~Trifledreamz~

The Squoob

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 21:14:00 +0000

Fashion is a brainless bird which flies around in ever decreasing circles but as seasonal hemlines rise and fall we are at last truly gladdened to meet again with our dear old historical friend, The Squoob.

A welcome reappearance indeed from the squashed boob effect so beloved in romantic period dramas as sported by lovelorn heroines with flowing locks, heaving bosoms and palpitating hearts.

With the help of a handmaiden's knee in the back, the corset strings are drawn suffocatingly tight and The Squoob is duly formed as the bursting bustline is restrained almost beyond belief until it becomes a quite breathtaking feat of civil engineering.

Even the most modestly endowed young lady can squash and squeeze herself half to death and proudly boast an eye-catching cleavage to instill passionate desire into the hearts of those who behold her.

When a pretty maiden parades The Squoob to perfection, she may rest assured that she commands the male attention wherever she goes with the veiled promise that so much as the most innocuous sneeze will bring the whole lot tumbling out before our very eyes like a heavenly avalanche.

Which is perhaps why, in bygone days, gentlemen and scoundrels alike carried little boxes of snuff around with them at all times.

Full Figure Fayre

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 17:04:00 +0000

A woman needn't always worry too much whenever she over indulges and gains that extra couple of pounds, in fact it can often be a cause of great delight as her former allure doubles and her aspect becomes pleasingly comely.

Where previously she may have registered as quite easy on the eye, those extra curves can make all the difference, quietly transforming her from a girl worthy of a second glance into a shapely woman demanding prolonged admiration and respect.

As she attains her fuller figure, those womanly curves progress into the wondrous realms of the voluptuous and men genuinely appreciative of the gorgeous rubenesque form begin to see her with eyes anew.

Soft, sweet and irresistibly inviting, she has the body of a true woman, the flesh of a goddess.

In private moments she may look in the mirror and lament her widened hips and rounded belly with a sorry sigh that she no longer has the body of a teenager but she should know that a youthful physique is merely a work in progress that doesn't find its crowning moment of triumph until reaching full maturity and a fuller figure.

Making Scents

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 20:37:00 +0000

The air surrounding the ladies perfume counter is thick and hostile to all life forms, making the atmosphere on Venus quite refreshing by comparison, yet i am led to believe that this is all in the blessed name of ritual attraction.

Mother Nature had it all worked out perfectly well on her own and women down the ages seemed to attract their mates quite happily without the intervention of noxious fumes or a chemical cloud menacingly shimmering around them like a spiteful aura.

Vision is our primary sense so i have to say that it doesn't matter how wonderful a woman might smell if her looks and personality are insufficient means of attraction alone and it is probably a touch of feminine subtlety that goes largely unnoticed by the primitive male nostril.

Well, there was this girl once who smelt like a brewery and i found this effect far more appealing than any expensive perfume but i was very young and foolish in those days and the gorgeous earthiness of her intoxicating beer-breath was far from her only attraction.

It does make me wonder though why a woman wishing to attract her man should dowse herself in all sorts of flowery scents when the good, honest aroma of beer would not only be far cheaper but would also provide a more pleasing sensation in the mind of her potential admirer.

The Hole Of Glory

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 20:54:00 +0000

How well i recall the time that no lesser personage than Lady Cameltoe herself graciously requested my presence down at Cameltoe Hall for the grand inauguration of her newly-installed and sumptously luxurious gothic Glory Hole.

The village had been awash with rumours about it for weeks thanks to some of her looser-lipped servants but here was the opportunity to actually witness the much whispered about installation with my very own eyes.

The original 16th century Glory Hole had been the pride of the good Lady's family for generations but had latterly fallen somewhat into disrepair and neglect, hence her bold commissioning of the magnificent new model.

Lady C would perform the discretionary honours from her comfortable place of concealment safe from the hungry eyes of the private viewing gallery but who could be the highly honoured gentleman to proudly take his place and personally benefit from this greatly trumpeted and historic opening ceremony?

Word had it that he might be some bristling and bewhiskered Arch-Duke from the continent but nobody knew the truth except the Lady herself, as is only right and proper on these momentous, stately occasions.

The entire event proved a resounding success greatly to the utmost satisfaction of all concerned and no higher honour could have been awarded me than being asked to bat second whereupon i, although of lowly origin, pride myself that i performed with just as much glory as any blue-blooded nobleman.

The Pheasant Plucker's Daughter

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 12:53:00 +0000

Whenever i took a sunday afternoon stroll through the tangle of thorny bushes and gnarly old trees that made up her little woodland domain, i could always feel the inquisitive eyes of the pheasant plucker's beautiful daughter watching me.

Although very seldom did she actually reveal herself, on those rare occasions when i was fortunate enough to come face-to-face with her, she took a faltering step closer, looked deep into my soul then darted off into the undergrowth like a startled rabbit.

It was all very curious indeed but sometimes we made it so far as to exchange smiles before she disappeared again.

I took to walking the woodlands at every opportunity and pining for her in a desperate, hopelessly romantic kind of way, reliving those precious smiles of hers a thousand times over in my mind.

Gathering only the most colourful wildflowers as i walked, i would assemble a bouquet and gently place it upon the sacred spot where we had first met, always aware that she was observing my humble ritual of devotion from the shadows, hopefully with satisfaction and delight.

And one day, after torturing myself in this way for so long, i intuitively became aware that her presence no longer graced the scene and that i would never again set eyes upon her timid beauty; it felt like the summer had suddenly become winter and having briefly discovered this magical girl, she had left my life cold and bleak forever.

Calender Girl

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 20:41:00 +0000

One wonders what became of the bygone calender girl, the breathtaking pin-up of yesteryear who once beamed out at the world from her allocated month with a toothpaste smile, glowing skin and defiantly firm bust.

She now lies forlorn and forgotten, dusty and dated like everything else from her time, a happy reminder of the innocence and simplicity of life when she was a pretty young princess for an entire sunshine month back in the day.

No doubt the years have long since overtaken the girl herself, possibly even ravaging her almost beyond recognition but nobody can deny her the comforting memory that she was formerly the focus of many an ardent and admiring gaze.

Time and memories are strange things, however, so even now when i return to that fading image of decades ago i yet view her through the eyes of that feverishly admiring and deeply devoted young man.

The thoughts and feelings originally evoked within my breast by that captivating image remain just as they were, so deep and lasting was the impression made and so surely did she capture my tender heart in those dim and distant days.

Turkey Twizzler

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 15:49:00 +0000

I received a visit from a slightly dubious but very striking official recently, a statuesque woman who quickly informed me that she was the newly-appointed village Turkey Twizzler and that the purpose of her impromptu appearance upon my doorstep was to personally twizzle my turkey.

I believe her very words were I can make your flesh sizzle by giving your turkey a twizzle.

I didn't like to ask what twizzling my turkey entailed although i did inform her that no poultry of any variety whatsoever resided within my walls, which seemed to little avail as she was either speaking in tongues or communicating in absolute gobbleygook, like the mythical turkeys themselves.

And so, my dear little butterball, she cooed softly with eyes full of mischief and hands craftily insinuating themselves within the onfines of my dressing-gown, Have you got a nice, plump surprise for me or are you the last turkey left dangling in the shop window?

This downright impertinence really was the last straw so i demanded that her fingers cease their uninvited explorations immediately and that she leave my premises forthwith, rather unkindly suggesting that she Get Stuffed into the bargain.

Which upon reflection was perhaps not such a good idea as she swiftly seized my personage and dragged me upstairs in no uncertain terms; the upshot being that feathers flew, chickens came home to roost and giblets flew everywhere before i could resist, my poor old turkey ending up more twizzled than it has been for many a moon.

Dating Tips For Young Ladies IX

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 20:52:00 +0000

In the savage wilds of the dating jungle you are naturally wary against being taken for granted, fooled or hurt by the predatory men in your life but another danger lurks in these turbulent waters: your own friend, or rather, your so-called friend.

A girls treacherous friend is the one who says all the right things, happily listens to your troubles then uses it all to further her own ambition; she observes the happiness you share with your man and thinks to herself I'll have some of that!

She is the friend who will ask question after question about the man in your life, wanting to know everything about him in intimate detail not borne out of interest for your personal welfare but to enable her to weigh-up whether he might be worth stealing from you one day.

Little by little, she will drop the odd word of poison to inspire your self-doubt or mistrust, possibly without you even noticing, secretly hoping that you might take your eye off the ball long enough to allow the opportunity for her to snatch him away.

She's ready to pounce the minute your back is turned.

Some are happy to live off the crumbs that fall from the table of others and some merely wait until distraction enables the seizing of the whole dish for themselves; it is therefore wise when dating that you keep those cards very close to your chest indeed.

A Cocktail Of Kisses

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 14:55:00 +0000

If truth be told, i remember very little of last nights New Years Eve celebrations down at The Mound Of Venus, thanks in no small part to the tempting tipples thrust in my face throughout the evening by the ever accommodating and pertinently perky barmaid, Chlamydia.

I vaguely recall a kind of bizarre duel fought between herself and her arch-enemy, local school ma'm Miss Strangely-Horny, the object of which seemed to revolve around who could flaunt their cleavage most effectively and so win my undivided attention for the night.

The lively revelry continued as they jostled to outdo each other; the buxom barmaid casually leaning forwards to take the deepest of breaths imaginable, thus inflating her already sumptuous assets to magnificent proportions until i hardly knew where to look.

Meanwhile, her prime antagonist loosened another button, accidentally dropped a peanut down her blouse and rummaged away whilst affording myself a grandstand view of proceedings, awkwardly pondering whether my personal assistance ought to be gallantly volunteered or otherwise.

Endless rounds of the demon drink combined with boisterous music and provocative cleavages proved too heady a cocktail for a simple man such as i and everything became something of a blur to me beyond a certain point, with only the midnight chimes reawakening my senses.

Closing my eyes in anticipation, i waited with puckered lips to see which of the dainty duellists would claim the first kiss of New Year but was crestfallen to discover that they had by now quite overcome their differences and had their lips locked together in a sizzling embrace of their own which was most pointedly to the exclusion of myself.

Watching awestruck for several minutes, i concluded that the next best thing to kissing a pretty girl or two is to leisurely witness them kissing each other so i went on my way quite happily after all.

Woman Of The Year: Tulisa

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 17:57:00 +0000

As 2011 draws to a close i'm proud to name my Woman of the Year as feisty X-Factor judge and talented N-Dubz singer/songwriter Tulisa Contostavlos, otherwise known as The Female Boss.

I have to admit that i was only vaguely aware of Tulisa's existence prior to this year but have been more than impressed with her commitment, charisma and forceful personality to say nothing of her personal beauty, obvious passion and wonderful singing voice.

A particularly pretty brunette, she has frequently been likened to a young Elizabeth Taylor not without good reason and even though i'm not a legs man by trade, i do have to say that Tulisa's shapely pins are especially attractive.

While some eyebrows were raised over her glamorous elevation in the public eye, i have nodded in agreement with others who not only see something very special in her but also sense a warmth of personality which revealed itself in her protective championing of girl band Little Mix.

Her Little muffins, as she fondly refers to them, were fortunate enough to find Tulisa constantly fighting their corner and supporting them every step of the way en route to an unprecedented but much deserved victory.

The appointment of Tulisa for X-Factor was an absolute masterstroke and i applaud the woman herself for all that she's achieved thus far and all that she will undoubtedly achieve in future because she is a burning star still very much on the rise who will dazzle and entertain us for many a year to come.

Christmas In Tights

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 20:46:00 +0000

In just a matter of days we will all be cosied up around the festive turkey, force-feeding ourselves with overcooked brussel sprouts and endeavouring to swallow that last stubborn spoonful of Christmas Pudding while the family babble like baboons throughout the entire Queen's speech.

We will stumble to the sofa with swollen bellies, feeling like we'd just swallowed a bag of wet cement and promptly fall asleep in front of some tired old film before awaking several hours later with trapped wind and a passing fancy for the seasonal leftovers.

We can always look forward to that much-loved and historic tradition, the village pantomime, consisting of men in frocks portraying ugly sisters and rather attractive young women posing as principal boys in colourful tights and thigh-high boots.

They merrily strut across the stage unashamedly soaking up the limelight and looking saucier and saucier as the performance wears on, enthusiastically slapping their own thighs whenever circumstances may dictate.

It is, in point of fact, the only occasion upon which the wearing of tights is at all permissable, they being the Devil's handywork and at any other time stand infinitely less appealing than stockings.

But it is Christmas after all and an hour or two spent idly observing a girl in tights acting all dandy and heroic is certainly a better way of rounding off the festivities than wondering how many turkey sandwiches stand between myself and New Year.

The Gift Of Giving

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 21:00:00 +0000

We talked long through the night about whether it was better to give or to receive, especially at Christmas time, chewing it over between us until we came to the conclusion that it was sometimes nice to give a little something and also quite nice to receive a little something.

You may think me gallant if i wish to give you something personal but i wouldn't be human if i didn't at least hope for a little festive something by way of return.

There is a certain little something that i've had in mind for quite some time and had especially mentioned in my letter to Father Christmas a few weeks ago, wishing with all my heart to receive as requested and unwrap in earnest thankfulness.

I didn't go into too many details as Santa's face is already quite red enough.

And then there comes that hesitant moment on Christmas morning when i ask if i should give her something first or whether she should give me something before happy agreement is reached in us both giving each other exactly what we desire most at precisely the same time.

Sin For My Supper

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 20:49:00 +0000

I'm virtually brimming over today because the lovely young lady down at the local pie shop says she's got an absolute treat in store for me but is keeping it under wraps until the moment is right.

This not only arouses my ever hungry curiosity but also tickles my tastebuds in keen anticipation and i can't help but wonder what lipsmacking delight i'm about to be honoured with although i strongly suspect that she'll serve up something truly mouthwatering.

With a cheeky wink and a suggestive lick of the lips, she leans forward and whispers confidentially Once you've tasted what i have on offer you'll never get enough.

She says it's the sweetest kind of pie there is and that once i set eyes upon it then i'll be drooling like a hound, which puts me in mind of a particularly seductive meringue or perhaps even, dear God, a custard tart.

And what's even better, she confides, you'll be eating it all night long.

Needless to say, i can hardly wait until my first exquisite taste of the sumptuous supper she so teasingly promises, her parting words still ringing in my ears: See you tonight and make sure you bring your appetite with you!

Intimacy With Strangers

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 14:00:00 +0000

One of the most common held fantasies is to share intimacies with a complete stranger.

Mankind habitually feels driven to explore the unknown and what finer frontier than the unknown flesh of the forbidden stranger?

Willingly exposing and sharing our secret selves with somebody we have never met before and will never meet again holds a certain potency within our imaginations.

There is always that wishful moment of keen anticipation immediately before opening a gift when one wonders what it is and hopes that it will be something special.

By virtue of their deeply unknown quantity and mystique the attractive, willing stranger is able to shed the skin of mundanity and lead us on a new and exciting adventure in which we can truly let ourselves go.

A shared secret can be a treat but when it is an unspoken, dirty little secret then it becomes a memorably delicious dish to be deeply savoured long after the event itself.

Just think how it makes your day when a stranger suddenly gives you a totally unexpected smile, so just imagine for a moment how you might feel if they gave you something every bit as welcome but rather more substantial.

The Altar Of Desire

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 20:59:00 +0000

The knowing click of the bedroom door signals with solemn finality the point of no return, gently reminding us that the time for talking has now passed and that the time for a man to be known by his deeds has very much arrived.

All his cajoling, flattery and attentiveness has led him upstairs to the altar of desire and now, much as Lord Nelson reminded his salty seamen before Trafalgar, She expects.

She expects to devour and be in turn devoured, to have the universe explode into a million tiny crystals of unstoppable pleasure and become overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his flaming ardour towards her.

She expects to be shaken to the core and swept away in a tidal wave of absolute delirium, taken to the dizzy heights of tempestuous romance and the deepest depths of raw emotion that will make her forget herself amidst the surging storms of passion.

Living up to expectations is one thing and surpassing them quite another but, now that he is here, he deems it only right and proper to give it his very best shot, for which we heartily applaud him.

Letter Of Recommendation

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 16:06:00 +0000

To whom it may concern: i have been fortunate enough to employ the busty bearer of this letter of reference for many years during which time she has fulfilled numerous positions equally well, all to my greatest satisfaction and utmost pleasure.

To say that she is most accommodating at all times and is always willing to bend over backwards for my gratification is no exaggeration and i could never sing her praises highly enough.

With a sunny disposition, a homely touch and a mind dirtier than Satan's bedlinen, she is a joy to have around the place, unstintingly eager to please and whatever one asks of her she always does with a beaming smile upon her pretty face.

She enjoys the happy knack of knowing precisely what i require at any given hour of day or night and the enthusiasm for the task in hand to unfailingly bring matters to a highly satisfactory and skilfull conclusion.

I shall be very unhappy to let her go but the decision is sadly not my own as my good lady wife deems it best that the young lady be on her way sooner rather than later, deeming it rather forcefully and in no uncertain terms...although i remain quite perplexed as to the reasons why.

Ladies Of The Night

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 21:21:00 +0000

The sheer romantic imagery of their name filled my young imagination with awe, a deep sense of reverence and a beguiling wonder at their almost mythical existence; ethereal inhabititants of a distant, intriguingly murky world.

The mysterious ladies of the night appeared in dreamlike Victorian sequences flitting by moonlight through midnight alleyways and pausing together 'neath the shimmering gas lamps of Old London Town.

An exotic species of redhead, blonde and brunette existing solely for the eye of only the most discerning and discreet of appreciative gentlemen.

Bestowing a teasing flash of lipstick and petticoat amidst the inky darkness and swirling fog, ensnaring their palpitating prey with tightly packed corsets, ruby lips and gently beseeching, lily white hands.

Yes, long and hard have i dwelt upon them and envisioned their nocturnal adventures as they totter merrily through the shadowy, pleasure-paved streets of my teeming imagination and oh what furtive joy they have given me down the years.

Tales Of Pigtails

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 20:23:00 +0000

I needed no second sight to fall desperately in lust with the beautifully buxom wench when i first beheld her brazen beauty freshly garnished with cheeky pigtails that left me all agog and reeling.

In fairness, an entire array of astoundingly arousing attributes flooded my senses in general but the blood-quickening impact of those pigtails in particular was surely her crowning glory.

Their striking impression was enough to sweep away any sediments of morality left swilling around the bottom of the murky barrel that is my forever blackened soul and i suddenly wished for nothing more than to take hold of those petulant pigtails and pull on them for all i was worth.

Acting on impulse can lead to peril and ruin but it can also open the door to exciting new adventures and i was quietly mulling over my next move when the lady herself caught me in the act of contemplation, absent-mindedly toying with her hair as she looked on.

Between you and i, her knowing grin quite encouraged the belief that she may rather enjoy a playful little tug or two between friends...or perhaps that was merely wishful thinking on my part?

Photoshoot

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 16:41:00 +0000

All women have glamour within them if only they could escape from the daily grind of humdrum life for a while and let themselves shine, allow themselves to dazzle.

I think a woman should indugle herself by posing for tasteful photographs once every decade to mark her progress from youth to maturity, to remind herself and her partner just how beautiful she is and also as a reminder of how stunning she has always been.

A photoshoot which may discreetly flash a little flesh but will more importantly highlight the special allure and precious fascination of the often modest subject in question, the captivating charm that is individual and unique to herself.

A visually stunning set of images to be forever proud of and wondered at, added to at each landmark birthday as a permanent reminder that she need not be quite so self-effacing and retiring all of the time.

She would soon see that the changes in her age and appearance can only enhance her as a desirable woman and do not show a decline or loss of sensuality at all but reveal the rich stages of development in her personal journey through the years and throughout womanhood itself.

Bottoms Up

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 16:42:00 +0000

It may not sound much but having a charming playmate around who not only knows how to use her finest asset to its fullest advantage but also jumps at every opportunity to show it off is a wonderful, wonderful thing indeed and a great boon to a cavorting old goat such as i.

Every time i enjoy a little tipple and utter the traditional English salute, Bottoms up, she immediately responds by playfully striking the desired pose with an added flourish of wiggles and giggles just for good measure.

With her lovely legs straight and back arched to perfection, it's easy to see why i'm often to be spotted with a cheery glass in my hand, toasting anything under the sun merely to provoke her into that coquettish little display.

Sometimes i just like to sit and look awhile as she holds the heavenly pose, savouring the sheer magnificence of the vision before me and sipping my drink in rapturous contemplation of the mouthwatering delights ahead.

At other times, the purely aesthetic pleasure is consumed by a rather more earthy desire and pressing urgency for matters between us to be taken further without a single moments delay.

However things have proceeded, she then sits quietly on my knee for a few minutes before deciding that time enough has passed for recuperation and with a meaningful look in the eye reaches for the bottle and replenishes my glass anew, fully aware what i will then utter and what reinvigorated fun shall then transpire.

Dating Tips For Young Ladies VIII

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 21:03:00 +0000

Although it is sometimes an overpowering temptation to make a desired beau the centre of your universe it is also possibly the fastest way to send him scampering to the hills and into the sunset in abject fear of losing his independence and freedom.

If he feels that you are always under his feet and looking over his shoulder or forever seeking his approval on the most trivial of matters then the shine of initial attraction will soon begin to fade and grow tiresome to him.

A girl who is too needy or starstruck throws away the trump card of her feminine mystique, denies the man the thrilling chase that he so naturally craves and not only invites his apathy but also his disrespect too.

If you already have plans then on no account must you hastily rearrange or abandon them in order to meet his own requests or desires because if he is keen enough, and thinks enough of you, then he will wait patiently until it is your pleasure to see him.

The snap of his fingers should be met with a look of outright disdain rather than puppy-like obedience.

Much better for everyone concerned then if the young lady in question is a strong-minded individual who graciously accepts his courtship when acceptable to herself but refuses to entertain the foolish notion of living at his beck and call.

Sweet Pickle

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 16:13:00 +0000

The moment i spied her daydreaming through the buttercups i set my cap at her in no uncertain terms and vowed to make her my own even though i'd been told that her upbringing was very straight-laced and somewhat repressed.

In fact, so sheltered was her upbringing that marmalade was strictly forbidden at the breakfast table on the grounds that it might inflame the senses.

Her mother, it seems, held extreme and puritannical beliefs on all fruit preserves as being nothing less than the work of the devil himself and served very little that wasn't either purified or pickled.

I wondered if the demure little creature in question suddenly became a rampaging vixen under the influence of home made jam and why her mother saw it as such an abominable portal of evil but i simply told myself that love conquers all in the end.

Our doomed courtship mainly consisted of holding hands, staring at the stars and munching our way through endless jars of Piccalilli.

The attraction of opposites seemed to be at play between us, me with my penchant for something sweet and sticky, her with a religious zeal for the sharp and tangy and we were genuinely happy together for a short time.

Cruelly, all good things must come to an end and our blissful little bubble was tragically burst on the night she consumed a dozen jars of antiquated pickled eggs, fell into a deep swoon and having lingered at deaths doors for several hours, sadly died of trapped wind the following morning.

Stay Fearless, Kitty Brucknell

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 21:23:00 +0000

Much loved and widely loathed X Factor diva Kitty Brucknell has been the star of the show this season by demanding and captivating people's attention with her flamboyant antics, undeniable stage presence and majestic vocals.

Chances are that if they weren't talking about Kitty then they weren't talking about the show at all.

While some of us recognised and admired her unique, somewhat peculiar star quality at first sight, others derided every aspect of her looks and character, gleefully pouring scourn upon her head for having the audacity to stand out from the crowd and bravely follow her personal burning ambition for glory.

As is nearly always the case, the most entertaining performer is the one who hasn't got a cat in Hell's chance of actually winning because they don't fit into the cosy little boxes expected of them while their blandly inoffensive peers sail through...and having enjoyed the obligatory Number One are almost immediately forgotten again.

Kitty refuses to be forgotten and will pursue the dream to the ends of the earth, for which i heartily applaud her, striving to capture the pot of gold at the end of her personal rainbow and making her growing legion of loyal fans proud.

The only advice i could offer her is this: carry on doing what you're doing and never compromise on what you want to be, the future is there to grasp regardless of how well you do in this particular show, which is after all a contest of popularity over talent...and always stay fearless.

Devil's Dumplings

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 18:34:00 +0000

Clutching the dusty quill of advancing age within the sacred privacy of the study, the clock ticking monotonously over my shoulder, i once more dip my nib into the inkpot with a sigh of resignation, resuming the tortured and tottering history of my wayward life and loves.

My great moment of disgraceful downfall stares bleakly out of the pages at me with a burning look of accusation and my mind's eye still dwells upon that fateful hour which marked the unwitting first step upon those dreaded slippery slopes.

Young and foolish i may have been but the night upon which i first tasted Devil's Dumplings was the night when dreams turned to dust and lofty ambitions began to sink into the mire.

Once having savoured such sweet delights, the craving consumed and inflamed by entire being, dominating my every waking thought and tormenting my fitful slumbers in the small hours of darkness through which i tossed and turned like a seething sausage in the pan.

And even now, in the autumn of my years and at this forbiddingly late hour, as my kindly housekeeper leans over and inquires if i desire another portion, i have not the moral fortitude to resist the lifelong urge and once again gorge myself on those dastardly Devil's Dumplings.

Hourglass Of Champagne

noreply@blogger.com (adamantixx) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 21:05:00 +0000

Men and women are more often than not at cross-purposes with each other especially when that ol' devil called Love rears its ugly head.

Take pretty little Cinderella, for example, a charming girl with flowing locks and a sunny disposition who initially told herself that she wasn't good enough to go to the ball and then decided that Prince Charming was only interested in one thing.

Well two things, actually...her glass slippers.

As is always the case in these matters, she was only half right in her conclusions because it wasn't a pair of dainty slippers that drew the dashing Prince's attention and kept him utterly captivated thenceforth but her glorious hourglass figure.

Glass slippers can shatter into a thousand tiny pieces but an hourglass figure is something to be treasured and admired forever.

You may not quite recall mention in the old fairytales of Cinders' magnificently buxom curves or the way in which the Prince salivated at the prospect of making her his own but i can assure you that he was her devoted slave from the very moment he laid eyes on her.

And when she pressed that alluring figure close to his ever responsive flesh as they waltzed on toward midnight she was already well on the way to becoming a legendary princess...little wonder they lived happily ever after.