Sunday, 30 January 2011

the grammar police

I think I'm turning into a fully paid up member.


If there's one thing that really fucking winds me up it's bad spelling and grammar.

Not that mine is perfect, especially if I'm on msn or some other chat thing where I'm pretty much typing as fast as I talk . . . or trying to . . . the rate I can talk I'd need 20 fingers to keep up, it's not unknown for me to miss out entire words. Of course strictly speaking that's not spelling incorrectly, that's just being forgetful and having a brain that's slightly dysfuntional or typing when stoned.
But if I spot a mistake I correct it.

I think anyone who types at any speed will sometimes get letters jumbled, particularly when they're next to each other on the keypad. Been many times I've been using abbreviated text and said U instead of I . . . or the other way round, and I'm very fond of talking about myslef - do that one all the time. I don't even have an issue with dyslexics, you can tell they have a real problem, although I have a few friends who have this condition and they love using a computer because it has that marvelous invention - spellcheck.

No, the ones that really make me want to punch them are the fucking idiots who can't spell but think they can, and especially the people that always get the same words wrong. And spellcheck ? They're either too thick to work out how to use it, or most likely they think they don't need to.


For instance, I know this fella whose teenage daughter ended up in hospital as a result of taking mephedrone, she'd bought it in school, so he decided to start a campaign to raise awareness, very brave and noble thing to do, except he called it :
"SAVE ARE KIDS"
Grrrrr . . . this tosser set up a facebook group, organised a rally, made banners, the fucking lot. None of his close friends told him (cunts - but then I wasn't gonna point it out either). It was only when the local paper got involved that the name was changed, but even after that he was still talking about ARE kids on his facebook status.

When I belonged to dating sites I saw a few fellas who were looking for "solemates", yeah right -  are we going fishing then ? Or are you looking for someone with the same size feet ? For fuck sake sort it out. One guy sent me this really nice message, I was quite taken until it got to the end when he said if I was interested . . . "I'll let you decide where we go for are first date"
Was never gonna happen.
That's how much it irritates me.
Use your fucking spellcheck !!!
Prime example below . . . the smiley is to spare his embarassment - but possibly also an improvement, spot the irony contained in his message . . .


Another friend had as his quote on facebook "seas the day".
I like this guy so I messaged him "sea means ocean, seize means grab", his reply was quite rude, I don't remember exactly what it said, but I messaged him again and said I was only trying to save him from looking stupid. He never replied and the quote is still there.
Idiot.

Even when you try and help these poor fools they just think you're taking the piss. So I do. All the time.
As my Gran used to say " you can't help those that don't want to be helped".

Losers.

Saturday, 29 January 2011

a funny thing happened last night

Went to this little rave
There I am giving it the large one on the dance floor, some fella comes up to me and asks if he can have some of my water, so I give him the bottle and he takes a sip then asks if he can have more - so I tell him drink as much as you want (I was fed up with holding it by now anyway) so he drinks all that's left in the bottle.
Then says to me,
AFTER he's drunk it . . . .
"that is just water, it hasn't got anything else in it has it ?"
"nah mate, just rohypnol"
"rohypnol . . . . what the fuck is that?"
"give it half an hour, you'll find out soon enough"
I watched him go up to his mates and obviously worried asking them if they know what it is hahahahahaaaaaa.
Loser.

We get back to my house early this morning, my mate starts telling me about someone scrounging drinks when she was outside having a smoke, apparently her boyfriend had two drinks in his hands and this fella came over . . .
"Could I have a drink of your beer mate, only I just got given a drink of water by some bird and I think she's spiked me"

Pmsl . . . .teach him to be a scrounger, no doubt he spent the rest of the evening waiting to feel a bit strange.

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

I'm no Helen Fielding but.......


Everyone is supposed to have a book in them, well that's how the saying goes.
It's something I've thought about for a long time.

I loved writing stories and poetry when I was at school, although that was a very long time ago. As an adult there have been times when I have written thoughts down, usually when facing some dilemma as a means of looking at the problem objectively, but that's always been more about the issue then the writing itself.
Through the internet I have rediscovered a love of writing, and as much as I like to talk there's a different kind of pleasure I derive from written conversations - it took me a while to figure out that that came from the act of writing as much as what was being said.

My facebook account has become a comedy blog of my chaotic life, I sometimes have very strange but entertaining and entirely fictional conversations with people. For instance I have a running dialogue with one friend in which she is my daughter, and I am her alcoholic promiscuous wreck of a mother whose forever needing to be bailed out having been caught shoplifting. I have these fantasy chats with a lot of people, each one with its own recurrent and often very wrong theme . . . . anyone got a goat fetish ?
People have often said to me that I should write. The desire to do so is what made me think about starting a blog, another persons words inspired me to finally do something about it.
Thanks Shane.

About a year ago I started a book, it was based around a diary kept when a friend, myself and my son went on holiday to Jamaica.
Imagine Bridget Jones with ganga.
I never got very far with it and it was kept on a memory card that broke. Not a problem, I can do that again and probably funnier then it was. But lately I've been thinking about writing an altogether different story. Fuck I've spent the last year thinking about plenty of things I could and should be doing, and for a whole load of reasons that have no place in this blog I've done none of them, but finally last night I started this other story. And the words just flew out of my head and onto my screen.

This one isn't going to be funny.
This shit is real.
It felt good to do it.

I'm not entirely sure quite where it's going either, probably to the dark side.
I might, when I'm happy with the beginning of this story, post it here.
I think I'd like to know if what i write makes the reader want to read more.
We shall see . . . . . .

show us your knob


A true story

So my best friend and I decided to have a night out, just a quiet one, and go to a couple of bars near our houses.
Like me she's loud n lairy and as much of a cunt as I am - together we're worse.
I get to her house and she's aquired some class A, so we have that and off we go.

Being loud as we are we cause mayhem in the pub and several shots later and having gotten very drunk we decide we better leave before we're thrown out and head to another bar. It's still fairly early - maybe 8pm, and this is a sunday night so the road we're walking down, although a high street is quiet.
Apart from the noise we're making.
As we approach a road we need to cross a man turns the corner on the other side and appears to stop, and because we're drunk, and since I'm not wearing my glasses we can't quite make out what he's doing at first.

Then we realised.
He's flashing at us.
This rather fat bloke is stood there holding his coat open shaking his cock at us.

Now . . . imagine the mindset of the average flasher - he gets off on the reactions of his victims - he wants them to be shocked and horrified, scared, startled, taken aback - and he's most likely used to them screaming and running away.
Wasn't this ones lucky day.

At first, because we didn't know what he was doing we were just stood there looking, as we both realised (which took a few minutes during which he was stood there wobbling his bits and probably thinking we were frozen in horror) we screamed alright . . . but with laughter . . . then I've had to sit down.
Right there in the middle of the road.
I was laughing so hard that if I hadn't I was in danger of wetting myself.  Meanwhile my mate is digging in her bag looking for her phone and in between laughing I'm telling her to get a photo . . . at which point the flasher has started to walk quickly away. As he does she finds her phone and shouts at him to stay there, but he speeds up so she goes running after him shouting "come back I want to take a picture of your cock" . . . I'm now crying I'm laughing so much and the flasher ran, her chasing him.
We like to think that he has now been ostracised by the flasher community, if there is one he's an outcast.

As luck would have it five minutes later we saw a police car and flagged it down. As we explained to the police what had just happened we were laughing so much we made them laugh too and before they went off to try and find him they agreed we'd probably scared him off and "good on you girls".

And no, we didn't get that picture.


.

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

what a cunt


Why is it that the word that is used by men when they REALLY want to insult or offend someone is the thing they want the most ?
Stupid cunts


And there have been plenty of times that I've been told, mostly by men, that it's horrible to hear a woman say the word.
Silly Cunts

For a lot of people it's the one word in the English language that they really have a problem with. There really is no other word that has quite the same effect.
Stuck Up Cunts



We all, apart from gay men, derive pleasure from having one - whether it's ours or someone elses, yet the word continues to be the ultimate insult.
We all entered the world through one.
Well unless your mother couldn't be bothered to push.
Lazy Cunt



If you have a problem with the word cunt, ask yourself why?
It's really only because culturally it's unacceptable, and why is that?
Because of the context and purpose of its use.
Ridiculous Cunts


This is what I think.
Women, since we're the ones that have cunts, should reclaim the word- in much the same way as some black people are now calling each other by a word that is perceived to be the ultimate insult to them - so women should use cunt as a term of endearment towards each other.
How you doin' cunt ?
Wassup cunt ?
See ya' later cunt.



This might, in time, result in the power to cause verbal pain, insult and offence being removed from the use of this word.
It's a great word.
And it's ours.
Fabulous Cunts.



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



Why . . . . . ??
Because it offends.

And this is really the point I'm trying to make . . . . .
Is my cunt offensive?
Is yours?
Or your friends/ girlfriends?
Or your sisters ?
Or your daughters?
Or your mothers?
I think not.

It is a thing of beauty, pleasure and life.
So ladies, next time you see your girls, hug em, kiss em and tell them I love you, you cunt :)




And if you need proof that it's a womans word :


Sunday, 23 January 2011

the sympathy vote

When I first got a PC about 8 years ago I used to frequent a few chat rooms.
There were always people who would use them to bemoan their lives and the tragedies that happened to them.

I saw it so many times - they would come in the room and within five comments they had half the room telling them how strong they were and offering sympathy, the other residents would either leave or pm each other.


People having separate converations within the room would get an @ from the sobstory teller in an effort to involve them and usually any attempt to change the subject back would be hi-jacked or ignored.
At times I did wonder if any of it were true, I called it Munchausens online, an extreme form of attention seeking.

I used to equate them with the people (and we all know at least one) to whom you might say hello if you saw them in the street, but you never say ‘how are you’ because they’ll tell you - at length - and it's never good. Or people that I call emotional vampires.
So called friends whom spending any length of time with will leave you feeling drained, because all you’ve done is spend two hours that you’re never going to get back listening to tales of woe that you've heard a hundred times before, trying to be empathic, sympathetic or maybe even offer advice that’s never going to be acted upon.

Not that these people want advice.
They are really just using you as an unpaid and unqualified counsellor and probably have no real desire to change the situation anyway - without it they'd have nothing to say.

Try talking about something that’s bothering you and they will either relate your problem back to theirs…and off they go again…or leave.

I think those kind of people are attracted to strong folk because they see in you a quality that they subconsciously admire and wish they had. But if you become someone elses rock, in their eyes you cannot ever crumble And if you appear to be having a crisis of your own their solution is to have an even bigger one themselves.

I had this friend, someone I got to know because we lived on the same street and our children were the same age.
As we got to know each other better it was clear she had issues - what they were caused by I was never sure of, as far as I could see there was nothing wrong with her life.
She had a husband who clearly doted on her and worked hard to support her and their two sons, lived in a house they owned and although they were far from rich they were certainly comfortable.
I was a single parent living in a council flat - money was tight to say the least, but she was the one always down and complaining.
I think perhaps I had the glass that was a quarter full whereas the top of hers was glaringly empty.
For months I listened to her hard done by conversation, don’t get me wrong I liked her - I wouldn’t of been her friend if I hadn’t, but then this particular day I was upset over an argument I’d had with my mum and knocked her door in tears,
“Cowgirl . . . whatever’s the matter ? come in”
So we go in the kitchen and she puts the kettle on.
“ whats happened ? I’ve never seen you upset”
“its my mum Sharon . . . I can’t believe what she’s just said to to me”
“yeah, mothers, you think yours is hard work last week mine said . . . . . . . . . .  ."
I never did get to say anymore about what was bothering me.

What got me thinking about this was I saw a thread started on the discussion boards where the question had been asked ‘what the worst thing that’s ever happened to you’.
In some of the chat rooms I used to visit you wouldn’t of wanted to ask that, never failed to amaze me how people would want to black cat each other over tragedy and strife.

However one person had posted an answer that had been replied to by someone else saying of the four or five things she had listed a couple were actually things that had happened to someone else.
And she wasn't looking for sympthy, just answering the question.
I thought that was a horrible thing to say - someone's just disclosed some very personal stuff and another person thinks they have the right to trample all over it ?
Thing is I could relate to that, the worst thing that’s ever happened to me did in fact happen to my sister, still affected me though - deeply - still does, of course its far worse for her then me, but one persons tragedy can impact on many people unless you live a very isolated life.
While it is very true that a problem shared is a problem halved, and sometimes just writing it down can be a cathartic experience even if no-one but you ever reads it, the problem with sharing personal stories with strangers is that while you will no doubt find sympathy and understanding there are also people who either try to outdo you or make you feel worse.

Of course the people whose lives have not been easy are often the ones with the really interesting stories to tell . . . “I was born to a happy family in a nice house, did well at a good school, was a model teenager, married a nice man and we now live in nice house with our happy family" . . .  doesn’t exactly make for exciting reading does it ?

But it’s the way people tell their stories that makes the difference.
If you’re looking for closure or absolution I doubt you’re going to find it on the internet.
You might find kindred spirits and gain mutual support and understanding.
You may inspire or find inspiration.
You might make friends or even find a lover. 

And if you have a story to tell that’s worth reading and the skills to relate it well then there’s a world wide audience just waiting to hear it.


But it's not a substitute for a doctor or a counsellor, if you need one of them best go see the real thing.

Friday, 21 January 2011

My Three Musical Highlights of 2010

July...Ibiza


This is me in Cafe Del Mar....drinking quite possibly the most expensive JD and coke I've ever bought.

Tiesto

Live at Privelidge, fabulous club and a great set, he does put on a proper show but its the biggest club in europe so what else would you expect really.



This guy is truly amazing, puts on a fire poi show on the shore line in front of Cafe Mambo at sunset, the performance finishes with him turning himself into what I can only describe as a human catherine wheel.






Pacha....my favourite club on the island, smaller then the others but a whole lot classier, and a fabulous roof terrace.
This guy is one of the podium dancers.... he was trying to persude me to get up there with him, but I declined - I didn't want to show him up.
I wish.
And for me Sasha was way better then Tiesto.

                  


Sunset over San Antonio Bay
You can't visit the white island without watching the sun go down outisde Cafe del Mar.








Leftfield Live at Bournemouth Academy


 Mr Neil Barnes, Leftfield Maestro and who im proud to say is amongst my friends on facebook.

 Inspection !!! So great to see these guys live, this was their first tour in 10 years - and they were every bit as good now as then.




Click for Video !!!
The amazing Jess singing Original, always my favourite Leftfield tune, this was the only song that they didn't have the vocalist from Leftism for, but she was brilliant.


November...I LOVE TECHNO, Gent Expo, Belgium

One massive six room techno festival, from 7pm til 7am and I danced the whole time - ached like a bitch the day after though, but no pain no gain.

But THIS was the absolute far and away highlight of my year, yeah that is Underworld - headline live act at ILT, played a couple of new songs from their latest album, but also, as they always do, the tunes that everyone knows so well. And thanks to the help of a large german in a cowboy hat I managed to get right to the front. I will no longer be able to listen to Born Slippy without being reminded of men jumping all over my feet - they were bruised the next day but worth every second. I love them.
Karl Hyde, author of the words that are tattooed on my back, and so close I could almost touch him.....xxxx




internet dating....my perspective

Apparently it's the modern way to meet people, everyone seems to know at least one 'happy couple' who met online, and there are so many dating sites now.
I can remember when belonging to one was almost a stigma - not something you'd tell people because the implication was that you must be a bit sad, lonely or desperate.

I've joined a few at various times over the last 5 years, I'll get to some of my experiences with them in a bit, but first I'm gonna share my opinions and the conclusions I came to.

One major drawback of this, as opposed to meeting someone in the pub/ shop/ work/ crackhouse/ police cell is that sods law says the person whose pic or profile really catches your eye will more then likely live at the other end of the country if not the other side of the planet, since not everyone uses the search criteria.

I really like the way the internet has made the world a smaller place - the fact that I can sit in my house and talk in real time with friends thousands of miles away does amaze me. Although I'm that old I grew up in a house where we only had a black & white tv, and got very excited when that blew up and dad announced we were going to get one that had BBC2, which turned out to be as dissapointing to an 8yr old me as the dates I'll get to in a bit were to the 40yr old me. But it does mean you can lose perspective on distance. . . .
"he's only half way up the country unlike the aussie I saw last week so let's chat. . . "


Great for making friends, and I have made some very good ones online, not so great if you're likely to want this to be someone you see on a regular basis.

The other big problem I found is that if you talk to anyone online for long enough you start to build a mental picture of them as a whole person. And it's then extra dissapointing if you meet and they are not what you imagined or expected them to be, more so then a traditional blind date because at least with those there's no preconception.

Never mind that most of us -  if you've ever used a dating site and you disagree you're a big fat liar - will select our best pictures, and some people blatantly cheat and use pics that are them but 15 years ago. I know, I've been for a beer with two fellas who did just that . . .
"oh was that a wig you were wearing in your picture . . . ?"

I've also found that whereas women (yeah me included) tend to lie about our age, the thing men seemed to lie about most was their height. But then people tend to guess my age as being 10 years younger then I am, nobody ever looked at me and said . .
"you're 5 foot 3 ? really ? wow, I thought you were at least 5 foot 10".

One guy I met had ticked the box that suggested he was about 6 foot, his pic made him look tall too (clever camera angle), so being a shortarse off I went in 5inch heels to meet him. There I am standing at the bus stop where we arranged to meet, opposite the bar we were going to but meant that,
a) I didn't look like a numpty if he stood me up and
b) if he looked like a numpty. . . "no mate, that's not my name I'm just waiting for a bus".
(clever eh?)
I saw this rather short fella coming up the road - didn't take any notice of him and it was only when I realised he was smiling at me did it register that he was the (5'6 at most) date.


Anyone can go online and set up a persona for themselves, the internet is full of fakes and scammers and worse , we all know that, but if you're ever planning to meet someone surely its best to be as real as you can beforehand? The sites themselves can be pretty much divided into three groups - 'adult' dating sites for people that really just want to get laid, 'dating' sites, for singles who don't want to be single, and 'social' sites, like facebook apps. Although every site seems to have people using it for every purpose and the 'serial shaggers' as I call them are everyfuckingwhere.

Once when bored I placed a ridiculously fake add on a site with no picture - my alter ego was a 7ft tall chinese jewish woman who clearly had mental health issues and even she was propositioned for no strings sex a few times. From time to time I check that site - there's usually a message or two, sometimes just saying how funny they think it is but more often then not someone wants her to "tell me more about you" or sends a 'wink'.

One date I went on was with a guy I met on 'dating direct', we had been chatting for a while - as I did with all the men I met, and I was actually quite hopeful about this one. We met in a bar (the same one I went to with shorty as it happens - its not far, but far enough, from my house) get a drink, chit chat for maybe 20 mins and then he leans over the table and says,
"so Cowgirl. . . do you take it up the arse?"
I left about 2 mins later, laughing all the way home.
He emailed me later and apologised for 'not being exactly honest' as he did actually have a girlfriend but they were looking for women to 'join' them, I replied that there were sites for just that and perhaps he should use them, the response was that they didn't want to do that because they wanted 'fresh meat'.
How lovely.

Suppose I should've felt complimented really, I'm a short slightly overweight 40 something - it's been a long time since I was fresh.


I used to think that facebook was a good way of checking someone out, sussing if they were genuine and seeing pics of the 'real' them - there's some properly horrendous pics on mine , but its all too easy to set up fake profiles there too. I've made the mistake of adding a person or two that I've gotten talking to on fb social apps only to have them write some pretty crude comments on pictures and try to add my female friends. Being as I have family, inlcuding my son on there, I'm not likely to make that error again, and there are an awful lot of attached people using those apps looking for some extramarital activity, there's always giveaways though - and I've gotten very good at spotting them and scammers.

One thing my experiences of the proper 'dating sites' did make me wonder about was all those success stories they claim of people who met their soulmate online. I think that most of those are people who are so determined to be with someone that they kind of settle for the 'best of the bunch'. I'm way to fussy to do that - but its not like I have a set list of what I want in a man. Some people have such a huge criteria I wonder they don't go around with a cardboard cut-out for potential partners to measure up to, like a ride at a theme park.
"If you're not this tall with this colour eyes fuck off ".
With me it's more I know what I don't like, but I met a few pretty desperate men.


I'd gone on a date with one fella and whilst out I'd spotted a girl with what looked like an interesting piece of ink on her arm. I wasn't wearing my glasses and must of been squinting trying to see it, but the fella thought I was pulling a face and said to me that he 'didn't like women with tattoos either' End of date, wouldn't have mattered how much I liked him because I'd never have gotten naked and I don't like shagging in the dark either.
After that I mentioned having tattoos in my profile, and it also had a rather cleverly hidden reference to my liking for recreational drugs.

So I'm in (the same) bar with yet another date, the bar staff in there must of thought I was a right tart. This guy was alright, although after 5 mins I knew there was no 'click'.
But he's pleasant enough so we're talking and he mentions tattoos - said he'd not got any, has never wanted one, doesn't really like them and apparently his were "on the inside" (wtf?) but he "doesn't mind if I have them".
(Did I ask for his permission.)
Later he mentions drugs so before I get into that conversation I ask if he ever does any. . .
"No, well a bit of pot once or twice in college but I don't really see the point and people who do them are asking for trouble, but I don't mind if you do".
(Again, do I need his permission ?)
Right ok so when I'm talking utter bollocks at 4am and drawing my next tattoo on myself with marker pens because you're fucking boring me you're gonna 'not mind' ? Well actually no, you're not, because I'm not likely to be with you when that happens. Anyway I stuck it out for a bit longer but I knew it was time to leave when he started telling me about his marriage break-up and not spending Christmas with his kids then started to cry.
I kid you not.

I think I'll leave this here just in case anyone about to embark on internet dating ever reads this, I really wouldn't want to put anyone off, just don't get your hopes up.
And I haven't even mentioned my (few, very few) experiences on an 'adult' site. Might do that another day.


Wednesday, 19 January 2011

first

So then . . . . 
Wonder if anyone will actually read this ? 

Would anyone be interested in the thoughts of an often incoherent, sarcastic, immature and presently apparently depressed woman.
According to the doctor anyway, I think I'm just suffering from manic boredom.
But tonight I have spent five hours reading someone elses blog, ok someone who has lead a far more interesting life then I, but I'm feeling inspired all the same.

I've always had a lot to say for myself . . . some might say I talk too much. Actually I'm lying, everyone says I talk too much, but that's better then saying nothing and I do love to speak my mind even if it offends.
In fact I don't care if it does, sometimes it's quite intentional.
Given the current circumstances of my life I suppose I'm hoping that this may at least prove to be a cathartic experience. I have always subscribed to the idea that if you write it down you can look at a problem objectively. Except I've never 'wrote it down' where the world and his wife could read it if they chose to.
Not that thats what I'm planning to do here, it might happen though, seeing as I have no plan about this.

Is it possible to find an answer to all the dilemmas I feel like I'm facing at the moment just from regarding them as if they were someone elses issues and not mine ? I don't really think so, given that most of it appears to be in my head. Only thing I'm really certain of at the moment is that I do need to get it sorted and the solution is not gonna lie at the bottom of a pill bottle nor by doing nothing about it
And no, I really dont think I do wanna put all that boring crap on here.
Ah life . . .
Right at this precise moment in time I feel like my head is full of cotton wool, and sometimes just getting up seems to require so much effort, I need motivation and direction and most importantly I need a job. Not just for money, for normality.
I hate routine yet I'm craving it at the same time.
I left my job because I needed a break having just had possibly the worst two years of my life, but the six months self imposed sabbatical I decided to give myself is over a year now. and thats just too long to be out of the loop.
Need to get on that asap.
Still not sure what I'll write here, or how often . . . I'm an insomniac who loves to write so most likely incoherent ramblings from the 'wee small hours', no doubt with liberal amounts of sarcasm.


Yeah, that sounds about right - write a letter to myself everytime I can't sleep.
Spose it's an improvement on talking to myself.
I do too much of that.
Hmm.



Dear diary.....?? Fuck off.