tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67673496273898061562024-02-20T21:05:09.874+00:00Left Alone With A Full Moondirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.comBlogger181125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-61987238314759552582013-12-15T20:45:00.000+00:002018-05-10T14:46:55.802+01:00my TV is full of idiotsAnd I don't even watch it THAT much.<br />
<br />
When I was a little kid I honestly believed that there were little people in the back of it.<br />
<br />
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<br />
One day my was Dad taking the back off of it as it had stopped working for some reason, he told me to stay out of the way for safety reasons, but I was being such a persistant nuisance he let me have a look at what he was doing.<br />
I still remember the look on his face when he asked me why I was crying and I told him the little people must be dead.<br />
<br />
But I must of been about 4 at the time.<br />
So a reasonable excuse for that mistake.<br />
Not that todays children would be so naive about technology, my friends three year old can make my phone do things I had no idea it could.<br />
<br />
But anyway that's off topic really, back to the idiots on the TV.<br />
<br />
As much as I may or may not watch it in the evening at home, I would never choose to watch it during the day. For one thing I have so little free day time that I have a lot of far better things to do when I do get some, but also because during the day is when the idiots seem to be on in droves.<br />
<br />
Daytime TV in this country consists of DIY shows, ripped off consumers and cowboy builders, and <strike>fight</strike> chat shows full of the dregs of society discussing doubtful parentage of their assorted ugly children, failed relationships and substance misuse issues, .<br />
But often when I am at work (as a support worker I am in someone elses home) the TV is on.<br />
<br />
At lunchtime on Monday Loose Women was on. Which is basically a bunch of middle aged TV has-beens (apart from Janet Street Porter, I love her, she's opinionated, often rude and pulls no punches) talking about whatever is topical that day.<br />
<br />
On Monday they were, of course, talking about Nelson Mandela.<br />
As was everyone.<br />
But unlike the Loose Bimbos most people managed to get the facts right.<br />
One of them was talking about the personal tragedys he had suffered and said "he lost his Son in a car accident". No, he didn't, that was his great granddaughter, his Son died from AIDs.<br />
I actually found that rather offensive, that they did not even bother to check the (very well known) facts.<br />
Then another of them was saying how he always managed to keep his sense of humour and how you could tell that because no matter who he was meeting or where he always wore "those loud bright shirts".<br />
Yeah, those shirts are made from traditional tribal African fabrics.<br />
He didn't wear them to be funny, he wore them as a sign that he remained true to his tribal roots.<br />
<br />
Idiots.<br />
<br />
Shame Ms Street Porter wasn't on the show that day, because I have a feeling that she might've picked them up on those points.<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-6418395275655186382013-12-06T20:58:00.003+00:002018-05-10T14:52:35.029+01:00dear dave. . . again<br />
So then. . . .<br />
<br />
Dear Dave,<br />
<br />
What the fuck are you thinking by agreeing to the building of a new Nuclear power plant here ?<br />
<br />
I thought we were supposed to be investing in green energy resources and concerned with the future of the planet ?<br />
<br />
Clearly not.<br />
<br />
And to add insult to injury we were given this news in the same week that three of our energy companies announced price rises for consumers. Your advice to those who will struggle with this was to shop around providers as there are apparently some better deals out there. Presumably you mean EDF - this being the very same company that are going to be building the new blot on our landscape.<br />
<br />
(I'm not entirely sure it's a coincidence that they are one vowel away from being a racist organisation).<br />
<br />
And not even a British company at that. Oh no, these fuckers are <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2011/03/interdire-le-francais.html">French.</a><br />
So no doubt the same company that are responsible for Frances 50+ plants, the majority of which are sat on their North Coast, so if they go Chernobyl the fallouts heading our way. And now they're actually putting one up here.<br />
Fuck right off.<br />
<br />
Some twat on the news actually said "nuclear energy is relatively safe".<br />
Relative to what ? Anthrax ? Semtex ? Armageddon ?<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Did you learn nothing from Fukushima ? If the world only learnt one lesson from that it should've been that when you have Nuclear plants you don't even need human error or someone to push the proverbial button for a major disaster to happen. And the effects of what happened there are going to have repercussions for the planet for a long time to come. We are still facing the possibility of further meltdowns, it's kept out of our news but the "clean up" operation is only just beginning.<br />
Not that that shits ever going to be truly clean.<br />
<br />
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<br />
And then...<br />
I knew you were an idiot but really ?<br />
<br />
Two days ago I saw you on the lunchtime news trying to defend the utter cock up your governments making of the economy, and talking about the budget announcements that were due to be made that evening.<br />
And in relation to the present state of affairs you said....<br />
<br />
"When someone's ill you don't take their temperature every day do you?"<br />
<br />
What the fuck ? NO, when someone's ill you take it several times a day. It really does worry me that the man supposed to be running this country can't even get an analogy right.<br />
<br />
Time you had a lightbulb moment Dave ? No, it's a bit too late for that.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Sort it the fuck out,<br />
DCG.<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-19873544087388030222013-04-15T22:26:00.000+01:002013-04-16T20:01:17.628+01:00sometimes you just gotta dive in. . . <br />
. . . even if you really don't know where you're heading.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I have now got a grand total of five posts that I have started and run out of steam with.<br />
<br />
But - here's the thing - I really do want to start writing here again on a regular basis, I guess I just need to get back in the habit.<br />
Like just doing what I used to do, moan about stuff that pisses me off and write about things that happen in the course of my <strike>lazy</strike> extremely busy life.<br />
<br />
(And do far too much of that <strike>stupid</strike> <strike>ironic</strike> <strike>clever</strike> ridiculous thing where you write something then cross it out <strike>in the vague hope that</strike> because other people find it funny).<br />
<br />
So. . .<br />
<br />
I finished work early today and went into the town centre to run a few errands, then decided I deserved a treat from Burger King. As I'm sat there stuffing my face I can see a homeless man sat in a doorway opposite. He just looked so dejected, he had his head down most of the time, like he'd given up even trying to beg.<br />
After I'd finished my food I bought a takeaway and a coffee and went and gave it to him.<br />
As the guy looked up and smiled at me he actually looked like he might cry.<br />
<br />
I didn't do it for the karma, I did it because I figured he would be hungry, it was cold, and he looked like he needed someone to at least SEE him.<br />
<br />
But. . .<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I walked on a bit further, but I had a few shopping bags that were getting awkward to carry so I stopped to sort them out. Whilst I'm doing this a couple walked past me, having come from the direction where the homeless guy was sat.<br />
As they passed me I heard the fella say . . . "sat there begging but he can afford a Burger King".<br />
<br />
Idiot.<br />
<br />
I nearly said something.<br />
But I didn't.<br />
Even homeless people got to eat. But I suppose he's probably one of those twats who think the only reason people beg is to buy heroin and vodka.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Also, I am getting very pissed off at all the fiasco over Maggie Thatcher.<br />
Mostly the cost of the funeral, at the same time as various benefit cuts are being introduced. This country is going down the financial pan pretty fucking past. I know there are other countries far worse off then us, but it seems to me that the priorities are wrong here.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Last week I watched an article on the news about the benefit cuts, there was an interview with a single mother who was crying because she was worried about becoming homeless. She said she couldn't even afford to take her son swimming.<br />
Then five minutes later on the same programme they announce that the queen is to be given extra money from the civil list (ie tax payers money) to cover the cost of her "royal duties". How does someone who is among the worlds richest people and who owns several very large houses get to be entitled to more of our hard earned taxes when some of her "subjects" are living in cardboard boxes ? Or in fear that they might end up doing that ?<br />
<br />
And just what exactly are those "royal duties". Holidays to far flung places to shake hands with dictators, terrorists and despots no doubt.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I don't like paying tax. It hurts when I look at my wage slip and see what I actually earnt compared to what I actually get in the bank. But there was a time when I was a single mother with a young child and I am very fucking grateful that I live in a county where our rent was taken care of and where healthcare is free. And I know that other peoples taxes paid for that so I can't really complain too loudly if mine are now doing that for someone else.<br />
<br />
However I do object to funding Liz's lifestyle.<br />
Or Maggies funeral.<br />
<br />
Guess this means I'm well and truly back :)<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-14032533280260949372013-04-04T00:22:00.003+01:002013-04-04T00:25:43.209+01:00blogging to the (wank) bank<br />
First, a quick thanks to all of you who commented on the last post, I will be back properly soon - working on a couple of posts already.<br />
<br />
(Yeah, still like to <strike>fail at doing</strike> do four things at once)<br />
<br />
But I need to write this post in the meantime.<br />
<br />
Logged in to reply to the comments and decided to check my stats, saw a lot of referrals from the same URL so went for a look and it's a blogger blog but trying to drum up business for a scam.<br />
<br />
What concerns me is that it has a gadget with four other blogs, including this one, under the heading "Other Blogs I Like".<br />
So, in case you are reading this having come from there I would like to say that I am in NO way connected to that blog or it's author, they are obviously using that gadget to try and make the (crappy, basic template, one post) blog appear credible, and bad luck for me that they have obviously stumbled across mine and decided to use it.<br />
<br />
Of course good news for me if it brings a few genuine readers over and tough shit for their stupid plan when you read the next bit . . .<br />
<br />
I did some research.<br />
<br />
As I said, it's a scam, run by a fairly notorious individual by the name of Rob Benwell.<br />
Here are some links which a) show that this person and his dastardly plan have been around a good few years and b) he's a professional alright - at scamming.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.eagleresearchassociates.org/BankBlogging.php">http://www.eagleresearchassociates.org/BankBlogging.php</a><br />
<a href="http://scam.com/showthread.php?t=23216">http://scam.com/showthread.php?t=23216</a><br />
<a href="http://www.lostballinhighweeds.com/blogging-to-the-bank-2010-review-no-really-its-a-real-review/">http://www.lostballinhighweeds.com/blogging-to-the-bank-2010-review-no-really-its-a-real-review/</a><br />
<br />
Incidentally I also found a few "positive" reviews, but it's quite apparent from their tone that they are also as fake as he is.<br />
<br />
Be safe people.<br />
<br />
And anyway if anyone should be a blogging millionaire it's me and I'm into my overdraft already and I only got paid four days ago. . . .<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-67074572122576228492013-04-01T02:05:00.000+01:002013-04-01T02:06:48.194+01:00if I could just butt in for a moment.........lately I've been thinking that it's really time I did something about this blog.<br />
<br />
Put it to bed forever, remove all the external links and write a final post.<br />
Just in case people stumble across it and decide to follow hoping for new flashes of the brilliance they find here, I'd be pretty annoyed if I decided to look it up in 10 years time to find I had 873 followers.<br />
<br />
Or I should actually start writing again on a reasonably regular basis, although I could still end this one and just start another.<br />
<br />
Well clearly since here I am and this is not me saying farewell and thanks for all the fish I decided that I would go with the second option and make the effort.<br />
<br />
So I logged into blogger for the first time in ages and what do I see ??<br />
<br />
A dashboard full of posts about that fucking A-Z challenge.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/hobbytime.html">This is how</a> I felt about that last year (which was probably the last time I was here) but I've not changed my mind and am therefore going back into blog hibernation until it is safe to come back.<br />
<br />
I'll be seeing you.....................dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-39952140514428121882012-07-11T23:40:00.002+01:002014-02-14T02:01:19.542+00:00cowgirls guide to ebay<br />
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<br />
As I mentioned in my last post I have been spending rather a lot of time on ebay lately.<br />
This isn't really anything new, the difference now is that I am selling rather then buying. I've always gotten quite excited when I'm bidding on something and looking likely to win a bargain, but it's even more exciting when I'm the one that's selling and watching the price suddenly rise at the end.<br />
I swear there's been a couple of times when I almost <strike>pissed my pants</strike> had a heart attack.<br />
I've not done too badly as it goes, it started because I had a massive clear out of my wardrobe and decided to get rid of all the things that I <strike>am too fat to fit into</strike> never wear anymore, and other stuff that I just don't want. A few times I've been quite surprised at how well things that I think aren't that good seem to do.<br />
<br />
Did you know that a half full 25ml bottle of Fendi perfume that only cost a tenner when full was now worth TWENTY FIVE quid ?<br />
<br />
Neither did I.<br />
But I was very happy when I found that out.<br />
<br />
As a result of this, and a couple of friends then saying I could sell some stuff for them (at a percentage of course - I'm no fool), I decided to try and turn it into an ongoing business. I've bought a few job lots of dresses and found some amazing things in second hand shops that I hope will sell at a profit. One good side effect of this is that it satisfies my urge to spend, but not in a way that's going to fill my wardrobe with yet more stuff that's <strike>not going to fit me</strike> going to be outdated in six months time and never worn again.<br />
<br />
And all it really costs me is my time.<br />
<br />
I have learnt quite a bit as it goes, there's certainly a knack to getting the best out of it, and being a generous person I am going to share these pearls of wisdom with you my faithful flock.<br />
So here it is. . . . .<br />
<br />
<h2>
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Cowgirls Guide To Being An Ebay Entrepeneur</u></h2>
<b style="font-weight: bold;"></b><br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b>1. Presentation is everything.</b></h2>
<br />
Take plenty of pictures of your items, and make sure that you show it looking as good as possible. If there are any faults show them as well.<br />
If you are selling clothes then IRON them first.<br />
This. . .<br />
<br />
<br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWu3ZZpPzjGNuKaX3UNCsE2By9DZABJK4n58Yitn70GMVFNhkqr-7_-hsftDprwtwmVDpvjqWqndvB2BTXrOEM4RnHUMGiQlnKirw7mTF7PcFo2QGxmH7MVUEQqidZesOXgWe61LWygk/s1600/crink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWu3ZZpPzjGNuKaX3UNCsE2By9DZABJK4n58Yitn70GMVFNhkqr-7_-hsftDprwtwmVDpvjqWqndvB2BTXrOEM4RnHUMGiQlnKirw7mTF7PcFo2QGxmH7MVUEQqidZesOXgWe61LWygk/s200/crink.jpg" height="193" width="200" /></a></b></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgvGwxMT34LFJTX_Xbg9MtJLpFFgu429t1WhDWNQFynnIw-Bk6Ta8cp9grKol3gpLYFbXAMwxYO1weAm9zdLyJH3C-3IgyxE296bawqgiTKRbYEBADxQYqE-U98m3aF0IXXfvssrW6lA/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgvGwxMT34LFJTX_Xbg9MtJLpFFgu429t1WhDWNQFynnIw-Bk6Ta8cp9grKol3gpLYFbXAMwxYO1weAm9zdLyJH3C-3IgyxE296bawqgiTKRbYEBADxQYqE-U98m3aF0IXXfvssrW6lA/s320/001.JPG" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
<b style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></b>
. . . is not the way to sell anything.<br />
And check your lighting, too little - or too much camera flash and your "ladies chocolate brown genuine leather skirt" will just look like a wet crumpled turd.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlvoWREV1Zek7FWa6Dm-nt8KY6I85VFkqDR00e1lgdKWZuZO2RJexCOIKqUBb0n3cqgmcLHXUaLFDGpU85Yz0rCpKMRoiUuxDQqtbLTgIZr8aGAyxdtHFTc_bHqFaE7PqsT9g7HXaRU4/s1600/brre+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlvoWREV1Zek7FWa6Dm-nt8KY6I85VFkqDR00e1lgdKWZuZO2RJexCOIKqUBb0n3cqgmcLHXUaLFDGpU85Yz0rCpKMRoiUuxDQqtbLTgIZr8aGAyxdtHFTc_bHqFaE7PqsT9g7HXaRU4/s200/brre+(2).jpg" height="200" width="195" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNsE6RkPSj6gWr7oJLG9Z0dcoK4JfCw129cYD9-MovWGUVICveo3pCcnRPJMU9ZC0_LKoiZ26YjIBkjv9zpJLBQv-wyI9PjzZhIgR3qaGgBKhoFjs0Kn_UTiyFAnzkwKeClurfyrtI64/s1600/454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNsE6RkPSj6gWr7oJLG9Z0dcoK4JfCw129cYD9-MovWGUVICveo3pCcnRPJMU9ZC0_LKoiZ26YjIBkjv9zpJLBQv-wyI9PjzZhIgR3qaGgBKhoFjs0Kn_UTiyFAnzkwKeClurfyrtI64/s320/454.jpg" height="320" width="171" /></a></div>
<br />
That is how someone pictured a green dress that I also have for sell. It just looks a bit bizarre, if I was scrolling through page after page of green dresses I don't think this would catch my eye - although I might look at it and wonder how the hell you're supposed to wear it.<br />
<br />
Whereas I used this picture :<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9g-geK6xf8i3QuUCT3wMfLtU1TyxJYTVWoaKOffw5qWLeATznTnCi96BRGzQ6Pxqjj59qqK25QzwWconVzNw8TfEwtatr2OUs7r0BHr3fRzPhQsniKdQg4pIuEkUh4ICux9QRJKp4_4/s1600/34534b+(2)+(195x360).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9g-geK6xf8i3QuUCT3wMfLtU1TyxJYTVWoaKOffw5qWLeATznTnCi96BRGzQ6Pxqjj59qqK25QzwWconVzNw8TfEwtatr2OUs7r0BHr3fRzPhQsniKdQg4pIuEkUh4ICux9QRJKp4_4/s200/34534b+(2)+(195x360).jpg" height="200" width="108" /></a></div>
<br />
Show back and front views, especially if the detail is on the back.<br />
Just not like this :<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNy6xAmEvw2WM2b02ZqWmcVpcEE-LL6T6uOns8VPk9VI8hPQAWyJlbHwE1SsMtnDGE9rIQ07qouYDLa1CTyOGIW9x8rCvFzUY5higoNk6KtZT9vATTLm5kKDdX6PvisnCci6kDASmOB5w/s1600/45455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNy6xAmEvw2WM2b02ZqWmcVpcEE-LL6T6uOns8VPk9VI8hPQAWyJlbHwE1SsMtnDGE9rIQ07qouYDLa1CTyOGIW9x8rCvFzUY5higoNk6KtZT9vATTLm5kKDdX6PvisnCci6kDASmOB5w/s200/45455.jpg" height="200" width="136" /></a></div>
<br />
When it's supposed to look like this :<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqrLcOyBRG71hlS9-u_xucwWWdbFXz18w7hR72NEeJOwGUYWrpOJwY7Tzi3fP50u1ohE1pkkPjXKNGk7WePR8zKPnr6rNdH91mTX-3QAbo0TTmUZDMZaEVjUmmN03nAvC4wlg8w_t8lQ/s1600/55345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqrLcOyBRG71hlS9-u_xucwWWdbFXz18w7hR72NEeJOwGUYWrpOJwY7Tzi3fP50u1ohE1pkkPjXKNGk7WePR8zKPnr6rNdH91mTX-3QAbo0TTmUZDMZaEVjUmmN03nAvC4wlg8w_t8lQ/s1600/55345.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
The best way to show clothing, is to either buy a mannequin or get a friend to model it for you.<br />
Just make sure that the friend you ask is the right size and shape to show your clothes so they look their best.<br />
<br />
People need to look at something and think that's how I hope it will look on me.<br />
And nobody wants to look like this . . .<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WaIv0IK4GldhYJXaYNvD5-1LlzXe5MMOAGOhzbk4CjL1VrxmNBEsZT7tCSH4wKAyjzz4PzS4Q0ln7g0zhswfsvIwiSBJq8fOxHj3Ul6kniXm8mqeeuPYxWdWN_rhnml7gjZIJ96dwks/s1600/rewre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-WaIv0IK4GldhYJXaYNvD5-1LlzXe5MMOAGOhzbk4CjL1VrxmNBEsZT7tCSH4wKAyjzz4PzS4Q0ln7g0zhswfsvIwiSBJq8fOxHj3Ul6kniXm8mqeeuPYxWdWN_rhnml7gjZIJ96dwks/s200/rewre.jpg" height="200" width="136" /></a></div>
<br />
It also a good idea to use a model who's the right gender. . .<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbu9ct61xNy8uv6L89DbHa_-CuQgeEZqwEsG2U_CswNSRrofpow2LvH9DQO-RCw-CvmyVZcRJaSYyQdHy-stV5SVI26YFQ6Doa33Trcupk0npfdOccSwb03Gb0xjFswhZwg1TljsCIec/s1600/455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbu9ct61xNy8uv6L89DbHa_-CuQgeEZqwEsG2U_CswNSRrofpow2LvH9DQO-RCw-CvmyVZcRJaSYyQdHy-stV5SVI26YFQ6Doa33Trcupk0npfdOccSwb03Gb0xjFswhZwg1TljsCIec/s320/455.jpg" height="320" width="143" /></a></div>
<br />
And finally make sure the picture actually shows what you're trying to sell.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhux5JGySXN5QBPh8znTUZCeZSCtMOkY9a64z_tBA-RSzqH0AWAYctxOZ98kXLrrmv0l8RwZHJVt3_EvMlD0IEZqmfSGouOuTCMNqa3ywOr81f9aeZ-tCUBL5OvLkTPmVequK7paDfnpUM/s1600/4534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhux5JGySXN5QBPh8znTUZCeZSCtMOkY9a64z_tBA-RSzqH0AWAYctxOZ98kXLrrmv0l8RwZHJVt3_EvMlD0IEZqmfSGouOuTCMNqa3ywOr81f9aeZ-tCUBL5OvLkTPmVequK7paDfnpUM/s320/4534.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This was a listing for a job lot of underwear.<br />
Not hangers.<br />
Although you could be forgiven for not realising that.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b>
2. Make your listing stand out from the crowd.</b></h2>
<br />
<div>
<br />
Ebay uses the words in the title to list your item in it's searches, and people search for items by size, colour, brand, style, occasion, detail etc. So you need to get as much information in the title as you can in order for others to actually see it. "Blue dress" (which I actually saw as a title) is just going to get lost amongst 35000 other blue dresses - you need to be more specific. And certain words will attract buyers more than others, anything "vintage" "retro" or any designer name is always going to get the views, as does my personal favourite "fetish".<br />
(Which is possibly the market the fella in the last pic was hoping for).<br />
If it is high heeled, short, fancy dress, pvc or leather then I use that label.<br />
<br />
But beware - sometimes it might attract the wrong kind of attention and then you can find allsorts in your mailbox. . .<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOF5khdx-XUWwjI0IXuVmsXD4w7d9k2OoxJzo0x_eY8FsxRTwPSwZJRqY0Vp8XwEkkDV_c1cplQ82DUkDrEekpo0JsDizTJImajDUpuWf3NA0y0s6hBfU_1veUaS2sp8ql5pDE_jmRCpA/s1600/890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOF5khdx-XUWwjI0IXuVmsXD4w7d9k2OoxJzo0x_eY8FsxRTwPSwZJRqY0Vp8XwEkkDV_c1cplQ82DUkDrEekpo0JsDizTJImajDUpuWf3NA0y0s6hBfU_1veUaS2sp8ql5pDE_jmRCpA/s640/890.jpg" height="146" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cc0000;">Pervert alert.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhJdP9A0ot11Yuo0E7yawcXvF1QCi9JyJmLrUpmanVeXjstVJ8kdlZtXTJHI1VzSkgTYE6d9LICp_vmr5tCQiw2PqLtVjsWGeuhkM7wa-aSQ1ZnICSuCxvrgUlIAI83RISkNaxoG0IlQ/s1600/453453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhJdP9A0ot11Yuo0E7yawcXvF1QCi9JyJmLrUpmanVeXjstVJ8kdlZtXTJHI1VzSkgTYE6d9LICp_vmr5tCQiw2PqLtVjsWGeuhkM7wa-aSQ1ZnICSuCxvrgUlIAI83RISkNaxoG0IlQ/s640/453453.jpg" height="172" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I mailed the second fella back and said "£20 and we might have a deal".<br />
<br />
He never replied, but he won the shoes and a black lace bra.<br />
I am trying very hard not to think about what he probably looks like in them.<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b>3. Timing is key.</b></h2>
<b style="font-weight: bold;"></b><br />
If you want things to do well then think about when the listing will finish. Just because you're awake at 4am or at home on a Wednesday afternoon doesn't mean everyone else is. I list everything on a Thursday night between 8 - 10pm for 10 days - then it finishes at that time on a Sunday.<br />
More chance of people being sat at home with the laptop on then.<br />
And I get the excitement of watching the price going up and up.<br />
<h2>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<b>4. Let people think they might get a real bargain.</b></div>
</h2>
<br />
Things that start at 99p in an auction will ALWAYS get more watchers, most likely they are all hoping to get it for that price, but if they're watching it then they see it on their list every time they look at ebay and are more likely to decide that they MUST have it.<br />
Whatever it ends up costing.<br />
Think about it, you're more likely to end up blowing half your wages on a pair of shoes if you have to look at them in a shop window on your way to work every day. Or is that just me ?<br />
And since your first 100 auction listings every month are free if you start them at 99p it saves you money too.<br />
But if you really think that you want at least a certain amount for something it's much better to set that as a starting price then have a reserve set which people can't see.<br />
If it's a reasonable start and you get watchers it's a pretty safe bet that they are prepared to pay at least that.<br />
<br />
Of course you could just take a chance and not bother with a picture or a proper description, but set a ridiculous price and just hope for the best.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDAwbV-ad1owpeL6biQXSTDp0eSSxZX9-DMLHfczcMbutEhcN4goyG1WM6R0VUZajYpyuo1EaVLdownyu8whaHl9_GCr6TBRX4A6EqnBitW3QNjduUqX3-9sBniJz2EjCOGU0cEsXMe4/s1600/Untitledfjdklsjldklsj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDAwbV-ad1owpeL6biQXSTDp0eSSxZX9-DMLHfczcMbutEhcN4goyG1WM6R0VUZajYpyuo1EaVLdownyu8whaHl9_GCr6TBRX4A6EqnBitW3QNjduUqX3-9sBniJz2EjCOGU0cEsXMe4/s400/Untitledfjdklsjldklsj.jpg" height="342" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I've used that picture in a post before but it's still by far and away the best example I've ever seen of how NOT to sell anything.<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-weight: bold;">5. Feedback is essential.</b></h2>
<br />
Leave it for your buyers and they are more likely to remember to leave it for you. And other peoples feedback is really your only clue as to how reliable a customer or seller they are.<br />
But there really is no pleasing some people.<br />
Ideally you want to keep it at 100%, I've been keeping an eye on mine and last week I noticed it had gone down.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvE6tErYUrufFW63KlDzoBTrMIo-1Dy7AhU-1-Coz-QaiNZJciE5ktpMPhVhbqOb8AS38PSq7RcKcO_c_Ubg9S92o_sv1ZYN8BjvNjbcDSJkj_yoOF5VRH9ut8fk59JDW61MOCjQ-8ygg/s1600/3543434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvE6tErYUrufFW63KlDzoBTrMIo-1Dy7AhU-1-Coz-QaiNZJciE5ktpMPhVhbqOb8AS38PSq7RcKcO_c_Ubg9S92o_sv1ZYN8BjvNjbcDSJkj_yoOF5VRH9ut8fk59JDW61MOCjQ-8ygg/s640/3543434.jpg" height="150" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Neutral ?<br />
Who the fuck left me neutral feedback ?<br />
I get things posted out as fast as I can and I wrap them well, I describe everything accurately, I respond the same day to any questions and up until this ALL my feedback was great. I have even had people mail me and say how pleased they were with the things I sent them.<br />
<br />
So I looked at the details . . .<br />
<br />
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRUPlkdQOWqcYD3Q06Jq28yM9DD4tnhWTLJgN0Vj9eMlK9E7D5AoVQcFCzSRJOsOtvdjJZ6tsa5jXaCJFuzNoXjikl-zPCdbTvozSjPj74Be_JEOFmEf_LRJGuZxwmJQnqg3O1yOwODA/s1600/6768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRUPlkdQOWqcYD3Q06Jq28yM9DD4tnhWTLJgN0Vj9eMlK9E7D5AoVQcFCzSRJOsOtvdjJZ6tsa5jXaCJFuzNoXjikl-zPCdbTvozSjPj74Be_JEOFmEf_LRJGuZxwmJQnqg3O1yOwODA/s640/6768.jpg" height="376" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Sometimes you just can't win.</div>
<div>
Well not everything. I had the last laugh because she paid me £8 for pair of shoes that cost me £1.99 in a charity shop.<br />
<br />
Before I go off to check how my empire building is going let me leave you with something I never thought I'd see on ebay.<br />
<br />
Have a look and see if you can figure out what this is . . .<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ykrLaffxpCVRmIR9gjyvxjWaMGy_C40FulgeY8ugC9CRo1a623Bzn2p2hMzr-gEjMAN48N9S-GG7JJbyZARXlYnlAov6_N-p6GU0kqkK8vOvHoNfn8Xw-bhNjYDOa5Yn2ZJQZDwrWBg/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ykrLaffxpCVRmIR9gjyvxjWaMGy_C40FulgeY8ugC9CRo1a623Bzn2p2hMzr-gEjMAN48N9S-GG7JJbyZARXlYnlAov6_N-p6GU0kqkK8vOvHoNfn8Xw-bhNjYDOa5Yn2ZJQZDwrWBg/s320/Untitled.jpg" height="317" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Any idea ?<br />
And no, it's not anti-snoring.<br />
It's actually a DIY nose job device.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQ4wrDZAhtXUCLjF8VY2oDRPYOaaI-0yOsAFM3wqF-iUMM05PVLzkq0RdJT-mf7UKOFSG8wI931eyNkGnUlewmvaJLejjrW53M7N6ImYcFNxxv4eQYLi565Tp5XlbUh-nE8TB3BYwiww/s1600/54353435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQ4wrDZAhtXUCLjF8VY2oDRPYOaaI-0yOsAFM3wqF-iUMM05PVLzkq0RdJT-mf7UKOFSG8wI931eyNkGnUlewmvaJLejjrW53M7N6ImYcFNxxv4eQYLi565Tp5XlbUh-nE8TB3BYwiww/s640/54353435.jpg" height="208" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm off to see if I can make a DIY liposuction device using the hoover and some straws.<br />
Someone's bound to buy it.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-10165059853721439852012-07-04T23:58:00.001+01:002012-07-05T02:40:54.897+01:00guess who ?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Hello !!!<br />
<br />
Is anybody still there ???<br />
<br />
If anyone is still reading here I expect you might be wondering where I've been.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Or if I took one too many happy pills, got over the mentalpause and am left with nothing to complain about or have an opinion on.<br />
Yeah right.<br />
<br />
What I have been mostly doing with my spare time in the evening is ebay. I had a massive clear out a few weeks ago and decided to list my <strike>huge pile of crap</strike> unwanted stuff, which then led to my deciding that as a) I do need a bit more income but b) I really can't be arsed to find another job, that perhaps with a bit of effort I could actually properly supplement my income with it.<br />
The good news is it's going well, I've made about £200 in a month, half of which has been reinvested in buying up a few small job lots to (hopefully) sell on individually for a profit.<br />
<br />
It's been a learning curve - more then you might think - and the pearls of wisdom gained will be shared in the next post.<br />
So that'll be in three months time then.<br />
Maybe not but don't hold your breadth.<br />
So anyway . . .<br />
<br />
What has finally driven me back to blogger is something that I heard a few days ago, which really pissed me off, and which I have in a way checked out for myself since and came to the conclusion that what I was told was correct.<br />
Grrrrr.<br />
<br />
Some things are a constant in my life - like being late for work, and at times I have got a cab from my house to the station in an effort to claim back the ten minutes that some bastard breaks into my house and steals in the morning. (If only I could catch him and get those minutes back, I'd probably have enough time for a whole day of sleep). It's a 15 minute walk to the train station but less then 5 in a cab, not great for the taxi driver I'm sure but a jobs a job and actually if I really <strike>gave in to my inner sloth</strike> wanted to there's nothing says I couldn't call one just to the end of the road.<br />
To actually get a taxi all the way to work would cost me £20.<br />
That's a cab drivers idea of a good job.<br />
And obviously not something I can afford to do.<br />
<br />
There was a day last week when I was needed to be in work early and had promised I would, but of course being me I laid awake until the early hours worrying that I wouldn't get up and then <strike>as usual</strike> managed to oversleep. I rang a cab for the station but checked the time and realised that I would still miss the next train, so by the time the taxi turned up I had decided to treat myself and get it to take me all the way to work.<br />
<br />
In this town there is really only one taxi company, there used to be lots of them but this one slowly bought them all out. Over the last couple of years they have gotten more and more foreign drivers - in fact when I thought about it after the conversation that I'll get to in a bit, it was always a foreign driver that picked me up when I got one in the morning.<br />
It was last week, a guy from Romania.<br />
He pulled up outside my house and I got in and explained that I had changed my mind and now wanted to make the longer journey, he seemed very pleased when I told him.<br />
So we get talking.<br />
And he tells me that NONE of the foreign drivers are ever given the decent jobs, airport runs, long distance journeys, they only ever get given the short jobs, especially during rush hour when traffic around the town is slow. I was a bit disgusted at that, discrimination is discrimination however it comes and it makes me fucking sick. If you're good enough for them to employ you then you should be entitled to the same work as everyone else, and we have employment laws in this country that are supposed to protect workers from injustice. And these drivers are all here legally, they have to be to get a cabbie license. The guy whose cab I was in told me he had lived here for seven years and held dual nationality. So of course being me I voiced my disgust at this very loudly.<br />
<br />
And that meant that the driver, who was a really nice fella (no, not like that, he was young enough to be my son) realised I suppose that I am not one of the they-come-over-here-and-take-all-our-jobs-and-deserve-to-be-treated-like-shit brigade, so he opened up to me a bit more.<br />
Get this. . .<br />
<br />
Not only do the company actively recruit foreign drivers that are already resident in this country, they actually advertise in Poland for drivers to come here. In the advert they promise help with the paperwork, finding accommodation and a weekly income of around £1000. They charge them £2000 for this service - which is a fucking lot more money to them then the average British citizen - and it's a fucking HUGE amount of money to most of us. So they borrow the money from whoever they can, sometimes that will be loan sharks, but more often then not from family members, because they are obviously under the impression that they will be able to earn it back very quickly once they get here.<br />
<br />
It's all lies.<br />
<br />
First of all they aren't given any help with any paperwork. But they are given a room that they have to share in flats that are owned by the taxi company at a cost of £100 per week.<br />
(<i>To put that in perspective I live in a three bedroomed, two living roomed house and I pay £450 a month)</i>.<br />
And that £100 is roughly what they have left of their actual wages after the taxi company have taken their weekly cut for the use of the car.<br />
All drivers pay that, but there are three different prices. The lowest is paid by the English drivers (about £150pw), the foreign but resident drivers pay about £250 and the Polish recruits have to pay £350. The only drivers that don't have to pay that are the ones that own their own cars - however they only allow the English drivers the option to do that.<br />
<br />
And on top of that they are only ever given the shitty little jobs, and they, unlike English drivers who can choose when they work, are told when they must work. My cabbie told me that the system is that all drivers have an automated thing in their cabs so that when a job comes in if they are free, or going to be near the pick up they hit a button, the control will then buzz them back to say the job is theirs, and it is supposed to be that the first person to respond gets the job. But he told me that he has stopped bothering to respond when it is a decent job because he now knows that he will never get it.<br />
<br />
Makes me fucking sick.<br />
I really didn't think that things like that were allowed to go on anymore. If you work in any other environment and you feel you are being discriminated against in ANY way you can go to a tribunal. But these drivers are out on the road, they can't prove they responded first because they just don't know for sure if anyone else did reply quicker. But when you NEVER get the decent work that is not an unfortunate coincidence.<br />
<br />
I suggested he go and see a solicitor.<br />
Because it's not just about the lack of decent jobs, it's the other stuff as well.<br />
Sounds to me like it's not a million miles away from the slavery and people trafficking that goes on in the sex trade. These men (and they are all men) might come here willingly, but it's on a false promise that leaves the family they left behind with no means of getting paid back the money leant to bring them here, or possibly under threat if they borrowed the money from sharks. They don't complain, apart from amongst themselves, because once they are here they need the job. As cab drivers are effectively self-employed there is nothing they can do if the company decided not to give them any work - and if they can't pay their rent then they're homeless, and they can't really go home until they find the money to pay back the loan they had to get here.<br />
Even if they had the plane fare home.<br />
Which they don't, because they can't afford to save.<br />
<br />
My cabbie said he has spoken to someone, and that I should keep an eye on the local paper in the coming weeks. I really hope so. Someone needs to.<br />
<br />
Since I had that conversation I have run a little test.<br />
Three times since I have needed a cab to make a short journey, every time they sent a foreign driver. Yesterday I called one and said I needed to go on the longer journey ( I didn't, when he got here I said I had changed my mind and was getting a train so just to the station) and they sent an English driver.<br />
<br />
Cunts. Racist fucking cunts.<br />
I will NOT be getting one of their cabs again, and if I really have to, because the fucking arsehole that runs it put all the other taxi companies out of business, then I will call and say I am just going up the road so they send a foreigner, change my mind, AND give him a good tip when I get out.<br />
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<br />
<br />
In other news the size of my family has increased by three.<br />
My friend and her Son arrived on Friday and it's been great. It's really nice to have the company and living with a six year old is proving to be an interesting and entertaining experience. I'm sure there will be a few funny posts to come as a result of that.<br />
<br />
And you may remember we lost Sons beloved cat a little while ago, well on Monday we got this. . .<br />
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I know I said I wasn't going to get another cat, but could you resist that face ?</div>
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<br />
So anyway, if anyone read this, hope you're all ok. I'll try and catch up on some reading over the weekend.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-39103724458217131912012-06-21T00:04:00.000+01:002019-10-26T20:34:51.457+01:00it's oh so quiet<br />
I love my little house.<br />
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<br />
<br />
I've lived here for twelve years, but in the last two have redecorated every room and bought new furniture for them too.<br />
And as much as I love Son I really love it when he goes out, especially at the weekends as he's gone for hours. I get to sit on my £2000 leather sofa and enjoy the nice surroundings and peace and quiet, watch whatever I want on the huge plasma HD TV (which is especially important now that the fucking Euro football is on), eat all the nice stuff in the cupboard without having to share, and sit on the loo without worrying about shutting the door.<br />
And when I go to bed now I get to sleep in my king size leather bed with a thick memory foam mattress. I love that too.<br />
<br />
I like my own company, always have.<br />
As much as I can go out and be the person dancing on the table and the loudest one in the room I also like a bit of solitude.<br />
<br />
I am naturally quite a messy person, I have always lived in what I described as ordered chaos. Little piles of stuff everywhere, but ask me if I have something you want to borrow and if I have it I can find it. However since finally getting my house how I want it I have been much better. There is no clutter in the lounge, and while the piles of stuff are still here they are in labelled boxes and hidden from sight in cupboards. I've become a little bit OCD about keeping it nice too.<br />
<br />
Much to Sons annoyance.<br />
He still tries to invade the back room with piles of stuff. Mostly his art equipment which he doesn't seem capable of keeping in the boxes that I gave him. I can live with that, but it's the ever expanding circle of crap that seems to emulate from whenever he sits playing xbox that really fucking winds me up. Still it's just in the back room, and if I shout loud enough, or he can't find something he knows is in that room, he will sort it out.<br />
Eventually.<br />
<br />
However all this peace and quiet and tidyness is about to be royally shattered in just over a week.<br />
<br />
A friend and her six year old Son are coming to stay for a few months.<br />
<br />
Don't misunderstand me, I am more then happy to have them here, I love them both. But she is just as messy as me, or as I used to be, and there is no such thing as a tidy six year old. They come with toys, dvds, three changes of clothes a day and temper tantrums.<br />
Right now I have a real conflict of emotions about this. On the one hand I'm really looking forward to the company and I know she will help with the cooking (and she's an amazing cook), and we will respect each others privacy. We are very alike in some ways and opposites in others, but as friends we are great at balancing each other. This is the friend I turn to in a crisis. Her little boy absolutely adores Son, he is mixed race too, Son calls him his little brother and he is looking forward to it more then me I think.<br />
But I am just a bit concerned about sharing my space.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I think I may well end up spending a bit more time in my bedroom.<br />
Just as well I have the luxury bed.<br />
<br />
For now I am making the most of the next few days.<br />
Son has left this morning for the Isle Of Wight festival, and as he is actually working over there will not be back until Monday. He's a fucking lucky git. Not only does he get to go the festival for free but he gets paid for being there.<br />
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<br />
The last time I went to the IOW festival was a few years ago now.<br />
Well when I say went I didn't actually get into it.<br />
The fella I was seeing at the time and I did not have tickets, but his best mate was over there and texted us on the Saturday morning to say he knew a way that we could get in without them, and told us where there was a break in the fence. He also said to bring more "supplies".<br />
So - after going "shopping" off we went.<br />
We got to the site and the supposed break in the fence was non-existent. We realised that the mate just wanted more of the supplies and figured that once we got there we would find our own way in. Well ok. I did want to see Snow Patrol. So we spent an hour circling the site as best you can, one side of it is bordered by a river, and it's not exactly in thick countryside, but the only couple of times we came close to finding a way in as soon as we tried a security guard appeared.<br />
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<br />
We came to the conclusion that even if we got through one layer of barrier and into the camping bit we still might get caught attempting the next bit to get to the arena. And if we got caught with what we had in our pockets we'd get arrested.<br />
Two choices.<br />
Give up and go home.<br />
Do all the 'supplies' and carry on trying.<br />
<br />
So anyway. Having consumed the contents of our pockets, which given the quantity didn't take too long to take effect, we realised that we <strike>weren't capable of</strike> couldn't be bothered to carry on trying to break in. There were a few ticket touts by the main gate so we decided that they would probably think we were so great they'd sell us two for next to nothing.<br />
They just thought we were a couple of lost-its and told us to go away.<br />
But by this point we were <strike>so fucking smashed</strike> actually having such a good time in our own little world we didn't really care, and once we found a spot where we could hear the music ended up laying on the grass and chatting to all our new best friends outside.<br />
<br />
For some reason they seemed to find us highly amusing.<br />
<br />
I never did get to see Snow Patrol but I did hear them.<br />
<br />
Eventually it started to get a bit cold, and we decided to get the catamaran home. The ex got it into his head that he wanted to have a go at driving it, I remember thinking at the time that this was a brilliant idea. The details of what followed are pretty vague, up until the bit where we were told "I don't know exactly what the deal is with you two but if you don't sit down and behave when we get back to Portsmouth the police will be waiting for you".<br />
We sat down.<br />
And behaved.<br />
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It was this one. And it wasn't like we were going to hijack it </div>
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and go to Spain.</div>
<br />
The other thing that sticks in my memory about that day is that it was a REALLY good day, I don't know that I would've enjoyed myself more if we had gotten into the festival.<br />
<br />
My first experiences of them was a long time ago, when they were small, illegal and run by travellers. Not gypsys, these were so-called New Age Travellers. Those guys could throw a party. They were usually in the middle of the woods somewhere, and nobody charged you for going. Sometimes they would spring up where an environmental protest was happening. The only expense would be if someone - usually a white guy with dreadlocks, a multi-coloured jumper and pupils the size of saucers - came round asking for contributions for petrol for the Genny.<br />
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<br />
Well you want to dance you need music, and you need power for that so we always chipped in. In those times there weren't many big festivals, and even the ones that were already happening like Glastonbury and Stonehenge were not the huge commercial ventures they've turned into now. The Travellers played a big part in them. They would help set the sites up, and stay after to clear it up and return it to it's natural state.<br />
Even today when it's not a festival site Glastonbury is a working farm. And it's been a very long time since anyone other then the Druids have been allowed right into Stonehenge, and even then it's just for the Solstice.<br />
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<br />
When the Acid parties and rave culture began in the eighties it too found a place at these little festivals, and that brought in young people that previously had no idea about or interest in them. They were no longer solely the domain of hippies, punks, travellers and other alternative types of people. Suddenly there were thousands instead of hundreds of people attending, and that brought other kinds of attention.<br />
Not all of it good.<br />
<br />
And then came the Criminal Justice Act.<br />
<br />
Which gave the police the power to break up any illegal gathering. Or decide that any gathering of people with the intention to have a good time was illegal.<br />
Fuckers.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Of course that just gave another reason to protest. And where there was a protest there was another party. I remember being at a rave in a big abandoned warehouse, there was more space then people so we were all dancing in a corner and the smoke machines were filling up the empty space around us. When we heard "this is the police, this is the police" we just thought it was part of the music and carried on dancing.<br />
As three times as many coppers as ravers appeared through the haze of the smoke.<br />
It looked kinda surreal. . . but that may've just been the drugs.<br />
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<br />
The bigger festivals survived, and became big business. New ones began too. Well known promoters took over and with the "proper" kind of management in place, security, planning permission, and expensive tickets they were no longer considered illegal.<br />
I'm not knocking them for doing that. The money they bring in now means that they can get really big stars to headline and there's nowhere else other then a festival where you can go and see so many well known acts (and get to know some less famous ones) in one place.<br />
But I refuse to pay the prices they charge.<br />
<br />
And in a way I feel a bit sad that todays youngsters will never get to experience the bit of culture that my generation and those before it did.<br />
We never went to Woodstock, but what we had was a direct result of the legacy it left, and to a lesser degree in the same spirit.<br />
<br />
Today it might still be all about the music and the atmosphere for the people who attend, but for the people that run it it's all about the money.<br />
<br />
Which leaves me feeling that it's rather ironic that Son is getting paid to be at the Isle of Wight festival, as that started out as Englands equivalent to Woodstock. Jim Morrisons last festival performance with The Doors was there in 1970, the same year Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendix played and when the festival was resurrected in 2006 a statue of Jimi was put up in the gardens of a museum near the site.<br />
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<br />
Strange to think those people were playing just a few miles from me.<br />
Shame I was eight at the time really. That year I might've bothered to get a ticket.<br />
<br />
<br />
In other news last Sunday was Fathers day in the UK.<br />
I checked my facebook and saw this. . .<br />
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<br />
From the fan page of the man who was shot by his father.<br />
<br />
Now that's ironic.<br />
<br />
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-40887993842239733202012-06-11T01:56:00.000+01:002012-06-11T01:59:55.955+01:00first love<br />
Apparently nobody forgets their first love.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Especially if he happens to be prince.</div>
<br />
I remember mine all too well.<br />
I was fifteen, he was eighteen, his name was Duncan and he had a motorbike. Not a silly 50cc bike wannabe like all the other boys I knew, his was a 350cc Suzuki. The fact that I remember that detail makes me wonder now how much of the initial attraction was about him or the size of his engine.<br />
<br />
Although he wasn't the first boy I called my boyfriend he was the first proper one. The others had just been part of the crowd of friends, and we only saw each other when the crowd was together. But this one and I went on dates, and because he was that bit older we went to night clubs and pubs.<br />
He even bought me a ring. Nothing fancy, it was just a cheap eternity ring, but he wanted me to wear it on THAT finger.<br />
I've still got that ring.<br />
<br />
All my friends were impressed and a bit jealous, my Mum liked him - and she never liked any of my friends, male or female, my younger sister liked him (she told me years later that she had a crush on him too), even my fucking cat liked him and would jump on his lap whenever he came round.<br />
In fact I had a picture of him taken at Christmas sat by our tree with the cat on his lap.<br />
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<br />
I guess you're wondering if I lost my virginity to him too ? Well no, I didn't. I had thrown that away before I met him to a fella who didn't even take his boots off because I thought my friends had "done it". Although the only thing I learnt from that experience was that my friends were lying and sex was really not worth all the fuss people made about it. So I lied to the boy and said I was a virgin and was then too scared to "do it" with him in case he realised. And anyway I had no desire to repeat that ten seconds of grunting followed by a day of not being able to sit down without flinching.<br />
So my first love remained innocent.<br />
Sort of.<br />
<br />
We were together for about eight months, a long term relationship at that age. It was me that ended it, I really don't remember any specifics other then I got bored because he wanted me to be with him and not go out and see my mates. He would say, whenever I suggested going to see them, that hanging around with the crowd was childish so I guess what really happened was the difference in our ages became apparent.<br />
Or so I thought.<br />
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<br />
Fifteen years later. . . .<br />
<br />
My Mum was having a clear out and gave a box of old photographs to my sister to sort out, some were coming to me and some were going to my Dad. The picture of the boy with our cat by the Christmas tree was amongst them. My sister had them in piles on her coffee table when our friend Leanne paid her a visit.<br />
Naturally she started looking through the pictures, no doubt laughing at the ones of my sister and I when we were little.<br />
Then she said. . . .<br />
"Why have you got a picture of my Duncan?"<br />
My sister said that I had gone out with him too, and asked Leanne (who is a year younger then me) when she went out with him, thinking it was probably after. But no.<br />
<br />
Not at all. AT THE SAME TIME AS ME !!!<br />
My first love was a two-timing motherfucking lying cheating cunt.<br />
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<br />
The picture was dated so it was easy to work out. He was with Leanne for about a year and for the middle of that was with me too, we sat down soon after and double checked. Funny too, although we (obviously) did not know each other at that time we knew loads of the same people when we finally figured it out.<br />
I guess we were kept apart.<br />
<br />
Move on another ten years and my sister is getting married. Her husband had invited some of his friends from work and their respective partners.<br />
So there I am at the reception getting some food from the buffet and a voice from behind me says . . .<br />
"Hello Jane"<br />
Guess who ? Well no prizes. Duncan.<br />
Leanne had yet to arrive, she was coming after work to the evening do. But I called her and told her who was there, and later on after she arrived we cornered him.<br />
Ah Karma. Sometimes I love you.<br />
<br />
And sometimes I wonder about the twists and turns my life has taken, and what if I had taken a different route, or made a different choice. My relationship with Sons father lasted nine years, by far and away the longest I have spent with anyone. Before I met him I had an on and off thing with a guy who was in our Navy, he was not based in this town, but whenever he was visiting he would come and find me. We had a real click between us. Then one day he told me that he was due for a promotion which meant that he could change ships and he was hoping to get on one that was based here. He wanted to know if I would consider us being more then just occasional fuck buddies if he did. I liked him, a lot, but I was 20 and I liked my freedom too so I said I'd think about it.<br />
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<br />
In the meantime I met Sons father at a weekly club night, he was also a very casual thing at first as he lived in the next town, but boy oh boy did we click and after a couple of months he asked me the same question as the other fella.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
It was a bit like this.</div>
<br />
I guess I thought that I had reached a stage in life where it might actually be quite nice to have a proper boyfriend, and I hadn't exactly forgotten about the Navy fella but he wasn't around and out of sight out of mind. So this night I went to the club night to meet up with the sperm donor-to-be, and I was sat there with my friends waiting for him to arrive and watching the door.<br />
He walked in. Followed by the Navy fella.<br />
I had the length of time it took them to walk to where I was sitting to make a choice.<br />
<br />
The rest, as they say, is history.<br />
I don't regret anything, and as an indirect result of that choice I have Son, but sometimes I do wonder. . .<br />
<br />
For the longest time I had thought my Dad was my Mums first love. Well her only love, she was from an era where people got married young and saved themselves until they did. My parents split up when I was about 14, not that that was any kind of a shock, they must of been happy at first but all I ever remember them doing was either arguing or ignoring each other.<br />
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<br />
But my Mum considered her broken marriage to be a source of shame and didn't really have anyone to talk to about it apart from me. We kind of got into the pattern of me coming in from seeing my friends, her making us a cup of tea, and then moaning about my Dad. I didn't really want to hear it. I loved my Dad even if she didn't, in fact if I'd been given the choice I would've lived with him but in those days that just didn't happen.<br />
Sometimes I'd come in and say I was tired even if I wasn't just so I could go straight to bed.<br />
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<br />
Then one night I came in and someone, I don't remember who, but most likely one of the neighbours as she really didn't have any other friends, had called round and Mum had drunk a couple of glasses of wine.<br />
<br />
There are a few traits I've inherited from my Mum.<br />
One of them being a very low tolerance for alcohol.<br />
So by the time I arrived home that particular night she was more then a little tipsy, and in a better mood then usual, so I sat down for a chat. And she told me a story that I only ever heard that one time.<br />
<br />
A couple of years before she met my Dad she had met a Dutch sailor who was based here for a while and they had fallen in love. But the Dutchman had told her that although he wanted to marry her he wanted to make something of himself first and so he was going back to Holland. He had promised her he would be back and asked her to wait for him.<br />
In those days very few people had telephones and I guess international mail was probably slow and unreliable, either way she did not hear from him.<br />
<br />
By the time my Dad came along she had given up on the Dutchman, she was 19 and still single in an era when most women were married with a couple of children by that age, and worried about being "left on the shelf". She married my Dad within three months of starting to date him.<br />
<br />
Whilst she was on her honeymoon the Dutchman turned up at my Nans house looking for her.<br />
<br />
And I bet there were times when she wondered just like I do. . .<br />
<br />
Amongst the stuff we found after she died and we sorted out her house was a pile of very old pictures. Last week I got them out to look through as I bought some new picture frames and wanted to make some collages.<br />
I had forgotten about the story of the Dutchman but then I found this, a little postcard addressed to Mum in her maiden name and sent to my Nans house.<br />
<br />
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I guess I finally met the Dutchman who in another life might've been my Dad.</div>
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I also found me, as a baby. Proof that I was cute once.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PbV624JTkVQmB7Z4zqGMoqoUs6sSaAnSe5C3ovt1F-BPk_theVy_ozn7qNeN7wIyqP0QdUg_D-N_Bb8236ZAm9Xg48aYA21eBlbfX8g6tVyoua9xSZFeb_ng_p2J69pRK1tyebHT5m8/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PbV624JTkVQmB7Z4zqGMoqoUs6sSaAnSe5C3ovt1F-BPk_theVy_ozn7qNeN7wIyqP0QdUg_D-N_Bb8236ZAm9Xg48aYA21eBlbfX8g6tVyoua9xSZFeb_ng_p2J69pRK1tyebHT5m8/s320/010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And this is my Mum. Not sure how old she is here but I'm guessing early twenties.</div>
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You can see where I get my beauty from.</div>
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Strange that we have that little bit of a mirror in the </div>
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history of our lives.</div>
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-52333677475830409532012-06-02T01:08:00.003+01:002012-06-02T01:10:47.814+01:00birthday boy<br />
I mentioned in the last post about my current lack of sleep, right about now I'd bite my arm off for one uninterrupted night of solid kip. Fat chance.<br />
<br />
Between the mentalpause causing me to break out in a sweat at any given moment, noisy students who live in the house opposite, the cats - who are not helping at all, and Son coming in the worse for wear at 2am, I have bags under my eyes that could carry a weeks shopping.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-E85m78vSLkkU9W7BAkn59EugB00wzDiB5juEfqaFP_TSLinQvTycvSZ5y4DNYxPkoyyIj1MptLAOiTVjUgEUj9mmdWvJuNv6DMRyfmBcb9tiB6c1DJ1jvRNRoIpYsBS1RU2pgzBxIY/s1600/65474674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-E85m78vSLkkU9W7BAkn59EugB00wzDiB5juEfqaFP_TSLinQvTycvSZ5y4DNYxPkoyyIj1MptLAOiTVjUgEUj9mmdWvJuNv6DMRyfmBcb9tiB6c1DJ1jvRNRoIpYsBS1RU2pgzBxIY/s1600/65474674.jpg" /></a></div>
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As long as they're Gucci bags I'm not really that bothered.</div>
<br />
Last night was a fine example of things conspiring against me.<br />
I was so exhausted that I went to bed at 10 and fell asleep pretty much straight away. I know this because when the drunk wombfruit returned in the early hours and slammed the door it woke me up.<br />
Great. Thanks.<br />
Then he decided to have a bath, so was running up and down the stairs, never mind that my bedroom is next to the bathroom. And once I was awake I could hear the noisy cunts over the road, gonna be time to have a word with them soon I think. I shut my window, and once Son was out of the bath thought that was it and I could attempt to get back to dreaming about winning the lottery.<br />
But no.<br />
I woke up in a sweat before I'd even properly gotten to sleep. Not because of the mentalpause, oh no, I had a cat sleeping across the top of my head. And he had the cheek to miaow at me when I shoved him off, then, as he was getting tucked up against my legs decided to do that claw massage thing. Grrrr. But he settled down, and to be honest I quite like the way this one loves to snuggle up to me, so I let him stay and got myself comfortable.<br />
I had just about nodded off again when I hear a scream from downstairs and then,<br />
"MUM, MUM !!!" *thunders up the stairs*<br />
"Mum !! You're not gonna like it but you have to come and deal with this. . ."<br />
<br />
So obviously there's a spider.<br />
I happen to think that I did a great job raising Son. And all my friends agree, one actually said to me that because of how he has turned out if she ever needed advice about raising her kids it would be my advice she would ask for. There's no better compliment then that really.<br />
<br />
But there is one thing I got VERY wrong.<br />
Kids learn by what they see, and what he saw, and therefore learnt, is that when confronted by a spider you are supposed to go "ARGGGGGGHHHH" and run away screaming.<br />
If only I had thought about that a bit better, and not made him as afraid of them as I am I might now have a Son who could deal with them for me. (Or chased me with them. Every cloud ).<br />
But I didn't.<br />
In fact it's usually me (with the aid of my "bug catcher" - eBay it, it's saved my life more then once), who ends up disposing of them. I don't kill them but I'm not letting one stay in my house, it's not like they pay rent or help out with the bills. No, they have to go.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmp15F2oXvSkujmK0kDVRgA3hwKHE5N4UFg6dCw9n48OpcotGE_QRcN1X2omV3t1Gg0VhAt2zkwcPVH7ev_xX_Ulb_EbEO9BJT0jkPhUJm6vhw38B-pQZlP2FKg990njqF8DlsmtuzO5k/s1600/74674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmp15F2oXvSkujmK0kDVRgA3hwKHE5N4UFg6dCw9n48OpcotGE_QRcN1X2omV3t1Gg0VhAt2zkwcPVH7ev_xX_Ulb_EbEO9BJT0jkPhUJm6vhw38B-pQZlP2FKg990njqF8DlsmtuzO5k/s1600/74674.jpg" /></a></div>
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The Bug Catcher.</div>
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Best five quid I ever spent.</div>
<br />
So I get my tired, exhausted self out of bed and go downstairs.<br />
"Where is it. . . ?"<br />
"Over there, under the lamp"<br />
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And this is what I found.<br />
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<br />
<br />
It seems one of the cats found a new playmate and decided to bring him home.<br />
I left him there and went back to bed. Frogs don't scare me.<br />
The cat that was on my bed is the one that brings things home so I knew he didn't want to kill it. He often brings in whatever he's been playing with outside - just that's usually a bit of a twig or a leaf. And the way the frog was laying under the lamp it was obviously enjoying the heat as it made no attempt to move when I went near it to take the picture.<br />
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And as tired as I am I still found it hilarious that a (almost) grown man got completely freaked out by one.<br />
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Tomorrow (well today now) is Sons birthday, if I'd known how he felt I would've got him a box of frogs. I wasn't sure what to get him this year anyway, moneys a bit tight at the moment and although I know there are some things he'd like I can't really afford to spend much. So I looked online to see if I could find a bargain and I think he's going to be pretty made up when he sees that I have managed to get him everything on his wish list.<br />
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A Lap Top. </div>
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An Ipad. </div>
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A New Mobile. </div>
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A Flat Screen TV for his bedroom.</div>
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Some Weed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-o7_gEIt2tUeit2ZJep7utNP7qB7b1r2QHbsvD0Y_PxMtugwCMVX2ziX51jvHLeT94UJEcZd1GvhcXHeiMbQJo8IqKN9ug5Z7xvApSQ4t9XA1cACz_5XfBwRzaQ-ceyth6SYUVbvBpg/s1600/876674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-o7_gEIt2tUeit2ZJep7utNP7qB7b1r2QHbsvD0Y_PxMtugwCMVX2ziX51jvHLeT94UJEcZd1GvhcXHeiMbQJo8IqKN9ug5Z7xvApSQ4t9XA1cACz_5XfBwRzaQ-ceyth6SYUVbvBpg/s320/876674.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I got lucky and found this in the garden, and as that didn't cost me anything with the </div>
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money I saved I got him a car.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMS3DZFRRFnMIdADB-9g0b2NTX9c1-3_rev2jcnqGDFhXJPppvNgh7nNXz32IsRpBC4yo4R59Q-KAp0UdqAnoOJm2UeRk92he0pUGkuj1QOJLplCjUS8uHvxphVrz3R_4CbtTXET6ZJh0/s1600/897789897879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMS3DZFRRFnMIdADB-9g0b2NTX9c1-3_rev2jcnqGDFhXJPppvNgh7nNXz32IsRpBC4yo4R59Q-KAp0UdqAnoOJm2UeRk92he0pUGkuj1QOJLplCjUS8uHvxphVrz3R_4CbtTXET6ZJh0/s320/897789897879.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I think he's going to be very happy when he wakes up tomorrow and opens his presents.</div>
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<br />
But seriously I'm not that much of a skinflint. I did go to the shop and buy him a proper card, unfortunately it's not actually a birthday card.<br />
<br />
Wanna see ?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsRByx30LlaUbF8POC7WNqXD784_6hb7Sf1bYgjQd_OruHM10bVjqpaPBgtPCnSNISnTl_Qs_i7sV0l_cAM47u2w64LMxunpW0__hHjrm0PP5HroKkebOv7g_vl8D6kDuCIlhyphenhyphenj_XmJU/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPsRByx30LlaUbF8POC7WNqXD784_6hb7Sf1bYgjQd_OruHM10bVjqpaPBgtPCnSNISnTl_Qs_i7sV0l_cAM47u2w64LMxunpW0__hHjrm0PP5HroKkebOv7g_vl8D6kDuCIlhyphenhyphenj_XmJU/s320/004.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />
That is the actual card. And inside I've wrote "Because I can dream . . . ps I was going to put some money in this card but I forgot to go the cashpoint so IOU £1.50".<br />
It's ok - he will find it funny, and he loves kittens.<br />
But just in case that doesn't put a birthday smile on his face then I have scanned some baby pictures ready to post where all his friends can see them. . .<br />
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Embarrassing Mum ? Who me ? Never.<br />
And anyway his birthday is as much of a celebration for me as it is him. Although his being 26 is gonna make it even harder for me to convince <strike>younger men</strike> people that I'm 25.<br />
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Especially with the sacks under my eyes, never mind the Gucci bag I think I'll get some Gucci shades.<br />
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<br />
And just in case you're wondering the frog appeared again this evening and we returned him to the garden.<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-64141880123580089502012-05-29T23:48:00.000+01:002012-05-29T23:54:59.742+01:00superwoman<br />
Oh the joys of getting older.<br />
<br />
I wrote a post a while ago about the negative effect it is having on my <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/plain-speaking.html">eyesight</a>, so I'll leave that particular symptom out of this. If I repeat myself it might seem like I've forgotten what I already said, and I don't want to give the impression that dementia is setting in.<br />
<br />
Yet.<br />
I'm sure it's only a matter of time but I've never had the best memory anyway, I'm forever going upstairs then forgetting what I went to get. Or finding whichever item I want straight away then spending half an hour looking for the thing that is actually in my hand. Or going all the way to the supermarket because I need some sugar but it's far cheaper there then the shop at the top of the road, spending sixty quid then getting home, needing a coffee and at that point realising that I forgot the fucking sugar I went there for in the first place.<br />
So I don't know that anyone will notice if I do get dementia.<br />
<br />
But I am beginning to realise that every cloud does indeed have a silver lining.<br />
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<br />
For a start there's the mentalpause to contend with. The obvious upside to that is the monthly visitor no longer comes around which of course saves on one expense. But thanks to the endless hot flashes I think I might have stumbled upon a way to supplement my income by hiring myself out as an alternative energy source. And if anybody is thinking of having a barbecue for a <strike>large</strike> reasonable fee I will come and provide the outdoor heating for your guests.<br />
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<br />
And due to the newest addition to my catalogue of ageing symptoms, night sweats, I am saving a fortune on the heating bill. Although it does mean that I'm permanently tired from the constant battle with my quilt.<br />
Get too hot so wake up.<br />
Kick it off.<br />
Go back to sleep.<br />
Get too cold so wake up.<br />
Pull it back.<br />
Get too hot so wake up.<br />
Kick it off . . .<br />
<br />
All fucking night. Every fucking night. And I am having some very bizarre dreams when I do sleep. Including a sex dream about Will-i-am-an-annoying-twat-and-according-to-my-dream-a-crap-shag-too. That's what you get for watching the voice and laughing at his inability to string a coherent sentence together without saying the word dope. Ironic really, as he just comes across as being a bit dopey.<br />
Also ironic that a show called the Voice has a judge that can't open his mouth without thinking for five minutes and clearing his throat ten times before speaking. He is that irritating I would happily clear his throat for him with the use of a garrote.<br />
<br />
Anyway I digress, back to the original topic. The positive side to getting older.<br />
Did you realise that women actually start to gain a Superpower once we get past 40 ?<br />
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<br />
It's true.<br />
We become invisible.<br />
<br />
Personally I would've preferred the ability to fly, or even something like being able to shoot flames out of my fingertips but I'll take what I can get.<br />
A friend first pointed out this strange phenomena to me, well obviously since I can always see me I didn't realise that other people - in particular men - couldn't, but once I was made aware I realised it is indeed true.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Now THIS I could've had some fun with.</div>
<br />
To get the full effect you need to be standing next to another female who is under 40, in fact the younger or blonder the better as the effect of the invisibility will be magnified considerably. If she has big boobs too then it works to the point where you can become completely transparent.<br />
<br />
However the effect can be slightly counteracted if even though you are over 40 you are also blonde and/or boobalicious. So if you want to lessen the invisibility then I suggest investing in some peroxide and serious push-up engineering to overcome the ageing females worst enemy.<br />
Gravity.<br />
I happen to think that gravity and Mother Nature are in collusion and Mother Nature might make the flowers bloom and the sun shine but when it comes to the female of the species she's a bit of a bitch. Because just when you get to the age where you have totally lost all the insecurities of youth, and feel comfortable in your own skin, sure of yourself and who you are, she decides to alter the skin so it doesn't quite fit as well as it used to.<br />
Then she gets gravity to come on over and send the contents of most of the skin South.<br />
<br />
I swear the pair of them are having a fucking good laugh at the joke they've played on us.<br />
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<br />
Well they obviously failed to take account of the Superpower, because if they can't see me then they can't laugh at me either. I am going to try and test this ability in other situations too, other then the social settings I've experienced it in so far.<br />
Maybe I can walk into a jewellers and help myself to some diamonds.<br />
Or stroll out of Dixons with a flat screen under my arm ? It's also Sons birthday at the weekend and he needs a new laptop.<br />
Most of the staff in there are young men and they seem to be the ones the effect works on best. All I need do is hang around outside the shop and follow some younger females in and they won't be able to see me.<br />
Yet another financial saving courtesy of the mentalpause.<br />
<br />
And I have to say that based upon something that happened earlier I think I prefer being invisible. England has been very hot for a week now and I was wearing a summer dress, I really like it, it's kind of 1940s style, polka dot fabric, and as it is a bit low cut it shows off the jamoonas so I am a bit less invisible when I wear it. It's got elastic gathering just above my waist then the skirt is flared, so I think conceals all the gravity stricken bits below it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I thought I looked a bit like this. . . </div>
<br />
When I got off the train this evening a (younger male) friend was also on the platform. He came up to me to say hello and as we walked over the bridge together chatting I was aware that his eyes seemed to not be meeting mine and aiming a bit lower.<br />
I thought he was looking at my tits.<br />
Then he said. . . .<br />
"I didn't know you were having a baby. . . "<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
But apparently it was more like this.</div>
<br />
Fuck. My. Life.<br />
<br />
Of course he was put swiftly in his place, and he looked SO embarrassed when he realised he was wrong. Ever watched a six foot fella shrink to the size of a small child in front of you ?<br />
I think at that point he wished he was invisible.<br />
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<br />
<br />
No chance mate.<br />
I'm not sharing my Superpower with anyone.<br />
<br />
I'm off.<br />
There is a gym just up the road and I am going to lurk around the male changing room. It's not like they'll be able to see me.<br />
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<br /></div>dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-40282131458875082482012-05-23T21:58:00.000+01:002012-05-29T23:54:33.941+01:00chuck gave me herpes<br />
<br />
Or the post in which I become a hypocrite.<br />
<br />
Because we all know how I feel about blog awards. That is I'll <strike>grab them with both hands</strike> accept them graciously and put them on my trophy page, but I refuse to comply with any conditions that might be attached because <strike>I'm too fucking greedy to share the glory</strike> then they spread around like a social disease.<br />
<br />
But since I keep staring at my unfinished posts and nothing is happening with them at the moment, and because I can think of a few good blogs that should have more followers to recommend to you all I decided I would rebel against myself ( I may as well, when you get to my age there isn't much else left to rebel for) and do it.<br />
And also because Chuck said he gave it me "just because she'll hate it".<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfhWXSDa6eioK3gRNdD3UPexzBWhw5j0tgFhzYsUPcySSl4pA3kJ6gfGVG3qgY2bWaEDPsH3nBDot2DPMgne5m5X2A-sk0_cfPTp1azYZryrhgTf7l_pQxpskUZa3r437IHD1RyG4ves/s1600/kreativblogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfhWXSDa6eioK3gRNdD3UPexzBWhw5j0tgFhzYsUPcySSl4pA3kJ6gfGVG3qgY2bWaEDPsH3nBDot2DPMgne5m5X2A-sk0_cfPTp1azYZryrhgTf7l_pQxpskUZa3r437IHD1RyG4ves/s1600/kreativblogger.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">There's a certain irony in getting an award for being CREATIVE that isn't even spelt right. My inner grammar<br />troll is not amused.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Right then. Bring on the itching. . . .<br />
<br />
<i>What is your favourite song?</i><br />
Dirty Epic - Underworld. But if you've read my "about me" you'll know that. This song just gets to me, no matter how many times I hear it, and whenever I am feeling any kind of bad I just put my headphones on and listen to it LOUD and it always sorts me out.<br />
I actually have the first line tattooed across the back of my neck.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
It says "sweet in winter sweet in rain".</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If you want to hear the song the video is on my about me.</div>
<br />
<i>What is your favorite dessert? </i><br />
ALL of the ones with chocolate or lemon in them. I have curves to maintain, you won't catch me eating anything low<strike> taste</strike> calorie. I am actually going to start a food blog soon - it's all done and ready to go - to share some of the recipes I created. Expect chocolate. Lots of it.<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
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<i>What ticks you off? </i><br />
Do I really need to answer this ? I think anyone who reads this blog is well aware of what pisses me off.<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>When you're upset what do you do? </i><br />
Listen to my favourite song. Presuming this means sad upset. For angry upset I tend to blog about it, when it's just generally pissed off angry. When I'm REALLY angry I throw things - or walk away, because I am dangerous when I'm THAT angry. But just because I walked away doesn't mean that person is not on the list.<br />
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<br />
<i>Which is/was your favourite pet? </i><br />
Impossible to answer. I have always had cats and I love them all equally even though they have all had very different characters.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<i>Which do you prefer to wear, black or white?</i><br />
Purple. But of those two black, apparently it's slimming. And as I can't eat anything without getting half of it all over myself white on me would just be a disaster waiting to happen.<br />
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<br />
<i>What is your biggest fear? </i><br />
Heights. I can't even change a light bulb because my house has high ceilings and it involves climbing a ladder. My biggest fear whenever Son goes away is that I will end up living in the dark until he comes back. I know I could use candles but with my propensity towards calamity that's not a great idea. Spiders are a close second, but I can deal with them if I have to, I can't cope with heights at all. In fact when I'm stressed I will often dream that I am up high on some kind of narrow structure.<br />
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<br />
<i>What is your attitude mostly? </i><br />
I'm a cunt. And what ????<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>What is perfection? </i><br />
The thing I see in the mirror.<br />
Yeah right.<br />
No one thing really, but my idea of perfect would be to spend every day laying on a sandy beach somewhere very hot.<br />
And Vin Diesel applying the suntan lotion.<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>What is your guilty pleasure?</i><br />
Porn.<br />
Wait. . . who typed that ? If you really want to know read <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/guilty-pleasures_02.html">THIS</a>.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
And now I have to tell you ten random things about me.<br />
1. I own about 60 bras, but I don't have a white one.<br />
2. You know the weird person who starts up a conversation with you somewhere at the bus stop ? That'll be me. I'll talk to anyone.<br />
3. I'm utter crap at managing my money. Always have been.<br />
4. Ever since I could remember I wanted to learn to play the piano.<br />
5. When I was about 13 I got my mum, my sister and me thrown out of a museum because I was bored and there was a really old church organ and I decided to play "what shall we do with the drunken sailor" on it. That was the first (but not the last) time my Mum regretted letting me have the piano lessons.<br />
6. My favourite film is Apocalypse Now. But not the redux, having watched it I can totally see why the deleted scenes were removed.<br />
7. Although I love being in the sea I am rubbish at swimming. I prefer to float around on an airbed. Once in Spain I floated out way too far, I was unaware and half asleep when I heard a mans voice say "are you alright love".. I opened my eyes and there was two fellas on a pedalo. They towed me back to safety, otherwise I might've ended up in Africa.<br />
8. I'm very good at keeping secrets. I love it when people are gossipping about something and wondering what happened and I know the truth.<br />
9. My first proper job after school was in a bank. I got the sack. Apparently you were not allowed to use the money in the till to supplement your wages.<br />
10. I'm going to add these to my about me page. Just as soon as it stops playing up, I've been trying to change something on it for a few days and it won't scroll in the editor.<br />
<br />
And finally, I have to <strike>infect</strike> pass this on to seven other people.<br />
NB. This is the real reason I did this, to encourage you all to go and check them out. So make sure you do, you have been warned about my temper . . . .<br />
<br />
1. <a href="http://dumpedfirstwife.blogspot.co.uk/">Janie Junebug.</a> One of my blogging sisters, one day she will come to the UK and then there will be trouble.<br />
2. <a href="http://www.shamefulpromotions.com/">Working Dan</a>. A blog with a few recurring themes, including his own Game of Thrones. Go and see if you can knock those epic bloggers from ABFTS off that wall. You might even get your very own character drawn. (I'm still waiting for a cowgirl to ride into town).<br />
3. <a href="http://www.therantingmonkey.com/">The Ranting Monkey.</a> Frank has pretty much been with me since I started this blog, for the life of me I don't know why he doesn't have more followers. His topics are varied but he is a great writer and when he's being funny he's hilarious.<br />
4. <a href="http://steve-bailey.blogspot.co.uk/">From the Mind of A Madman</a>. I just found this, because Dan started following me. Funny man.<br />
5. <a href="http://havenbyshea.blogspot.co.uk/">Pajama Days in a Klonopin Haze.</a> Another blogging sister, this blog is usually about her very interesting and amusing life but she also has another about her "other" job. Shea is a real life ghost hunter and it's fascinating stuff.<br />
6. <a href="http://japingape.blogspot.co.uk/">The Japing Ape.</a> Written by a gorilla. I kid you not. Always with a rather twisted take on a current news item, I can't explain this - you just need to go and read it.<br />
7.<a href="http://www.laurajanewilliams.com/"> Superlatively Rude.</a> I just love Laura. I am trying my best to persuade her to marry Son. I need a daughter in law who appreciates my cooking and is happy to talk about vagina while we eat the endless cakes I will make us. And since amongst the many other things she does Laura is writing a book about her vagina she is definitely the one. If you go and visit her be sure to leave a message saying I sent you, it will help with my campaign.<br />
<br />
And you should also go and visit Chuck, who gave me the<strike> itchy vagina</strike> award at A<a href="http://apackalipsnow.blogspot.co.uk/">pocalypse Now</a>. He is very funny and he has a blog named after my favourite film.<br />
You lucky seven can accept this or not. And I don't care if you take up the conditions or not.<br />
But if you do. . . Zovirax can stop the itching.<br />
<br />
Or so I'm told.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-6679409886578898742012-05-20T22:10:00.001+01:002012-05-26T14:54:21.792+01:00sunday stealing<br />
Hello Strangers !<br />
<br />
I've been a bit absent from the blogging world for the last couple of weeks. Real life stuff getting in the way as it does.<br />
<br />
And having nothing to complain about.<br />
<br />
Actually I've had a bit of a "count my blessings" time, sad things happening for other people that make me realise how full my glass really is. The result of that being that I have two funerals to attend this week.<br />
Anyway I'm not here looking for sympathy, but it's going to be a strange week.<br />
Shit happens.<br />
<br />
I actually just counted and I have eleven posts that I started and never finished, after my idea to not publish immediately in case I wanted to add to them later. So at some point you might get to read about : my first love : the night I was possessed by my dead mother : being a parent to a mixed race child : humour versus racism : ANOTHER letter to Dave : a mans guide to Internet dating sites : an idea I had about the Olympics, and a few others.<br />
No wonder I got distracted and confused.<br />
<br />
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<br />
However to get myself back in the habit I am going to join in with something called Sunday Stealing that I saw over on <a href="http://magicalmysticalmimi.blogspot.co.uk/">Magical Mimis blog</a>. I only recently started following her, but she takes part in quite a few of these sharing posts, and I like the idea behind this one.<br />
<br />
So here we go. I'll put the link at the bottom if any of you lot want to join in too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>1. Have you ever peed your pants as an adult? </b><br />
No, not really, but maybe from laughing too much. But when Son was 12 we went to Jamaica and as a result of sunstroke and drinking a pint of fresh orange juice in one go I did manage to poo my pants. We were there for a month, Son met family and we went to all the tourist spots and also some out of the way places, we met amazing people and had wonderful experiences. We get home and a few days later bumped into a friend of mine in the shop. She asked Son if he'd had a good time...<br />
"Yup. . my Mum shit herself".<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>2. Who do you have a celebrity crush on now? </b><br />
Vin Diesel. But it's not a crush it's real love. And he will agree once I have<strike> hunted him down and stalked him into submission</strike> met him.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>3. Would you date someone you met online? </b><br />
Have done. A few times. It's not something I'd recommend. This <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/typical.html">POST</a> was about the most recent. Click the "dating" label if you want to read about more <strike>total disasters</strike> dates.<br />
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<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>4. Do you wear underwear always? </b><br />
No, I take them off when I get in the bath. However I have to keep my bra on otherwise it's like walking around with two half deflated airbags up my jumper.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>5. Do you hate yourself at times?</b><br />
Never. But I do despair about myself for my habit of calamity following me around.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>7. Do you like dirty movies? </b><br />
Hellyeah.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>8. Could you believe Josha Ledet was voted off Idol? </b><br />
Who ? I'm English, have no idea who he is. But if he was voted off he can't of been that good.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>9. When was the last time that you bought a car?</b><br />
Never. I don't drive. In the interest of public safety.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>10. Have you ever been camping? </b><br />
Many times. I'm a hippy at heart, I spent a lot of my youth going to <strike>illegal</strike> festivals and raves. Of course in those days I just had a little tent and all I took was a toothbrush. Nowadays I have a tent with a living room and a bedroom and I take my airbed, quilt, cushions, deck chair, cooking stove and sometimes even a hot water bottle.<br />
I'd take my washing machine and fridge if I could but on account of question 9 I have to get a lift with someone else and I don't think they'd appreciate it.<br />
Plus I don't know where I'd plumb it in in the middle of a field.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>11. How many times a day do you go on facebook?</b><br />
I loathe facebook. I actually deleted it for a while, and when I reactivated it I defriended a lot of the idiots who post about utter crap. I say I keep it because there are a few people on there who I would otherwise not hear from, but then I think if the only way I hear from them is facebook then they obviously don't matter that much.<br />
Still it's good for <strike>gossip and seeing how fat and boring people have gotten</strike> finding our what people are up to.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<b>12. What was the last movie you saw in a theater? </b><br />
Super 8. Great film. Right now I am just about doing a question one (again) waiting for Prometheus.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>13. Have you ever worried that you'd cut off a limb?</b><br />
I did once manage to slice the top of my thumb off while slicing a lemon. There have been times when I've been tempted to remove an appendage from a man. But none of them have been big enough to be called a limb.<b> </b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>14. Where did you get your last email from? </b><br />
A friend I met on blogger, he lives in Canada. I love how some people have become what is the modern equivalent of pen pals, as a child I had a few pen friends around the world and I loved writing letters.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>15. Favorite website? </b><br />
If I put them all here I'd probably crash blogger. Impossible to pick a favourite, but <a href="http://www.dontevenreply.com/">THIS</a> is one that never fails to make me answer yes to question one.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>16. Are you down with ghetto? </b><br />
Am I what ?<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>17. Will the world end in fire or ice?</b><br />
If I knew the answer to that then I would be the almighty being.<br />
Wait . . . Ummm . . . It'll end when I say so.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>18. Do you believe in the afterlife? </b><br />
Yup. I'm not religious, don't believe in god, but I have had enough experiences to know without question that death is not the end. I actually think it might be the beginning.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>19. Would you be upset if facebook stopped working?</b><br />
No. As long as I had time to save some of the photos that I have on there.<br />
And it will be very interesting to watch all the addicts running around like headless chickens.<br />
Best joke of the week :<br />
Why did facebook go public ?<br />
Because even they couldn't work out the new privacy settings.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>20. How did you start your blog? </b><br />
Long story. When I started it I had just had the worst two years of my life, and I read someone elses that was pretty much the story of their life. I figured that writing about all the crap that had gone on with me would be cathartic, but it never happened. The second post I wrote was about Internet Dating, and it just went from there. Now - as I am completely over all the bad shit - I think that this often sarcastic, sometimes funny, occasionally rude, always honest way of writing is actually an accurate reflection of the real me.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I have a few real life friends who read this, they tell me that my writing "sounds" just like I do in person. In fact a few weeks ago another friend found my blog ( he was looking up gig dates for Underworld and my blog title is actually a lyric from one of their tunes), he sent me the link saying I would like it "because whoever the author is she clearly loves Underworld too and she sounds just like you".<br />
<br />
So yeah, if you're still reading Steve - now you know why :)))))<br />
<br />
Here's the link for <a href="http://sundaystealing.blogspot.co.uk/">Sunday Stealing</a><br />
<br />
Have a great week people :)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-85568423504809028572012-05-09T23:27:00.000+01:002012-05-09T23:33:34.439+01:00default setting<br />
<br />
Oh dear me Dave, looks like you're at it again.<br />
<br />
First up I saw on the news that you are "renewing your vows" with. . . well I don't know his name. . .the lib dem fella with whom you are supposed to be having a political coalition. I guess the fact that I don't know his name says a lot about how high his profile is.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Not exactly sharing the limelight with him are you ?<br />
But the press made it sound like you were entering into a civil partnership. So I gotta wonder about you now. . .<br />
Especially as I also saw an article about a former girlfriend of yours who after giving up drink and drugs is now a nun. That musta been some bad sex you had to make her become an addict then choose a life a celibacy.<br />
<br />
But the main reason I feel compelled to write to you yet again is another article that I saw posted on G+. Here you go again, trying to win us over with yet another stupid idea that you no doubt think the British public will approve of.<br />
Apparently you are going to look into getting porn switched off from the UK Internet. This latest stroke of <strike>lunacy</strike> genius involves blocking all porn sites from our servers as the default setting, we would still be able to opt in but will need to specifically request it. Wonder how that's gonna work with the incognito window.<br />
<br />
".....dear ISP I need some light relief, can you bring the lesbians back please..."<br />
<br />
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<br />
Obviously you are not a fan of pornography, otherwise you might've learnt enough about sex to not put that previous girlfriend off it for life, but let me tell you something.<br />
Internet porn is not just watched by perverts and weirdos. Normal, healthy, happy, everyday, curious, rich, poor, young, old, male, female, couples, straight, gay, and every other variation of the human race watch it too.<br />
And trust me when I tell you that if that idea were ever realised you would alienate A LOT of people. It's really not a vote winning plan. Porn is one of those things that some people will never admit to enjoying, but the industry would not be as huge as it is if it were just watched by a small minority, I think you need to consider that.<br />
Actually don't. You might change your mind and decide to find a way to tax us for watching it.<br />
<br />
And seriously, do you honestly think you can do that ?<br />
Go against a world-wide million dollar industry and remove the thing that (lets be honest here) is one of the main reasons the Internet got so popular so quickly. Your name is Dave, not Big Brother, and whilst you might be <strike>ruining</strike> running this country you cannot control the Internet.<br />
Or dictate what we watch on it.<br />
<br />
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<br />
The proposal came about as the result of an enquiry into online child protection, and because the abundance of Internet porn is having a harmful effect on children. Nobody would dispute that. I remember a documentary a while ago about kids watching porn which proved the point so well. The one lad that stuck in my mind had invited a young lady back to his house for some shenanigans, and was telling the presenter that he couldn't understand why she had objected when he tried to put his best friend in her rear end "because that's what they do in porn". And there must be a lot of young people who think that unless you look like a porn star - hairless, big fake tits or a huge cock, you're not going to get any and if you don't bend like a contortionist and keep it up for hours you're doing it wrong.<br />
But what is really needed to stop that is parents to be fully aware of and monitor their children's online activities. Not government intervention, unless they are going to put some money in the pot for education.<br />
Yeah fat chance.<br />
Teenagers are always going to be curious about porn but if you educate them about sex and relationships the right way then they will see it for what it is. You need to look at the root of the problem - not the symptom.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">[I could say plenty more about this, and the fact that paedophiles use the Internet to groom children, but again that's about parenting, and it's nothing that people aren't already aware of. B</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">anning porn will do nothing to stop that, I don't actually think that the Internet has increased child pornography at all. It has always been there, what the Internet did was enable the sick fucks who like it to share with others and build bigger networks. As awful as that is - and as someone who has worked with the victims I understand the effects and impact all too well - what it actually did was make their communications and networks visible. Nothing you do on a computer is ever truly erased, my opinion is that thanks to modern technology more of them have been caught - catch one with a computer and you catch all his contacts too - and that is a good thing].</span></i><br />
<br />
Ban something and it just becomes all the more attractive.<br />
<br />
And anyway Dave do you think that if you were successful it would stop anyone who wanted to from watching porn ?<br />
Yeah right. Because nobody ever saw any before the Internet was invented did they.<br />
<br />
I guess you never experienced the trauma of the VHS getting all chewed up in the machine and being unable to eject it before your flatmates came back. Or worried that your Mum had found your smutty magazines when you came home and saw that she had tidied your room for you.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm off, I need to download a few files. . . just in case.<br />
<br />
<br />
(You can read the article about the Internet <a href="http://consumerist.com/2012/05/united-kingdom-checking-to-see-if-it-can-just-go-ahead-and-block-all-porn-sites.html">HERE.</a> And Daves Ex <a href="http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/4286856/David-Camerons-ex-has-become-a-nun-after-drug-battle.html">HERE</a>)
<br />
Because I'm not making this shit up.<br />
I don't need to, Dave is the gift that just keeps on giving.<br />
Unless your poor, out of work or homeless.<br />
<br />
Or single and horny.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-43817976644839056402012-05-02T23:37:00.002+01:002012-05-09T23:31:19.327+01:00*cough*<br />
<br />
My name is Dirtycowgirl and I am an addict.<br />
<br />
I am controlled by a demon and it's name is nicotine.<br />
Like every smoker I know all about the risks and what it is doing to my lungs, and I keep saying I'm going to quit, but whilst the brain might think this is a wise idea the willpower says no. I actually gave up for 14 months about 8 years ago, but in a moment of stressed-angry-I-want-to-fucking-kill-someone I reached for my emotional crutch and in the space of two weeks was back to my old lung destroying ways.<br />
I think that being a smoker is a bit like being an alcoholic, you will always be one, but you might get to be a smoker who hasn't had a fag for twenty years. I know people who quit years and years ago who will say that although they will never smoke again there are still times when they find themselves wanting one.<br />
<br />
And the truth is that despite all the knowledge of the effects it has on my health I like smoking.<br />
I like to think it makes me look like this :<br />
<br />
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<br />
Even though the reality is more like this :<br />
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<br />
I started smoking when I was 12. (Yeah, I know). My friend Janet and I decided to smoke because we thought it would make us look grown up, sexy and more attractive to boys. Not that either of us would've known what to do with a boy if the plan had worked at that age. But this was before tobacco advertising was banned and a packet did not come with grotesque pictures and health warnings plastered all over it. It also helped that Janets family owned and lived above a shop, so it was very easy to <strike>steal</strike> sneak a packet.<br />
<br />
The main flaw in the plan to attract the opposite sex was that we were both so scared of getting caught smoking our contraband stash that we used to go and sit under a bridge near her house to do it. It was pretty cosy under there but not exactly a hub of social activity. Although we managed, with the aid of menthol cigarettes, to perfect the art of "taking it down". This enabled us to <strike>not cough our guts up with every drag</strike> blow the smoke out of our noses (even sexier, or so we thought). Eventually we decided that we needed to take our boy-magnet skills out to the world at large, so we got some money (I don't remember how but I'm pretty sure it involved minor larceny) and got a train to the next town.<br />
So there we are, parading up and down the High Street chain smoking out of our noses and on the look out for unsuspecting males, and not having much luck. But we did bump into two of my Aunties.<br />
Which resulted in a call to my Mum.<br />
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<br />
I only became a regular smoker and therefore addicted when I started working at 15. As that was in the days before there was so much employment law (am I making myself sound old here), even though it was supposed to be an after school/Saturday job my boss told me that if was <strike>bunking</strike> having a day off I could go in to work. Given the choice between school and earning money I was at work more then I was in the classroom and consequently had enough money to develop as many bad habits as I wanted.<br />
<br />
Until the day I was sat on my checkout and my Maths teacher was in the queue.<br />
Which also resulted in a call to my Mum.<br />
<br />
I've never been what you might call a heavy smoker, a packet of twenty will last me 2 or 3 days, but I did eventually progress to the joys of smoking weed.<br />
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<br />
I was then a regular weed smoker for a very long time, but that stopped when I quit cigarettes and when I began smoking them again I tended to go through phases with weed. I could go for a very long time without it, but if I was at a friends and smoked a joint I'd invariably end up buying some myself. Then for a while I'd get back into it, until I realised that the lethargy that eventually comes with it was taking hold and I'd stop.<br />
The last time I had a "stoner phase" was about two years ago. I wasn't working at the time so the effects of it didn't matter, but I stopped when I decided it was time to get back on the reality train and find a job. I'm not saying that I'll never be a regular weed smoker ever again, but I don't intend to.<br />
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<br />
I have always felt that had I not been a cigarette smoker I might never have tried weed, because the first time someone offered me a joint I would've said "no thanks I don't smoke". (And if I'd not been into weed then I might've said no to the other things that were offered to me - but that's another story).<br />
But I guess if I ever do succeed in giving up the fags that'll be the end of all of it.<br />
<br />
Nowadays the help-you-stop-smoking products are advertised everywhere, but I don't think any of them really work unless you want to stop (when I quit I did it cold turkey) - willpower is the key, not gum, patches or inhalers. They might help with the craving but they do nothing to break the habit, that's all down to you. I know someone who was insisting that her doctor give her Champix because "they worked for me before". Really ? If they worked that well why are you needing them to quit again ?<br />
Nah, like I say, unless you REALLY want to stop nothing will help, and if you REALLY want to stop that much then that should be all you need to do it.<br />
<br />
I am <strike>halfheartedly</strike> cutting down, if I have none in the morning I will sometimes wait until the evening to go to the shop, or if I know I only have a couple left when I leave work I don't buy any on the way home. Son smokes roll-ups so I might get him to make me one of them (to this day I can roll all kinds of fancy joints and I don't need a mat but I can't make a rolly fag to save my fucking life), but I don't really like them so I'll maybe just have one to kill the craving, whereas I'd smoke 4 or 5 cigarettes. Every little helps.<br />
And, as I said, it's been two years since I smoked a joint.<br />
<br />
Last night I only had one cigarette left when I got in so I saved that for after my dinner, and Son had gone out so I knew I wasn't going to smoke anymore for the rest of the night.<br />
That's fine. By 10.30 when I decided to go to bed I was craving badly but doing my best to ignore the nagging voice in my head saying "smoke. . nicotine . . smoke. . need to smoke". I went to get myself a drink and saw an ash tray on the kitchen side with an unsmoked roll-up in it.<br />
Fucking result !<br />
(Son tends to make a few up at a time, so it's not unusual to find one about the house).<br />
So I smoked it.<br />
And about six puffs in when I started to feel a bit odd realised that it wasn't a cigarette at all.<br />
<br />
Oops.<br />
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<br />
By the time Son got in I was a giggling mess and when I told him what I'd done he said "well it's lucky I've got this...." and produced a bar of chocolate from his bag.<br />
Fucking double result !<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
However today I've not been feeling exactly bright.<br />
And no. I'm not tempted to buy a bag of weed.<br />
And Son has been told not to leave anything other then tobacco where I'm likely to find it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-74171656487088981552012-04-29T19:01:00.001+01:002012-05-09T23:30:24.061+01:00typical<br />
<br />
I went on a date last night.<br />
You can probably figure out that it didn't go well because I am writing about it here, and because I was home early enough to spend some time fiddling about with my gadgets.<br />
(No, that is not a euphemism).<br />
Before I get to what happened last night I have a website to share. When I added the last Twitter and Email buttons I had already made the little pics of Doris (yes, my avatar horse has a name, so what) that you can see now, but I didn't use them because they looked rubbish in a black square and you can't make the backgrounds transparent using paint. I decided to have a trawl around and see what I could find.<br />
I got lucky, I found<a href="http://www.lunapic.com/editor/"> http://www.lunapic.com/editor/</a>. If you like drawing have a look, it's like an improved version of paint with a mini version of photoshop and it's very easy to use.<br />
I've not really played around with it much yet, I just did what I wanted to my gadgets, but from what I can see so far it's pretty damn cool. It even makes animations.<br />
<br />
So..um..last night.<br />
Met the guy on a dating site. I've not been spending much time on them, not like I used to, I just reactivated my profiles then forgot about them really. But I checked one a few weeks ago and this fella had left a message saying he liked mine (fuck knows why, it doesn't say much) and asked a couple of questions. Where did I live, what do I do in my spare time (I lied - I blog, eat chocolate and watch porn might've given the wrong impression), have I got any kids etc, usual stuff.<br />
For the last couple of weeks every time I checked (which wasn't that often) he'd left another reply, but the last one said that he could see I wasn't ever really on the site when he was to have a "proper chat" so how about we meet for a drink.<br />
<br />
Well ok. His profile said he had been single for a while and although happy that way was hoping to meet someone who might change his mind. He looked alright, I'm not attracted to men that are good looking anyway, what I look for is a "spark". And the-worst-mistake-I-ever-made (one day I will tell that story) was very much "my type", a bit short, stocky, younger then me, liked to party, but ever since him any fella that even remotely looks like him instantly puts me off. This is a problem. "My type" now is definitely not my "type, so I no longer have a "type".<br />
(How many times can a person say the word "type" in one sentence).<br />
So when it comes to who I might fancy I guess you could say I'm trying to think outside the box.<br />
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Haven't I kissed enough frogs. Where's my fucking prince.</div>
<br />
Which is why I agreed to go for a drink with a man who was tall, a couple of years older then me, and from his profile sounded very straight. Not straight as in not gay, straight as in <strike>boring</strike> normal.<br />
I actually think that my heart really is no longer into it when it comes to the opposite sex. I blame the mentalpause and crazy hormones, but not so long ago if I had a date I would be very excited <strike>because I might get some sex</strike> about the possibilities - even though I was always disappointed at the end. I really had to talk myself into going last night, but I gave the guy my number (it's ok, in a week my contract is up and I already have a new phone and number) so I figured I couldn't let him down.<br />
<br />
I made no effort with myself. No make-up, hair in a pony tail, combat trousers, vest top, Uggs. And I had big knickers on. That's when you KNOW that you're really not that interested. That even if it goes really well and he's really nice NOTHING is happening, because I never saw the point in wasting time if I was attracted to someone. My hair is the giveaway, I have thick hair that's down to my waist and I know that a lot of men like that, when that's tied up out of the way before I even get there, as opposed to tied up later because it's getting in the way then I know I'm not that bothered.<br />
But I get there, in my casual can't-be-fucking-arsed look and he is wearing a suit.<br />
A fucking suit ! For a drink in a pub. And it was grey, and I'm no expert but I don't think it was an Armani. More like Primark.<br />
So there I am feeling like I'm in the pub with my bank manager.<br />
<br />
We get a drink, well I got two. A shot of Tequila and a JD and coke. He had a glass of wine.<br />
And I swear he raised his eyebrows when he asked me what I wanted. Yup, within five minutes of getting there I knew I was going to leave as soon as I could, so NOT my kind of person, but we went and sat down.<br />
"So tell me about you then Cowgirl. . . "<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In other words he's got nothing interesting to say so he wants me to do all the talking. Not normally a problem, but we're supposed to be on a date and my non stop chatter has caused issues on dates before.</span></i><br />
But anyway.<br />
"What do you want to know?"<br />
"Well what are you looking for?"<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Right, I get you now. I KNOW that when men ask this question of women on dating sites it usually means they are looking to get laid, because otherwise you wouldn't ask you would just get to know each other and see what happens. Ok if I liked a person I may well fuck on the first date, and I have tried "adult dating", but this loser made out he was looking for a potential girlfriend and I can't stand dishonesty. Two can play at that game. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think I'll stick around a while and have me some entertainment at your expense.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul_RqXju8Rf0IVeDKeEcHmQqHez-Y0GNB-C2kDmAy08mm60W2Z4DQaKo7Soql8ajCGIUtK_Y4PfLoiSH76guiGAxzHE0Yrq6V4pQN454i-H7fbA_qVJspgeryHIWxBYRmxqJm8WfwpnE/s1600/67687678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul_RqXju8Rf0IVeDKeEcHmQqHez-Y0GNB-C2kDmAy08mm60W2Z4DQaKo7Soql8ajCGIUtK_Y4PfLoiSH76guiGAxzHE0Yrq6V4pQN454i-H7fbA_qVJspgeryHIWxBYRmxqJm8WfwpnE/s1600/67687678.jpg" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"What am I looking for ? At the moment I'm trying to find some curtains to match my newly wallpapered dining room".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Hahaha, you're very funny but that's not what I meant".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"No, well I don't really know what you meant by that question. I mean we're all looking for something aren't we ? Life is supposed to be an endless quest isn't it, I guess like most people I'm looking for the path to enlightenment and salvation. . . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>I then rambled on for a good twenty minutes about hippy stuff and buddhist theories, him nodding his head like he knew what I was on about. I don't know how - I was talking utter bollocks, but all the while he kept staring down my top.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">. . . so yeah, I guess that just about sums it up, that's what I'm looking for. But that's enough about me how about you ? What are you looking for ?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, nothing as complicated (LOL!) as that I was just hoping to meet someo<span style="font-family: inherit;">n</span>e and have some fun".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Fun being the dating site code word for no strings sex. And what really pisses me off about guys like that is they are really not concerned with whether they fancy you. As long as you're not too fat and have tits and a vagina you'll do.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Great, me too. I love doing fun things, what do you want to do, the funfairs probably still open. What's the time ? I could probably get some drugs and we could go clubbing after".</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I only wish I had taken my camera and gotten a picture of his face when I said that.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4cJZRUd1K-qdrd4G4Xvqx-UiX6ajUZOKhI8MzTS8Gku7mJa-8Et7LX_q8xXHlS0kOvhi6cw-2iTGY2zVWSr9ZNCjihG342HWEwJ68SGqc5E_K7UPbnqVDEESDWkywSHFLRYd6baOXCo/s1600/7880778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv4cJZRUd1K-qdrd4G4Xvqx-UiX6ajUZOKhI8MzTS8Gku7mJa-8Et7LX_q8xXHlS0kOvhi6cw-2iTGY2zVWSr9ZNCjihG342HWEwJ68SGqc5E_K7UPbnqVDEESDWkywSHFLRYd6baOXCo/s320/7880778.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think Jack might just be the only man for me. I know he's my type.</span></div>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I went to the toilet, when I came back he still looked confused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then I just said "well it's been nice meeting you but I have to go now, if I'm not home soon my tag will go off and I don't want to go back to prison".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And left.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So much for outside the box.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Back to blogging, chocolate and porn then.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">PS. How cool are my new gadgets ? And I would just like to draw your attention to the "ask me anything" page. . . go on. Somebody ? Anyone ?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-89349316077588957672012-04-26T22:08:00.000+01:002014-05-07T02:42:09.103+01:00groundhog afternoon<br />
Regular readers know what I do for a living, but as there are a few new members to the flock (welcome to you all !) I will tell you about my job again.<br />
<br />
I am a carer for a man, Paul, who has a brain injury. He is by no means incapacitated physically, if you met him you probably would not realise - at first, but when five minutes later he wants to know who you are again you might get an idea that something was up. He does get tired easily but his biggest issue when it comes to daily life is his lack of memory. Since he can't be left alone, but doesn't really like going out, my role is mostly to be there so his wife and family can go about their busy lives without worrying <strike>that he will do some DIY and destroy their hous</strike>e about him and assist him in whatever he wants to do.<br />
Like make sure that when he decides to make a bacon sandwich he remembers that there is bacon cooking under the grill, or hold the cable if he wants to mow the lawn so he doesn't forget it's there and <strike>fry himself</strike> cut through it.<br />
<br />
I've been good friends with Paul and his wife since before he had his injury which was acquired after a heart attack that caused his brain to be starved of oxygen, and surprisingly he does remember me from before. Well if you were to hear my voice ( I am a bit loud) you would know why that isn't really that surprising, but actually what this means for me is that I am lucky to have a job where going to work means <strike>sitting around drinking coffee and watching TV</strike> spending the day with friends.<br />
<br />
Even if it is like my own personal groundhog day.<br />
Paul can have a conversation with me about something he watched on the TV the night before, he is still very intelligent and has always loved history, especially anything to do with wars. But two hours later will completely forget we had that conversation and so we have it again.<br />
<br />
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<br />
There is a photograph in the lounge of a couple on their wedding day, the picture is one of his daughters best friends who was actually his carer for a couple of years when he first became ill. At least once a week he will say "who are those people and why have we got a picture of them ?"<br />
I find it amusing, even he laughs when he asks me and I tell him that I've already told him twice this week. My nickname for him is "Memory Man".<br />
<br />
His sense of humour was not damaged, in fact we often have a laugh and it will be at either his - or my - expense.<br />
<br />
But today took the biscuit.<br />
<br />
I was sat in the kitchen sorting some stuff out. Pauls daughter came back from the shop with a newspaper and sat with me while she read it. She held it up to show me a picture taken in China of some dogs that were kept in cages waiting to be eaten.<br />
It was pretty horrific, but I said that if it was chickens we probably would not be so shocked. In China dogs are traditionally food in the same way that chickens are here, so perhaps the Western world needs to stop judging the Eastern world by its standards. After all, even though we are all aware of how bad the conditions are for battery hens a lot of people will still buy poultry products that are not free range as they are cheaper.<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">[I should add that I ONLY buy free range products, and I'm not comfortable with the idea of people eating dogs - but that's because I can afford to pay the extra for free range and I am from a culture that does not eat canines. If I were on a tight budget, or Chinese, I'm sure I'd feel different.]</span></i><br />
<br />
The next item in the paper brought to my attention (she read it to me) was about a soldier who was being prosecuted for punching an Afghan prisoner who was trying to escape - at the cost of two hundred thousand pounds of taxpayers money.<br />
My thoughts on this - if he had shot him in battle he wouldn't be being charged, but even in wartime there has to be standards, and you can't just go around punching people. There are rules about how prisoners of war should be treated after all, and while I don't agree with ANY war I can see how there might be justification for reprimanding that soldier.<br />
What I really took issue with was the cost, especially when soldiers are dying for the lack of proper equipment due to cuts in the defense budget.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Anyway, she finished with the paper and went out leaving it on the side.<br />
<br />
Twenty minutes later Pauls brother in law turned up, came and sat in the kitchen and picked up the paper.<br />
"Oh my God Cowgirl look at this picture. . ."<br />
Yup. The dogs.<br />
Same conversation. I guess he didn't care for my (voiced again) opinion so went back to reading.<br />
"Good grief, listen to this . . . "<br />
Yup. The soldier.<br />
Same conversation. That went down like the proverbial lead balloon, and he went off to find Paul who was watching the TV.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Half an hour later Paul came out to the kitchen for a coffee. We chatted for a bit then he picked up the paper.<br />
"Blimey, look at this. . . "<br />
You guessed it. The dogs.<br />
At least he saw the point I was making with my opinion on the subject. Then carried on reading.<br />
"How fucking ridiculous..."<br />
Yep. The soldiers.<br />
And again. At least Paul and I can have an intelligent conversation even if we disagree.<br />
<br />
And even if by now I'm starting to feel like the afternoon is stuck on a loop.<br />
<br />
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<br />
A couple of hours later Pauls wife came home, and sat in the kitchen, and picked up the paper and said<br />
"........ "<br />
You know how it goes by now I'm sure.<br />
<br />
Then this evening I'm on the train home and I hear one of the people sat in the seat behind me say to the person next to him . . .<br />
"Look at this picture of these poor dogs in China".<br />
<br />
I moved seats, I really did not want to hear another version of the same conversation I'd been having all fucking afternoon.<br />
<br />
************************************<br />
<br />
Update - just read a post on JWMoxies blog that has got me fuming. If you care about anti-discrimination the rights of LGB people then please go and read it, and sign the petition.<br />
<a href="http://thesmartness.com/smartone/2012/04/let-dominic-speak-raise-your-voice-against-lgbt-discrimination-and-live-through-love.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheSmartness+%28The+Smartness%29">Click Here.</a><br />
<br />
And while you're over there have a read of the rest of her blog.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-43767510379582772122012-04-21T00:50:00.003+01:002012-04-26T23:14:50.632+01:00not a post<br />
No, really it's not.<br />
I actually have three posts that I'm working on at the moment, but I've realised a few things over the last couple of weeks.<br />
<br />
At the moment many of you are far too busy with that fucking stupid challenge to read everything that gets posted, and the rest of you are as fed up with missing posts as I am.<br />
<br />
Week-end posts never get read as much as week day ones, even in normal circumstances.<br />
<br />
When I write something and post it straight away I always have that fuck-I-should've-said-that-too moment if I read it back later. Like I should've added some witty retort to my last post about the Chinese bloggers : what if they had an equivalent to the A-Z, there's fucking hundreds of letters in their alphabet. Yeah, too late now.<br />
<br />
I often have ideas for <strike>pieces of utter brilliance</strike> posts that never get written because I forget. I get home and I KNOW I had a great post planned, just can't remember about what.<br />
<br />
So, the result of this great epiphany is that I am going to start making notes whenever I get an idea.<br />
That'll be interesting in the shop/at the doctors.<br />
"...and I have this rash on my. . . . hang on I just need to write something down"<br />
I don't have a lot of time in the week, which often means I just write at the weekend. But when I think the <strike>great masterpieces</strike> posts are finished I am going to wait a few days before publishing, just to be sure that I don't miss a chance to be <strike>rude and sarcastic</strike> entertaining.<br />
<br />
But for now, instead of a post, I have wrote you all a letter.<br />
<br />
Dear Flock,<br />
<br />
You remember a while ago I managed to completely mess up my template so that none of the links worked, half of you couldn't post comments and if you were <strike>stupid enough to still be</strike> using Internet Explorer the page would not scroll ?<br />
<br />
You would think I would've learnt my lesson.<br />
I didn't.<br />
Knowing a little HTML does not make me a programmer. But I like to<strike> fuck it up then have to revert</strike> <strike>back to the beginning every once in a while</strike> think so.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Actually what I like to do is get other gadgets from different sites and play around with them. It's how I learn - by doing - I could read books about it all the time, but I would never learn anything. I prefer to get stuck in. I'm the same with any technology, try and figure it out for myself and only consult the instruction manual when <strike>I have broke it</strike> I really need to.<br />
Which might be why I still can't fast forward and rewind on the DVD player I've had for two years.<br />
And I'm getting a new mobile this week.<br />
Good job it'll be insured.<br />
<br />
But anyway, I digress. As you can see I have added a new Twitter follow button and a button (which I really did make myself ) to enable anyone to send me <strike>abuse and naked pictures</strike> fan mail.<br />
I have tried them and they seem to work, but of course I have access to the associated accounts, so I am hoping that a couple of you will try them out for me please ? You don't have to tweet or mail me, although you <strike>would if you loved me</strike> can if you like, just check the links.<br />
<br />
Also, what's my page loading like ? Again it's fine for me, but I have superfast all-singing-all-dancing broadband and a sony vaio. I have uploaded the pictures for the gadgets to blogger so hopefully it's not too slow, but the new comment section uses externally hosted pics.<br />
I've tested it on pingdom and it seems ok, but again that's using my computer so I would appreciate the feedback.<br />
<br />
Thanks very much.<br />
DCG :)X<br />
<br />
PS. Be nice to see a few more of you on G+ too.<br />
<br />
Update : No need for the buttons to be tested anymore, big thanks to all of you who did so for me. It seems I finally managed to get something to work without breaking something else.<br />
Of course you can still use them to come on over and join me !<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-23026102463993575352012-04-16T21:36:00.000+01:002013-04-03T23:28:54.793+01:00hobbytime<br />
Number one on the list of things I fucking hate at the moment :<br />
The fucking A-Z blogging challenge.<br />
I have enough trouble keeping up with my followed blogs, although the advantage of that is that when I do spend some time reading there is usually a few posts on each so I get to enjoy them more. But thanks to that fucking stupid challenge everyone has been posting just about every fucking day and I don't see how I am ever going to catch up unless I take a week off work.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Next time I'm going to do the bloody thing myself and write about 3000 words for each letter.<br />
That'll teach you.<br />
<br />
A is for arseholes, B is for buggery, C is for. . . . .<br />
<br />
When I first started this blog I used to find myself thinking whenever anything caught my interest, annoyed me, made me laugh or just made me think that I would <strike>bore you lot with it</strike> write about here. Now, especially since the post holiday lull in my sensibilites (which still continues three months later) I find myself looking for things to get to me in some way just so I have something different to write about. It's sometimes a comment that I leave on another blog that seems to provide me with inspiration, especially when the author has written about a topic that brings up a memory or says something that I agree with and want to add to.<br />
Although if I don't have the time to read any that's not going to happen either.<br />
I reckon it must be easier to find writing material if you have a themed blog because it's focus is going to be something that you are interested in and passionate about, and therefore have a lot to say about too. That would never really work for me - whilst there's a lot of things I <strike>think about doing then decide I can't be arsed</strike> do there is nothing I do often or for long enough to really call it a hobby.<br />
<br />
Unless you consider smoking, sleeping, eating chocolate, drinking coffee and farting to be hobbies.<br />
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I've always been the same.<br />
When I was younger I would take up an interest in something - usually creative - get whatever equipment I needed, then get bored with it. In my bedroom in the house I grew up in was a huge floor to ceiling cupboard that by the time I left home and my Mum cleared it out was full of half finished projects. Rug making kits, half done paintings, tapestries, sketch books, knitting, half made clothes, and endless junk that I had collected because I "could make something out of that".<br />
I did - a mess.<br />
The end result is that I became a bit of a Jack of All Trades when it comes to craft type things. I like to think I'm a bit artisitic, if I see someone else attempting something I'll <strike>stick my nose in and tell them where they are going wrong</strike> want to join in and help, and sometimes that inspires me to go and get the stuff I need to start my own.<br />
Which eventually ends up in the big cupboard I now have in my house.<br />
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It's the same with DIY projects, those that really need doing because something is broken get done there and then but anything else can wait. Why do now what you can put off for six months. I have a lot of bits of wood that "one day" are going to be made into something fantastic. If I only knew what or had the time. . .<br />
Most likely a bonfire. <br />
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Does anybody need any shelves made ?</div>
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And although you would probably never guess from the crap I post here I also have two books that I started ages ago. Both consist of one chapter - and both were began over a year ago. I got bored. Not that I really expected them to go anywhere, although I'm <strike>a total literary</strike> <strike>genius</strike> far from illiterate I really don't think I have the skills needed to put together a novel. And one of the things I have realised from blogging is that there are plenty of aspiring authors out there who are far more talented and interesting then me.<br />
I think I'll just stick to reading books.<br />
Or maybe just finish the four that I have by the side of my bed that haven't been looked at in so long I will actually need to start them from the beginning again.<br />
You see the pattern here ?<br />
Attention deficit anyone ?<br />
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Although I can be the exact opposite and get quite obsessive about things. It might take me ages to get around to doing something, but once I start something that <strike>I've put off for months</strike> I'm really into I have to get it finished and will get really irritated if anything distracts me. Which is why as well as those four books that have been there for ages there are times when I have read a 400 page book in a day.<br />
And why it bothers me that thanks to that fucking challenge I am never going to catch up on blog reading because reading followed blogs is one of the things I am currently obsessive over.<br />
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At the moment I'm mostly feeling inspired to sew. Apart from mending trousers that Son ripped skating, replacing zips or cushion covers and curtains for my house I haven't really made anything for years, but it is the one craft that I have always done - ever since I was a child. My Mum was a seamstress so I learnt from her and began by making clothes for my dolls.<br />
The new phase began when I recovered a chair for Lily, my friends granddaughter to have in her new bedroom, but it has progressed.<br />
UK readers might of watched "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" on the TV, but for those that haven't gypsy girls usually have the most over the top, huge, spangly decorated wedding dresses. Think Disney Princess and then some and you get the idea. Lily, who is five, loves dressing up and loves the programme so we got a second hand prom dress off ebay and spent last week turning it into a gypsy wedding dress for her. I have loved every minute, I've done the sewing and my friend has spent hours sticking sequins and rhinestones to it.<br />
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When it's finished I'll post a picture, we are kind of thinking that it might just be a way to make some money too. Given the popularity of the programme and the fact that all little girls love dressing up it could catch on.<br />
Although if that happens by the time I've made three I'll probably be bored with that too.<br />
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I only hope I don't get bored with blogging, although that's not really likely as all my friends in the real world are <strike>fed up with me complaining</strike> too busy to listen to me anymore, and I need an outlet.<br />
Just in case something winds me up.<br />
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-49229318202032595772012-04-14T22:31:00.000+01:002012-04-15T02:01:30.656+01:00misunderstood<br />
When I was about ten I had a crush on a boy called Robert who lived on my street.<br />
I knew it was a crush because every time he so much as looked in my direction I would blush. Furiously. Bright fucking red.<br />
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I don't think he even noticed me until the day I, and several other kids, were watching him and another boy play marbles and he hit his then couldn't see where it went. It ended up near my foot. Thinking it would make him <strike>want to marry</strike> like me I picked it up and handed it to him.<br />
Wrong.<br />
Where it had landed meant that he would've won - if someone hadn't moved it. Instead of being grateful he shouted at me that I had made him lose, but at least he <strike>hated me</strike> knew who I was after that.<br />
And then he ran home to his Mummy.<br />
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My Mum was a bit of a snob at heart. Our street consisted of three kinds of houses, most - like ours, were pretty typical terraced houses, and all were lived in by people who owned them. At one end of the street there were some local council owned homes, and at the other a disused building had been pulled down and some very new, very modern and very expensive three story town houses had been built a few years after we moved there.<br />
The boy lived in one of the new houses.<br />
My Mum and Dad had saved for a long time to buy their house, but prior to moving there when I was about four we had lived in a rented council house. Mum considered this to mean she had "bettered" herself by buying. Her snobbery over this meant that she regarded the "council house kids" who lived at the "bottom" of the road as not good enough to be my friends, which actually just made them all the more desirable to me, but she actively went out of her way to talk to the "posh" people who lived in the town houses.<br />
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That included Roberts mother.<br />
Mum said that she always saw her in the mornings as they both left their houses for work at the same time and walked in the same direction for a bit. I suspect that the snob in my Mum deliberately left the house at the right time for this to happen. Nowadays I think you'd call that stalking.<br />
Eventually they got to the point where my Mum would go and have coffee with her, although even when this was happening she still called her Mrs Castle and only spoke to her in her best posh telephone voice. Of course I saw this as a golden opportunity and would go with my Mum whenever she let me in the hope that I would get to <strike>drool over</strike> see Robert.<br />
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Robert, who was a year or so older then me would occasionally come into the kitchen when I was there and grunt at me and I would <strike>blush and mutter something</strike> smile alluringly back. One day his Mum suggested that he and I go and play together in their garden, and by virtue of pretending to like worms, faking interest in football and being in his company for long enough that my face reverted back to a normal colour he finally realised that for a girl I was ok, and we became friends.<br />
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I think he kind of started to have a bit of a crush on me a bit too. Mostly because he liked to punch me in the arm. Hard.<br />
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Until the day Mrs Castle invited me to have tea with them.<br />
Them being Mrs Castle, Mr Castle (who was about seven foot tall and a policeman and a bit scary to lil me), Robert, and his two older brothers. Tea in their house was quite a posh affair, we all sat around a coffee table in the living room and ate little sandwiches and my drink was in a cup and saucer. Yeah snobby Mum would've approved alright.<br />
After the sandwiches were cleared away another tray was brought out, this one contained cakes and a few other things. I took a cake then Mrs Castle picked up a sundae dish full of red stuff and offered it to me saying "would you like some Jelly ?"<br />
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In my house jelly looked like this :<br />
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And this was jam :<br />
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I did think it was a bit odd that there was only one dish of it, but then I thought maybe nobody else likes jelly or perhaps posh people just offer it to their guests. According my Mother they were entirely different to the rest of us mere mortals so what did I know.<br />
So because I wanted to be polite, I took the spoon, filled it up and put it in my mouth. And then, even though it tasted like no jelly I had ever had before - far too sweet and actually not that nice - I ate another spoonful. Then, as I was about to put the third spoonful in my mouth, I realised that both Mr & Mrs Castle were giving me some very strange looks and Roberts two older brothers were starting to laugh. Robert had turned a similar colour to the jelly but also looked like he was going to laugh.<br />
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And then I realised my mistake.<br />
And ran home to my Mummy.<br />
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After that Robert no longer wanted to be my friend, but I didn't mind. I was over my crush and onto blushing with embarrassment about the jelly fiasco every time I saw him and far too busy hoping he never told anyone. Even at that age Calamity followed me around.<br />
And it seemed that for all her posh pretentions even my Mum did not know that posh people called jam jelly.<br />
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I believe Americans also refer to jam as jelly, I am often amused by the differences in the use of language between our countries. I once told an American that I was dying for a fag, which didn't exactly go well, although he laughed once he had figured out that I meant a cigarette. And the first time I realised that a fanny is an arse across the pond was because I heard an American saying that a girl had a nice one. That did not go especially well either but I laughed when I figured out that he was not referring to her ladybits.<br />
Sometimes I can tell from reading a blog that the author is English, there's often a subtle difference in grammar. Anyone from the UK who used an older version of word will remember the endless green squiggly lines that would appear from using a programme designed for use in America.<br />
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Nowadays the thing that annoys me more then anything when it comes to language is the use of text speak. Literacy is a problem with our children far more then it ever was, and I don't think it helps that when communicating with each other they are not using proper words.<br />
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And there really is no need. It began when text messages were limited in the number of characters, so there was a point to it, but that's no longer the case. Even Facebook extended the length of status updates and yet I still see people using ridiculous abbreviations on it all the time. Some expressions have even found their way into the spoken word. I have started to hear people say "O.M.G", why ?<br />
Laziness I reckon, a lot of the time anyway. At one time I thought it was actually quite a good equaliser in that it's harder to spot a dyslexic or someone who just can't spell when everyone is spelling incorrectly, but I've changed my opinion. Now I just think it makes everyone look stupid.<br />
Even when they're not.<br />
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Once when I working in the children's homes a colleague and I were talking about text abbreviations, and she said lol meant lots of love. I told her no its laugh out loud, usually to mean that that's what you're doing, but also sometimes as an indicator of sarcasm, but she was insisting that I was wrong and she was right.<br />
<em>(When is the rest of the world gonna wake up to the fact that I'm always right ?)</em><br />
Anyway this conversation went on a while and eventually I called the teenagers who lived in the home into the dining room where she and I were sat.<br />
"Tell Kate what lol stands for".<br />
"It's laugh out loud".<br />
"Really ? I thought it was lots of love".<br />
"No it isn't, Cowgirls right" ...exit two laughing teenagers.<br />
I look at Kate who looks rather uncomfortable, and ask her whats up.<br />
Apparently a couple of weeks earlier she had heard that one of her friends fathers had died and sent a text that said :<br />
"Sorry to hear about your Dad LOL"<br />
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Poor Kate had been wondering why she hadn't heard back from her friend, after that she decided to pop round and see her to explain the mistake.<br />
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Most of it doesn't even make sense. I particularly hate the way people now write "dis" instead of "this", especially when they are middle class white boys. Listening to Hip-Hop and poor literacy does not make you black or a gangster. Or should that be gangsta.<br />
And as for lmao, did anyone actually say they were laughing their arse off before that particular acronym made it's way into text language ? And anyway I'm always laughing, it's what gets me through life. And yet my arse is the size of a small country.<br />
Despite my constant cackling at anything and everything it refuses to be laughed off.<br />
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I don't know, maybe I'm just getting too old to understand all these new fangled modern things.<br />
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-8303081334055440982012-04-11T23:09:00.003+01:002012-04-14T23:37:30.748+01:00i'll buy that<br />
Sometimes the adverts are the best things on the TV, clever advertising is definitely a skill and one that can make huge money for the mind that creates the concepts as well as the thing it's trying to sell.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VrcgeowbyKfE5P8AyPnqJ4WCQbMeDXjhTUYo9f3giUap2CfcYu2tFoCPoHEjHaMZ5w_EXtC0DipBUTEPcCSPkdubnci37rlOmhamdCsRcEqjvnzxRsnc3o8zi2QvggLh4usIl_Tk1Ec/s1600/5645645645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_VrcgeowbyKfE5P8AyPnqJ4WCQbMeDXjhTUYo9f3giUap2CfcYu2tFoCPoHEjHaMZ5w_EXtC0DipBUTEPcCSPkdubnci37rlOmhamdCsRcEqjvnzxRsnc3o8zi2QvggLh4usIl_Tk1Ec/s1600/5645645645.jpg" /></a></div>
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But I am getting increasingly fed up with the charity adverts that try to play with the emotions of the viewer. If you've seen any then you know the ones I'm talking about, I especially hate the way the commenter always stresses the use of the word 'you', as if it is my personal responsibility to save every single rescued donkey and starving child in Africa. I actually think the western world has become rather hardened to the images of malnourished children with flies around them, and as terrible as it might be the footage of dying kids no longer has the ability to shock people into action the way it once did.<br />
I'm not saying that it's wrong to ask for donations - just lose the emotional blackmail/ shock tactics.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOh-f_wO-8W2hZuwjpy053vJm6_xKgAXczGe3Em-2-IfEmf0vrlkP6YoY3P9qNBP2WLpDDwp3i1_gdCO_P6xzx8iOXdRFDh0CTBH8vw26ohFYlE9wyIdDEe1M-Cg4HbZgLKjEsJ2h-zYE/s1600/656356464.jpg" imageanchor="1" rel="nofollow" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOh-f_wO-8W2hZuwjpy053vJm6_xKgAXczGe3Em-2-IfEmf0vrlkP6YoY3P9qNBP2WLpDDwp3i1_gdCO_P6xzx8iOXdRFDh0CTBH8vw26ohFYlE9wyIdDEe1M-Cg4HbZgLKjEsJ2h-zYE/s400/656356464.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is way more effective. Make people think.</div>
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I think all that happens when people turn on the TV and see these images now is rather then being spurred into action to give to charity they either turn off of turn over. Yeah you might want "just" two pounds per month of my hard earned, but so does the donkey sanctuary, the local hospice and all the deaf children just waiting for me to put my hand in my pocket to help them get a hearing aid.<br />
And showing the advert every break over two hours in the afternoon does not help. When I'm watching the <strike>pond life</strike> unfortunates on Jeremy Kyle (don't judge, it makes me feel good about myself), I do NOT need to be made to feel like it's my fault there's no water in the Sudan.<br />
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Perhaps I should get a water butt to catch the endless fucking rain we keep having and send it out there.<br />
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The other adverts that annoy me are the ones for sanitary towels that seem to think making their product more "beautiful" with the addition of a fancy coloured stripe will make me buy it.<br />
Do women care about how they look ? I don't think so, we're more concerned with it NOT being visible.<br />
It's not like we go around showing our friends as if it's a new hairdo or outfit.<br />
". . does my minge look big in this . .? "<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWCIqrH6t6m8ErAiK2Xdun6B1akfB3Or0bT8yi3Us2inFThjAwDsplAXfptjyqmpY8gJNhRsQVBMv7QRKRIfwgjhVYZb4NvLyacnvWdt5AiswrN93mI8QhkVppAuuGsJmvcPXsDVqWc0/s1600/535354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWCIqrH6t6m8ErAiK2Xdun6B1akfB3Or0bT8yi3Us2inFThjAwDsplAXfptjyqmpY8gJNhRsQVBMv7QRKRIfwgjhVYZb4NvLyacnvWdt5AiswrN93mI8QhkVppAuuGsJmvcPXsDVqWc0/s320/535354.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I bet the advertisers wish they'd though of this . . . </div>
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What we want to know about is <strike>leakage and absorption</strike> functionality, we don't care what it looks like. Used sanitary towels are a bit like penis's - with a few rare exceptions if you've seen one you've pretty much seen them all. Except I've seen a few knobs that made me laugh, whereas I can't recall ever laughing at . . .well. . .you get the idea. Although once or twice I've cried when it looked like the impending monthly visitor wasn't going to put in an appearance.<br />
My blogger friend Lily has written a very funny post about a <a href="http://theincoherentramblingsofasingleparent.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/have-happy-one-z-challenge.html">SIMILAR SUBJECT</a>- go and have a read, I can wait.<br />
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. . . or this ?</div>
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Great idea ! But you best hope you're not involved in an accident.</div>
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(Pic <strike>stolen</strike> borrowed from <a href="http://www.drheckle.net/">Dr Heckle</a>).<br />
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A couple of years ago I bought a new sofa, and I spent ages looking online trying to find the right one. I got very fed up with the way every single picture seemed to show either a happy smoochy couple snuggled up or a smiling family with a couple of cute kids. The reality of kids + sofa is sticky patches and nasty stains and lego stuffed down the side.</div>
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Not once did I see a picture of a lone ageing woman with a fag in her hand and a laptop.</div>
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Welcome to my world.</div>
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Of course you can have well intentioned advertising that falls foul of fate.<br />
No doubt the company that sponsored this competition paid a lot of money for their front page under headline banner ad, and well in advance of the day on which it was published so no way of knowing what the front page story was likely to be on that day. They were probably hoping for a doom and gloom story about the economy and the state of the country - the kind of thing that makes people want to get away.<br />
What happened was this :<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ87b7eW9cTssaiopjFefJle5ZhLEejqDa-xV8LaHJRhPnLvNLOocUuM_kt_elrg2sGjIdepKTueA0gKx2HYY2YWz2oFFjIDo8qr7EMMUCuF__oif15Tg0-SFieHgha6v8Db70oMieIKU/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ87b7eW9cTssaiopjFefJle5ZhLEejqDa-xV8LaHJRhPnLvNLOocUuM_kt_elrg2sGjIdepKTueA0gKx2HYY2YWz2oFFjIDo8qr7EMMUCuF__oif15Tg0-SFieHgha6v8Db70oMieIKU/s400/Untitled.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yeah, let's enter and hope it's a cruise.</div>
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Or how about this :</div>
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I'm sure there's a pun in this that relates to Sanitary towels, </div>
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but I'm not gonna let my brain run with it.</div>
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It always amuses me when things go wrong like this, it makes me feel better about the calamities that follow me around. I heard a guy singing along to his music player on the train yesterday, it wasn't his voice that amused me, it wasn't actually too bad, but he was singing a song that Son listens to a lot and so I knew he kept getting the words wrong.</div>
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Other peoples mistakes are way more entertaining then my own.</div>
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Luckily due to his headphones he couldn't hear me laughing. Whenever anyone does that it always reminds me of a friend from years ago who used to sing along to Bob Marleys Exodus. . . "whose that bunch of people".</div>
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But what if you got the words right, just the wrong interpretation. . . </div>
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It's easily done, the English language can be very confusing at times. For all I know the same applies to other languages too, it's not like I can speak any. Other then jibberish and total bollocks after one too many. Actually I don't even need a drink to do it, I quite often intend to say one thing and something totally different comes out of my mouth. It's as if my brain and my mouth have had an argument and refuse to work together. The other day I caught a bus to a friends, where she lives is on the outskirts of the town so the bus will stop wherever you ask. I got up and meant to say to the driver "anywhere up here is fine. What I actually said was "anyup's fine", I'm not sure whether he understood me or just wanted to get the obviously <strike>mental</strike> tired women off the bus but he stopped anyway.</div>
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I do it when I'm typing too, I often look at the screen and what I see is not what I intended to write. I guess my fingers are also not in my brains good books, although a friend once told me that can be a sign of a stroke. </div>
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Good job I don't work in advertising.</div>
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That explains it then, because I am constantly getting bothered by a cat that wants </div>
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stroking when I am trying to type.</div>
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</div>dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-19786384119137220842012-04-06T03:23:00.000+01:002013-12-31T21:42:56.960+00:00easter bunny<br />
Normal service appears to have returned to England.<br />
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Our garages have fuel, the long queues are gone and in keeping with a typical British bank holiday weekend the weather has taken a turn for the worse. Parts of the country that were baking in sunshine last week are now covered in snow, thankfully I live in the South and we never get the worst weather but I am back to wearing Uggs on my feet that have tan lines from last week.<br />
Very bizarre.<br />
Global warming ? Global freezing more like.<br />
Easter weekend is always a wash out though, it's as traditional as the delays that will no doubt plague all our airports, and the <strike>hoards of screaming brats</strike> happy smiling children that suddenly appear everywhere.<br />
Not that it bothers me, as I have four days off work I plan to sleep. A lot. And hang wallpaper. And catch up on reading some blogs, I have not done that for ages so apologies if you are missing my <strike>inane drivel</strike> pearls of wisdom left in your comments.<br />
And hopefully someone will buy me a HUGE chocolate egg.<br />
Son has a new job, so hopefully if I post this picture on his facebook he might just take the hint.<br />
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I love Green & Blacks. . . does anybody want to send me some ? Please.</div>
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I might not be into Christianity but I am more then happy to indulge in any eating associated with it's various festivals. I'll even accept Christmas pudding if anyone's got any leftovers lying around in their cupboards ? That is probably the only thing I missed by spending last years Xmas laying on a beach, I did buy one that I planned to eat when I got back but the greedy wombfruit had scoffed the lot.</div>
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I was thinking about the Easter story today, as my friends kid was talking about stuff he had done at school, and there's a fair bit about it that really doesn't make sense to me. I suppose I am what some people might call spiritual, I believe in an afterlife (I've had my share of <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/spooks">spooky encounters</a>), reincarnation, karma and destiny, but I don't believe in God. I think that Jesus was an actual man who walked on Earth, but the stories about his life that are in the bible sound to me like he was some kind of Shaman or spiritual healer. And just like any story that gets <strike>written on a blog</strike> passed down through the generations it's been exaggerated and embellished.</div>
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I don't think he was the son of "God".</div>
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I think that all came about because people always want a rational explanation for anything they don't understand.</div>
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According to the story God sent his only son to earth in order to sacrifice him.</div>
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Hmmm.</div>
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I'm a parent and if anyone tried to harm my son I would tear their fucking head off. And I'm just an ordinary (well ok maybe I'm a bit strange) woman, but if I was some amazing all-seeing omnipotent mistress of the universe and someone tried to hurt him ?</div>
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Yeah I think there'd be thunderbolts and lightening alright.</div>
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But no, apparently he allowed his only child to be sacrificed. Did they not have Social Services in those days ? If you said you were going to sacrifice your kid today they'd be taken into care.</div>
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Hardly the actions of a kindly benevolent normal parent.</div>
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Religious men advocating child abuse ?</div>
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I thought he was supposed to be Jewish not Catholic.</div>
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But anyway, apparently after this happened the crucified Jesus was put in a cave and a few days later he rose from the dead.</div>
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Since Christians aren't supposed to believe in reincarnation that can only mean one thing.</div>
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Jesus was a Zombie.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCpp-o_1ihV0dFwrMMLP7eUCEfk_av6WxxfnMEuUYMjT1ilNK_IY8JXnYNmlCaoaI4O4oQ-XZYCM-PVlQG41QjxGQ6EGezrRzxWraV6cWXuvlW0sHVDZ3TBAJSNIV3oxeocesT_RABSY/s1600/434534535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbCpp-o_1ihV0dFwrMMLP7eUCEfk_av6WxxfnMEuUYMjT1ilNK_IY8JXnYNmlCaoaI4O4oQ-XZYCM-PVlQG41QjxGQ6EGezrRzxWraV6cWXuvlW0sHVDZ3TBAJSNIV3oxeocesT_RABSY/s320/434534535.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And it seems that I am not the only one to think so. This thought occurred to me earlier and when I googled "zombie Jesus" looking for pictures (try it, you'll see) for this post there is just loads of stuff about it on the net. And if it's on the Internet that must mean loads of people <strike>are brainwashed idiots</strike> believe it and if loads of people believe something then it must be true.</div>
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Isn't that how religions are started.</div>
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And political parties.</div>
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Dave's at it again too. His latest idea is all about allowing - well I'm not entirely sure who, but the police for one I guess - powers to read everyone's Internet communications. This is supposed to be about our national security and catching paedophiles, but then in today's world climate terrorism and child molesters are two issues that are guaranteed to get everyone riled up. So tell the public that's why you're doing it and they'll all agree it's a good idea.</div>
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Yeah, I'm not buying it.</div>
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Big Brother is watching you.</div>
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And Dave just wants to be able to hack into my msn and look at the pictures, and he's probably wondering if Obama and his new mate Sarkozy are talking behind his back.</div>
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Personally I think that the Internet has meant that a lot more perverts are caught then ever were before, they have always been there, but before the web and the way that enabled them to communicate and share filth it was all far harder to detect. In my opinion technology has made them easier to catch, find one with a computer and you find all his contacts too. How many times now do we hear of people being convicted based upon evidence that was found on their computers. And I'm damn sure MI5 have the same powers when it comes to finding terrorists.</div>
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So whatever Dave might say this new idea is really not going to make much difference there.</div>
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Is he planning to spend his days reading everyones emails now ?</div>
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Maybe he's going to be inspecting blogs as well. Good. He might finally find the <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/dave">letters I wrote to him</a> and see sense.</div>
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Mind you, I will probably be far too busy and exhausted to help him run the country once my latest ebay find arrives. . . </div>
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Nobody told me you could get Diesel powered injectors for your Vag.</div>
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Bit concerned about the shape of the thing but gotta be worth a try, even if the compatibility information isn't available. I'll let you know.</div>
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Rabbit ? This is my Easter Bunny.</div>
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I'm off to the garage, I need to stock up on Diesel just in case there's another shortage.</div>
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Happy Easter !</div>
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Watch out for the Zombies.</div>
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-37859194915571997762012-04-04T23:37:00.000+01:002018-12-29T21:23:36.269+00:00blind date<br />
Last night was the first episode of what is probably going to be my new favourite TV programme.<br />
It is called "The Undateables" and follows people with disabilities who are using a dating agency to look for love.<br />
Very entertaining, and also quite thought provoking.<br />
I was a bit uncomfortable with the title of the show, by itself it does rather suggest that if you have some kind of impairment then nobody will want to date you, but that much redeems itself as the opening credits show a sign with the word undateable but the "un" falls off.<br />
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So I'm prepared to overlook that.<br />
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Of course viewers will tune in for the same reasons they watch anything about those with physical imperfections, and those are not always good.<br />
Voyeurism, amusement, mocking the subjects. . . <br />
But at the same time if it raises any kind of awareness that makes people realise that having something different about you does not mean you don't want or deserve the same things as the rest of us, then that can only be a good thing.<br />
In last nights show there were three adults featured, a young woman who had a genetic condition that causes brittle bones, uses a wheelchair to get about and is only 3 feet tall, and two men, one of whom has Aspergers and the other has Tourettes.<br />
I don't really think the dating agency did well with the first two, because both were paired up with people who were also disabled. The girl was sent on a date with a man who also used a wheelchair, although we saw his pictures on the agency, none showed him in the chair. The man with Aspergers was sent on two dates, the first with a woman who also had learning difficulties and the second with a French woman whose accent was so thick that when he asked her what her hobby was and she said rowing it sounded like hoeing. Ooops.<br />
Why assume that a person with a disability wants to date another ?<br />
I find that slightly patronising.<br />
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(If you want to see the programme you can watch it on Channel4 OD)<br />
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I suppose there are a lot of people who would not even bother to look at a persons profile if there was something physically wrong with them, and that's the bit that really got me thinking.<br />
Would I date someone in a wheelchair ?<br />
Or deaf ?<br />
Or an amputee ?<br />
Would you ? I'm not talking about a situation where perhaps someone you are already involved with becomes disabled, or even where you get to know a person before dating enters the picture. But how would you react if you were maybe out in the pub with some friends and a person in a wheelchair approaches you and starts to chat ?<br />
How about a dating site, would you even bother to read about the person if the picture showed them in a wheelchair ?<br />
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I have to be honest and say that I don't think I would.<br />
I could justify that, I can say that there are things that I want to be able to do with a potential partner that a person who couldn't walk would not be able to do.<br />
But really that's just an excuse, and one that I know might not even be true. I have a friend who uses a wheelchair and she has a far more active busy life then I do, the woman is amazing and she has never let her disability stop her from doing anything - other then walk.<br />
But that also got me wondering if the same applies to disabled people ? Would they do the same, the girl in the show said that she found tall men attractive and it would be nice to date someone who wasn't also impaired. There are many more things you can have in common with someone then getting around on wheels, and if you both had mobility issues you might well find things more problematic then if it's just one of you.<br />
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I have nothing but admiration for the people in that programme, dating is enough of a minefield for those of us who have nothing more to worry about then our height, weight or age, and some of us might just maybe tell a little white lie about that.<br />
I suppose if you have an obvious problem it will at least weed out the potential dates who are instantly turned off by it straight away. Maybe in that regard those people actually have an advantage over the rest of us because only those genuinely interested in getting to know them will apply. But if that was me I would not want to be dating only other disabled people. I'd be worried that they were just dating me as they thought we had to settle for each other, and I'd also want to make it very clear that I was looking for a lover not a carer because that might well be what some able bodied people would think.<br />
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Just because you're impaired in one way doesn't make you exempt from the laws of attraction, just like everyone else you need to fancy the person you're dating.<br />
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And if your problem is related to your thinking, as it is with Aspergers, then good luck trying to understand the opposite sex.<br />
It's hard enough for the rest of us.<br />
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But while I can totally understand how difficult it is for disabled people to get out and meet potential partners in the world at large, I don't necessarily think they are going to fare any better using dating sites.<br />
Based upon my experience of them I always wondered about all their claims of high success rates. Whether some of the people who use them have actually reached a point in life where they are willing to make a lot of compromises about who they choose as a partner, or maybe I'm just way to fussy.<br />
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Are there actually a lot of far more desperate people out there then anyone realises ?<br />
I'd like to find someone, but I'm not holding my breath and I'm not desperate. Yet. Maybe it's about how happy you are in life in general, and how much of that happiness depends on having a partner, and I think that's a very individual thing. But I guess if you want it that much then you might just be prepared to settle for Mr or Mrs Almost Right.<br />
I'm still holding out for Mr Perfect.<br />
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And if you want to see proof of how desperate some people can get. . .<br />
Ages ago, one night when bored, I made a ridiculous fake profile on a dating site. It gave you the option of completing an "interview" rather then writing the entire thing so that's what I did.<br />
This a copy/paste of it . . .<br />
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<u><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Introduction</span></u><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I think my profile and interview just about says it all really, honestly can't understand why I'm still single - beats me. And how am I supposed to know what I'm looking for ? Half the time I don't remember who I am, never mind whatever it is I'm supposed to have lost ?? I'm getting confused now so I'll just answer the questions.</span></i><br />
<u><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Interview</span></u><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What do you like most about where you currently live?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">There aren't any bars on the windows.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What do you enjoy most about your current job?</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>What job ? I'm quite happy on the social and the odd five finger discount when times are hard, </i><i>ain't got a problem if you have one tho...(as long as you're not a policeman a store detective or a social worker).</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What are your favourite leisure activities?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Digging huge holes in my garden so the neighbours can complain. Crack - don't mind the odd bit of brown either.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Where in the world are your favourite places?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Bed, pub, Holloway prison wasn't as bad as I thought it was gonna be.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Where in the world would you love to visit?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Iraq, I hear its very hot and I can't wait to go topless sunbathing now I've had the implants. I'm hoping to get up to Broadmoor too, as I haven't seen my dad for years, hopefully he'll be allowed visitors soon.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What would you do on an ideal date?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">f**k</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">But only if I'm having a very bad day, it helps with the anger issues.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What are you looking for in a partner?</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Money & girth, ideally</i> <i>also a fireman under 25, but would settle for 26/27.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What makes a good relationship?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">A quiet, horny, rich, hunky, obedient man.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What makes you laugh?</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Me, mostly and when</i> <i>people win a penny on deal or no deal - highlight of my week.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What music do you like?</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Trash metal, happy hardcore & Doris Day</i>.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What has been the highlight of your life so far?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Getting out of prison after so long.</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">What are you looking forward to in the future?</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Getting my boiler fixed, I haven't showered for two weeks. Are there any single plumbers on here ?</span></i><br />
<u><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Personal Details</span></u><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I am looking for friendship.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My eye colour wasn't listed as an option.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My hair wasn't listed as an option.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My body type wasn't listed as an option.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My height is greater than 7' 00" / 213cm.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My ethnic origin is Chinese.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My particular politics were not listed as an option.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My current employment situation wasn't listed as an option.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">My income is confidential.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I'm a heavy drinker.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I'm a heavy smoker..</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I follow a special diet which wasn't listed as an option.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I am disabled</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I am Jewish.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I sometimes practise my religion.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I have children (living at home).</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I don't want to have more children.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I neither own nor rent my home.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I live with parents.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jEAKodqxlUHSGLwFtAZYg4m4bpUFVYMXnSCQMmoK_x7wKmV5tPwCD1tyzOe7vOYGDNkCbIiAH27_XXl0cXxCrwCH9croyazE8Tlqz_DGY39fbdISnINLqfkuANZM-tQpxGJ14vbi_ag/s1600/8908908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jEAKodqxlUHSGLwFtAZYg4m4bpUFVYMXnSCQMmoK_x7wKmV5tPwCD1tyzOe7vOYGDNkCbIiAH27_XXl0cXxCrwCH9croyazE8Tlqz_DGY39fbdISnINLqfkuANZM-tQpxGJ14vbi_ag/s1600/8908908.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I forgot about it for ages, but then a month or so later I remembered and went to check.<br />
I'd received 62 responses.<br />
A few were laughing, but most wanted to know more about me.<br />
One guy had sent a message asking if I needed a plumber as he lived nearby.<br />
And another had said,<br />
"Well I think I've finally found someone as crazy and unhinged as myself. Isn't it great being different".<br />
I replied,<br />
"What are you saying ? I'm not crazy, I have copies of assessments to prove that. I don't want to be seen as different anymore, I've lived my whole life with people pointing the finger, now I just want to blend in and be seen as normal, that's one of the reasons why I'd like to find a boyfriend".<br />
He never did get back to me.<br />
<br />
Every once in a while I go back and check and there is always a message or a "wink" waiting.<br />
<br />
So yeah, I wish those people luck. I think they're going to need it, and not because of their problems.<br />
And I can't wait for next weeks episode.<br />
<br />
And to any of my real life friends who read this, if you see me hanging about outside a synagogue wearing 8inch heels, dark glasses and carrying a rolled up newspaper just walk on by and pretend you don't know me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-87032461154212235952012-03-31T03:49:00.000+01:002012-04-06T23:55:45.927+01:00panic in detroit<br />
England is in the grip of petrol fever.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9krHWEWF0tNmCiM3O586CS0YKAqmNk0xSo3xCIfqPJ7rlUU1XG4uEmgoWNNhE1d0znfaft1AgWc_S61GpABkEYzIF1lXQOzyKHNJXx1IWMI_iHol_EY637Rs5Pqxkc5ju3Y2P6xEw7iw/s1600/43453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9krHWEWF0tNmCiM3O586CS0YKAqmNk0xSo3xCIfqPJ7rlUU1XG4uEmgoWNNhE1d0znfaft1AgWc_S61GpABkEYzIF1lXQOzyKHNJXx1IWMI_iHol_EY637Rs5Pqxkc5ju3Y2P6xEw7iw/s1600/43453.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Apparently someone somewhere threatened to go on strike about something and that meant there was a chance that just maybe-possibly-potentially there might be a slight petrol shortage sometime in the not too distant future<b> IF</b> it happened. Although the people who had said they <b>MIGHT</b> go on strike had not given any idea of a date when that <b>MIGHT</b> be, and there were still some "talks" happening that would most likely resolve whatever the issue was.<br />
Or to put it another way a Union decided to try and hold the government to ransom. I'm not entirely sure what it is they're after, it may well be quite justified, but ever since the days of <strike>the wicked witch</strike> Maggie Thatcher the Unions are no longer as powerful as they used to be.<br />
<br />
<div>
But then someone must of told Dave (and we all know he's not the brightest star in the sky, especially as he has still not answered my <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/dear-dave-again.html">letters</a> so clearly still not seeing sense), and Dave decided to tell the British public via our everso reliable, totally honest and not-at-all-likely-to-whip-the-public-into-a-frenzied-panic-media that it might be a sensible idea if everyone kept their tanks topped up, or kept a spare can of petrol JUST IN CASE. </div>
<div>
And anyway we were told the army were on stand-by, and they would get the petrol to where it needed to be but the main thing was for everyone to <b>NOT PANIC BUY</b>.</div>
<div>
Hmmm. . . </div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfB6Rb41oyMd-sbTSuMG0JHjErssQUm_cI_y7hZGa4aS51heblg_1jT7IjcYcX_YimH6bYUdJe5npV67dGgTd0YvJ-0I-xZSmymUCb23UevZlPuSPw784KzXHWs7SSgrcZBTtuMSSWRA/s1600/6456544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfB6Rb41oyMd-sbTSuMG0JHjErssQUm_cI_y7hZGa4aS51heblg_1jT7IjcYcX_YimH6bYUdJe5npV67dGgTd0YvJ-0I-xZSmymUCb23UevZlPuSPw784KzXHWs7SSgrcZBTtuMSSWRA/s320/6456544.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Do I need to caption this ? Nah, already done for me.</div>
<br />
Smart move.<br />
<br />
Because for one thing England has had a week of freakishly hot weather for this time of year - so that sends us all a bit loopy anyway. A friend of mine was riding her bike along our seafront on Wednesday and she saw people swimming in the sea, and our sea here is fucking freezing even in the middle of summer. So yeah, people go a bit mental when they see the sun.<br />
<br />
And also because if there's one thing we're good at it's panic buying.<br />
Anyfuckingthing.<br />
And we don't seem to need much of a reason, an impending bank holiday will do it never mind an actual shortage. Nowadays all of the big supermarkets are open every day of the year, but go into one the day before a bank holiday and you will see people buying up enough food to see them through your average nuclear holocaust.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XKEoRfBYTS5DvAaCOYAdD7vnWQCVGTtpZu2ty9469Dr4fQYjgWe-0nUbXiOUSGhgUnvZYIZjAnFhIRHwsoxXzpt-Jjoe1gFCIlpLQ1WvXc0RR8p2-9hdsLZNlqBvyy6s8M5k2sgr9Vg/s1600/676567657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XKEoRfBYTS5DvAaCOYAdD7vnWQCVGTtpZu2ty9469Dr4fQYjgWe-0nUbXiOUSGhgUnvZYIZjAnFhIRHwsoxXzpt-Jjoe1gFCIlpLQ1WvXc0RR8p2-9hdsLZNlqBvyy6s8M5k2sgr9Vg/s1600/676567657.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I don't think we ever got over the rationing during the war.<br />
Or the power cuts and strikes that happened when I was a kid.<br />
Certainly my parents generation never did and I guess some of them have passed that on to their children too, my Mum only had to hear the word strike and she'd be off to Tesco to buy 10 loaves of bread, 20 pints of milk and as much meat as she could fit in her freezer.<br />
Even though there was only two people in her house, she rarely ate sandwiches, her husband drank black coffee and the strike was in a carpet factory at the other end of the country.<br />
<br />
But anyway, thanks to Dave and his <strike>bunch of tossers</strike> government giving out the warning we now have queues at petrol stations from 6am every day and some are actually closed because they have run out completely.<br />
In trying to beat the potential shortage that maybe-possibly-potentially could have happened the drivers of this country have actually made the thing they were trying to get prepared for happen.<br />
Idiots.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
A typical British day out in the sunshine.</div>
<br />
And then this evening they announced that the proposed strike has been averted . . . for now. But there is something that only two people knew about until I wrote this and now you, dear sheep, are being let in on the secret.<br />
All this is actually my fault.<br />
And not because I have failed in my <strike>attempt at world domination</strike> valiant mission to get Dave to listen to me.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sv5pgtxI6c9N6KFehNG0snbqQL0TTx9B8kuyFNn2evGKbpkgn4DEtTLKaWtIkHsoqidN0IwZHZbCTD4hQ-hFAS0UNJfSDECjeU3YUsZAw4wqi7zs4gFfvThkSwNDfeFsKKm_IUjSInk/s1600/53343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sv5pgtxI6c9N6KFehNG0snbqQL0TTx9B8kuyFNn2evGKbpkgn4DEtTLKaWtIkHsoqidN0IwZHZbCTD4hQ-hFAS0UNJfSDECjeU3YUsZAw4wqi7zs4gFfvThkSwNDfeFsKKm_IUjSInk/s1600/53343.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Oh no.<br />
This is yet another example of the notorious Cowgirl jinx.<br />
<br />
As you may remember I <strike>am not allowed for <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/driving-me-crazy.html">public safety reasons</a></strike> don't drive. Consequently I have no need to buy petrol. Ever.<br />
But, I have a rather nasty persistent overgrown weed (not that kind of weed, yeah I fucking wish) growing in my garden. Every year I hack it down and spray it and every year the fucking awful thing comes back. I told a mate about it, as I was thinking I would have to pay some specialised service to come and get rid of it for me. He said that if I drill into the roots and pour some diesel in it's bound to kill it once and for all. I know it's not really allowed, bad for the environment blah blah blah, but it's not like I'm building a nuclear reactor in the shed (I'm not fucking <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2011/03/interdire-le-francais.html">french</a>) and a can of diesel is about a fiver, compared to what it would cost to get someone in ? Yeah, I'm gonna try Steve's suggestion first.<br />
My mate at work found a petrol can for me on Friday and said that she would get some for me during the week when she filled up her car so that I could do the garden this weekend while the weather is still nice.<br />
<br />
She gave up every time she went because of the size of the queues.<br />
<br />
And now not only are there the mile long queues at the garages that have still got fuel, they have now said that they are not letting anyone fill up spare petrol cans.<br />
<br />
See ?<br />
All my fault.<br />
I really should run for Prime Minister, it seems I can fuck up the country just as much as Dave.<br />
<br />
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And all I need to do it is an empty one of these.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6767349627389806156.post-63878711540194045002012-03-25T20:37:00.000+01:002012-04-14T15:01:36.675+01:00five minutes<br />
There is a question that is asked so often by English people that it could almost be our National catchphrase.<br />
<br />
I hear it on the bus, on the train, in the shops, just everywhere and anywhere and so often that unless it is being said directly to me I tend to not even notice anymore. And I am a bit of an eavesdropper, I love it when I do that thing where you hear a little snippet, or catch the end of a conversation and it just sounds totally bizarre or completely wrong.<br />
<br />
". . . and so I said that's far too big to fit in there, it doesn't matter how hard you push it's not going to fit. . . "<br />
<i>Said by a fella as he and his mate passed by me on the street. I laughed. Out loud.</i><br />
<br />
But anyway, back to that question. I might not notice when it's being said to other people, but when it's aimed at me I only wish I could ignore it, the question being,<br />
"Did you see Eastenders last night ?"<br />
Of course there are variations of it.<br />
"Wasn't Eastenders good last night"<br />
"What do you think is going to happen to *insert name of dead/sick/criminal/missing/drug addict/alcoholic soap star*.<br />
"Who do you think is the father of *insert name of slutty soap stars* baby".<br />
<br />
I only have one answer for all of the above and any other variation.<br />
"I don't watch Eastenders. Or any soap for that matter".<br />
There have been times when saying those words has been met with more shock and disbelief then if I was to tell people that I used to be a man or that I was a serial killer. I've been told that I don't know what I'm missing (I do, I used to watch it), or that I MUST (is it compulsory now?).<br />
But the people that really piss me off are the ones who presume that even though I don't watch the fucking stupid programme I still want to have the conversation they were trying to start when they asked me the question.<br />
Then decide that in order to facilitate it they have to first fill me in on the entire background plot and who is related to/having an affair with/trying to kill who.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4AeK5WSXDfrsDaPmNfutN6ZLidZuqwATjbgo5EvdL_b7N4ZBL3u96HtQGmvvC9wE49MYzWs9lc367rCpxpI_ZVnZAHoUTCpxMmLxfTow0h6ZrfirPEMa5Zs43TZigeKCjD5Tqe7SCGQ/s1600/654645654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4AeK5WSXDfrsDaPmNfutN6ZLidZuqwATjbgo5EvdL_b7N4ZBL3u96HtQGmvvC9wE49MYzWs9lc367rCpxpI_ZVnZAHoUTCpxMmLxfTow0h6ZrfirPEMa5Zs43TZigeKCjD5Tqe7SCGQ/s320/654645654.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
If I was interested I'd watch the fucking show.<br />
And I do tell them that, but it doesn't shut them up. It's like Eastenders is their religion and they are the Jehovah's Witnesses come to convert me.<br />
Sometimes when people are talking about it around me I can't help but listen in and it's as if they genuinely think the people in it are REAL. I suppose if you watch something three (or is it on four times ?) nights a week and then the repeat on a Sunday you might actually be spending more time with them then you do your real friends.<br />
And I'm strange because I don't watch it ?<br />
<br />
And if it's not enough that the TV schedules are full of soaps and their repeats our magazines and newspapers are full of the real life dramas and scandals concerning the actors in them. Or what disastrous outfit they wore to the supermarket, who has a spot on their face, who dyed their hair and who managed to lose some weight.<br />
<br />
Unless it's my turn to have the five minutes of fame we're all supposed to get I refuse to buy into the cult of celebrity.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPRHhtlI-2DaxL_mIUv76MHIfFnA633UiLslpIREWB-vcadgA5ri_TpcNRLrWamCHvu6jsME54TDMCXcCDaunKZDpF5iTS_TvwyQcRgOOrvSXqX5fjAQKLCMO1Gt1CdhJiTdBDb0693M/s1600/45454454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifPRHhtlI-2DaxL_mIUv76MHIfFnA633UiLslpIREWB-vcadgA5ri_TpcNRLrWamCHvu6jsME54TDMCXcCDaunKZDpF5iTS_TvwyQcRgOOrvSXqX5fjAQKLCMO1Gt1CdhJiTdBDb0693M/s400/45454454.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Last night was the return to TV of <strike>Freak Show</strike> Britains Got Talent, yet another show in which Joe Public can try and grasp his five minutes. That show I do watch, some of it is car crash telly at it's finest - watching people who think they have some special skill but really don't get ripped apart by Simon Smug Cowell is always entertaining. But you can pretty much guarantee that by the end of the series the press will have dug up some scandal about a few of the unsuspecting idiots who appear on it, and they will get their five minutes but not for what they hoped. It'll more likely be because they have three kids by different partners or stole a bar of chocolate from the corner shop when they were ten.<br />
All of which will get blown out of all proportion.<br />
As much as we love our <strike>non-entities</strike> celebrities we seem to like it even more when they fuck up.<br />
<br />
And nothing grabs the public's attention more then a sex scandal.<br />
<br />
The latest person to fall foul to this is Tulisa. I don't suppose any of you across the pond - or indeed all the UK readers - may even know who she is. But I bet there's a few more know of her since her ex decided to post a video of her giving him a <strike>not very good</strike> blow job all over the Internet. She was part of a pretty rubbish group, but became even more well known as last year she was one of the judges on X Factor.<br />
I don't suppose she'll be invited back this year.<br />
Unless Simon Smug Cowell decides to make XXX Factor. Although judging by the performance in the video I doubt she'll get through the audition stage.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Silly girl.<br />
I already wrote a <a href="http://dirtycowgirl.blogspot.co.uk/2011/02/who-wants-to-be-porn-star.html">POST</a> ages ago about my thoughts concerning home made porn, so I'm not about to repeat myself, but really why would someone who was aiming for fame and life in the public eye not realise that letting someone film you is likely to come back and bite you later on ?<br />
Apparently she is now suing him for a hundred grand. Yeah good luck - if he had any money he wouldn't of needed to post the video - because you can bet that was his motivation.<br />
<br />
She's now made a video apologising to her fans. I bet she's got a few more now too.<br />
But she begins it by saying, before she even gets into how upsetting it's all been for her, that when she has something to say she has never been one for keeping her mouth shut.<br />
<br />
Indeed.<br />
Or thinking about what you're actually saying before you speak.<br />
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I just hope that the latest round of BGT hopefuls don't have any juicy skeletons lurking in their cupboards. But I'd be willing to bet it's not something they have even considered when they decide to get on TV and showcase their outstanding ability to balance a poodle on their head.<br />
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<br />dirtycowgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04193492692357362402noreply@blogger.com24