Friday, 30 September 2011

cowgirl presents . . . #3

I recently started following The Rambling Person, a blog written by Mark who is an aspiring writer. His posts are well written, interesting, thoughtful, funny and he covers many topics. Recently he asked his readers to suggest some topics, and half in jest I suggested a story about a Cowgirl who's scared of horses.
Well guess what ? Yeah, he did it, and it's a proper story too. With chapters and everything. And it's (sort of) about me.
So now my little flock I present to you. . . . 

Calamity Jane - the Prequel.

The day was just starting, the sun was coming up, and a cockerel could be heard.
It was the cockerel that woke Jane, a fifteen year old girl who lived on the Gabriel Ranch. The ranch was named after her family, she didn't know how old it was, just that they had lived there for several generations.

After getting dressed and tying back her brown hair she headed downstairs to get some breakfast, and to see just what she would be up to today. As she expected, her dad was already waiting there for her. He was halfway through his own breakfast, and had prepared her something as well. She never really understood how he was always up before her, even though he seemed to do more work.

“Mornin' kid” Said Mr. Gabriel when he saw her enter the kitchen.
Jane stuck her tongue out at him before replying “I ain't no kid anymore daddy”. She was smiling as she said this though.
“Ye are, and ye always will be, daddy's little girl” Was his response.

Jane just sighed, sat down and started to eat her breakfast. While she was eating her dad told her what she would have to do today. It was mostly simple work like mucking out the stables, she was used to chat like this so it didn't put her off her meal. Though her dad then mentioned something she'd be doing that almost made her choke. Riding lessons.

“Ridin’ lessons? Why do I need ridin' lessons?” She asked, a bit nervously.
“You mean to tell me you've been livin' on a ranch all your life and you haven't worked out yet that ridin' horses is somethin' we do?” Her dad replied sarcastically.
Jane flushed, looking down at the table, playing with her food before looking back up.
“I ain't an idiot daddy, I know that...I'll do it” She conceded eventually.
“Good” responded her dad before finishing his breakfast. “Now hurry on up and get to work”.

Jane did start her work day, and found herself in the stables with the horses. She didn't mind cleaning them out so much, and thought they were really pretty animals, but she just had something she couldn't tell her dad. She was also afraid of them. Who's ever heard of a cowgirl that's afraid of horses? She'd be laughed at, or worse, and she just didn't want to face that. They were just so big, and powerful, and they ran so fast. When she was younger she had tried to ride them, and it was just too fast for her. She fell off and hit her head. Her dad told her that it was just because she was so small, and when she was older and bigger, she should try it again, and it would go better, but she was still afraid.

A bit later in the day, as she was still in the stables, brushing the horses and cleaning them, her dad came in.
“I been lookin' for you” he said, “it's about time for your lessons lil' lady”.
She just nodded, and followed her dad out of the stables where she saw a big brown horse waiting in one of the fields. It already had it's saddle on, and she knew it was just waiting for her to get on.

“Can you get up there on your own or will ye be needin' some help?” Her dad asked her.
She looked away from him, said “I can get on just fine thank you daddy” and managed to climb up. When she looked down again though she nearly fell off. It seemed a lot higher than it actually was. Her dad stabilized her before grabbing the reins, and starting to lead the horse forward. She hung on tight to whatever she could grab, but tried her best to not let her fear show. She smiled back at her dad when he looked up at her.

“Okay now you hold onto the reins, and have a go at leadin' her yourself” He said.

It took a few seconds for Jane to respond. She held onto the reins like she was told, and tried to give the horse a quick kick to the flank, to get it to move a little. When it did start moving though she started screaming, which scared the horse and just made it run faster. Which made her scream louder. Her dad tried desperately to catch up to her and the horse, and after a few minutes was able to grab the reins, pull Jane off the horse, and attempt to calm both her and the horse down.

The horse calmed down way before Jane did.

“What was that all about?” asked her dad, still holding her while she sobbed a little.
“I'm sorry daddy, I was just...” she started to answer before hesitating.
“Just what baby girl?”
“Promise you won't laugh?”
“Now why would I laugh at you?”
“Because”, she started “because...well, because I'm afraid of horses” she forced herself to say. She found that when she started talking it was a lot easier to keep going “When I was little I fell off that horse and I've still been scared since then. I like cleanin’ them and takin’ care of them, but I'm still scared to ride one daddy”.

Her dad gave her a quick hug and said to her, “Well why would I laugh at you for that?”
She looked at him, a bit puzzled. “Well, who's heard of a cowgirl who's afraid of horses?”.
Her dad did laugh a little at that, and she sulked, but he just patted her head and kissed the top of it.
“Now now, nothin’ wrong with bein’ afraid. But learnin’ to ride a horse properly will make it a lot harder for you to fall off.” He said.
“I know that, but they're just so big, and they go so fast, and I'm just scared.”
“I know you are honey, but really, when you're ridin' one properly, it'll go a lot better.”
“Promise?” She asked him.
He stuck out his pinkie finger and said “I promise.”
She shook pinkies with him before laughing and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I tell you what” He said, “I'll try and find you something smaller to ride, something that won't scare you so much”.
“Okay daddy, if you think it'll help” She said.
“I think it will, now you go back to your work, and I'll see what I can do for you.”

She gave him another kiss on the cheek before going back to the stables. Her dad watched her go and went back into the house, thinking of just what he could do.

The next day Jane woke up and found her dad once again waiting for her at the table.

“Mornin' ki. . . . ” he started to say before she interrupted him,
“I ain't no kid anymore daddy” She said, badly trying to hide a smile.
“Well one day I'll learn that” Her dad replied, “Until then you are daddy's little girl.”

She just sat down and started to eat her breakfast.

“I got a surprise for you by the way”, Her dad said suddenly, almost making her choke once again.
“A surprise? What is it?”
“Well I can't tell you that now can I? It wouldn' be a surprise if I did” He said before laughing a little.
“It ain't more ridin' lessons is it?”
“No, not just yet.”
“Not just yet? What's that mean?”
“What I said, you ain't got no more ridin' lessons yet, you do have something though.”
“Well what is it?”
“That's the surprise silly, I ain't gonna tell you that.”
“Awww tell me! Please?”
“Nope, you ain't gonna find out what it is until this evening after you've done all your work, so you best get to it.”

Jane sighed, finished her breakfast, and headed out to start her work.

For her, the day just couldn't go fast enough. Everything seemed to take a lot longer than it normally did, and she didn't enjoy herself as much as she usually did. Eventually though she did finish the last job, and found her dad waiting just outside the stable. He smiled when he saw her.

“So, just what is this surprise then?” She asked.
“Always so impatient, but it ain't here yet” Her dad replied.
“Ain't here yet? How can a surprise be late?”
“It can be late when it has to be delivered”
“Delivered? How big can this thing be?”
 “You'll find out when it gets here, now hush and watch the road if you insist on bein' so impatient.”

She sat down, placed her head in her hands, and watched the road like her dad said. After about 10 minutes she noticed something coming down the road. It was a horse transport truck she noticed when it got closer. She picked up a bit at this. When it actually turned into the ranch she stood up, and dusted herself down before walking up to it.

“Now now, you wait here missy” Her dad said when she got to the truck.

She pouted a bit but did as she was told as the driver hopped out and went to the back to help her dad get the truck open and bring out what was inside. When she saw it her jaw practically dropped. It was a beautiful chestnut brown pony.
She squealed when she saw it and ran up to pet it's mane. Her dad let her do this for a few minutes as he paid the driver and closed the gate after he left before going back to Jane and the pony.

“Now, you think you can ride this?” He asked.

Jane stopped petting the pony and looked at her dad

“You bought it just so I could learn to ride?”
“It's a she not an it, but the name is up to you, and of course I bought it for you to ride silly, so don't let me down now.”

Jane flushed a bit before giving her dad a big hug and then going back to petting the pony.

“I ain't sure how I'll do, but I think I can give it a try”, she said.
“Good for you darlin', but it's gonna have to wait until tomorrow”
She pouted at him, “Awwwww but I don't wanna go to bed now”.
He patted her on the head,
“Yes, you will, but I'll do some of your work for you tomorrow, so you can spend some time with her, and then we're goin' to try ridin' again. That work for you?”

She nodded, still smiling, and started to lead the pony into the stable before heading up to bed herself.

When Jane woke up the next day, she got dressed in a hurry, rushed down to the breakfast table and started eating before her dad could even talk to her.

“Whoa girl, slow down there, what's the hurry?” He said, though he had a good idea of the answer.
“I wanna go spend some time with the pony daddy”

His guess was right.

“Have you thought up a name for her yet?” He asked.
She stopped to think for a second before answering, “Not just yet, but I think if I spend some time with her I will.” With that she finished her breakfast and rushed outside after giving her dad a quick kiss on the cheek. She ran all the way to the stables and led the pony out onto one of the fields. She spent a few hours brushing its mane, talking to it, stroking it and feeding it.

Her dad came up to her, holding a saddle and reins, and he showed her how to put them on. He said that the pony would trust her more if she was the one that put it on, and it meant she was trusted if she was even allowed to put it on. She did get the saddle on, and then climbed on top of it. She wasn't as high up this time, and that made her less afraid.

The lesson went like the last one did, her dad leading her around a little with the reins so she could get used to it, and again she was less scared. Her dad passed the reins on to her and she started moving slowly at first. She went a little faster after a few minutes, and after that started going at a bit of a canter. She got a little carried away though, and ended up going faster than she thought a little pony would be able to go. She started screaming a little at first, and again her dad had to grab the reins and pull everything to a halt.

She was still crying while her dad hugged her and shushed her.

“I'm sorry I let you down daddy”, she managed to say between sobs.
Her dad just shushed her again,
“Now now, you were actually doin' really well, you just tried goin' a bit too fast. You also lasted a lot longer than you did on that last horse.”

She stopped crying a little, feeling happy that she hadn't let her dad down, and that he was proud of what she had managed to do.

“I'll get there daddy”, She promised, stroking the pony's mane. “One day I'll get there, and I'm gonna call the pony Doris”.

We've been together ever since.

How cute is that ?
Now gallop on over to Marks blog and have a read of his articles.

Thanks Mark, one day when you are a pulitzer prize winner I will really enjoy telling people that you once wrote a story for me.

Wednesday, 28 September 2011

trespassers should be shot

Today I left work just after 5pm and got home just before seven.
For a journey that involves a five minute lift from work to the train station, 15/ 20 mins train journey then a ten minute walk to my house.
Why ?

Because, apparently, there were "trespassers on the line".
Of course the train didn't stop at an actual station, where I could've gotten off and got a bus. Oh no.
It stopped just before the fucking station so I, and all the other passengers, were trapped.
Held hostage on a train by what was no doubt a couple of kids thinking it was entertaining to get on the tracks.

People who mean to kill themselves tend to wait until the train is approaching then jump out at the last minute. They don't go for an afternoon stroll and a picnic down the track.
Yup, had to be kids.
Personally I wouldn't of stopped the trains.
The fucktards would no doubt get off the line pretty damn quick when they see a fucking great train heading towards them.

You can bet had they been injured their parents would've been looking for compensation from the train company. I have to wonder at the mentality of kids that think it's fun to do dangerously stupid stuff like that, and why ? But I've already written enough about my opinions of what causes a lot of the problems with young people in general so I'm not gonna get started on that again.
I'm home, I've eaten and calm has been restored.
Albeit two hours late.

However the calm, tidy, peaceful environment I call home is about to be royally shattered in about an hours time.
The progeny is coming home for a month.
Yeah it will be nice to see him, but by the time I get home from work tomorrow the drum kit will be reassembled, every cup in the house will be dirty (why does he need a clean cup EVERY time he gets a drink - I just rinse out the one already used), and my new table will be piled up with crap.
Tomorrow I might deliberately be late home.
In fact I might walk home. . . just follow the train tracks

Still every cloud and all that.
I now have someone to bully bribe to go up the shop and make me a coffee.

And his cat will stop yowling at me.
If you ever want a really peaceful life NEVER get a Siamese cat.
Actually it's quite bizarre, Son and his cat seem to have a psychic connection. When he first moved in April his cat disappeared for about a week, I wasn't too worried at first as I have another one that often does this - they do say all cats have at least one other home - and since I hadn't seen either I presumed they were together. But when it got to over a week I was concerned and messaged Son.
He said he'd "send him a message".
This was about 11pm, an hour later I went into the kitchen and both 'missing' cats were sat on the table.

He does look a bit like this. . . 

Until today I had not seen the cat again for about four days, I came home this evening - did I mention TWO HOURS LATE Grrrr - and he was sat on the doorstep waiting.
Right now he's sat on the back of the sofa and he hasn't taken his eyes off the front door.
He knows Son is coming home.

At least one of us is looking forward to the impending chaos.

I have to go - guess who has just text me and said he has no English money on him and so can I pay for the taxi from the station.
And you can bet no cunt is gonna jump out in front of his train and delay my emptying purse.
Looks like the Bank Of Mum is back in business.

Don't bother copying my details - the account will be empty by tomorrow.

Off to the cashpoint I go. . . .

Wish I'd seen this a few years ago. Might change the word teenager to twenty something's and print it off - just in case he stays too long.

Update : re missing cats.
The comment from Fraser reminded me of this

Saturday, 24 September 2011


I am knackered.

This week I have been mostly hanging doors, painting walls, drilling holes (no, proper holes in walls), fixing skirting boards and generally making a mess being creative with power tools.
Give me a drill and I turn into Clint Eastwood. . . go on wood make my day.

I'm kinda working on three posts, but I can't be arsed I'm far too tired to think about finishing any of them. I'm also trying to write a page about the blogs I follow so to make up for the shameless whoring of my own blog laziness in the last few posts I'm going to give you a few now.

Go look at them, there is nothing entertaining here today.

Misanthropy Chronicles
Apocalypse Now

Actually I think I might make that another 'regular feature'. . . it'll make a change from the fuckwits I found on facebook which seems to be a recurring topic lately.

Not found any of them this week either, everyone's far too busy moaning about some new layout or something, although I did find this . . .

Just not very well. . . meet my new holiday destination.

And this . . .

Obviously you don't need to go in order to get a job doing this. But if you were a parent deciding which one to send your kid too you wouldn't think this was a good sign would you.

I have also been having a clear up of all the porn crap on my laptop and found some pictures so you can look at them too. And yeah I stole them off the internet  . . . if the cow is yours ask me nicely and I'll tell you to kiss my arse remove it.

I'm not sure what I find more amusing - the car on the face or 
the fact that the cow's name is Bruce.

The new spokesman for student unions everywhere. . . 
meet my Grandad.

A long time ago I wrote a post about Prince Philip (oops here I go whoring it again). . . the racist twat who is married to Queen Liz. I have just seen a clip of him and Liz chatting to Obama.

OB "I had meetings with the Chinese, the Russians and David Cameron and I'm proud to say I did not nod off in any of them"
PP "Can you tell the difference between them"

The man talks out of his arse. . .

Someone needs to tell the royal famly, them fuckers keep on breeding and keep on sponging off the country. Apparently we are in an economic crisis (whatever that means, as long as I can afford fags and chocolate I'm ok) and everything is being cut back. But I've not heard mention of the fucking civil list.

And talking of cut backs. . . this cats diet. What the fuck ? Surely that is animal cruelty. . .I bet it can't even lick it's own genitals and we all know how much cats love to do that.
Be honest now, if you could lick yours would you ?

Yeah, I would. It's got to be better then turning into one of these . . .

I'm off to get some sleep.
Let me leave you with this thought.
Not everything on the internet is what it appears to be.

Monday, 19 September 2011


There is this person on my facebook friends list who pretty much sums up the reasons why a lot of people are getting increasingly bored with it - that is the people who think we care about / feel the need to share every dull boring moment of their mundane life with the internet.
She's on my list because of her being a friend of a friend, which means that I have been forced to suffer had the pleasure of her company on a few nights out for birthdays etc, and since photos were taken and 'tagging' required she added me.
I keep her there because she never fails to remind me that my life is not as boring as I might think it is at times. 
And because she makes me feel intelligent.

Last week I checked my fb early Weds morning and saw this,

And they're going to be even later now that you felt the need to stop and tell facebook about it.
Why ?
In this situation most people would be thinking I need to phone the school not I need to update my status.
And why do you have to get a taxi anyway ? The schools not far from her house. Most people walk their kids to school, she's always moaning about having no money too. . . wonder why.

I saved that because I have started a post about bad parenting, but when I got to work I checked again and she had posted twice since. One about doing her housework (yawn) and the next one . . . .

And so as much as she fucking bores me she has become the topic of an entire post.
I don't blame you if you want to stop reading now.
But then why do I have to suffer alone. . . everyone who has a facebook account probably knows at least one person just like this moron.

His name is Jeremy you twat.
Seems I'm not the only one who thinks she's stupid. And she doesn't even realise when people are taking the piss, when I got home later I looked again and she had replied to me "lol I know".
And soon after she had posted this, yet another do we need to know moment.

Is her bath German ?
This was followed by three posts telling us that she was "going to get the kids from school" (another taxi), that the kids were "watching tv" and that she was "having a lovely cuppa and custard creams".
How the fuck does she cope with that much excitement in one afternoon. 
Then this. . . 

Followed by a post about the "yummy pizza and chips". . . . that's some healthy lifestyle example she's setting her kids. I suppose the tomato sauce counts as one of your five a day and the walk from the school gates to the cab is exercise.

She never replied.
Now I know I shouldn't mock someone's grief, she lost her Nan, over a year ago mind you, but she is forever posting these 'memorial' things to her. And she ALWAYS makes this same spelling mistake. I have wanted to make this comment so many times, and resisted, but because I was saving these for this post I decided that this was the day it had to be done.

Again no reply.
Then an hour later. . . . 

Probably trying to work out what obtuse means.

Seriously, who cares.

This fuckwit is forever having arguments with the father of two of her children (she has four) and posts all about it, but then when people comment saying stuff she doesn't agree with she tells them it's "none of their business".
Then complains about people sticking their noses in. Also via fb status.
Yet she doesn't seem to grasp the fact that if you put your business out there OF COURSE people are going to know about it, because the other thing she is always moaning about is how everyone seems to know all her business.
I kid you not.
Fucking hypocrite.
I would delete her but I find it entertaining in a warped way, a bit like watching a car crash.

And before some smartass sheep decides to point this out to me I do know that writing this post makes me something of a hypocrite since I am forcing you lot to view it with me.
But I did say you should stop reading up there ^.

I often find that when I see or hear something that provokes me thinking or if something occurs in my life, I think "I'll blog about that". But while it might not be everyone's idea of interesting I only really do that if I feel there is a 'story' to be had from it. Or an essay.
But I wonder about the mentality of these idiots who seem to think that the world at large care what they had for dinner or watched on the telly, and feel the need to update their status every time they move off the sofa or change the channel. They seem to run with the idea that Facebook 'lets you share with your friends' and take it way too far, heaven help us if they decided to take up blogging too. Endless posts about how good Eastenders was last night and the queue in the post office.
(I honestly think I'd prefer to read a fashion blog).
Actually since most of them struggle to put a coherent sentence together that's not very likely.

As my Mum used to say "If you have nothing interesting to say then say nothing".
I prefer "Shut the fuck up".

This wasn't a very interesting post so I'll practise what I preach and shut the fuck up too.

Friday, 16 September 2011

phone a friend

Hey people ! I have been given a new alter ego by my blogger pal Powdered Toast Man.
I am. . . Ivonna Bangkok.
And he invited my new persona to guest over on his blog Just The Cheese. Hop on over and have a read. . . it's way more interesting then the drivel you're gonna read if you stay here today.

But if you still want to then here goes. . . .

I'm not a stupid person when it comes to intelligence, but I have a tendency to do dippy stupid things and sometimes not see the obvious until it's stared me in the face for a hour then given up and left. I often have days that are a catalogue of one disaster after another, usually quite trivial things on their own but when 447 all happen in the same day I have to wonder if it's just me.

I had this little issue last night, and when I told a mate about it the response was 'only you' and 'why am I not surprised', so I thought I'd tell my flock about it.

Just so you know what you're dealing with.

I may have mentioned once or twice that I am utter crap at getting up in the mornings nocturnal. This is fine with my job, sometimes I'm a bit late but then sometimes I stay a bit later, but there have been a couple of days when I have failed to wake up until the afternoon. My boss (who is a friend) has just laughed about it (dream job huh ?) but that doesn't mean that I don't feel bad. I do.

I need one of these to get me up.
In that respect it would be easier if I didn't work for a friend, because then I wouldn't feel like I'd let her down.
Except if I didn't I would've been fired.
Months ago.

As of this week there has been a change in her circumstances which mean that it's going to be really helpful to her if I can get in much earlier a couple of days a week. She hasn't asked but I offered as it feels like a great way to make up for all the times I've not turned up until 3pm been a little late.

Today was the first day, so I asked her to call me and wake me but to use my landline not the mobile, I use that as my alarm anyway so I know sometimes it doesn't work.
I hear it in my sleep and tell myself to ignore it, I actually remember doing that. Often.
I never use the landline - if it wasn't needed for broadband I would get rid, but with this in mind I had it in my head that I needed to call it and check it worked as Son was home last week and I could sort of recall him saying it didn't.
I forgot all about this until I was going to bed, later then I wanted to - fucking internet sucked me in again, and by this time I was knackered. So I call it from my mobile and it doesn't ring.
It's cordless but when I looked at the cradle the phone wasn't in it although the charger was plugged in, so I figure it must be the phone that rings and it's battery must be dead.

Half an hour of searching the house and I found it . . . on the pile of DVDs next to the charger.
Minus one battery.
It has special rechargeable ones so I spend another half an hour digging through all the little places it could be - even got the torch out and looked under the sofa.

Then it occurs to me that ordinary batteries might work so off I go to find some. No luck, until I remember where I do have some.
Ah well . . . there goes the bedtime treat.
I put said batteries in phone, put it on the charger and the little red light blinks. Result . . .
. . . and ring it. Still not working.

Then I wondered if I was ringing the wrong number. My sisters old number was very similar and I was forever getting them mixed up, especially as I never call my number. Except I don't have it stored on my phone and by now it's midnight and far too late to call anyone else. But I need to get the right number and text my boss so she can call me in the morning.
It's now so late and I'm so tired I KNOW I won't wake up without her doing so.

I texted Son. . . wait 15 mins. . . no reply. Knowing that he probably has his laptop on but as he lives in a shared flat has likely got his headphones in I fire up the laptop and facebook him.
Wait 15 mins. . . no reply.
The only other place I can think of to check it is the website of the phone/internet provider. I try to get on there and realise I forgot the fucking password and username.
So I have to go through the entire verification process which takes another half an hour because their stupid fucking site was running slow.
"Please be patient we are dealing with your request".
Eventually I get onto the site only to find out that the number I have been calling is the right one.

There is only one thing for it, I will have to stay up all night.
Sometimes I do this anyway. . . anyone who I chat to in the forums knows that, but last night I was exhausted. And when an insomniac does eventually sleep it's more like a coma.
Somewhere in my bedroom is a bottle of slimming tablets so I figure I'll dig them out and take a couple. At least when I get home from work the next day my house will be very very clean even if I'm too knackered to enjoy it.

And if get bored I can always return the batteries to the appliance I got them from.

So I decided - two hours after I was originally going to bed - that I may as well have a soak in the bath instead of a shower being as I've now got six hours to kill.
Whilst I'm laying there I was thinking about what Son had said about the phone, you know that feeling when something is nagging at your brain ?

Then I got it.
He said "It's not plugged in". I had taken that to mean the plug for the charger which was the first thing I had checked.
He meant the actual phone socket.


This fucker.
Only I wouldn't even think to check the one thing most people would check first.
I plug it in and ring it and it works.
Great !!!
Except when I took the handset upstairs to get some sleep (at 2.30am ffs) and looked at it I realised that it actually has a built in alarm function that works independently of it being plugged in as long as it has battery charge.

Did I feel stupid.
Yeah. And very very tired.
But at least not as stupid as this person.

As you can see I left a suitable comment.

Last night I tried my own patients too.

Update: I made it to work an hour and a half earlier then usual as planned.
That is the time I'm supposed to get there usually, not the time I usually get there,

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

miss doolittle

One day, if I ever marry a old rich man win the lottery and get the huge house with a massive garden I plan to have a pet goat. I don't really know exactly why I like them so much but I do, especially the weird eyes.

When Son was a lot younger we used to spend a fair bit of time with my friend Carlene, she had a boy the same age as him so they could bugger off and do whatever ten year old boys do and she and I could gossip, smoke and drink brandy coffee.
We figured it wouldn't hurt if you put it in your coffee.
Well until you've had about six anyway.

One day I went round there and she had a goat at the end of her garden, I was straight out there making friends with it. For weeks every time I went to see her (which was a bit more often once she got the goat) I would take it food, it didn't take long for it to recognise me. Her garden was on two levels and the goat lived in the lower bit furthest from the house but as soon as it saw me it would stand by the fence waiting.

I was very fond of that animal.

Carlene was Jamaican, and an amazing cook so we would often go for dinner.
This particular Sunday there we are tucking in. . . .
"What have you done to the mutton Carlene it tastes really nice?"
"It's not mutton it's goat".

Yup. Bitch fed my friend to me.
I thought I was going to be sick.
And as I ran to the toilet, which was at the back of the house and meant going through the utility room, there was the remainder of it on the freezer waiting to be butchered.
I was very very sick.

Not goat . . . and I'm starving just looking at this.

Given a choice even before that I would not eat goat, the other thing I have no desire to ever try is rabbit. When I was a child my Dad kept rabbits, they were pets but he always used to tell me that we were going to eat them. We had two females and they were allowed to breed a couple of times a year but for some reason they would only ever have two, until one year my favourite produced six babies.
Dad insisted that these were going in the pot.

I wasn't having that.
My Dad worked shifts so he wasn't always home in the morning and when he wasn't there I used to feed the rabbits before I left for school.
So I decided (I think I was about 8 at the time) that I was going to find them new homes. I put the baby rabbits, who were a couple of weeks old at this point so tiny, in my bag (how my Mum didn't notice I don't know, I guess she was busy), took them to school and gave them to my friends.

How could anyone look at this and think . . . dinner.

When I got home from school I made sure it was me that fed the others so nobody else went and looked.

Later that evening there were a few knocks on the door.
Concerned parents returning the new pet their child had brought home from school.

I didn't get into trouble, but after that my Dad agreed that no rabbit would ever make it to the cooking pot. Actually I don't think any ever would've, he loved those rabbits as much as I did, I remember when one got injured and died and Dad cried more then me and the sister.

Although Dad has since shattered a few animal illusions I still had from my childhood.

When I was very little, maybe 5 or 6, we went on a family holiday to a big house on the coast in Devon. Dad and the uncles went fishing a few times and me and my cousins wanted to have a go, I remember how excited I was when I pulled (with a bit of help) my line out of the sea and there was a fish on the end of it.
Years later Dad and I are talking about fishing (well he's talking I'm pretending to be interested) and I said that I still remembered the only time I had ever fished, and that I had caught one.
"No you didn't, I bought that fish earlier and put it on the line for you"

It get's worse.

We had this huge black cat called Bobby that was forever catching birds.
One day Bobby had caught a baby sparrow and trapped it behind a bush in the garden. I rescued the bird, it had a damaged wing but there was no blood so I knew it wasn't badly hurt. At the time Dad was decorating our front room so he let me keep the bird in a box in there. I used to feed it mashed up cereals and seeds on the end of a matchstick and for a wild bird it became really tame. I could get it to sit on my hand, and got it to start flying as well.

I knew I would have to set it free, and it was getting to the point when I knew that would be soon.
One day I came home from school and the bird was gone, Dad said that he had opened the window and it had flown away. I was a bit sad as I had wanted to be the one to let it go, but I was also really happy that I had saved this bird and got it back to health.

Again years later.
Somehow the bird came up in conversation.
"Do you remember the sparrow I saved Dad ?"
"No, don't think I do."
"Yeah you do, I had it in a box when you were decorating the front room"
"Oh that one, yes I do, the one that Bobby got in and killed."

I love my Dad very much but BASTARD !!
What the fuck.
And I thought I was a cunt.

I didn't mind finding out that Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy were really him, in fact I had my suspicions long before I knew the truth but why did he have to tell me that ?

Which reminds me of another time illusions were shattered.
When son was little Dad used to take him to his works Christmas party for the kids of employees.
One year the man who normally acted as Father Christmas let them down at the last minute, so there they are with 60 kids and no Santa. Being rather short and rotund Dad volunteered to step in, but in case Son decided to look for him (highly unlikely when he was busy tucking into sausage rolls and cake - he's his mother's son) Dad told him what he was going to do.

So they have the big build up to Santa's grand entrance, you know the kind of thing . . . sleigh bells and HO HO HO heard in the background.
Some guy with a microphone is doing the whole "listen kids . . .guess whose coming"

And a voice from the back shouted . . . .
"That's not Father Christmas, that's my Grandad".

Family trait or what ?

The inspiration for this came from reading one of Drone's rememberies posts, after you've left me a comment telling me how fucking amazing I am pop over there and have a read.

Monday, 12 September 2011

tag game

. . . or yet another post in which I get to brag about my own blog.

My blogger friend Lily, who writes a very warped and funny blog on the joys of parenthood (which you should definitely check out if you haven't already) tagged me in this game.
I did point out that I had just written a post pretty much whoring promoting myself but she insists. So in the interests of keeping the peace ( I don't want to upset her she might set the lil' man on me and anyone who reads her blog knows he is the spawn of satan ), here goes nothing. . . . 

Feel free to copy the picture - I was too lazy to type the rules out and for some reason when I tried to copy/paste from Lilys blog it insisted on placing a background colour behind it.

1. I don't know that I have ever written a post that could be considered beautiful, but this was written on my Mums birthday as a kind of memoriam to her, albeit one she would not approve of.
Mothers day.
2. According to my popular posts gadget it varies between these two. They seem to take turns at the top of the list, although I think that being listed on the gadget is what keeps them there. And yeah, I know the rules say only one per subject but rules were made to be broken.
Why can't we live together   What a cunt
3. Since I use this blog to air my views about a lot of things I think there are probably a few posts that might be considered controversial, but really they're only that if you disagree. I'm nominating this one because of the subject matter.
Call that holiness.
4. Helpful ? On this blog ? I struggled to find one that might be considered helpful, but in the end I decided on this because it might put off be useful to anyone thinking of joining a dating site.
Internet dating - my perspective.
 (Update - been thinking about this and I reckon my blog is actually very helpful for certain situations, for instance if you ever get cheated on or get caught shoplifting there's a couple of useful hints right there.)
In fact am now seriously considering starting an advice blog to share my worldly wisdom.
5. This stupid poem. For some reason it got loads of views and quite a few comments.
A poem what I wrote.
6.When I checked the post stats to do this game I was surprised that this is one of the least viewed. It's a few stories from when I worked in a children's home, it was going to be a series of posts. I planned to write more - but based upon how this one fared it's probably just as well I didn't.
Little devils and angels without halos.
7. I guess this one, not that I am especially proud of the post, but it is about a day (again with kids I worked with) that made me very proud of them.
Artistic persuasion.

And finally, the blogs I'd like to nominate for the challenge.

Of course it's up to all of you whether you want to do this, but it's a chance for a bit of shameless self promotion and there's no harm in that is there ?
BBG's blog is all about BBG world, which is often a very funny place although she sometimes makes me think too.
Apocalypse Now is worth checking out just for the week-end graphs, but there is always something on Chucks blog that make me giggle.
News from Nunnery Farm is a fairly new blog. Lee who writes it runs her own smallholding using traditional farming methods, her blog is informative and interesting, but as well as the animals she keeps as livestock she has a menagerie of crazy pets so there are always plenty of pictures and funny stories. It's Lees blog but Dave the sheep and Drainpipe the duck are the real stars.

When I started this list I decided to choose some that I have not been following for very long myself, in the hope that they might lead me to older posts of theirs that I might otherwise not see, a couple of newer blogs, and maybe those that don't have too many followers but deserve more.
But I've been scrolling through the list of blogs I follow and I'm now struggling over who to add, or more to the point who to leave off. I follow a few that have quite a big following already and it seems unfair not to share them just because they are doing well, so I'm going to leave that list up there ^ as it is for now and over the next week I'm going to compose a page of all my followed blogs.

I had one ages ago but I took it off because a lot of the blogs that were on it had stopped posting.
Time to make a new one.

I have some gems to share.

Update . . . 5 mins later.
So I just went to let the people I nominated know and one blog has been removed and another redirected me to a different site. I've removed them from the list.
Great start eh ?
Maybe they got fed up with me stalking following and leaving sarcastic helpful comments.
Now I gotta decide on two more to add.

Actually fuck it, I think you should just go back to the beginning and read all my posts. They are all equally beautiful, popular, controversial and could possibly change your life. Well anything could happen in the time it takes anyway.

Update #2. Here's a better idea - if you want to do the challenge how about you just do it, let me know in the comments and then I'll add your link to the list. That works for me anyway, then I'm not nominating anyone who doesn't want to and including everyone who does.
And it saves me having to bother some time.

Yeah - fuck the rules. Up the revolution !!!
Happy days.

Saturday, 10 September 2011

what exactly were you hoping to see ?

. . . . or the post in which I whore my own blog.

How much attention do you pay to your stats ?

When I first started this blob I checked them every day -  it fascinated me that I could see where people were viewing it from, in fact it amazed me that anyone was reading it at all. It was for the same reason that I added the revolver map and Feedjit, but nowadays to be honest I really don't take that much notice.

Apart from 'Search Keywords'.

Constant source of hilarity that they are.
And often oddly pornographic . . . sometimes via Feedjit I can see which post their search led them too and it's usually not what they were expecting that's for sure.

One of my most popular posts is called "who wants to be a porn star" and I am forever seeing that listed on Feedjit. I'd love to see the faces of the pervs who look at it hoping for something entirely different to what they find.
"Jobs as a porn star"
"Home made porn films"
"Girlfriend fucking films"
"Everyone is making porn"
"Filmed me and my wife fucking"
"Porn made in Kenya"

Recently someone searched with "I want to fuck my neighbour" and was taken to love they neighbour, which is me moaning about the noisy bastards that live next door. And yeah it mentions that I can hear a lot of what goes on in their house, but as much I'd like to shoot their fucking noisy barking dogs I have no interest in fucking them . . . other then off.

I am also slightly concerned at the page views I get for my piss-taking facebook for the middle east post from Arabic countries, and last week it got one from Islamabad. If I disappear can someone please call in the SAS, but first check with MI5 that I haven't been hauled in for questioning.
And if that has happened by the time you read this can someone please start an Internet campaign to get me released.

Cowgirl is innocent. . . . sort of.
(Don't mention the shop lifting)

I have two posts that have marriage in the title and I often see that people have viewed these from India, one is a rather satirical post about my impending arranged marriage and the other has a bit of royal wedding bashing. I keep wondering if one of those people is going to make me an offer I can't refuse, but it's been a very long time since either post was commented on so I guess they weren't impressed.

Just before I went on holiday I read something in the help forums about Google Analytics and having looked at the site and what it does I added it to my blog. Totally forgot I'd done that until earlier this week when I saw the site saved in my favourites. It gives ALL the keywords, not just 10 as the stat page does and some of them are beyond strange.

autocunnilingus : scary godmother porn : furry bondage : mrs lube : rohypnol fuck : cat bitch slapper : make nipples longer : dog humping woman : girl in shopping cart : girl fucks gorilla : arse on fire : gay sailors : yeah nah you're a cunt : Mississippi handbag : smoking frogs : fuck the ducks : anti nazi shirt : bumps on my lip : hot and tight demotivational posters : do nuns finger themselves : naked paintball : pimples on my penis

I could go on - there are over 1000, as puzzling as it is how some of these have directed people here I'm even more concerned about what some of them were really looking for.
I'd recommend adding analytics just for the entertainment it provides.

And my all time favourite keyword . . .  "Dog shoulder diagrams"

If you can find a post that relates to that phrase in this blog then you are better then me because I have never figured that one out and I wrote the fucking thing.

And finally this weeks pick of the bunch from my super intelligent facebook friends.

Well go away and do it quietly then.
Ironically the person who posted this is one of the few women I know who makes me seem quiet.

I replied to this,
"Is she doing art? "
What I wanted to say was "shame you never went".

I'm still waiting for a response.

On a completely unrelated topic I have been to the cinema tonight. Went to see The Inbetweeners movie, this will only mean something to UK readers - but go and see it, funniest thing I've seen in ages.

Friday, 9 September 2011

fairy godmother

Today I spotted this in my friends house.

Note the unicef logo all over it . . . the makers promise that for every pack bought they will donate funds to provide one vaccination for a child in a third world country.

Great idea.
Whilst you are waiting for your next load to emerge from the washing machine you can feel good about yourself with the knowledge that a poor starving African baby is not going to get some horrible disease.
Wash your pants and save a life.

But (yeah it's me, you knew there was going to be a but) have the makers of household products given up trying to convince us to buy their products because they are better then the rivals, and instead resorted to emotionally blackmailing us to do so ?
It's no longer buy Fairy because it's kind to your skin, the environment and can remove blood, shit and tears in cold water.
Oh no, now it's if you don't buy our product you are depriving a child of an injection.

Is there some unicef funded doctor in darkest Peru who has a queue of anxious mothers and sick babies hoping that he will get a text from Asda informing him that three more boxes have been sold so he can vaccinate three more children ?

If whoever makes these products can afford to fund vaccinations (which lets face it probably cost no more then a couple of quid each) why the fuck don't they just do it ?
The products that carry these kind of promotions don't cost anymore when they run them - so the money is coming out of their (probably huge) profits anyway - and charity donations are tax deductible, which lets face it is the real reason they do it.

I actually think it's quite disgusting that instead of just giving the charities the money they feel the need to turn it into a marketing opportunity as well. No doubt the 'brains' behind these schemes will justify it by saying that it enables their customers to feel as if they are helping needy children, but most people that want to help those less fortunate will make donations to charities anyway.
And Fairy - as you can see from the picture on the packet - has always used a baby as it's logo, and markets it's washing powder as being safe to use for baby clothes. The other product that I have recently seen use a similar idea was disposable nappies (diapers for all you across the pond).

Seems to me that that is trying to tug on the hormonal heartstrings of parents with babies.

You're walking round the supermarket and you like the smell of the detergent in the yellow box and that brand of nappies work better and are cheaper but hang on . . . . if you buy the ones you really want then a child in India might die. . .

Yup. Disgusting marketing ploy.

Just put your hands in your deep corporate pockets and give them the vaccines.
You can brag about it on your packaging if you want but don't try to use poverty stricken kids to make people buy your fucking overpriced product.