Wednesday, 30 November 2011

sick and tired


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.


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.

Oh wait, it's ok it's just a little bit.
That's a fucking full on landslide going on with those monstrosities.
If that's your idea of luxury love then I really don't want to see what you wear when you're slumming it.
If I got fifty quid for them I'd be throwing a fucking party.
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.

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.


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.

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

let me in

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

Maybe just once or twice.

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.
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.


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 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, 14 November 2011


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.

Saturday, 12 November 2011

i wish i hadn't heard that

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.

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"

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.

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.

Thursday, 10 November 2011


I give in. Or give up.
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 ?

Wednesday, 2 November 2011


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.