misunderstood

When I was about ten I had a crush on a boy called Robert who lived on my street.
I knew it was a crush because every time he so much as looked in my direction I would blush. Furiously. Bright fucking red.

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 want to marry like me I picked it up and handed it to him.
Wrong.
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 hated me knew who I was after that.
And then he ran home to his Mummy.

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.
The boy lived in one of the new houses.
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.

That included Roberts mother.
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.
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 drool over see Robert.

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 blush and mutter something 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.

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.

Until the day Mrs Castle invited me to have tea with them.
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.
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 ?"

In my house jelly looked like this :

And this was jam :

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.
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.

And then I realised my mistake.
And ran home to my Mummy.

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.
And it seemed that for all her posh pretentions even my Mum did not know that posh people called jam jelly.

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.
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.

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.

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 ?
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.
Even when they're not.

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.
(When is the rest of the world gonna wake up to the fact that I'm always right ?)
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.
"Tell Kate what lol stands for".
"It's laugh out loud".
"Really ? I thought it was lots of love".
"No it isn't, Cowgirls right" ...exit two laughing teenagers.
I look at Kate who looks rather uncomfortable, and ask her whats up.
Apparently a couple of weeks earlier she had heard that one of her friends fathers had died and sent a text that said :
"Sorry to hear about your Dad LOL"

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.

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.
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.
Despite my constant cackling at anything and everything it refuses to be laughed off.

I don't know, maybe I'm just getting too old to understand all these new fangled modern things.

i'll buy that

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.

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.
I'm not saying that it's wrong to ask for donations - just lose the emotional blackmail/ shock tactics.

This is way more effective. Make people think.

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.
And showing the advert every break over two hours in the afternoon does not help. When I'm watching the pond life 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.

Perhaps I should get a water butt to catch the endless fucking rain we keep having and send it out there.

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.
Do women care about how they look ? I don't think so, we're more concerned with it NOT being visible.
It's not like we go around showing our friends as if it's a new hairdo or outfit.
". . does my minge look big in this . .? "

I bet the advertisers wish they'd though of this . . . 

What we want to know about is leakage and absorption 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.
My blogger friend Lily has written a very funny post about a SIMILAR SUBJECT- go and have a read, I can wait.

. . . or this ?

Great idea ! But you best hope you're not involved in an accident.

(Pic stolen borrowed from Dr Heckle).

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.

Not once did I see a picture of a lone ageing woman with a fag in her hand and a laptop.

Welcome to my world.

Of course you can have well intentioned advertising that falls foul of fate.
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.
What happened was this :

Yeah, let's enter and hope it's a cruise.

Or how about this :

I'm sure there's a pun in this that relates to Sanitary towels, 

but I'm not gonna let my brain run with it.

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.

Other peoples mistakes are way more entertaining then my own.

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".

But what if you got the words right, just the wrong interpretation. . . 

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 mental tired women off the bus but he stopped anyway.

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. 

Good job I don't work in advertising.

That explains it then, because I am constantly getting bothered by a cat that wants 

stroking when I am trying to type.

trouble

I've had a few people say they are having problems with my blog.
So am I, some of the links - previous post and the comment form etc seem to be broken. However I think the comment form will work as long as you using the URL for the post and not the home page. As far as I can tell it is something to do with Blogger changing the URLs of blogs so they are geographically correct, I hope so. 
Because the other possibility is that I have finally managed to change my template so much that I have royally fucked it up. Anyway I'm going to wait a few days to see if it rights itself and if not then I guess I'll have to start again with the design.
Meanwhile if you do experience problems would you please let me know, either here or via Twitter or G+, there are links to my profiles on both in the sidebar.

In other more important news major panic descended on my house this morning.
On Thursday I posted an application form to be a host family for foreign language students, I have a spare room sat there sad and empty that could be occupied by a sexy young man earning me few quid, and a friend who already does this suggested the idea.
At the moment I'm in the middle of a few DIY projects, and that includes a few little jobs in said spare room.
Not least of all removing all the useful items crap I've stored in there.
But, I figured it'll take a while to get a student and I have a day off next Friday as I have to go somewhere in the morning, so I thought I could do it then as that's effectively a three day week-end. I also need a few things for the room - you have to provide bedding etc, but I'm watching some on ebay.

This morning I get an email "Hi Cowgirl, thanks very much for your application. At the moment we have students waiting for accommodation, so can we come and see the room Monday evening as we can provide you with a tenant straight away".

Fuck.
So much for the relaxing week-end I had planned.
I've spent the day doing that thing where you try and do ten jobs at once and just end up confused and knackered.
And tomorrow instead of sleeping until 3 a little lie in I have to go shopping for bedding, towels and a lamp. And I fucking hate shopping. They better send me a buff young man after all that.
And breathe.

Son has been getting in the way helping, well taking orders. But in the course of sorting the room out I was putting rubbish in a carrier bag, and we then decided to go downstairs for a coffee and fag break. When I went back up to the room I found this . . .

That is not what I call helping.

The students also have to have an evening meal provided.

Well you can just rent the room, but you don't get as much money, and I figured we have dinner every night anyway so I may as well. However the reality of this is just beginning to dawn on me.

I do like cooking, I love having people round for dinner and when I'm in the mood there are certain things I can manage to not incinerate do quite well.

When I first thought about doing this I suppose I imagined it would be like having a friend for dinner every night. Yeah. Right. The reality of that is I'd soon get fed up.

And while I say I can cook, I have six recipe books.

Five of which are about cooking with chocolate.

I hope the student likes pudding and cake.

And isn't on a diet.

Speaking of which I am very happy to report that I have now managed to lose 10lb.

And that is without going on a proper diet, I have just been walking to work from the train station a few times a week and not stuffing my face with chips and six chocolate bars every night trying to eat healthier. I don't plan to be turning this into a weight loss blog. Boring. But if I get to where I plan to, that is a couple of stone less, I might post a before and after picture. Just as an incentive for myself to stay that way, and maybe then I can post a non-photoshopped below the neck realistic picture on the dating site too.

I will leave you with a couple of pictures that were sent to me.

A friend of mine took the first one, she actually saw this in Tesco.

No amount of clubcard points could make me want to buy that.

And I really cannot believe that whoever wrote this outside a pub did not realise exactly how it could be interpreted.

I'm off, I have two tons of crap to put out with the rubbish before the cat gets his paws on them.

This really wasn't a post was it ? I just wanted to let you all know about the blog problems really, but I can never just get to the point.

But in case you came here hoping to read something interesting or funny I'm gonna do you a favour and suggest you go and read this. Funniest post I've seen in ages.

I hope your week end is more fun then mine is turning out to be.

ps Any HTML experts out there fancy designing me an all-singing all-dancing shiny new template ?

Update : Fed up with people saying they can't comment. I LOVE the comments so changed back to the old template and the links appear to work for me. I guess it was me caused the problem.
Who woulda thought ??
Note to self : Knowing how to read some code does not make you a programmer.  
Could a few of you please test them for me ? 

plain speaking

There's a lot of things about getting older maturing that I don't really appreciate but I find I can live with.

Even the mentalpause has been bothering me less since I got back from India. Well either that or I just chilled out so much that my anger issues are being kept at bay.
In which case who knows what will happen when that particular bubble bursts.
But there are ways and means to avoid the other signs of my impending pensioner status. Grey hairs can be dyed ( or waxed - don't ask. You get them everywhere). Diet and exercise can keep aches and pains at bay (or so I'm told) and wrinkles can be filled with botox. Not that I have any. . . yet.
Wrinkles that is, not botox.

And I accept that there may be some things I will be stuck with.
But the one thing I fucking hate is the deterioration of my eyesight. I asked an optician (who was about 25, thin and beautiful - fucking bitch) about having laser treatment and was informed that there was no point since the problem is caused by age. If I had it done I would need glasses again in a couple of years as they will continue to get worse.

Just. Great. Make me feel good about myself why don't you.

I don't actually mind wearing glasses as such.
Men seem to find them sexy for some reason.
I've had sordid fuck fests romances with two men who liked me to keep them on ALL the time. One actually found them more of a turn on then any sleazy get up classy outfit I wore.
What really pisses me off about glasses is having to continually take them on and off. Since I am long sighted I only need them for reading and watching TV so when I'm out and about they are in my bag, and it's a fucking pain getting them out to get a bus ticket or look at prices in the shop, taking them off to walk to the till (if I don't everything looks wonky), then on again to use my card.
In a two hour shopping trip they are on and off more frequently then a strippers pants.

Sometimes I just can't be arsed to get them out of my bag.
Especially as my bag is more like a small suitcase that contains a black hole into which any item I want to retrieve from it will disappear.
Which is why yesterday after Son had text me saying we needed toilet roll I went to the shop and came home with these. . .

It's an easy mistake to make.
They do look similar, especially when you can't see properly.

And I am easily confused.
Sometimes I think the English language is very confusing, I've been helping my friends four year old with her reading and there are some things about it that you just can't explain. How do you make a child whose learning phonetically understand that 'the' is not pronounced te-he-eh ?
Especially when the child asks 'why' about everyfuckingthing.
And why does the announcement on the train as it approaches the stop always have to say "please mind the gap when ALIGHTING from the train".

What's wrong with saying leaving, getting off or even departing ?
I hear that announcement every day and I imagine this,

I'm worried that one day I will spontaneously combust when I step onto the platform.
I have enough trouble getting to work on time.

And here's another thing I don't really get, why do so many restaurants now advertise themselves as having a salad bar. What fucking twat thought up that expression.
There's two words that should not be said in the same sentence, ever. I hear the word bar and I expect to see alcohol not tomatoes, lettuce and cold pasta.

Unless of course they're serving cocktails with fruit in, then it makes sense.

A friend of mine, Tina, is always getting her words confused, but the things she says are hilarious. Her favourite film ever is Blade Runner and one day she was round mine and we saw an advertisment for the directors cut coming on the TV at the weekend. She was annoyed because she had to go out and was going to miss it as her recorder was broken, I told her to remind me and I would record it for her.
Saturday afternoon she rings me,
"please don't forget Road Runner is on tonight"
"meep meep"
"what ?"
"meep meep"

Ridley Scotts finest work.

Another time we were out in Tinas car and another friend of ours had moved house. This other friend now lived just up the road from the local police station and as we drove past it I pointed out her new house,
"I could never live there"
"Why not ? It's a gorgeous house"
"It's far too close to the playstation".

In Tina's case she's just funny, and she laughs at herself when you point out her mistakes.
Kids, on the other hand can be quite embarassing.

When Son was about ten I got myself a Slendertone.
One of those devices with pads that you put on your muscles, the idea being that you can tone yourself up without having to move off the sofa whilst eating chocolate and cake.
Or maybe that's just me. Either way it didn't work.

Son got it stuck in his head that it was called a vibrator. At ten I wasn't going to explain to him exactly why that mistake was funny, I think he had probably heard the word somewhere, and since the thing did sort of vibrate it made sense to him. He found it hilarious watching me twitch when I used it too.
And I probably didn't help, because even though I corrected him every time I was always laughing as I did so.
Fine, until you are on the bus and your child says,
"Are you going to use your vibrator when we get home".
Or you are talking to your older posher neighbour over the garden wall and he says,
"Have you used your vibrator today".
Or you hear him saying to his friend,
"You should see my Mum using her vibrator, she goes all twitchy".

Luckily I don't think that child ever went home and said anything to his parents. . .
"and he said I could watch his Mum use her vibrator too"
. . .  because I never got a visit from Child Services.

countdown

A few things have pissed me off already this week, and it's only Wednesday.
First up was some stupid idea I heard being talked about on the news to offer all pregnant women the option of a C section, even when there are no expected problems. Why ? Who in their right mind is going to choose a potentially dangerous (as are all ops) procedure with a six week recovery period, over a natural process that most women recover from pretty quickly.
Lazy cows who think they are too posh to push and scared young girls who shouldn't be having a baby anyway, that's who.

Then there was the stupid fuckwit on the train who in the course of a twenty minute journey rang four people to tell them about his sick dog and the discharge it was producing. (Nice, bet a few people on that train didn't want their dinner when they got home). He also kept saying that the dog needed to be 'spayded' - I really don't know how I stopped myself from shouting IT'S SPAYED YOU FUCKING MORON - and that he was now thinking about getting rid of the dog.
Obviously he had it just for breeding too.
Yeah not even gonna go there with how I feel about people who do that.
Pets are pets not money / baby making machines.

I am also pissed off at a new TV series I started watching which is not doing anything for the image of young black people who live in inner city estates.
Anyone wanting to have a few stereotypes reaffirmed should watch Top Boy. It may well be an accurate representation of life for some in a sink estate. . . but I bet a lot of people watching it are thinking that's EXACTLY how ALL young black men live their lives.

However I am feeling pretty buzzed up too, as it's now just five weeks until I'm heading off for a month in the sun and I feel like the countdown has begun. I'm not gonna let the annoyances get to me.
There's been a few things that have amused me too.

Sometimes in the morning a young blind man and his guide dog get the train, he's sat by me a couple of times and we've had a chat. His dog is still a puppy really, and he's not had him long so is still teaching him. Today he sat further down the train and I could hear someone asking him questions, this person clearly didn't know much about guide dogs and he asked the guy. . .
"How do they know where to go, do they learn the addresses of places ?"
And the reply,
"He's a dog, not a four legged furry Sat Nav".

I laughed out loud at that.

Watching a quiz show on TV with the four year old granddaughter at work, someone answered "USA"
"What's the USA Cowgirl ?"
"It means America, it's proper name is the United States of America"
"Don't be silly, you can't eat it, it's a country not a steak".

I've also got a couple of Facebook moron classics to share.
There is so much wrong with this I don't even know where to start. . .

Do male cows get milked ?
Well yes they do, but not for anything you'd want to drink.

The male has more downstairs ?
What ? Like a coffee table and a corner unit.

Don't know about bulls - but I can see plenty of bullshit.

And Thick Bird, she whose lack of intelligence has featured here a few times before has been at it again, having yet another dig at her children's father.
And once again I couldn't resist having a dig at her.

I love the fact that she doesn't even realise I'm having a dig back, I was actually about to type another comment under this.
"My door is stuck, do you think Steve could come round and loosen it for me ?"

But he beat me to it, and I reckoned he deserved to get the last word when I saw this. . .

What a winner.

I also saw this on FB today.
I know that advertisers are supposed to tell the truth, but isn't this taking it a bit too far. . .
Even though I agree.

He certainly is.

I'm off to look for bikinis on ebay. I'm hoping to find one that makes me appear three sizes smaller and ten years younger.

what exactly were you hoping to see ?

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

How much attention do you pay to your stats ?

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

Apart from 'Search Keywords'.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

I'm still waiting for a response.

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

beware of the dog

Sometimes odd things can trigger the most random thoughts popping into my head.
Usually I find them funny but they tend to get kind of stuck there. Right in the front of my brain and I can’t get rid of them, the way a song can get stuck in your head only not as annoying. As I say often they are amusing, well to me anyway. But then I’ll be laughing about it which is fine if I’m on my own but if I’m not, well it just makes me look crazy - suddenly laughing at nothing.
And if I try to explain what I’m laughing at then people just look at me like I really am mad.

For example, there is a house on my street that has this sign on the front door.

His names Killer.

Now I do know what a chocolate Labrador is, but every time I see that sign I imagine this :

Beware of the calories.

And then I laugh.
Every time.
I have to not look at the sign now because my brain goes;

Warning against what ?

Not letting that fucker sit too close to the fire.

Dope smokers . . . Might end up with a three legged dog of they get an attack of the munchies.

Easter . . . Do they dress it up as a chocolate bunny ?

Imagine if you were a burglar, could you get anything less scary then a chocolate dog.
Yeah lets break into that house, if the dog get a bit menacing just turn the heating on and if we get a bit peckish we can snack on it.

Terrifying isn't he. . . . and that's a real one.

Must be a right pain taking it to the park.
Most people just have to worry about other dogs humping or attacking their pooch. But that one - every other dog in the park’s just gonna want to eat it.

How does it wash itself ? I heard that chocolate was poisonous to dogs.

Be handy at Christmas though if it poops chocolate logs.

I swear if I was stand-up I could do an hours worth of gags just from that sign.
I’m dreading that one day I’m gonna be walking down the road as the owners are coming out of the house with the dog because I have a habit of saying out loud what I’m thinking if there’s someone to say it to, and I know I won’t be able to stop myself from telling them all this.
Then that’ll be another person on this street that lowers their eyes so I don’t talk to them anymore.

The other thing I keep seeing at the top of my road is a car that’s covered in grass.
First time I saw it I thought all the acid I took when I was younger was finally giving me the flash backs all those anti-drug campaigners assured me I was bound to have.
But no, as I suspected the bastards were lying and there is no such thing as a free trip, but there is indeed a car covered in grass that parks on my road.



It looks exactly like this.


Could they not afford a decent paint job ?

Do they have to water it ?

Did it crash into a lorry load of turf ?

Does it need strimming ?
(Yes, I do know it’s astro- turf, but this is the way my brain works).

Is it some sort of eco car, designed to blend in with the surroundings on country roads.

Are there teletubbies living in it ?

How and why did this happen. There is no promotional stuff on the car and I have had a fucking good look.
Any other time a person was looking around a car someone would think you were trying to steal it and come out. When you wish they would just so you could ask them what the fuck is the point of this no-one does.
Maybe they are hoping someone’s going to nick it. Interesting phone call to the police that’s gonna be . . .
“Can you describe the vehicle ? “
“Yes officer, it looks like a very small hill”
And how stupid would you have to be to nick it in the first place, your mates are bound to be impressed going for a joyride in that. And its hardly inconspicuous.


Has anyone got a small lawn mower ?

I stole borrowed the picture I used off the internet, although as I’m typing this it has occurred to me that I could just take my camera with me when I go up the shop and take a picture of the actual car.

Duh.

However in searching for a picture to illustrate what it looks like I appear to have stumbled on a bit of a craze, there were quite a few snaps of grass covered cars.


And I found this, click the picture to see the article it came from, there are a few grass sculptures. Pretty clever, and if it wasn’t for the random thoughts I would never have needed to search for a grass car and found it.

How amazing are they ? Apparently the exhibition is in Cornwall.



And I thought all it was good for was sitting on or smoking.

what a cunt

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

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

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

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

If you have a problem with the word cunt, ask yourself why?

It's really only because culturally it's unacceptable, and why is that?

Because of the context and purpose of its use.

Ridiculous Cunts

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

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

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

Why . . . . . ??

Because it offends.

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

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

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