byeeeee !!!

Well this is it.

This will be my last post for a month, and this time tomorrow I will be thousands of miles away in the sun.
To say I was a little bit excited is the understatement of the year.

Christmas on the beach is something I have always wanted to do, especially since Son grew up and I no longer had to pretend to enjoy it, and could freely admit that I actually hate this time of year.
However I do have a nativity story of my own that I love.
It was a long time ago (no, not that long, I'm not talking about Bethlehem) and Son was still mummy's special little boy. Ok, that was actually longer ago then I am prepared to admit, but he was three at the time and attending nursery school. He loved it there, all the other kids would cry when their parents left them in the morning, mine used to get upset when it was time to leave.
I went to get him and as it was one of the days when we had no lift this meant a walk to the bus stop. It wasn't that far, unless you were three years old and had just endured a long day of games, afternoon naps, making cakes, painting, story telling and generally enjoying yourself.
So he starts to complain.
Usually I would've carried him some of the way, but I had been Christmas shopping before I went to get him and had a few bags to carry. All he was carrying was his (now empty) lunchbox but apparently that was HEAVY.
He started to walk really slowly for a few minutes before stopping altogether, then puts his ghostbusters plastic lunchbox on the pavement, sits on it, folds his arms and says,
"That's it. I can't walk any more. I've got a baby in my tummy and it's coming out RIGHT NOW"

I spent the next few days wondering what on earth they were teaching him. But the next day he was there I got an invite to their nativity play and then it made sense.
Mummy's special boy had figured if it was a good enough excuse for Mary to stop and rest then it was good enough for him.

I realise it's going to be hard to cope quiet without me, but there are some guest posts appearing here over the coming month, and I do have almost a years worth of posts you could always read back through if you find yourself suffering from cowgirl withdrawl. In fact by the time I get back it will almost be LAWAFM's first birthday.
Thanks to all of you who have visited, followed, read, commented. I'm still blown away that so many of you take the time to read the nonsense and constant moaning interesting stuff that I write here.
I started blogging for me, but you all make it worthwhile :)

I love you guys.
See you next year !!!
XXX

I even made you all a Christmas Card. Well I adapted it from what was going to be a followers badge.

Don't expect too much effort I have packing to do.

 My printer's broke otherwise I would send some out, but if you really want you can copy and print it yourselves.

In the meantime. . .  here's some Christmas cheer I stole borrowed from the internet.

The night before Xmas throughout the house,
we were all fucked, even the mouse.
Dad at the brothel, mum with uncle Frank,
I'd settled down for a nice slow wank.
Outside the house I heard a right clatter,
I let go of my cock to see what was the matter.
Out on the lawn I saw a big dick,
I knew right away it was old St Nick.
He came down the chimney like a bat out of hell.
The big fat fucker, I think he fell.
He filled all our stockings with sweets and beer,
and a big rubber cock for my brother, the queer.
He rose up the chimney with a thunderous fart,
the big fat cunt blew the house apart.
He swore and he cursed as he rode out of sight,
Shouting I'll be back next year, have a hell of a night.

Joseph and Mary lived in a barn. Mary had just given birth to a baby boy, Joseph was a carpenter by trade but had no work.
On this particular day, after another unsuccessful day at the job centre, Joseph trudges back to the barn on his donkey. He then notices three men on camels carrying parcels and they take them into the barn.
Joseph gets off his donkey, storms into the barn and shouts, "For fuck's sake, Mary; we've just had a baby, I'm unemployed and you're ordering stuff off ebay."

Driving on ice is like having sex doggie style.
One slip and you can really fuck up someone's rear end.
Drive safely this Xmas

@guestposters - a friend of mine has admin just in case the scheduling doesn't work so she can publish them and any comments.
@Vee - I'll message you, I plan to get an Indian SIM for my phone so I'll let you have the number and hopefully meet you there :)


One last thing before I go.

I know it's a bit early to be saying this is my favourite christmas post as I won't be around to read all of them, but I have a feeling that even if I read loads this would still be my favourite.
http://howtohatemore.blogspot.com/2011/12/rudolph-red-nosed-leper.html

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

cowgirl presents...#2

Greetings people of Earth! If you don't know by now, Dirty Cowgirl is absent this week. Wait! don't click away just yet. A few fellow bloggers (me) have been granted the opportunity to dance in front of your eyes. I'm smart enough to know that you don't want to hear me, a DCG minion drone on too long about anything. As such, in an attempt to appeal to this brilliant, charming AND attractive audience I have composed a familiar tale on the origin of Dirty Cowgirl. If you enjoy it you might want to come on over and check out my blog for something to keep you busy until she returns.  Now, let us get on to today's entertainment. 



The Story of Dirty Cowgirl



Beneath a hollow empty,
through a decrepit hole,
beyond a glimpse of lighted land
is where it all unfurled.
Further than a memory
whence even soot and 
ash had curled,
a single note squawked weak
and muffled from a distant
underworld.


That note it hummed with
inspiration once frozen
in the rock, 
and formed itself a body,
composed of sand and snot.
That body it did harmonize
with fury and intent,
it paced through cavern valleys
and climbed up through descent.
When that form at last met sunshine
it flailed upon the earth,
and drew a breath of freedom,
a dirty cowgirl's birth.


This girl she grew through
infancy and harnessed all
her rage, 
she delicately planned a 
course for when she came
of age.
she carried many weapons,
most were wary of her whip
but fools they found out quick to
fear the cracking of her lip.


a wall of sound
a shriek profane, 
enveloped every utterance,
her aural assault 
laid bodies out 
and put them in an ambulance.


her loves?
tattoos 
and shoes
and booze
and psychedelic drugs
her fear?
invasion 
from the sky
by hostile
alien slugs.


she's a theif
not a liar,
a convenient crier
whenever it suits her 
need,
to escape Scott free
with a box of choclates
from a Woolworth's STD.


sucking on a lemon 
truly makes her feel alive,
stuck in suspended animation
she's forever 25.


Thanks for reading everybody, here's hoping for a quick and safe return of Dirty Cowgirl.
Drone.
http://dronetalker.blogspot.com/

a poem what i wrote . . . .

. . . . whilst sat on the train coming home from work.
As it passed over the creek I saw a family of ducks swim under the bridge and this came into my head.
Fucking poet laureate me !

Right now I wish I was a duck
Just paddling along
Not giving a fuck
About rent and bills
Yeah that's a winner
But knowing my luck
I'd be someones dinner

Should I start one of them poetry blogs ?