internet.

The night before Xmas throughout the house,
we were all fucked, even the mouse.
Dad at the brothel, mum with uncle Frank,
I'd settled down for a nice slow wank.
Outside the house I heard a right clatter,
I let go of my cock to see what was the matter.
Out on the lawn I saw a big dick,
I knew right away it was old St Nick.
He came down the chimney like a bat out of hell.
The big fat fucker, I think he fell.
He filled all our stockings with sweets and beer,
and a big rubber cock for my brother, the queer.
He rose up the chimney with a thunderous fart,
the big fat cunt blew the house apart.
He swore and he cursed as he rode out of sight,
Shouting I'll be back next year, have a hell of a night.

Joseph and Mary lived in a barn. Mary had just given birth to a baby boy, Joseph was a carpenter by trade but had no work.
On this particular day, after another unsuccessful day at the job centre, Joseph trudges back to the barn on his donkey. He then notices three men on camels carrying parcels and they take them into the barn.
Joseph gets off his donkey, storms into the barn and shouts, "For fuck's sake, Mary; we've just had a baby, I'm unemployed and you're ordering stuff off ebay."

Driving on ice is like having sex doggie style.
One slip and you can really fuck up someone's rear end.
Drive safely this Xmas

@guestposters - a friend of mine has admin just in case the scheduling doesn't work so she can publish them and any comments.
@Vee - I'll message you, I plan to get an Indian SIM for my phone so I'll let you have the number and hopefully meet you there :)

One last thing before I go.

I know it's a bit early to be saying this is my favourite christmas post as I won't be around to read all of them, but I have a feeling that even if I read loads this would still be my favourite.
http://howtohatemore.blogspot.com/2011/12/rudolph-red-nosed-leper.html

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

broken ?

2011-12-07T05:18:00.001Z

Something appears to be amiss with the whole following process.

I say this because of a few things.

For a while now I have noticed that some ~~sheep~~ followers do not show up in the gadget or the list on my dashboard, although they are included in the numbers. Some days I see them straight away, other times I need to refresh several times. And it's always just the latest.
It worries me as I would hate to ~~have to hunt you down~~ lose any of my flock, because even though I say I'm not that bothered if people stop following of course I ~~will find you~~ am really.

In the last month or so there have been a few times when someone left a comment saying they are following and they either never show in the gadget or it takes a few days.
Although again the number increases.

And no, I have established that this is not folk following via reader or subscription, the number showing as followers on the dashboard is ONLY people who follow through a blog/google account. If you follow another way the number will not increase.

A few blogs that I have recently started ~~stalking~~ following myself are not showing up in my dashboard, either in the list or when they publish a new post. And I have tried adding them via google connect on the gadget and adding them manually from the dashboard.
Luckily they have feedburner so I've subscribed via email instead, but I would prefer to see them when I log in here.

I also stopped following some that ~~were fucking boring~~ had not posted for months, and yet they were still on my dashboard. One I removed - after a few attempts - and a few days later it was showing there again.

Fucking annoying - all of it.
Mostly because I have missed a few posts and it's like missing an episode of a favourite TV show.
And if I see I have a new follower I want to know who they are so I can ~~see if they are a sexy fella I can stalk~~ go to their blog and say thanks and maybe follow back. How am I supposed to ~~perv over their pictures~~ ~~and send them anonymous emails~~ do that if I can't even see who they are ?

All joking aside though, I kind of hoped the problems were due to introducing the new interface, when it was first rolled out the followers gadget was inclined to disappear every once in a while, but it always came back. However lately it feels like blogger is a bit broken.
If it was just the one thing I might be concerned that it was the feed for my blog that was acting up, but I'm not so sure.
Has anyone else had similar issues ?
Do my posts always show up ok in your dashboards ? Or wherever you get my updates from ?

I know it's easy enough to check for emails about new posts, or use Reader, but I kind of like having them all in the one place. It's ~~less confusing for my mentalpause addled brain~~ just easier to manage.

And yeah, it is 5.30am and yeah I should be sleeping but I am just TOO EXCITED TO SLEEP AS IN EXACTLY 48 HOURS THE CAR FOR THE AIRPORT WILL BE HERE !!!! And as today is my LAST DAY AT WORK I promised I would go in early so there is no point in even trying to sleep now.

So I thought I'd have a little bitch about this and see if it's affecting anyone else.

no problem

2011-12-02T23:50:00.001Z

There are times when I think my life is just one long list of calamities, breakages, disasters and people and situations designed to wind me up. Everybody has those little things that go wrong from time to time, on their own each amounts to nothing more then a little hiccup in a day. But when you find yourself having enough in the course of a single week you have to wonder if there isn't someone up there looking down on you and laughing.
What can I do to piss her off today ?

I don't mean god, I don't actually believe in him. But I do believe in Karma - and I think she's a bit of a bitch and she doesn't like me very much. But she knows I can take it and she knows I can give as good as I get. I suspect she sends a lot of it my way because given to someone else it would not have quite so much entertainment value.

I'm kind of a jinx.
But I do have two saving graces, things with which I think I am blessed. One is my sense of humour as that's what stops me stressing about stuff. Nobody laughs at me, and the unfortunate events that follow me wherever I go, louder then I do myself.

The other is my gift of the gab. That can manifest as humour, bitchiness or just downright rudeness, but it never lets me down. And if blagging is an art form then I'm fucking Rembrandt. My latest triumph was phoning the company that provides my Internet, phone and satellite TV and telling them I had lost my job. I haven't, but I am fed up with giving them £60 a month. I managed to get it reduced to £20 a month for the TV and FREE Internet and phone rental for NINE MONTHS.
Yeah I'm good.

Rarely am I stuck for words in a tricky situation.
In fact they're usually out of my ~~foul~~ mouth before my brain has time to register what is being said. And I don't like to mince my words either.
I just read a post over on my friend Lilys blog and she kinda got me thinking, because she was saying how her blog is her but toned down, and I think the same applies here. Which then got me thinking about another calamity that happened yesterday morning, and how that was me SO NOT toned down.

I am walking to the train station.

The red arrows are the direction I was walking in.

As I'm stood about to cross the road at A, dozy cow in big car pulls in.
There is plenty of space so I thought she would just drive in and park as she can only be going to the shop, and given that it's raining you would think she'd want to park as close to the entrance as possible.
So I start to walk over the road aiming for B.
As I'm halfway across, and it's a side street so not wide, dozy cow starts to reverse.
Why ? There's enough room in front of her for a fucking bus.
So I take a step back and go to walk around her front to C.
And the idiot starts driving forward.

I just put my hands in the air and said (not shouted) "make your fucking mind up".
I changed direction again and got to B.
As I walked past she had her window open and I said,
"Don't you ever look in your mirror"
She wound her window up - quickly - and mouthed "fuck off" at me.
Now normally I would've said more, but as per I was a bit late and in danger of missing the train, so instead I just gave her the finger and walked off.

I turned the corner and started walking up the road D.
After about 5 mins the dozy cow pulls up, not beside me mind you, there are parked cars between us, winds her window down and shouts.
"Oy ! You ! What's your problem ?"
Seriously ? You really want me to tell you ? All brave sat inside your car with the engine on. Right then. . .
"FAT CUNTS WHO CAN'T PARK THEIR VEHICLES, WHY ? WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM ? Why don't you get out of your car and come over here and ask me to my face ?"

She drove off.
Probably a good thing she didn't get out 'cos she WAS a fat cunt. If she had sat on me I'd be laid up with broken bones right now. Chicken shit bitch.

Did you like that one Karma ?
I think Karma might be in league with the mentalpause.

Sooner I get on that beach and chill the fuck out the better I reckon.

For the rest of the walk to the station adrenalin had kicked in and I was fuming. But she made me miss the train, so when I got there I called my friend and by the time I had finished telling her what happened I was crying with laughter.

In the course of talking about this more when I got to work, my mates and I ended up talking about other times we had lost our tempers, and the conversation was hilarious. Even though we were discussing times when we had actually felt VERY angry.
Laughter really is the best medicine.
A long time ago there was a really tragic thing that happened in my family, and I remember this one conversation with my sister where we were both crying and one of us, not sure who, said something and the next minute we were laughing. I think I learned then that if you can find even the smallest thing to laugh about in the greatest times of sadness you're probably going to be alright.
It's the antidote to every negative emotion.

I also have a rather unfortunate habit of laughing when I'm nervous or have to tell someone something bad. Even if I can contain the laugh out loud I have no control over the grin that gets stuck on my face.
Possibly ~~liable to make a person think you're more interested then you are~~ cute and endearing on a first date.
Understandable ~~and can make you seem pervy~~ whilst having a breast examination for a lump. Luckily pap smears don't make me nervous.
Excusable (if you explain why you are sat there resembling the joker) during a job interview. Might actually be useful if "a good sense of humour" is listed in the job spec.

Not so good when telling your neighbour that you have just found his beloved cat dead in your garden.

Or when in a previous managerial role you had to tell someone they were losing their job.
Although to be fair she was a liability and I was very happy to be doing it.

And FYI in order to avoid unnecessary calamities it's a good idea not to put grey carpet on your stairs when you have a grey cat that likes to sit on them and a broken dimmer (that only does very dim) on the light switch. I can't work out whether the cat thinks I'm trying to kill him or if he's trying to kill me.

Reminds me of a date I once went on.

Actually I think although laughter might indeed be the best medicine, blogging is a very good placebo. More and more I find when life throws one of it's little hiccups at me I think "I can ~~bore people with~~ write about this".

Which makes me wonder if Karma and Blogger are in fact the same person ?
Or have at least done some kind of a deal.

sick and tired

2011-11-30T20:27:00.001Z

Urghhhhh.

I have just spent four days laid up with a horrible stomach bug.
You know the kind, where you think you're about to fart, so you do. And realise just in time that it isn't a fart.
Fucking vile.
An entire weekend laid on my bed in agony and two days off work.
I hate that, makes me feel like I have let people down and that is not something I want to do.

And I am now seriously behind with the list of things-I-need-to-do-before-epic-holiday. I'm not that bothered about delivering the ~~few~~ xmas presents I have for people, Son won't mind doing that for me. Nor do I really care about packing too many clothes, it's going to be hot and we will be mostly on the beach so as long as I have packed ~~all fifteen of~~ my bikinis I'll be ok.

But I am worried that I won't have time to get my legs waxed.
If you hear reports on the news of the missing link being spotted on a beach in Goa you'll know the truth.

I've been feeling so ill I haven't even really turned the computer on, and as it's a laptop that takes very little effort, but when I did so just now it's like I have a hundred new posts to read on my followed blogs.
Fuck knows if I'll ever catch up on reading after a month away.
And my OCD tendencies will mean that I feel I have to.

However what I have managed to do is get the guest posts ready, you lot are in for a few treats while I'm gone. I have to say the people I asked all said pretty much the same thing - that they weren't happy with what they gave me.
Why is everyone their own worst critic ?
I think they're all great (there are three, one per week) so I really hope that after reading them you will all go and check out the respective authors blogs. You won't be disappointed.

I also recently started following Interwebs Fails, go and take a look, I'll wait. . .
Honestly I thought the people I had as 'friends' on facebook were a sad indictment of the human race, but some of the stuff he posts there makes me worry for our future.
If aliens are monitoring us they are probably tapping into the web, and looking at most of that they are probably thinking ~~lets blow them the fuck up~~ there is no intelligent life on earth. But some of the 'questions' posts I've seen there reminded me that I once joined a question forum so I went off to have a look.

Unbefuckinglievable.

That's not what I was taught, but I can see how it might happen.

Don't confuse birth control with your creepy uncle.

(@IWF feel free if you want to use these, I'd be kinda honoured if you did :)

Regular readers know ~~I buy far too many shoes on~~ I'm a big fan of ebay, and one thing I regularly look out for is Uggs, I'm very good at spotting the fakes too.

But last week before the sick bug got me I saw these,

Look at the fucking state of them !
There's used and then there's knackered, worn out, filthy and with a hole in the side. Yes, it is a hole, there were other pictures that showed it better.
She was asking for a starting price of £50 for fuck sake. I've bought genuine brand new Uggs for not much more then that, so I had to go and read the description.

SMELLY ?!!?
Oh wait, it's ok it's just a little bit.
COLLAPSE SLIGHTLY ?
That's a fucking full on landslide going on with those monstrosities.
LUXURY ITEM !?!?
If that's your idea of luxury love then I really don't want to see what you wear when you're slumming it.
SAD TO SEE THEM GO ?
If I got fifty quid for them I'd be throwing a fucking party.
GIVE THEM A GOOD HOME . . .
The only thing they are fit for is the bin.
Anyway of course I had to go and look at the 'similar items'. After all - they couldn't be any worse.
Could they ?

And then the proverbial penny dropped.

This person is hoping that weirdo perverts are going to buy her old tat.

She even had a pair of knickers amongst her stuff, it said they were new 'to comply with ebay terms' but they didn't exactly look new to me.

Urghhhh.

Hmmmm. I have several pairs of tatty old knickers lurking in the bottom of a drawer . . . .

Make me an offer.

Maybe she could use this for her advertising campaign.

I can't decide whether this guy is a genius or a bit of a cunt.

But anybody messes with my Bikini is gonna be in for a shock.

And not in a good way.

Never mind, these dogs made me laugh.

Awwwww.

The second one reminds me of the time I bought my (then about 2yrs old) niece some felt tip pens and forgot to tell my sister I had put them in her bag when she left my house. The next morning my sister found her sat in front of the mirror having coloured her entire face, even her eyelids, green.

For days afterwards people kept asking my sister if her daughter was ok as she 'didn't look too well'. She was fine, she just had a greenish tinge to her complexion.

I'm off, I have a hundred blog posts to read and about a thousand texts, emails and calls to reply to.

Yeah. I wish I was that popular.

I also wish I was getting this for Christmas.

Well someones gotta rub the suntan lotion on the bits I can't reach.

let me in

2011-11-22T18:39:00.001Z

Have I mentioned that I'm going away for Christmas ?

Maybe just once or twice.
TWO WEEKS !!!

However, I have some advice for any of you that ever want to travel to India.
Get your Visa as soon as possible !

I'm ok, I have mine, but there has been an issue with one of them, and for the MOST ridiculous reason. There are nine of us going, one of whom is a four year old. The back story here is that although her Father was around when she was born and so his name is on her birth certificate, he and her Mother broke up soon after and he has not been seen since. His loss. Consequently there has never been any kind of custody hearing, but as far as anything of a legal nature goes ie Tax Credits, benefits and the like her Mother is officially a single parent.
She has been to India for the last three years with her Mum and there has never been an issue with her Visa before, they have just included a copy of her Tax Credit entitlement and a letter explaining the situation with the application.

We all began the Visa process online, then my friend went up to London to the Embassy and handed in all our passports and photos. The next day we got a phone call from them saying that they were all fine, apart from the little girls as they needed to see her full birth certificate. In the UK you can have a short version - which is absolutely fine when it comes to claiming benefits, opening a bank account etc but not apparently for the fucking Indian embassy, they want to see the full one.
Which not everyone gets anyway, as you have to pay.

But, whatever, if that's what they want.
The guy said he would send an email immediately after the call, checked the mail addy, and we could scan the birth certificate and attach it to a reply. So her Mum got in touch with the records office and ordered a full copy.
However we did not get that email.
As we are running out of time her Mum decided to take it up in person, so yet another trip to London.

A few days later she got a text saying the Visa was processed and would be arriving by courier the next day.
It never arrived.
At this point, assuming there had been a problem with the post, she decided to phone the Indian Embassy.
Let met tell you it would be easier to find the combination for the safe at the Bank of England then get their fucking phone number. The website tells you when to call but not where.
Eventually she rang the couriers that deliver them, and luckily they had the number.
Then we find out that a) it has not been posted, because b) they need more information, which is c) a court order stating that she has custody, or d) they want to see her fathers passport.

Again she explains the situation.
But no matter - the person she was speaking to just kept repeating "we need to see a court order". Eventually we can hear that she is starting to get angry, and realising that will get her nowhere tell her to get the number for the complaints dept and end the call.
I rang the complaints dept and explained the situation.
Ever get the impression that you are speaking to someone who either isn't listening or doesn't want to. They are like talking to a fucking stuck CD. I think they just learn three English phrases and are told to keep repeating which ever seems most likely to fit. Yeah fine English is not your native language, but you are working in a place that deals with non-Indian people who want to visit your country - which relies heavily on tourism - so for fuck sake at least make it SOUND like you want to help them get there.
I also pointed out that clearly one end of their organisation does not know what the other is doing - otherwise why was a text sent saying it was on it's way - when clearly it wasn't. Although in a way that was a good thing as we would not have known any of this unless we had called to try to find out where it was.

I was told to call back at the end of the day, which I did, only to be told - yet again - that they needed something from the court or a solicitor.
Motherfuckers.
Exactly which part of we don't have one of them because we don't need one is that you are failing to grasp ?

There is a happy ending. Her Mum went and got a letter from a solicitor - which she had to pay for - and this was taken up (again to London) on Tuesday. Even this was not acceptable at first. In then end manipulation and lies were used, and they were told that her Father was a drug addict and if forced to contact him it would bring shame and distress to the child.
Apparently at this the guy dealing with it said he "would not want to bring shame on anyone's family".
Yesterday the Passport was returned with the Visa granted.

Which just proves the rules are NOT set in stone, and can be bent when they want to.

At first we could not understand why they made this so difficult, but we came to the conclusion that it's perhaps that India is a culture where single parents are probably not that common. So when they made their new rules they did not make allowances for every eventuality under which that can occur where you might have no contact and/or no desire to.

What if a childs Father had totally disappeared ? He might not even be in the country anymore.
What if the Father was dead ?
What about people who leave their partners because they are violent ?
What about kids who have no contact with a parent because of abuse ?

But they want our Tourist income. Even if that meant telling a child that her entire family are going on holiday and she is not allowed to come.
Do they want to be the ones to explain that to her ?

We gave them NINE Visa applications, and they processed all but one. Even though they can see that the one they refused belongs to a child whose parent they have just granted a Visa to.
Fucking idiots.
What's she gonna do ? Stay at home on her own.

And why has she suddenly been refused after three years of going. Apparently because they changed the rules. As my friend said to them "your rules might have changed but my circumstances have not".

However - there would've been none of this if her Fathers name was NOT on the birth certificate.
So, despite their family orientated culture, from the child's point of view it would be easier to get a Visa if she had the stigma of having no named Father rather then an absent one.

If they had not granted it then they would effectively be punishing a four year old for having a Father who is a waste of space with no interest in her.

If forced to find him and take him to court that could cause a whole load of emotional distress for both the child and her Mother.

When she was still a baby her Mother started a new relationship, and this is the man that the child looks upon as her Father. He treats her as his own and she calls him Dad. What would it do to a four year old - who although she knows he isn't her birth father, has this Man as a constant consistent reliable caring figure in her life - to suddenly have this other prick appear and be told THIS is actually your Dad.
Because he was given every opportunity to be in her life - he chose not to.
And rejection is hard enough to deal with as an adult, never mind when you're four.

And all because the Indian Embassy are refusing to let you into their country for a holiday unless you make contact with him.

Fuckers.

Why does a child even need a tourist Visa anyway ? Especially when travelling with her family.
It's not like she's going to be looking for a job whilst we're there, even though her £40 Visa has ended up costing her Mum close to £250.

Although it's India, I suppose they think we might be sending her off to a sweat shop - or be planning to cut off her arm and send her out to beg.

Did I say that ? Oops. They might not let me in.

But again. . . TWO WEEKS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

withdrawl

2011-11-14T22:59:00.001Z

I am cured.

I feel like I have been to rehab.

I deleted my Facebook.

It wasn't done with the intention of being permanent. The plan was to delete it for a while, then once people realised I had gone reactivate it and have a major cull of ~~the fucking idiots~~ people without them realising and getting offended and shitty about it.
Just keep it for close friends and family and people I actually like.
Not ~~nosy cunts and perverts~~ acquaintances who just want to look at the pictures. Or invite me to social events with people I can't fucking stand, and then even after I've ~~said I have bubonic plague~~ not attended the event I still see endless pictures of the drunk morons who did go on my page.
When I get back from my epic holiday I don't want them looking at my snaps - but I do want to share them with some people, and it's too sodding tedious picking who can and can't see albums.

And as amusing as I find certain people - the ones that have made an appearance or two here, it was getting really fucking annoying when every time I checked it I had a feed full of their inane drivel.

I guess my real friends will just have to go back to the old fashioned way of keeping in touch with me.

Like actually coming round for a coffee.
Or picking up the phone.
Do people still do that anymore ? Or do they just send you a virtual drink ?

I haven't missed it at all, in fact the only thing I have considered since - apart from never using it again - is that I will no longer have stuff from there to share on here.
And it does make for entertainment.

But then I was having a look at ebay - yeah I'm still trying to find a magic slimming, youth giving bikini - and I found some new entertainment.
I know all about the idea that one man's rubbish is another man's treasure, I've realised that from the utter crap that I've left outside my house only to find it gone in the morning.
But really.
Take a look . . . .

What the fuck is this ?

Apparently it's an old fashioned salt dispenser.
Really ?
That's not what it looks like to me.
FYI I was looking for Spice Racks.

How about getting some old fashioned Christmas pudding charms, I don't know about elsewhere in the world but traditionally in the UK you put them in the pudding for people to ~~choke to death on~~ find as they eat it.
When I was a child my Mum ~~tried to kill us with~~ used silver six pence pieces in ours, but originally the charms were used. I was looking for some to give to my sister, as I'm not going to be home at Christmas I'm making a little parcel up for her and I found this.

Happiness ?
And yeah I know that before the nazi's adopted it the swastika was in fact a lucky symbol, it still is in Indian culture, but this was MADE IN ENGLAND and it's old but not that old, and it's on sale on ebay NOW.
Hurry up and you could be the proud owner. Just make sure Grandad who fought in the war doesn't get the wrong piece of pudding.
He really will choke on it.
I guess you can always tell people the Germans got him in the end.

I have also been looking for some shorts for my holiday.
Search" shorts size 14 " and look what it found for me. . .

Should I get a pair of them for the beach ?

I found this next thing hilarious.
I'm not entirely sure if it's in the best taste, it might even be a bit inappropriate or offensive to some, but that's probably part of the appeal, for me anyway.

I'm gonna order one anyway. MLK is about to go where no man has gone for quite a while.

There is also an unbelievable amount of varieties of toilet roll on ebay. Quite literally any colour and design - not just the novelty crossword, sudoku and bank note ones that you see in most joke shops.
For English football fans here's a way to show the team what you really think of their performance.

And one for the Americans out there. . .

Hilary can go where no man has gone before.

And this just makes no sense.
How this person hopes to make a sale is beyond me.

Thank you ?
For what.
Not paying ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY NINE quid for something I don't even know if I want because you haven't even got a fucking picture.

It seem's that fuckwits don't just confine their activity to Facebook.

And that last line . . . "this is a stool". . . no prizes for guessing what that made me think about.

If I saw this hanging outside someone's house I think I'd walk away.
Especially if it was in Scotland.

I've also started using Twitter a bit more lately, there's a link on the right if you fancy joining me on there (and one for G+) - not that I've posted much myself I just follow other bloggers and ~~stalk~~ a couple of famous people.

But last night I went to log in and it showed me this. What the fuck ?

It's a fucking huge website.
How can it be 'over capacity' ? What does that even mean ?

Ah well, I just hope the idiots who stick all those boring crap status updates on Facebook every five minutes don't decide to join it. It will probably explode.

i wish i hadn't heard that

2011-11-12T01:28:00.001Z

RIP Joe.

A man and a legend.

I do like boxing, it's the only sport I really watch, although I think it's been a long time since the sport had a true champion like it did in the days of Frazier, Ali, Foreman and their like.
And Sugar Ray was CUTE.
Maybe Tyson could've been, but he let himself down outside the ring. Rapists have no place in public adoration.
We've had a few half decent UK fighters - but none that come close to the greats.

I got my love of the sport from watching those guys with my Dad.

My blogger pal Al, over at Penwasser Place wrote a post about his time in the US Navy and Veterans day. My Dad was in the Royal Navy in his younger years and the comment I left there made me think of a couple of funny things.

My parents split when I was 14. This was not at all a traumatic thing for me, in fact it was a bit of a relief. All I remember them ever doing was arguing so it was no shock - sometimes I think I maybe saw it coming before they did.
I was a Daddys girl - still am really - but as I hit full on puberty and rebellion and began the five year war with my Mum, so Dad became my ally (he no longer needed to back Mum up to keep the peace) and his flat was my refuge when I wanted to escape. Mostly I think he respected, especially by the time I was about 16 or 17, that I was growing up and let me make my own ~~huge mistakes~~ decisions and then ~~bailed me out~~ talked it through with me.
As a result of that we can talk about things that maybe some Dads and daughters can't.

This is not always a good thing.

He's in his eighties now and not in the best of health although still very independent, but I like to hear from him every day. We do this via the daily filthy text joke.
I frequently have a conversation where I will read one to a friend. . .
"Who sent you that?"
"My Dad"
"Your DAD sent you THAT ???"

He once told me the story of how he ended up getting circumcised by a Navy surgeon, apparently Dad was not lacking in size and the doctor ("He was fucking faggot too..") asked him to drop his trousers then lifted the offending appendage up with a pencil and made a complimentary remark.
At which point Dad replaced his clothing and told him he "best get someone else to do the op because I'm worried what you might do to it when I'm out cold . . ."
He had shared this because I thought Son might've had a problem and I'd asked his advice.
TMI Dad, TMI.

Not the first time he put a picture in my head that I really didn't want to see.

One night he had gone out and met a rather nice young lady who had agreed to go home with him. He said he knew she was a fair bit younger then him but although he was in his early fifties at this point, Dad has always looked a lot younger then his years. (I love him for passing those genes to me). So he gets back to his flat and the female spots the picture of me and my sister when we were teenagers on his wall.
She points at me and says
"That's ..............isn't it ?"
Dad asked her how she knew me.
"Well I don't really know her, but I remember her because she was well known in the year above me at school".
Dad called her a cab.

The saying is that sailors have a girl in every port and I once asked my Dad if he did.
"No, but I once caught a nasty dose of the clap from a prostitute in Korea that I had to get rid of before I got back home to your Mother".

When Son was first at College he had kept mentioning a girls name, and one day when he was kind of distracted I said it sounded like he had a girlfriend. . .
"Nooo, she just comes round and gives me a blow job when you're at work"

Great.
So now my Son was also putting pictures in my head.
There are some things a Mother just doesn't need to know.
Or a daughter.

Because when I relayed this story to Dad. . . .
"Lucky bleeder, when I was his age if I wanted one of them I had to pay for it".

You think ?

My favourite of all his stories though is not at all rude, but from when he was a boy growing up in a city that was getting bombed by the Germans.

Dad, as usual, had left for school in the morning but also, as usual, had not actually gone to school and was instead playing by the locks. In those days where there is now a train line there was a canal.
During the morning, the Luftwaffe had decided to drop a bomb on Dads school.
Luckily there were no casualties and all the children were accounted for. . . .apart from Dad.

When it was the right time Dad had made his way home.

Meanwhile a policeman had been despatched to the house to give his Mother the bad news.

He said as he walked in the front door my Gran screamed, lunged at him, hugged him then hit him and continued to switch between the two for quite a while.

Dad has told me that he is writing all his memories down.
I have suggested to him that he should get a computer to do it, but he says he likes writing by hand. In a way that's a bit of a shame because I'm sure it would make for a great blog.

Either way I can't wait to read them.
Even if some of them are bound to give me nightmares.

He's a bit of a legend himself.

And just to prove my point, here's a selection of this weeks jokes from Dad.
Enjoy.

Today my mate was doing a crossword and asked me if I knew the medical term for a swollen vagina.
He's a thick cunt.

I was down the gym this morning when I noticed a hole in my trainer big enough to get my finger in.
Anyway, she's now made a formal complaint.

My dysexic friend told me he was going to be covering his penis in black shoe polish last week-end.
I said to him "you idiot you're supposed to be turning the clock back".

A priest booked into a hotel and told the receptionist he hoped the porn channel was disabled.
She said "no you sick bastard it's ordinary porn".

A man was in court charged with murdering his pretty young wife. The judge asked him what he had to say in his defence.
"Well your honour I came home and found the dirty slut in bed fucking my best friend so I shot her"
The judge said he thought that was fair enough and asked the man what happened to his best friend.
"I wagged my finger at him and told him he was a bad dog".

Went to bed with two Thai girls last night. It was like winning the lottery, we had six matching balls.

enough

2011-11-10T19:09:00.001Z

I give in. Or give up.
Whatever.
The time has come.

Warning : 'Women's Problems' post coming up.

As much as I might want to carry on kidding myself that I'm still 28, my body is refusing to comply. It's getting harder to carry off anyway, I mean nobodies going to believe that I had Son when I was three are they ? Well not without a huge scandal and at the very least my name in the Guiness Book of Records.

Despite my reservations I am off to the doctors next week to get me some HRT.
Fuck the 'natural' herbal remedies, they aint touching the sides of it, what I need right now are some MASSIVE drugs.
Proper hardcore ones.

Gimme the good shit Doc.

Three times this week I have woke up in what felt like a ~~pool of my own piss~~ paddling pool, but was in fact fucking horrible sweat.
I don't remember the last time I had a decent nights sleep.
My skin itches like ~~I'm coming off smack~~ I've got chicken pox.
I'm having hot flashes in the most inopportune places, in the last two weeks these have included :

On the train.
In the queue in the bank.
Whist picking my friends kid up from school.
In a taxi

Off topic - got a cab this morning - I think I know the driver - he thinks he recognises me too but we can't figure out where from. Get to work - all day it bugs me - this afternoon I realise he's a guy I fucked a few times about 10 years ago - oops.
Wonder if he's figured it out yet. . . .

Anyway, back to the big issue, more crucially I want to FUCKING KILL SOMEONE.
Nobody in particular (well there are a few likely candidates) but really anyone would do. If any of you know of anyone you'd like offed let's talk - there would be a ~~large~~ fee involved but I could probably use the hormonal imbalance as a defence and get off with a few years probation and some court ordered therapy.

Oh no your honour. . . that wasn't me, my knife is MUCH bigger.

I have always had a ~~psychotic temper~~ slightly short fuse, but it used to take something big to light that fuse. . .just when it did DUCK AND COVER.
For the last few weeks it feels like it's smouldering away all the time.
The dark thoughts are slowly taking over.
Had some woman in the seat in front of me on the train the other day talking on her phone with a really annoying whiny voice, instead of what I'd normally do. . .ie sit there and make up sarcastic comments about her in my head, I was fantasising about reaching round and shoving her phone down her throat.

I'm a bit worried about myself.
I know what I've been capable of in the past when angry.
Fuck knows what I'd do now if someone REALLY pisses me off.

And let me tell you EVERYONE is pissing me off.

So yeah, the doctors it is. Either that or the life of a secret Ninja assassin, and as I don't know any Kung Fu that's not looking very likely.

Would like to be this . . .

I'm also a bit too fat to look good in a leather catsuit.
Which is what I imagine myself wearing if I went for that option.

But the reality would probably be more like this . . .

Or maybe I just need one of these . . .

Okay okay I'll stop the whining now.
*thinks warm fluffy lovely thoughts*
Nah, didn't work. GIVE ME CHOCOLATE.
Here's a cat with a hat.

Awwww. . . .

Ps. Has anyone seen the plumber lately ?

countdown

2011-11-02T19:31:00.000Z

A few things have pissed me off already this week, and it's only Wednesday.
First up was some stupid idea I heard being talked about on the news to offer all pregnant women the option of a C section, even when there are no expected problems. Why ? Who in their right mind is going to choose a potentially dangerous (as are all ops) procedure with a six week recovery period, over a natural process that most women recover from pretty quickly.
Lazy cows who think they are too posh to push and scared young girls who shouldn't be having a baby anyway, that's who.

Then there was the stupid fuckwit on the train who in the course of a twenty minute journey rang four people to tell them about his sick dog and the discharge it was producing. (Nice, bet a few people on that train didn't want their dinner when they got home). He also kept saying that the dog needed to be 'spayded' - I really don't know how I stopped myself from shouting IT'S SPAYED YOU FUCKING MORON - and that he was now thinking about getting rid of the dog.
Obviously he had it just for breeding too.
Yeah not even gonna go there with how I feel about people who do that.
Pets are pets not money / baby making machines.

I am also pissed off at a new TV series I started watching which is not doing anything for the image of young black people who live in inner city estates.
Anyone wanting to have a few stereotypes reaffirmed should watch Top Boy. It may well be an accurate representation of life for some in a sink estate. . . but I bet a lot of people watching it are thinking that's EXACTLY how ALL young black men live their lives.

However I am feeling pretty buzzed up too, as it's now just five weeks until I'm heading off for a month in the sun and I feel like the countdown has begun. I'm not gonna let the annoyances get to me.
There's been a few things that have amused me too.

Sometimes in the morning a young blind man and his guide dog get the train, he's sat by me a couple of times and we've had a chat. His dog is still a puppy really, and he's not had him long so is still teaching him. Today he sat further down the train and I could hear someone asking him questions, this person clearly didn't know much about guide dogs and he asked the guy. . .
"How do they know where to go, do they learn the addresses of places ?"
And the reply,
"He's a dog, not a four legged furry Sat Nav".

I laughed out loud at that.

Watching a quiz show on TV with the four year old granddaughter at work, someone answered "USA"
"What's the USA Cowgirl ?"
"It means America, it's proper name is the United States of America"
"Don't be silly, you can't eat it, it's a country not a steak".

I've also got a couple of Facebook moron classics to share.
There is so much wrong with this I don't even know where to start. . .

Do male cows get milked ?
Well yes they do, but not for anything you'd want to drink.

The male has more downstairs ?
What ? Like a coffee table and a corner unit.

Don't know about bulls - but I can see plenty of bullshit.

And Thick Bird, she whose ~~lack of~~ intelligence has featured here a few times before has been at it again, having yet another dig at her children's father.
And once again I couldn't resist having a dig at her.

I love the fact that she doesn't even realise I'm having a dig back, I was actually about to type another comment under this.
"My door is stuck, do you think Steve could come round and loosen it for me ?"

But he beat me to it, and I reckoned he deserved to get the last word when I saw this. . .

What a winner.

I also saw this on FB today.
I know that advertisers are supposed to tell the truth, but isn't this taking it a bit too far. . .
Even though I agree.

He certainly is.

I'm off to look for bikinis on ebay. I'm hoping to find one that makes me appear three sizes smaller and ten years younger.

samhain

2011-10-31T20:15:00.000Z

A while ago I mentioned in a post about my tarot cards, experiences and belief in the supernatural. I said I wasn't going to post about it, but a few people commented saying that they would like to read about it.
So as it's Halloween here's three stories about a spirit, a poltergeist and a message.

When I was about 20 I lived in a fairly old house. The place was falling apart really, but it belonged to a friend who didn't have the money to fix it up so he let my boyfriend and I live there for nothing. One night a bit of the ceiling above the landing collapsed and left a hole about a metre square right outside my bedroom door.
As a result it was always fucking freezing on the upstairs landing.

Another friend came to stay there for a while and brought a kitten with her. From the day she moved in, every night we would hear the kitten playing and meowing right outside our bedroom door and it always wanted to sleep under the hole in the ceiling.
I couldn't understand it, given that every cat I've ever had always wanted to sleep in the warmest part of the house, whereas this one seemed to like the coldest part of ours. A few times I tried bringing it into my bedroom but it would just sit by the door and cry until I let it out.

One night I was very upset about something and went downstairs for a while.
When I decided to go back up to bed, still crying, the kitten was sat at the top of the stairs on the left looking at something to it's right and as I passed it I felt something squeeze my hand.
Very gently, it felt comforting.
I remember standing there trying to figure out what had just happened, I was looking at my hand and as I did so all the hairs on my arm stood up and I felt something - like a very light touch - rub my arm.

I really wasn't scared - in fact I felt better.
At the time I was having driving lessons and my instructor was a member of a spiritualist church. A few days later I had a lesson booked but I'd forgotten about it so when he knocked the door I asked him to come in for a moment while I got ready, when I came back he was still stood by the door and was staring up the stairs.
He asked me if I knew my house had a spirit, and told me that there was a little girl stood at the top of the stairs with the kitten, but not to worry as she meant no harm.

I guess when we could hear the cat playing at night it was playing with her.
Soon after that Don who owned the house said we all had to leave as he was selling it on. Jodie moved out first, the day she left we could not find her kitten anywhere, and we never let it out as it was too young.
We never did find it.
I moved out a couple of weeks later, but in the nights before I did I sometimes heard what sounded like the kitten playing outside my room and once or twice I heard giggling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first children's home I worked in was in a building that had previously been an old peoples home. The upstairs was completely locked up apart from one room at the top of the stairs that was used for staff sleep-ins. The TV room was under the part that was never used but it was nothing unusual for us to hear someone walking about up there, and although we locked the kitchen at night there were times when in the morning pots would be out of the cupboards.
It wasn't the kids - there was no way they could get in these rooms once locked.
And often whoever was staying in the sleep-in room would hear knocking from the next room, which was empty and locked, some of the staff had refused to sleep in the room.

One night I stayed in this room, and when the knocking started I had said "you don't bother me so shut up" and just gone to sleep. In the morning when I woke up I got dressed and ready, gathered up my stuff (I was going off shift) and put everything apart from my house keys and the night keys (which I needed to lock the room behind me) away in my bag. I put the bag over my shoulder, left the room, locked the door, put both sets of keys in my jeans pocket and went downstairs. As I was going down I heard a bang from upstairs, so I turned round and said "fuck you" to whatever it was.

I went straight to the kitchen where the other staff member was, put my bag on the table and made a coffee. We were sat there chatting when the new days staff arrived. When I went to handover the keys I only had the house set in my pocket, no night keys. As my jeans were the only thing I was wearing with pockets I retraced my steps back, thinking they might've fallen out - but there was no sign. This was 7am on a Sunday and neither of the two kids we had in residence were there, both had gone on home visits for the week-end so there was only myself and my colleague in the building.

I was 100% sure I put them in my pocket, keeping keys safe is a habit in that job, but my colleague and I went through my bag, the only other place they really could be - no keys. I even 'shook' myself to see if I could hear them on me - nothing. We got the spare night set and went back up and looked in the sleep-in room - no keys. We went through everything but could not find them.
One of the women who had just come on shift had a few experiences of her own in that house, she asked me if anything had happened and I told her what I'd heard and said. . . she just gave me a knowing look and told me to go home, the keys would probably turn up eventually.

I went home, made a drink, turned the TV on and dozed off on the sofa.
When I woke up a couple of hours later I ran a bath, as I was taking my top off I heard a clinking sound and in the hood was the set of keys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last story is maybe not so spooky, but to me it means more.

My Mum had a sister called Iris who died from cancer. I love the song Iris, it's always been one of my favourites even before my Auntie died. I had played it for my Mum too.
I lost my Mum three years ago this December, the day she died from the minute I got to her hospital bed I had that song playing in my head.
From then whenever I listened to it - in fact for a while I couldn't - it made me think of her.

Weeks later when we cleared her house we found a little portable stereo, Mum liked to listen to the radio at night and had used it for that. I took it home, put it in the bottom of my wardrobe and forgot about it.
Months later I was in my house with my then boyfriend, his football team were playing and as the match wasn't on the TV he wanted to listen to it on the radio. I remembered the little stereo so went and got it for him.

When it was half time he went off to make a drink and I decided to have a play around with the radio. The ex had found it hard to tune in when he was looking for the sports channel, but I moved the dial and straight away hit a music channel.
Guess what song was playing. . . .

Coincidence ?
There are hundreds of radio channels and millions of songs.

So I don't think so.

Happy Samhain people :)