Incoherent Ramblings

A Penguin Was Sick And Then A Seagull Came And Ate Some Of The Penguin's Sick And The Penguin Didn't Even Mind And Then The Segull Flew Away

2009-07-07T12:57:00.006+01:00

ZOO!

Yeah baby. My friend Dougie took me and Rambly Jnr to Edinburgh Zoo yesterday. Do you know what Edinburgh Zoo does? It takes its penguins out for a walk! I usually hate it when people use too many exclamation marks, but IT TAKES ITS FREAKING PENGUINS OUT FOR A WALK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Luckily, Dougie caught them walking right past us on his fancy filmy thingy that I don't really understand but kind of want one:

Then I took this picture:

Then right after I took it, the penguin opened his mouth and chundered. But not like human chunder, more a casual allowance of the mashed up semi-digested fish guts to fall out of his mouth.
Then a seagull ate it.
Nature is pure minging*

I also took this picture of a polar bear, who, I was informed by the magical power of little info boards beside the cages, is a girl called Mercedes (it was taken through glass, hence the reflection-y stuff)

And Rambly Jnr told me I was pronouncing Capuchin wrong when we went to see the monkeys so I threatened to feed her to Mercedes.

Then Dougie bought Rambly Jnr an ice cream after I said no because he wanted one then he gave her sweets in the car and dropped us off and left me with a 9 year old on a sugar high who crashed and had to be ~~dragged to bed by the scruff of her neck~~ sent to sleep with a soothing lullaby.

The end.

* If you're not Scottish, you may substitute "pure minging" for "rather unsavoury", or "EWWWWWWW!"

Smoothies, Fairy Tales and Nipple Tassels

2009-07-03T12:04:00.011+01:00

Erin over at Blogging Is For Dorks tagged me in a meme that I didn't see for ages because I've been so behind with all this blog stuff.
You're supposed to write about 5 current obsessions and tag 5 people too, but since I'm not sure who's all been tagged already, just swipe the meme if you fancy trying it. It's way harder than it sounds, so I think you should all give me hugs for this post. Or cash. Just send cash.

1) Smoothies

I cannot get enough of 'em. I love summer for all the great fruit that's available. My current fave is mango, pear and raspberry and I make them with soy milk which makes me the kind of abomination who makes homemade smoothies and buys soy milk. Unsweetened soy milk, no less. But hey, at least I'm not an Applephile. Or Michael Bay.

2) Fairy Tales

They fascinate me, always have. Most of the really famous fairy tales have been sanitised over the years, but the originals were actually pretty dark: Sleeping Beauty wakes up with twins because she was raped in her sleep. The Ugly Sisters in Cinderella hack off their own toes to fit into the glass slipper. Great stuff!
And then there's the tales of my ancestors. Scotland has a hugely rich history of fairy tales - some gruesome, some moral, some just plain sweet.
I've just started working on revitalising some of the wonderful characters from Scottish fairy tales and hopefully helping to keep them alive in the process.

3) Cigarettes

Or, more specifically, lack of cigarettes. I quit smoking a couple of weeks ago and it sucks harder than George Michael in a public toilet. It also makes me very grumpy and snap at people who I actually quite like then feel bad about it until I get grumpy again.
Still, health, money and all that shit. I'll stick with the quitting till it doesn't feel so crap. Probably.

4) Burlesque

I've never seen a live Burlesque show, but I'd love to. There's still a massive double standard when it comes to sex about what's acceptable for men compared to what's acceptable for women and I think Burlesque is helping to bridge that gap.
These women do not look like Barbie doll FHM models. Nor are the selling a faux-sex appeal designed to target men in the least threatening way possible regardless of what the woman really wants.
No, these women have their own fantasies and you're just lucky enough to get to watch. If you don't like it, tough.
Burlesque recognises that women of all shapes and sizes love sex just as much as men and should be allowed to express that in all its beauty.
For that, ladies, I salute you and your sparkly nipple tassels!

5) Christian Louboutin Shoes

One of these days, my pretties, I will be able to afford you and you will be mine, MINE... ALL MIIIIINNNNNEEE!!!!!!!!! Mwuhahahahahahahahahahahaha!

P.S. You are beautiful. I love you.

The Only 7 Words You'll Ever Need

2009-06-29T15:18:00.004+01:00

(Sorry guys, but it's a repost. I've been very busy and it's either a repost or no blog updates at all. If Kevin Smith would guest post for me, it would all sort itself out of course, so any of you want to ~~harass the hell out of him~~ ask him nicely, be my guest. I'll be catching up with all the blogs I'm behind with over the next few days too, so sorry to everyone I haven't commented on in a while).

(the A is for Anna. The Latin is for posh people with too much time on their hands)

My friend Dougie has been losing his words. They used to all be in his head, but lately they wait till he's sleeping then make a break for it and he wakes up at least 10% less wordy than he was before he went to bed.
I lose words too; mostly when I try to write proper stuff that might get published if it ever got written. They crawl out of my ear, run down my arm and jump out the window, leaving me with only cliches and adverbs clogging up my brain. Little bastards.

But I'll get my own back on runaway words. We don't need you. We only need 7 words to get us through any situation:

1) No.

How much less trouble I would get myself into if I could only work this one into conversations more often. You don't need to say yes, the yes is implied by the fact that you are doing what was asked/suggested/not remotely implied of you.
No, on the other hand comes in useful from time to time. I'm working on it.

2) Fuck.

Ahh, good old fuck. Fun to say, even funner to do. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck me, fucknugget, shut the fuck up, oh fuck - not to mention all the variations: fucker, fucking, fucked... never has a word been more useful to the human race.
Try to get through a whole week without saying it. If you can, then me and you probably can't be friends because you're fucking weird.

3) Totally.

I totally hate this word, but I totally use it all the time. We all do. It used to be for teenage cheerleader types, but somehow it's become a part of adult vocabulary. We use it to agree with people, to add emphasis, to nod and say it on its own for no apparent reason. It's annoying, but it totally has its uses.

4) Rum.

There is nothing that cannot be solved by rum. It works in one of two ways:

1) Making you drunk enough to forget what you were worried about in the first place.

2) Making you drunk enough to do something much worse than the thing you were worrying about before you got drunk, thereby negating the need for worrying about it any more.

And no.2 can easily be solved by more rum.

"Can I get you anything?"
"Rum"

"How can I help you?"
"Rum"

"How do you think we can solve the problems in the Middle East?"
"Rum"

"Why did you paint my cat blue then run down the street naked singing I'm Too Sexy and assaulting random passersby?"
"Rum"

See? You can use it for any situation. Plus, it's what pirates drink.

5) Cunt.

Some people are shocked by this word (those people are mostly not Scottish because we probably use it more than we say "the" or "and"). Some people think it's a lewd and filthy word only said by vulgar hoodlums who should be in prison for the good of society.
But some people are wrong. Cunt is a wonderful word.
If you've ever wanted to describe Margaret Thatcher, shut up a room full of people because you don't care if you get bad attention or good attention as long as you get attention or have phone sex that's actually good, then cunt is the word for you.

A few years ago, I went to see a production of The Vagina Monologues (I hate the word vagina, it sounds like a disease) and the origins of the word cunt and the reasons it's not supposed to be degrading were explained to me.
I was drinking rum, so I forgot what the reasons were, but it did make me feel like I was doing something for woman's lib when I shouted it at the guy who parked in the disabled space at the theatre even though he wasn't disabled.
Enunciation is the key: slowly and lovingly run your tongue over every letter when using it, making sure to properly pronounce the "t" at the end and you'll see it's a cunting awesome word.

(now in adjective form)

6) Orwellian.

It's a great writer who spawns his very own word to describe something. Even if that something is scary governments, lack of privacy and the lies told to us by The Man.
This word is useful in almost all talks of politics because almost all politics uses propaganda. You just say "Orwellian" somewhere in the middle of the discussion, listen to someone cleverer than you making what has so many big words in it, it must be a good point, then nod and say "totally".
Using Orwellian negates the stupidity of using totally. It suggests you've not only read a book, you've read a good book and you understood what was going on in it well enough to use the word Orwellian.

It's also useful in relationships.

"But you said you'd take the bin out/keep Saturday night free/not fuck my best friend".

"No... what I said was I would try"

"Orwellian"

7) So.

So, here we are at number 7.

"So?"

"So..."

"Ah-so!" (proceeds to try to chop through coffee table with bare hands).

You can agree, dissent or express disdain with this word. It needs no further explanation.

So...

Let's use what we've learned and see how these 7 words will get you through any situation. Especially when dealing with people who think they can outwit you with excessive vocabulary:

You: Rum.

Them: I'm not giving you any more rum.

You: Fuck.

Them: You brought it on yourself.

You: Cunt.

Them: You know it'll only get you into trouble

You: Totally. So?

Them: Can't you maybe just not drink rum?

You: Fuck no.

Them: I'm cutting off your rum supply and sending your photo to every rum supplier in town telling them to do the same.

You: Orwellian.

So, I Watched Twilight For The First Time Last Night And I Just Have This One Thing To Say About It....

2009-06-25T21:57:00.003+01:00

It's Like When Your Mother Used To Clean Your Face With A Spit-On Hankie At The School Gates, Only More Cringe-Worthy

2009-06-22T11:59:00.006+01:00

For those of you who can't watch video clips right now, those guys are Young Conservatives who rap about being Young Conservatives. From Dartmouth. Wearing chinos and blazers.

DUBYA. TEE. EFF?!

And guess who's championing them? Oh, go on, guess. Why, it's Fox News of course! The station who despises hip hop the mostest.
Fox news has blamed hip hop for kids smoking pot, for gang violence and probably for the fact that Bill O'Reilly is a sexual deviant who loves to harass female co-workers then refuse to apologise (*cough-allegedly-cough*).
I bet it was listening to all that hip hop for research purposes that messed up his mind and made him desperately beg for phone sex from a woman who wasn't interested and also rather scared.
Yeah, must have been the hip hop.

But, wait, there are Young Conservatives rapping? Well, that must be just dandy then.
You can imagine the conversation over at Fox:

"They're white too!"

"Perfect! Everyone here at Fox knows that nothing bad was ever done by a white person".

"Even Eminem?"

"Not him, he spends too much time with [dramatic whisper] ethnics. He does hate the gays though so he can't be all bad".

"But haven't we spent a lot of time on numerous articles about the evils of hip hop?"

"Yes. Because it is evil. But these guys are rapping about being pro-life and disliking the current government".

"Didn't Common do that?"

"Who?"

"Common. Rapper. Wrote one of hip hop's all time classic songs".

"Is he white?"

"No".

"From old money?"

"No".

"Eff him then".

"So we should promote these rich young right-wing Dartmouth brats as the future of hip hop even though it's a genre born of struggles and injustice designed to be a voice for the underdog, by the underdog?"

"It worked for rock and roll didn't it?"

Coming soon to a Fox News broadcast near you - Tupac: The Country Years.

(big thanks and hugs to Dougie for the heads up on this video and the awesome photoshop)

Reject This, Fuckers!

2009-06-17T13:52:00.006+01:00

Dear Sir/Madam

My name is Anna Russell and I'm a writer and poet from Scotland. I see that you're looking for the same pretentious and unreadable crap that every other small press publishes because you're scared of taking a risk and being cast out of the We're Better Than You Because Nobody Understands What We're Talking About posse some fresh and original poetry that isn't afraid to take risks and I hoped you might consider my newest piece for publication in your magazine:

Rejection Slips, a poem by Anna Russell

After careful consideration,
As I'm sure you can understand,
Nah, I'm gonna pass.*
Thank you for submitting your work to us
We read everything carefully
But
Nah, I'm gonna pass.

After careful consideration,
As I'm sure you can understand,
We can only accept a small number of submissions.
We read with interest
But
Nah, I'm gonna pass.

Please subscribe
The link is here
I have provided it for you
You can also donate
But
Nah, I'm gonna pass.

Dear Ms. Rule,
Dear Ann,
Dear Mr Russell,
Dear You,
Nah, I'm gonna pass.

We hope you'll submit again in the future.
In the meantime, please subscribe or donate,
I have provided the link
We take Paypal.

Anna Russell.

Now, how exactly are you going to go about rejecting your own fucking words?

* "Nah, I'm gonna pass" was an actual rejection email I received a couple of weeks ago. One day, person who sent that, I will find you and it will be unpleasant. I'm talking Octorilla torture unpleasant.

(For those of you who don't know, my "proper writing" (fnaar or some such noise) can be found here)

It's Great Being Geeky (and a link to something FREE!)

2009-06-16T14:33:00.005+01:00

As my regular readers know, I am a bit of a geek (something I explained here) and I love it. Geekery can get a bit of a bad name at times, but there are many reasons why being a geek is awesome, so of course, in true Rambly style, I shall list some of them for you (it's why you love me so much):

1) Reading comics and watching Star Wars stops you growing up too much. Obviously, you have to grow up a little bit in life, but comic reading keeps said growing up to an acceptable level - you may not have a light saber fight complete with sound effects in the middle of a meeting, but you'll sure as hell have one after.

2) Fanboys is 10 times funnier to you than a non-geek because you get all the references.

3) The internet was made for you.

4) It was also made for you to complain about. Usually on a website.

5) You can wear this T-shirt:

6) You never have to be bored. Should boredom start to set in, go to any internet forum and say one or all of the following:

Marvel shits on DC.

DC shits on Marvel.

Apple users are twats.

I don't see the problem with Vista.

Jar Jar Binks is better than any Ewok.

Then wait for the entertainment to begin.

7) Alternatively, if you're a hip hop fan like me, then just go to any hip hop site and utter the words "Tupac is overrated" then grab a beer and some popcorn and watch what happens.

8) If your internet is down, you still never have to be bored. As long as you have a comic, a DVD, a book, or a pack of cards, you have hours of amusement waiting for you.

9) There's no place like 127.0.0.1

10) Every comic made into a movie will be a major event for you, even though you will never be happy with the outcome (even TDK totally wasted Two-Face to overly explain a point that was glaringly obvious from the start). Still, the excitement at any of these movies coming out makes the inevitable Hollywood-shits-on-everything-good letdown worth it.

11) You can argue using quantum physics, even if the argument is about who drank the last of the milk. Other people understand it even less than you do, so you're bound to win.

12) As a woman, you get better women to look up to. Especially Wonder Woman: being 5'3", I look up to her so far it hurts my neck.

Now, Sage Francis has released his first mixtape in 4 years, entitled Sick of Wasting and he's GIVING IT AWAY!
Click here for the free download (there isn't a catch - just some free music).

It's Motivational Monday!

2009-06-15T14:52:00.002+01:00

I'm Back - With An Interview With Sage Francis and Sleep

2009-06-12T10:44:00.019+01:00

Sage Francis: poet, rapper, king of the underground (I have officially bestowed that title on him now, so you have to call him Your Majesty) and head of Strange Famous Records has been lucky enough to see the very talented Sleep release his new album, Hesitation Wounds on his label. Sage and Sleep were kind enough to give me an interview for this here blog. If you know hip hop, you're in for a treat. If you're only familiar with what's played on MTV, then read on, because you're in for a treat too:

Sage, Sleep’s style seems to fit in perfectly with the Strange Famous roster. When you first heard him, did you know straight away he was someone you wanted on your label?

Sage: Well, I met Sleep in 2001 while recording my Personal Journals album. He came through the anticon hippie compound with his motley Oldominion crew. They were in the middle of a tour and they needed a place to stay for a couple nights. Oldominion is a collection of crazy personalities and since Sleep is so shy and soft spoken I don't think I noticed him at first. Then at some point the topic of magic and card tricks came up we bonded on some elite geek level. When I eventually saw them all perform, Sleep stuck out the most to me. It wasn't just his lyrical content, but it was his passion and execution. It was surprising to see him take such command of the stage considering how mild mannered he was in normal social situations. Through the years I always checked out for Sleep's stuff and it continued to impress me. So even though I didn't have a label when I first met Sleep, I certainly reached out to him once I saw the opportunity to put him on Strange Famous. That was about 3 or 4 years ago.

Sleep, creative work can be cathartic. When you’ve gotten things off your chest on an album, is there even more of a buzz in the feedback you get from fans – knowing they understand and agree with what you’ve put out there?

Sleep: Yes, I would say so. I honestly believe we are all connected in our struggles, and when you take and frame your deepest feelings in a song it is cathartic. But it's bigger than that because that song eventually becomes a piece of someone else's puzzle and comforts them in a similar situation. I think it's comforting to know we all go through ups and downs.

So many hip hop fans (and music fans in general) are fed up with the state of the mainstream right now. What is the main thing you guys feel needs to happen to get the masses listening to quality music again?

Sleep: I think it's to keep making quality music regardless who is listening and time will do the rest. A lot of artists cater to what is selling even if they can make much better music. I've been told on numerous occasions that if I wanted to become more successful I would need to dumb it down. It's that mentality that is hurting the art form. I don't think people are dumb and if they are presented with the option to listen to better music they would, but a lot of people don't have the time or desire to research what is out there.

Sage: Obviously, there's not a huge amount of people "fed up" with the state of mainstream music right now because if that was the case the music would be forced to change. Mainstream musicians are enabled and guided by big money. That big money comes from big sales that gets fed into big companies. Those big companies rely on predictable consumers so that they can keep pumping out recyclable product. Pop music if for pop culture. I'm not really mad at that. It's definitely frustrating as an artist to push the limits of a craft while understanding that it will probably limit your outreach, but some of the fun is maneuvering around those obstacles while maintaining integrity.

I have an Octorilla army at my disposal. It’s a highly trained Octopus/Gorilla hybrid army versed in the ways of the ninja assassin and programmed to do my bidding. You can each pick 3 people you want me to set them on, who do you pick?

Sleep: Lou Dobbs, Nancy Grace, and Glen Beck

Sage: haha. Fucking Glen Beck. Ummm. Obviously Sean Hannity needs to go. I'd like for Asher Roth to disappear as quickly as he appeared. And I'll throw a bone to my man B. Dolan and have Justin Timberlake face the fate he deserves.

Sleep, you’re a successful emcee with a loyal fan base, but when you get the opportunity to do a collaboration with someone like Del Tha Funkee Homosapien like you have on Hesitation Wounds, do you feel like that kid who just loved hip hop again and get starstruck?

Sleep: I was very excited to do the collaboration. Del is one of my favorite emcees on the planet. It's hard to get star struck with Del because he is so down to earth. We get along well and it was a blessing to this track together. We have talked about possible future works together but it's still in the infant stages.

At what point did you know Hesitation Wounds was done? Was it hard to let go of it when you finally realised it was completed?

Sleep: It was definitely hard to let it go. It always is, but I think that's because there is always that one thing you still want to add but you're never quite sure what it was. It got trimmed down a bit from the way I originally made it, but Sage felt it would be a stronger album if it was a bit shorter and I trust his opinion very much.

Sage: If I remember correctly, I believe there were two extra tracks that we decided to add on the re-release of Christopher. And there was one track that jokingly used autotune but even as a joke that shit drives me insane. Sleep was really understanding after I stated my case. I'm sure I didn't state it very eloquently, so I'm glad he trusts my opinion.

Sleep, Christopher was a hell of an album. It’s dark, but somehow not at all depressing. Do you feel the vibe of Hesitation Wounds is different and what can we all expect in terms of lyricism on this one?

Sleep: I always write from my heart so I think Hesitation Wounds has a lot of the same qualities that made Christopher likable. I think this is my most lyrical album to date. I'm proud of it and nervous all at the same time. It was the same when I dropped Christopher. This album was written during a real growing stage in my life and is a bit grittier than Christopher was, but I made sure to have fun too, and make it a balanced album. I tried to style every song differently while having a uniformed sound at the same time which I feel I achieved. I guess we'll see how it gets received!!

Finally, I want a dirty joke from each of you. The loser doesn’t get a shot of my Octorilla army

Sleep: What has a tiny penis and hangs down? a bat

Now what has a huge penis and hangs up?...(dial tone)
I think that joke is made for the phone.

Sage: So this aristocrat walks into a talent agent's office..The agent.......fuck. I suck at this. I always rush to the punchline because I feel like people won't stick around for the punchline. Send your Octorilla army to www.StrangeFamous.com

Sleep's new album, Hesitation Wounds is released on Strange Famous Records on the 30th of June. Click the link for more info on how to get your hands on it. Trust me, it's worth it (and I'm pretty much from the Bill Hicks school of thought when it comes to advertising, so I wouldn't be promoting this if I didn't think it was anything short of superb).

Click play to hear his track with the legendary Del Tha Funkee Homosapien - Lothar. And the album intro is below that too - don't say I'm not good to you.

Sleep ft Del Tha Funkee Homosapien - Lothar.

I'll Send You All Methadone For The Cravings

2009-06-10T12:19:00.003+01:00

I know you're all missing me terribly and worried sick about me and me wonderful blog. Well, my laptop works sometimes and mostly it doesn't.
Right now, it's working (save for the lovely lines down the screen), so of course, I have to let blogland know that my Octorilla army hasn't revolted and devoured me (or even devoured me then been revolted).

Sorry I've not been able to comment on everyone's blogs. Dougie has kindly lent me his old laptop, but right now, it won't go online because of reasons I don't understand but he does so he's going to fix it because apparently shouting at it doesn't make any difference.

Did you know there's actually a world out there with birds and people and junk? You can have real-time conversations that don't happen on MSN and when people don't listen to you, they don't come with a 404 error.
I shall learn more of this strange and wonderful world and return to you with news of it as soon as I'm properly back online again.

In the meantime, Kevin Smith should sort it out and cover for me while I'm gone. He's all "Oh, I'm shooting a Bruce Willis movie" and I'm all "yeah, whoopee for you, hurry up and write me a guest post" and he's all "who the hell are you?" and I'm all "damnit, Smith, just do it!" and he's all "nah" and I'm all with the crying because my laptop's broken and he won't guest post. Pah.

Maybe I Should Just Send My Details To That Nice Nigerian Lady Who Emailed Me

2009-06-04T15:54:00.003+01:00

My laptop has decided to display two lovely red and yellow vertical lines down the middle of the screen. Sometimes the entire right hand side of the screen goes blue.
Of course, the warranty's up. I've read all the advice related to this problem and, cutting out the technical jargon, what it tells me is "You're fucked".

I can't afford to buy a new one. I can barely afford to keep my Octorilla army fed and armed. Since I'm a struggling writer who is trying very hard to lose the struggling part, I need a computer. But, it's just counting down the days till this one gives up the ghost.

Some new money making schemes I have considered are:

1) Dominatrix.

It's like prostitution, only you don't have to have sex with ugly men. I saw a documentary about this chick who did it and she charged £60 for half an hour with her. All she did was dress up in a corset and heels then shout at the guys who came in and made them clean her toilet. Easy money!
But, social services might not be too happy with me.

2) Advertising on my blog.

But apparently, that doesn't make you much cash. Plus, I can't blog if m laptop breaks, so I'd need to make enough to buy a new one in the couple of weeks (if I'm lucky) this one's got left in it.

3) Starting my own email scam.

Dear reader to this most esteemed blog,

It has to my attention come that as a result of your most glorious way I should be to contact you in regards to matter most urgent.
Father great king and has to died this past days. Has sum £200 million to give to in will make for sole of me. Must to get moneys need to have contact with most esteemed you.
Details to bank and deed to house please to send with urgent. Pleased to enclose blood of firstborn.
Thank you muchly.

Downside - arrest.

Anyone got any more ideas?

Are You There God? It's Me, Anna (don't look at me like that, it was an accident)

2009-06-03T15:50:00.005+01:00

There's a church near where I live. It's a nice church, the kind with big signs outside saying "JESUS SAVES" which is totally zeitgeisty given our current economic woes and the fact that everyone is looking for savings wherever they can. Only, it turns out the church isn't offering a discount on tithes which means "JESUS SAVES" is totally false advertising and it should come with an asterisk beside it then "but not your money" in tiny letters at the bottom and I think the church should just quit it with the sneaky but I don't care because I've got a pogo stick.

Anynoodle, I was walking past the church yesterday and because it was a gorgeous day, I had a skirt on. Gorgeous enough weather to wear a skirt in Scotland is a momentous occasion indeed and our milk bottle legs must be given air (and don't you start about kilts because they're not skirts and we have James Bond who could kick your ass then shag your woman all whilst drinking a martini and he wears kilts, so there).

I was thankful for the breeze. My Celtic blood can only handle so much hot weather before it starts to cry, so the breeze was lovely and soothing. The minister standing at the church gate thought so too.
I know this because when I smiled and said "Lovely day" to him, the way you do when you get 3.6 hours of sunshine a year, he nodded and agreed.
Then he stumbled a little and looked horrified.

Yes, the wind had blown my skirt up around my waist.

Those are the times you think you don't want to be wearing your Bridget Jones knickers, but I would have killed for them instead of the red thong I did have on. Thongs do not offer much in the way of coverage, that's why I wear them - no 4 cheeked arse pantie lines.
But effectively, what they, along with the breeze, made me do was flash my badonkadonk to a minister. And then stand there smiling. And then notice. And then stand there smiling some more because it was that or swear and I figured flashing my badonkadonk to a minister outside a church was already bad enough without screaming "Oh fuck!" in his face.

Then I got a pogo stick. Only, it's technically for my daughter because it's her birthday on Friday. But it's so freaking cool that I might just keep it. It's all high-tech and everything. It's got buttons!
And the bottom looks like a Lo Lo Ball. Remember them?

Well, this thing is a Lo Lo Ball on a stick. With buttons! Jealous? You so should be.

7 Movies That Would Have Been Better If The Lead Role Changed Gender

2009-06-02T14:42:00.005+01:00

1) Pretty Woman.

With Jake Gyllenhaal instead of Julia Roberts, this could be the Brokeback of chick-flicks. Can you imagine the shopping scene? Or when Richard Gere turns to him and, looking down, then slowly up as Richard Gere does to prove he's acting, says "I wish I knew how to quit paying for you".

2) Die Hard.

Forget John Mclane, here's Joanne Mclane. Good luck Alan Rickman, she's starting her period in two days and not in the mood for your shit. She'll fuck you up for the mess you're making alone. And if you think you're taking her man hostage, you clearly know nothing about how horny pre-menstrual women are and the lengths they'll go to for it. You are one screwed baddie-with-an-English-accent-because-it-was-that-or-Russian.

3) Pulp Fiction.

More a switching of roles here - John Travolta and Uma Thurman should have played each other's parts (*giggles*). If they had, then it would have been Travolta who OD'd and there's no way Thurman could have lifted him to get a big needle in his heart, thereby saving his life.
Sure, you'd lose Travolta's toilet death thingy, but oh, man would Ving Rhames have been pissed. And do you know what the biggest problem is with every movie ever made? Ving Rhames not getting enough screen time.
Plus, how much more satisfying would him getting Gimped have been if you'd seen him throwing Uma Thurman out of a window first?

4) Gladiator

With Reese Witherspoon. Ok, given this movie was set in ancient Rome, it might have been called Look! There's A Destitute Widow, Let's Sell Her Into Prostitution And Treat Her Like Shit. But Gladiator is more catchy.
Reese would never lose her cheerful demeanour. With the help of her plucky little chihuahua, she'd face adversity with a smile - including the 15 minute sex scene she'd have with Oliver Reed.
Joaquin Phoenix would become her love interest, and she'd teach him how to find warmth in his cold, cold heart by doing a snappy dance routine. Win all round.

5) Schindler's List.

With Mel Gibson's new girlfriend. You know what... I'm not even going to go there.

6) Finding Nemo.

If Nemo was a girl fish instead of a boy fish, how much more protective do you think Marlin would be? Especially since in the time it took him to find her, puberty would have started to set in and Marlin would have found Nemo getting to second base with a catfish and killed him. Or possibly experimenting with her sexuality with Dory, who'd forget about it anyway.

7) Bridget Jones' Diary.

With Steven Segal. And a sex scene between Steven Segal and Hugh Grant. And a sex scene between Steven Segal and Colin Firth.
Oh, come on, you know that would be awesome.

(Big thanks and hugs to Dougie for the idea and the photoshop)

Oi, Kevin Smith, Sort It Out!

2009-06-01T15:38:00.004+01:00

You know who has their own label on this blog, right alongside Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman? Kevin Smith (ok, Dan Brown and Michael Bay have a label too, but only because I wish death/anal assault by a highly trained Octorilla army upon them so it doesn't count).

You know who needed guest blogs the whole time they were on holiday? Me.

You know who I made Jesus? Kevin Smith.

You know who never offered to do a guest blog? Kevin Smith.

The other day, he tweeted a link to a blog post about him. Don't get me wrong, it was a great blog post, but it didn't have the MacRambly Seal Of Comedic Genius that permeates this blog like a summer breeze and makes it smell like Salma Hayek's underwear drawer.

Mr Smith, I demand a guest blog. Or at least some free comics. Don't make me get my Kathy Bates on.

(as a side note, who would you most like to guest post for your blog if you could choose anyone?)

Blogging? I Don't Have Time For That Shit

2009-05-29T14:15:00.003+01:00

Birthday party tonight (it sucks when your birthday is on a weekday but it's good because I get two lots of presents and attention).
I have to go and get my hair cut because if a professional doesn't straighten it, it's not going to be bashed into submission for me and these things matter, you know. Then I have to shave, wax, pluck and find something to wear which sucks because the only outfits I have are ones all my friends have seen me in already but who cares because after a few drinks I'll think I'm a supermodel anyway.

Anywho, here's a Def Poem for anyone who's ever been cheated on and also anyone who hasn't because this chick rocks.

Hobjobbing!

2009-05-28T16:00:00.008+01:00

So, yesterday, I made the mistake of letting my readers decide what today's post would be about by randomly picking 5 words from the dictionary and letting them vote for which one I'd write about.

Did they go for sailboat? Did they hell. No, my lovely readers chose "hobjob". Classy guys, real classy.

According to my dictionary, hobjob means odd job. According to Urban Dictionary, it means a blow job and a hand job at the same time. Or - now get this - "one who can float in very small sinks". Um... ok.

My first thought on seeing it was that it had something to do with offering sexual favours to a homeless guy (something Dr Zibbs thought too). But since I have never offered sexual favours to a homeless guy, except for that one time, I can't really write about that.

Google images it is then:

I got this

Then this

Then this

And suddenly, it all became clear.

What happened was, a woman really needed a Red Bull Fridge installed in her kitchen, but her husband was non-existent on account of her not being married and she wasn't very good with electrics.
On her way to the library to pick up some books about Installing Red Bull Fridges For Dummies, she spied a tramp breaking into someone's car and disabling the car alarm.

"Ah-ha!" thought the woman, "this guy knows how to work with wires and the like, I shall ask him to install my fridge in exchange for a warm meal because him being homeless clearly negates the need for me to pay him fairly and he'd probably spend the money on drugs thereby using up all the drugs that I might want to take this weekend and that's just selfish".

She asked the tramp and the tramp agreed because he had nothing else to do so why not.

So the tramp installed the fridge, but he thought the woman was ripping him off because he'd worked very hard and she had Dan Brown books on her bookshelf so clearly she was an inbred fool anyway, so he put a bottle in the fridge that was not Red Bull, but rather, his own urine.

Little did he know that a wandering puffin stopped by, and feeling thirsty, drank the tramp's urine.

Now, as everyone knows, the urine of tramps is a potent hallucinogen to puffins.

The puffin staggered out to the garden and who should he meet but the neighbourhood hedgehog?

But the puffin, tripping his nuts off, thought the hedgehog was Jessica Rabbit in a puffin suit and swiftly proceeded to go down on it, much to the hedehog's chagrin.

The woman came home, stepped into her garden and saw the neighbourhood hedgehog being orally abused by the tripping puffin and cried

"Oh, if only I hadn't gone near that hobo, this hedgehog would not be getting this unwanted blowjob!"

Over the years, this phrase because more and more abridged until it was just one word:

Hobjob.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the etymology of the word hobjob.

It's All In Your Hands Now, Blog Readers

2009-05-27T16:01:00.003+01:00

In between training my Octorilla army and kicking Wonder Woman's ass, I've found myself without the time to come up with yet another seminal, witty, and quite possibly life-changing blog post.

So, here's what I'm going to do:

I have a dictionary in my hand and I will open it and randomly point to a word. I'll do this 5 times, then list the words for you. You pick the one you want me to do a blog post about. Most votes wins.

1) Sailboat (I'm assuming you all know what that means. If you don't... insert your own retard joke here).

2) Dirk (a Scottish dagger. My dictionary must have magically sensed my Scottish blood. Maybe it was a paper cut).

3) Monticolous (mountain dwelling. From Mons - mountain and Collere - to inhabit. Look at me educating you. You're welcome).

4) Punch (this is what we do to Dan Brown if we ever meet him).

5) Hobjob (*giggles*. Apparently, it means odd job. Yeah, right).

So, there are your 5 choices. Which one wins? YOU decide!

A Very Special Birthday Post

2009-05-26T13:27:00.007+01:00

No, it's not for me (even though it is my 30th today - where's my cash?). This is a belated birthday post for my friend Dougie, who hid from me the fact it was his birthday earlier this month so I let it pass without so much as a text.
He's coming round to see me today to wish me Happy Birthday, and I feel all guilty because I didn't get to do the same for him so I wondered what the best belated birthday gift I could give him when I have no money.

Lightbulb over the head moment!

Dougie's a film buff and I make up weird films that should totally be made on here all the time - so, with a combination of all the films Dougie loves and/or would like to see made (including ideas I totally stole from films Dougie swears were really going to get made), here is your belated birthday movie Douglas (which has no poster because Dougie usually does the photoshop for me on those things and I couldn't exactly ask him to do it for this one).

Zombie Dinosaurs of the Third Reich (claymation version).

Tagline: Ve hav vays of eating your brains.

Plot: Hitler has been cryogenically frozen and shot into space, only to return to earth in a remote Scottish castle. It's here he finds the last remnants of Jurassic Park - except these dinosaurs are zombies, and they're armed.
Training the zombie dinosaurs to serve as his army, Hitler sets out to take over the world, only to find that one very hungover Simon Pegg is determined to stop him.

(script excerpt)

Hitler(riding on the back of a velocoraptor): I vill destroy you all!

Simon Pegg: Not if I have anything to do with it, you won't. To the pub for a showdown!

Hitler: And who might you be?

Simon Pegg: Josh Goldstei... I mean Gold. Josh Gold.

Hitler: And wat is zees strange, sad looking machine you hav?

Simon Pegg: This is Door-F. He is here to tidy up this planet from human pollution and his lonely yet hopeful attitude is a symbol of why we should all fight.

Velocoraptor: RAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHHHH!

(Simon Pegg smacks the velocoraptor on the head with a shovel. Hitler falls off).

Hitler: Scheizen!

(Suddenly, the strains of She Caught The Katie are heard in the background, as an old cop car comes into sight).

Hilter: And who the hell is this?

Jake Blues: We're on a mission from God.

Elwood Blues: It's 106 miles to the pub, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses.

Jake Blues: Hit it!

(a stray T-Rex channels the spirit of Ray Charles and breaks into Shake a Tail Feather. Hitler has the shakiest tail feather of them all).

(end of excerpt).

No, No, You'll Be MY Bitch

2009-05-25T15:14:00.005+01:00

So, I've just realised that if Michael Bay ever gets murdered or Dan Brown gets tied down and forced to endure sexual assault of the anal variety from a group of highly trained octopus/gorilla hybrids that I will be the prime suspect.

Apart from the fact that this is totally unfair because my octopus (octopii?)/gorilla hybrid army is still flinging shit then escaping through unfeasibly small places when I try to discipline them for it, it also means there's a good chance I'll have to spend some time in jail.

Jail time? Lets get listy:

1) I will petition to be sent to a male prison full of prisoners who look like Ryan O'Reilly from Oz.

2) If I drop the soap and you try anything when I pick it up, I will kick you in your winky. I have a perfectly good front bottom, you know.

3) I'll drag the case through the courts for long enough before sentencing that my lawyers can find out all the blackmail info on the prison guards I need.

4) Since I won't have other nice distractions, like chocolate and unlimited internet access, I will work out like a mofo and end up with a body that gets me a Victoria's Secret contract upon my release.

5) I will use my blackmail material against the guards to get a job working in the kitchens. That way I can poison anyone I don't like. Or at least spit in their mashed potatoes.

6) As the only woman in an all-male prison, I'm going to need condoms. May as well fill them with drugs too. Double the pleasure.

7) Oh, and I'll be needing Wentworth Miller. With or without an escape plan, I don't mind.

Of course, I'll still blog when I can and let you all know about my amazing prison adventures. And one of you will need to feed the Octorillas while I'm gone. Or maybe Goripii, I haven't decided yet.

Also, I'm 30 tomorrow. Send cash.

Superman Does Facebook's 25 Things About Me Meme

2009-05-24T15:35:00.005+01:00

1) Lois snores. I laser-eyed her in the ass the other night for it then pretended I was sleep supering when she woke up screaming.

2) You can get away with just about anything when people think you're a nice guy.

3) Wonder Woman thinks her red boots are nicer than mine. She clearly has no taste. Lesbian.

4) Have you SEEN the rack on Power Girl?!?!

5) Stop. Moral crisis time.

6) My favourite song is Closer by Nine Inch Nails.

7) Lex Luthor is such a cunt.

8) I cannot get enough Big Macs.

9) Lois gets mad about this because if she eats them, she gets fat. Stupid human metabolism.

10) If you think sex with your cousin is wrong, you've obviously never seen mine.

11) My favourite movie is The Wizard of Oz. The wicked witch is clearly wicked on account of her being green.

12) I hate green things. Even the grass scares me.

13) Wait, another moral crisis.

14) Yes, you can see the Great Wall of China from space. But only I can see through it.

15) Birdsong in the morning is worse than a foghorn when you've got super hearing.

16) Tip: If you're from Krypton and living on Earth, don't breathe out when you go down on a chick. It takes a long time to find all the body parts.

17) I saved the world last week, but the headlines were all about Susan Boyle.

18) I call Aquaman gay behind his back. I'm from freaking Kansas - what's he going to do to me in a landlocked state?

19) I don't know my 8 times table.

20) I only actually have one Superman suit. I wouldn't get too close if I was you.

21) Oh crap, another moral crisis.

22) When you're me, ladies changing rooms pose no obstacle.

23) I swear, the next person who asks me what happens when I jack off is getting hurled into space.

24) I'm not sure what goes on in Batman and Robin's training sessions, but it seems to involve Robin rocking back and forth in the corner for a long time afterwards.

25) Shit, Lois is home, gotta go - she gets pissy if I spend too long online.

Batman Does Facebook's 25 Things About Me Meme.

2009-05-22T13:55:00.004+01:00

1) I have already discovered the IP address of the person who tagged me and have their house under surveillance as I write this.

2) I can only roundhouse kick with my left leg - for some reason I fall over when I try it with my right. But don't tell Mr. Freeze.

3) I used to think Alfred was just saying goodnight. Now I understand what "bad touch" means.

4) Hopefully Robin won't find out the same or the party's over.

5) Stop. Brooding time.

6) I do not believe in innocent bystanders. If you're there, you're fair game.

7) Rubber nipples are awesome!

8) OMG! Catwoman just sent me the funniest text. I LOLed. :-D

9) I feel guilty for LOLing now. My parents are dead you know. It's not funny.

10) Brooding time again.

11) My favourite cereal is Crunchy Nut Cornflakes. Sometimes I eat a bowl at night while I'm watching Lost.

12) Speaking of Lost, I have figured out the ending. Well, I figured it out after the first episode.

13) I may or may not have done this by waterboarding J.J Abrams.

14) My favourite song is YMCA. It's really hard to do the dance in your Batsuit, but totally worth the practice to get it right. The wings make the Y look fabulous.

15) I once peeked at Lex Luthor's winky in the bathroom. No wonder he's so mad all the time.

16) I also peeked at Superman's. Bastard.

17) I grabbed Wonder Woman's ass once. I miss my left testicle.

18) I have billions of dollars and the world's finest minds at my disposal but I still can't make Vista come up with a solution to the problem when it tells me it's looking for one.

19) EEEEEEK - a mouse! All rodents that aren't winged freak me out.

20) Chair standing time till Alfred gets rid of the mouse.

21) Now more brooding.

22) I went to the Neverland Ranch when I was a kid.

23) No, I don't want to talk about it.

24) I wonder if Ra's Al Ghul would let me use the Lazarus Pits for my laughter lines?

25) Gotta go, A-Team rerun. I pity the fool. I PITY the fool. I pity the FOOL. Damnit, I can't get that impression right.

Honey, I'm Home!

2009-05-21T15:30:00.003+01:00

I have returned to the land of teh internets after a week in the Portuguese sun. It is, of course, raining here and I'm half asleep so it might take me a couple of days to catch up with everyone's blogs - I promise I'll get to you all soon though.

I know you've all missed me terribly, but there were Portuguese waiters who were just begging to be corrupted and I couldn't very well let them down now, could I?

I'm too tired and grumpy after a day of airports and all the stuffy queueing involved with them to write a proper post with pictures and everything, so I'll just leave you all with a few wee tips for holidays:

1) When the receptionist at the hotel you've just arrived at tells you that your room isn't ready and won't be for another hour, then just shrugs and doesn't even offer you anything to eat or drink while you wait even though you've explained to her you've been up all night, go apeshit. And I'm not talking British apeshit here - I'm talking full scale attack. She will miraculously find a room that was even better than your original one. This must be done loudly with no concern for social norms or the police.

2) If the only Portuguese word you know is the one that means "you fucking bastard", don't randomly shout it at people thinking you can use it as a substitute for "thank you", "hello", or "where is the nearest supermarket?".

3) Don't stop applying suncream when you get to your ankles. You will end up with the tops of your feet a rather fetching shade of lobster, complete with two little white"V" shapes where your flip flops were.

4) Don't go on a carousel wearing a very short skirt. Remember, there is a difference between good attention and bad attention.

World Domination!

2009-05-20T14:00:00.001+01:00

My last day of holiday today, so you're stuck with my posts again as of tomorrow, but today's guest post comes from That Baldy Fella. Check out his blog, it's really rather good.

Hmmm, guest blog... I have a confession to make, readers, this isn't the first guest blog I've written this week. I've also written one for TishTash over at My Telephone Booth (appearing on Monday, 18th May, plug plug). Maybe this is the way to finally start that long-held yet sadly unrealised dream of world domination...

Oh, I think I've found my theme! So, if you are considering an attempt at worldwide domination, what are the key things you'll need? Well, I'm glad you asked 'cause I'm going to tell you (it'd be a pretty short blog otherwise, wouldn't it?)

1. Minions

If you're going to be in charge of an evil super-empire, you're going to need to get yourself some minions. Preferably stupid and numerous (and kitted out in some of matching jumpsuits). These are pretty easy to come by nowadays. Simply set yourself up a Facebook page and hey presto! An instant collection of mindless followers to be moulded to your every evil whim (another important tip - if you're going have whims, do make sure they're evil).

2. Secret Lair

The following are all good locations for a secret lair:-

- Hollowed out volcano

- Orbiting death platform

- Secret basement levels of your corporate skyscraper

The following are all bad locations:-

- The local primary school

- Your mum's spare room

- Bognor Regis (Well, have you ever been there? Exactly)

3. Menacing Laugh

No self-respecting villainous mastermind goes anywhere without a carefully polished evil laugh. Either "Mwuhahahahhahhahaha!" or "Bwuhahhahahahhahaha!" are acceptable. It's also advisable to preface the laugh with statements along the lines of "Nothing can stop me now!” or alternatively "At last, the world shall tremble as I wreak my terrible vengeance!" It's your call, really.

4. Shave That Head

Let's face it, all the greatest villains are bald - Lex Luthor, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Michael Stipe - so if you've got a full head of hair, well, I'm sorry to say that unless you're willing to shave, I don’t think you've got what it takes in the world domination stakes.

So there you have it. A few handy hints that may well just set you on your way to crushing the world in an iron grip of fear...unless I get there first. Heh heh. Ahaha haha. Mwuhahahahahahahhaha!

Of course, if all that fails, just keep writing guest blogs for people when they go on holiday....

Flight Delayed

2009-05-19T14:00:00.001+01:00

Another guesat post today, since I'm still on my holidays. This one comes from Bryan, who has very kindly let me post one of his short stories here.
Make sure you check out his other work by clicking on the link.

Flight Delayed by Bryan Young

My boarding pass said to arrive three hours early, you know, to check my bags and get through security. And so, three hours early I arrived to an empty airport and no lines for baggage checking or security. Apparently, I was on the last flight out that night. I’m not from Philadelphia and was trying to get home, so my only option was to wait it out.

The Philadelphia airport is shaped like a massive “H”, with the hundred-yard crossbeam serving as a giant stretch of mall. If nothing else, I’d have plenty to do while I waited to board. The newsstand was my first stop. Perhaps, I thought, I can find something to read, you know, get my mind off of things. I’d already read the news of the day, so I walked by the newspapers. The magazines were mostly cologne and fashion ads, so I didn’t linger long in front of them, either. A bookshelf spanned the back wall. Popular fiction trash lined the shelves from one side to the other, top to bottom. Dozens of copies of Dan Brown, John Sandford, Clive Cussler and a dozen more like them. Nothing I could really sink my mind’s teeth into.

Foiled, I left the shop and checked my watch. Five minutes.

Damn.

It had felt like twenty.

This was going to be a long night.

On the way out of the newsstand, I checked the flight board, praying that, beyond hope, my flight departure had been moved up an hour. It was a blow, to be sure, to see the word “delayed” flashing next to my number.

Jesus. This was going to be a really long night.

A bar. An airport bar. That’s what I needed.

Three-fourths of the way down the airport strip mall was a quiet little bar, tucked between a duty-free gift shop and a Dunkin’ Donuts. It was as empty as a desert landscape, the bartender, replete with green apron, stood in as the lone cactus.

I dropped my bag on a chair, draped my overcoat on top of it, loosened my tie and sat down.

He seemed annoyed that a customer like me showed up in the middle of the sports game he was watching on the TV in the lounge facing my back. He paused and asked, “What can I get you?” without looking away from the game.

“A glass of red wine. Whatever you’ve got open back there.”

He nodded and poured a glass of cheap red wine for me.

As he slid the glass in front of me, I slid my credit card back at him. “Go ahead and leave it open. Apparently, I’m going to be here for a while,” I told him.

“Mm-hmm,” he responded, still more interested in his game.

“Can I get a glass of that, too?” asked a voice that belonged to a fellow traveler who had sneaked up behind me and sat down to my left with a chair between us.

Even with just a glance, she jolted me. She had short dark hair with upturned pigtails, a white button-up blouse that looked two sizes too small and a short black skirt that met the tops of her white thigh-high stockings. Her face was framed with thick black glasses that somehow made her pale white skin glow.

The bartender obliged her with a grunt as she fished six dollars in cash from the recesses of her purse.

Without a word spoken between us, we polished off the rest of bottle, which took the better part of an hour.

The wine went straight to my head and I had to fight to keep myself from talking to her. I kept telling myself that we’re in an airport and she’s probably nowhere near as lonely as I was and who knows if she was married or dating… With that get-up and pretty face I couldn’t imagine her not being involved with someone. So, every time I thought about talking to her, I took another sip of wine and burned through another whole glass in short order.

Soon, the sorrow in my heart and the alcohol in my blood short-circuited my reasoning and I was coming up with reasons to talk to her, things to say.

And then, beyond all coherence or reason and against what should have been my better judgment, I turned to her and asked quite politely, “Excuse me, miss? I was hoping that you might be able to help me out with something. A favor?”

She turned and looked at me and said in a voice as smooth as her legs, “What is that?”

“Well…” I sipped my wine, summoning more courage, “I’ll understand if you say no, this is certainly an awkward request…”

“Now I’m interested,” she said as she grinned crookedly, biting a piece of her lower lip.

“I’d just like to say… Just once, that I kissed a pretty girl in Philadelphia.”

I’m a fool.

She said nothing for a moment. How could I have known that she was actually considering my proposition? In those few moments, between my question and her response, I felt more stupid and embarrassed than I ever had in my entire life. But it all turned to confusion when she stood up and took two slow steps toward me and then whispered two simple letters into my ear. “Ok.”

Turning my head with her soft, cool hand, we locked eyes, and then lips for a kiss so passionate you couldn’t approach its heights with a stranger with any less alcohol in you than I had in me.

Too soon, she pulled away. And all that was left of her on me was the taste of wine and raspberry lip-gloss and a melon-scented lotion that had been worked into the pores of her hands and arms. Completely against my will, I rolled my eyes and closed them, savoring the moment.

When I opened them again, she had collected her bag, settled the bill and, with a sly wink, walked out of the bar.

“Can I close out?” I asked the bartender.

As he ran my card and collected my signature, I collected my things. I left the bar and veered in her general direction. I watched her walk away, swaying in her skirt and tights and I prayed, beyond hope, that my flight would be delayed all night.

A Letter To The Dictionary People

2009-05-18T14:00:00.000+01:00

Since I'm still on holiday and sending my posts into the future, Dougie kindly let me have a genius letter of his to post today. Which means I have to ~~give him all the credit in case he sues~~ thank him kindly for saving me having to think up yet another future post.

Dear Oxford Dictionary People

I write to you with a request. As you may have noticed, swearing and offensive
words have become a large part of our culutre. It shows us how angry Rober Di
Nero is, or it can give a west coaset rapper something to rhyme 'suck' with.. It
has come to my attention that there are no offensive words consisting of 1 or 2
letters, and I would like to change this.

'A' and 'I' have alerady been taking, and there are letters that already sound
like words, 'B' and 'U' for example, and it can't be something like 'L' or 'S'
as it isn't emotive enough. So I propose 'D'. as in... "Shut Up Ya D!", "Fancy A
D After Dinner", and "I Don't Have Your D-in' Money!"

As for a two letter curse, I suggest "ug". I'ts already used as a groan as a
result of exhaustive pain, so it's a small transition period. It would also
explain why popeye made that sorta "ug-ug-ug-ug-ug" laughing noise when Bluto
ran off with Olive Oyl.

yours

Dougie

Why We Write

2009-05-15T14:00:00.000+01:00

Future Sent Blog Post 1

2009-05-14T14:00:00.001+01:00

Ooooooh, spooky! Blogger's publish it in the future like you're Marty McFly only without your mum trying to touch you in your pants because she doesn't know she's your mum because technically she isn't yet but you know and you're disgusted but she's kinda hot and way hotter than she was before you came out of her vagina and fucked up her body for life so you're aroused but grossed out and this is going to take a lot of therapy to get over is quite a handy feature.

As you're reading this, I'm on holiday. Or possibly stuck in an airport because that's the kind of thing that always happens when you're trying to get somewhere. Even by bus.

Here are some things I can assure you have happened by now:

1) Someone was rude to me at the airport.

2) When asked if I packed all my luggage myself I said "No" just to see if the check-in chick actually listens to anyone when she asks that.

3) Someone smells of something unidentifiable.

4) And they sat right next to me.

5) I forgot to pack something I need.

6) Regardless of this, my suitcase was still over the weight limit.

7) I got tired, hungry and grumpy all at once.

8) I made the beepy thing at customs beep.

9) They totally treated me like a terrorist because of this even after it turned out it was just my hairclip that made the beepy thing beep.

10) I got there and found my shampoo had exploded all over my new skirt.

11) I saw a bunch of loudmouth tourists demanding full English breakfasts very L-O-U-D-L-Y and S-L-O-W-L-Y at fed up locals and was ashamed to be from the same country as them.

12) I have wondered if I've had any important emails, or even vaguely interesting ones since I left home. I vow not to feed my email checking addiction but find out where the nearest internet cafe is just in case.

13) I have decided a waiter is cute and possibly ripe for corruption.

Call me psychic.

Leavin' On A Jet Plane

2009-05-13T10:06:00.002+01:00

I'm away on my holidays tomorrow. A week in the Portuguese sun. I'll be away for a week, so I won't be around to comment on anyone's blogs.

I've set up a few blog posts to post into the future while I'm gone, but I won't be able to @ anyone if they comment, so just to let you know I'm not ignoring you.

Dougie and Bryan have kindly offered guest posts, but I'm still a couple short, so if anyone wants to guest post and can get it to me by tea-time tonight (UK time), I will love you eternally and maybe even let you peel my sunburn. Just email me it if you can/want to.

Now, I haven't packed, looked out the stuff I need to pack, found my passport or changed my money yet so what I'm doing online is beyond me.

Also, due to the fact I'm leaving at stupid o'clock, I'm going to miss the Lost season finale tonight. If anyone gives me any spoilers, I will hunt you down and kill you.

Have a good week everyone. I know you'll miss me terribly, but you can console yourselves with the fact that I'll be chilling on the beach.

Happy Birthday George Carlin

2009-05-12T12:53:00.004+01:00

The late, great George Carlin would have been 72 today. The man who said "life isn't measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away" lived his life to the full, never compromising for anyone and combining heartfelt truth with a sense of humour that was out of this world.

A selection of quotes from the man himself (it's a testament to Carlin that you've probably heard plenty of these before and never even realised they were his words):

Atheism is a non-prophet organisation.

If a man is standing in the middle of the forest speaking and there is no woman around to hear him ... is he still wrong?

Is there another word for synonym?

Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?

Whose cruel idea was it for the word "Lisp" to have a "S" in it?

If the "black box" flight recorder is never damaged during a plane crash, why isn't the whole damn aeroplane made out of that stuff?

Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity.

I'm completely in favor of the separation of Church and State. My idea is that these two institutions screw us up enough on their own, so both of them together is certain death.

The real reason that we can't have the Ten Commandments in a courthouse: You cannot post "Thou shalt not steal", Thou shalt not commit adultery" and "Thou shalt not lie" in a building full of lawyers, judges and politicians. It creates a hostile work environment.

What year did Jesus think it was?

R.I.P Sir Carlin. The world was a better place for having had you in it.

It's Motivational Monday!

2009-05-11T12:33:00.003+01:00

I Swear, She Was Laughing The Whole Time

2009-05-08T12:11:00.004+01:00

That's my daughter with a green tube over her head. It wasn't my idea. Ok, it was, but it was funny. The other woman in the clip is my mother, who as you can see, was totally complicit. Also complicit was Dougie who was filming (and has also just written his first blog post in ages, so please click on the link and go and tell him he's awesome or he won't write another one).

I know you can't see her face, but that noise she's making is laughter and not tears. Probably.

Sort It Out, Obama (serious post today)

2009-05-07T10:52:00.005+01:00

I try, and sometimes fail, to keep politics out of this blog. I've tried to keep my mouth shut about this one. But I can't.

Obama won't be having Bush and co. prosecuted for their use of torture (not new news, I know, but like I said, I've tried to keep my mouth shut). He said the use of torture showed America had "lost our moral bearings".
Then he did... nothing. All talk, no action. From a politician - surprise, surprise.

He said:

"nothing will be gained by spending our time and energy laying blame for the past".

Right. So if someone raped and murdered a woman a year ago, they should just walk free today? We shouldn't try Nazi war criminals or remember the Holocaust or pay tribute to the many suffering African slaves during black history month?
What a load of nonsense.

Because it's Obama and people seem to think he's some kind of God, they make all sorts of excuses for him.

"He knows what he's doing, don't worry".

Yeah, he knows he's not fucking up his financial future by doing the right thing.

"He'd ruin his career and then he can't help anyone".

Last time I checked, prosecuting criminals for crimes they committed wasn't an impeachable act. The job's his for 4 years minimum, so this excuse is a load of bollocks.

"I'm sure he has his reasons".

Really? And would you be sure of the same thing if Bush refused to prosecute a previous Republican president for torture?
If this was Bush, the whole world would be up in arms. But Obama is letting these people away with murder - literally - and whilst people are talking about it, nobody's causing that much of a fuss.

Mumia rots on death row for a crime he most likely did not commit while rich white boys get away with sanctioning the use of torture whilst crying freedom for all.
WASPS R U.S.

Stop Dicking around the Bush, Obama. These people are criminals and should be tried as such. I don't care if you're right-wing, left-wing or completely apolitical, wrong is wrong.

Here's my 5 step plan for ruling the most powerful country in the world:

1) If you must insist on ignoring international law, then at least apply the same rules to your own country as you do to the ones you keep invading.

2) If your reason for invading another country is suspected WMDs then ask yourself this - which country has the largest nuclear arsenal in the world and is the only country to use said arsenal to attack another country?
Got it yet?
Disarm or shut the fuck up about other people having the same toys as you.

3) Keep your promises. The people of America have voted for you and they've just suffered 8 years of Bush. Don't let them down and wrap it up in charismatic rhetoric - have the balls to make change instead of just saying the word a lot.

4) You have the money and the resources to find a reliable, renewable alternative to oil. Do it.

5) If you insist on interfering with what the rest of the world are up to, then don't get pissy when they call you out on it.

It may seem strange for a non-American to be writing this, but the fact is that what happens in America affects us all.

America is a wonderful country that is home to some amazing people - they deserve a leader who reflects this. Obama could well be that leader, but he's going to have to start taking action based on what's right instead of what's best for his career.

What are your thoughts? Agree or disagree? Think I'm talking nonsense? Let me know.

Awards, Apologies and A Question

2009-05-06T15:13:00.004+01:00

Awards! I got this one from mo.stoneskin:

And this one from Mapstew:

Thanks guys. Lovely awards they are too. Click on the links to visit their blogs if you haven't already, they both come with the Rambly Seal Of Approval which is like a junkie telling you that's good shit, man.
I can't keep track of who does and doesn't have these awards, so let me know if you don't so I can give you one (I'll just @ you in the comments and you can swipe it from here).

Ok, the apologies. I've gotten a lot of new readers recently and I'm really grateful to you all for recognising my genius and having the good taste to come here. There are a few of you whose blogs I haven't visited yet, and some whose blogs I've only visited sporadically, so sorry about that. I will be making an effort to get to all of you, so don't hesitate to remind me to visit if I haven't already. Unless you've got a crap blog about needlepoint or cats, in which case I'm not going to be dropping by and it's your own fault for not posting more about midget porn and vaginas.

Finally, the question:

Why do you blog?

I do it because I'm a writer of the struggling variety (otherwise known as kidding yourself) and whilst this blog may not be a book deal, it keeps me writing and seems to have a few people reading it.
What about you - bored at work, things you need to get off your chest, mentally ill? Let me know in the comments how you came to be a blogger. Because I'm ~~nosey~~ interested.

Yes, I Know It's Lazy (but it does have God killing people)

2009-05-05T13:38:00.003+01:00

The schools here are having an in-service day right after the bank holiday (probably to give the teachers time to recover from their hangovers) and it's raining so I have a very bored and whiney 8 year old to entertain.
For that reason, this post is a repost. Sorry.

Ahh, fundies. Gotta love 'em. God, not so much. In fact, Neo-con fundamentalists seem hell-bent (geddit?) on seriously pissing God off - and if you've ever so much as glanced at the Bible, you'll know that God will go seriously Hulk on your ass if you make him angry. And boy, are those fundies making him turn green right now:

"And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you they have received their reward. But when you pray, go into your room (or closet.) and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret..." (Matthew 6:5-6 RSV).

That's right. Shut up. God wants you to. Jesus said so (Jesus is God's zombie spawn who came from the best excuse for adultery ever, in case you're confused. He's also God.)
Fundies follow this rule much like the rest of us follow the plot holes in Heroes, ie: not really.
They even have entire TV channels dedicated to not shutting up.

So, what's God going to do about this?

He's going to kill all their first born children, that's what. God likes killing people's first born children, just ask the Egyptians.
Condoning the murder of people's first born children isn't something I'd normally do, but I'm willing to make an exception in the case of fundies, mostly because it will help stop this becoming real:

The LORD then gave these further instructions to Moses: 'Tell the people of Israel to keep my Sabbath day, for the Sabbath is a sign of the covenant between me and you forever. It helps you to remember that I am the LORD, who makes you holy. Yes, keep the Sabbath day, for it is holy. Anyone who desecrates it must die; anyone who works on that day will be cut off from the community. Work six days only, but the seventh day must be a day of total rest. I repeat: Because the LORD considers it a holy day, anyone who works on the Sabbath must be put to death.' (Exodus 31:12-15 NLT)

For those of you who haven't heard of the Westboro Baptist Church, they're a group of ex alcoholic repressed gay people (probably) who hate everything.
They also protest up to 15 times on a Sunday. Yes, Sunday. That would be the Sabbath.

God is going to kill them for that. How? I think he'll go with turning them into pillars of salt for this transgression. Because death + condiment = fucking awesome.
You hear that Westboro Baptist Church? Not only is God going to kill you, he's going to flavour his lasagne with your remains.

“Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or that ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on... Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, not gather into barns; yet your heavenly father feedth them. Are ye not much better than they?” (--Matthew 6:25-34 & Luke 12:22-31 inclusive).

No planning. God's got it all under control. You are just supposed to sit back and enjoy the ride. That means no working out protests, no putting together TV shows, no lobbying the government to stop teachers spreading evil lies about fictitious dinosaurs.

Heh. You're screwed now, aren't you fundies? Where would you be without, y'know, taking things into your own hands?

God, in case you haven't worked out the pattern here, is going to kill you. By fire. Yep. "Burned with fire". He does it in Joshua. (God should totally direct movies).

("Is that a fireball? Jesus Chri... ahhh, shit")

“Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1) and “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged, condemn not and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven” (Luke 6:37).

This is pretty much the holy grail of Bible quotes. Don't be a dick to other people or God will be a dick to you.
Be nice, be tolerant, be good to others.

Fundies?

Yeah, I don't think they read that part (I'm starting to wonder if they've read any of the bible at all).
You can pretty much guarantee if there's any judging to be done, a fundie will be the first person to do it. In fact, their entire belief system seems to be based around all the things they hate about other people.

God is so killing you. You know how? With a lion. That's right, God is going to have you killed by a freaking LION. Read 1 Kings if you think I'm making that up. He'd so do it because he's done it before.

He is probably going to scream "Yippy-kai-yay motherfucker!" right before he does it too.

(God: an artist's impression)

Oh, and fundies... when you die, you're all going to hell. Where the gay people and Liberals are. Enjoy.

Ice-Skating, Hot Dog Stink And No Sweary Words

2009-05-04T14:11:00.004+01:00

It's a bank holiday here today, which means no school for Rambly Jr. It also means making with the "quality time" because that's how you stop your kid growing up to be a crack whore or Condoleezza Rice.

We know this because men and Oprah said so: people who have never given birth and have no comprehension that 9 months of swollen ankles and incessant peeing followed by 14 hours in an airless hospital room suffering the type of pain that can only be cured by heavy doses of drugs and getting to scream obscenities at your midwife is more than enough effort on mummy's part, thank you very much.

But, my kid's pretty cool and I do quite like her, so I decided to take her ice-skating. Wheeeeeeeeee! Sort of. I can ice-skate fine. Her, not so much. She's all with the "But I'm only 8 and my ice skates hurt my feet and I think I broke something".
And I'm all with the "Toughen up and get moving, this is way more boring than it would be if I didn't have to stop every 2 seconds to wait for you".
But of course I didn't say that to her. Probably.

Perfecto-mum with her Perfecto-kid skate past in utterly ridiculous outfits that I think are supposed to be "adorable" with ice skates they own and didn't have to hire whilst trying not to think about how many stinky feet were in there before you put them on and shoot us a dirty look.
At which point Rambly Jr. decides to let go of the wall and flails towards me looking like a penguin on crack.
Under the pretence of "No, darling, don't grab onto me, I know you can do this yourself, I just know it, look at you go!", I step aside and let her fly into Perfecto-mum and knock her to the ground. Adorable outfit not so adorable any more. And my kid was fine because Perfecto-mum broke her fall. Result!

Of course, there's a food hall we have to pass on the way out.

"Can I get something to eat? Can, I can I canIcanICANICANICANIPLEEEEEEEEEEEASSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?"

Fine.

She gets a hot dog. Why or how people eat these things is beyond me. They stink. She stinks of hot dog and now I stink of hot dog. Thanks a lot. Still, it shut her up for 10 minutes so it was kind of worth it.

Now we're home and it's raining and none of her friends are in. Oh joy. I finally got her to play on her DS for long enough to write this post. I also said "shit" and got a row from her for it.

This post may not be very exciting, but you can blame the bank holiday. I'm in mummy mode and she wants to play some game she just made up the rules for that makes no sense. Apparently I have to be a squirrel and there's a dragon. I'm wondering what I can bribe her with so I get to be the dragon.

Dear Lord, I'm A Twat. Yours, Anna. (P.S sorry about the time I had sex in a confession box)

2009-05-02T15:59:00.004+01:00

Dear God,

I have joined the flock of sheep at Twitter. I succumbed to temptation even after I spent months berating my friends for being Twats.
I'm sorry God, but I was bored. I think you'll find boredom causes more sin than greed or lust or coveting (which I would really like you to rethink as a sin because what if I walked into a church and coveted the happy basking in faith the people in there were doing and became all saved as a result? Also, you really shouldn't have invented Christian Louboutin shoes if you didn't want us to covet because that's just cruel and they've got Christian in the name).
It was probably boredom that caused me to have sex in a confession box because it was either that or listen to him describing the world's greatest guitar riffs for another 2 hours and my mother might read this so I'm totally making it up anyway.

Then there's pride. I hate Twitter and Twats, but now that I am one, I need a bigger followers to following ratio because that's how you know you're a good person who won't get swine flu, so if you could just sort that out by telling people to add me from the sidebar on the left, that would be great.
Any @ wisdom you could impart would be just dandy too. How, who, when and why an @ is required is knowledge too great for my mortal mind to grasp and I don't want to piss anyone off by not @ing when I should or @ing when I shouldn't. Apparently, Twatting is serious business.

Also, could you kill the next door neighbour's dog and get me a Creme Egg please? Oh, and Pringles - but not the Salt and Vinegar ones because I think Satan jizzed in them.

Amen.

Don't Lie, You Know You Love It

2009-05-01T17:12:00.001+01:00

The Fuckit List

2009-04-30T14:30:00.004+01:00

I ~~stole~~ was inspired by Farty for this one.

It's like a Bucket List, only it's the things you don't really care about doing, or deep down know you never will.

1) Learn to speak Japanese.

I can count to 5 and do what are probably pretty offensive impressions of Japanese people, but mastering the whole language is just too damned hard.
Plus, I have access to teh internets - some of the things that there are actually words for in Japanese are just... look, google Hentai and all its derivatives and you'll see what I mean.

2) Climb anything except the stairs in my house.

As if it's not bad enough we're already hurtling through space in an ever expanding universe kept in place only by an apple that fell on some guy's head once, people want to climb things. Really, really high things.
Those people are not braver than me, they're just stupid.

3) Save the earth and all the things on it.

Fuck them. Lost is on.

4) Become a health nut.

This one is also on my bucket list, but quitting smoking is a bitch. Not to mention the fact that if I turn into a health nut, then by my own code of ~~being a complete cunt to everyone who's different to me~~ honour, I'll have to point at myself and laugh.

5) Start a revolution.

I want to. I just can't be bothered. But if someone else does, I'll totally cheer them on from my couch.

Now, look what I got:

This was courtesy of Prosy for my dwarf kicking and I think it may just be the coolest award ever. Thanks Prosy!

I've Got Your Part 2 Right Here

2009-04-29T15:16:00.005+01:00

I made the mistake of mentioning there was a second part to the drunk in Morocco vid I posted yesterday and now everyone's bugging me to post it.

Well, here's how it's going to work:

Below are links to blogs nominated in the Blogger's Choice Awards.

Me

Vic

Steam Me Up, Kid

Kurt

Yes, you have to sign up to be able to vote. It takes less than 2 minutes and it's free, so don't complain because it's like a sexy workout for your fingers and you'll feel like you're in a Tampax advert when you're done. Rollerblades optional.

If one or more of the above blogs gets 50 votes (or more, preferably more), then I'll post part 2. Which may or may not have lesbian mud wrestling and an Obama sex tape on it.

Get voting people, or Cake Wrecks is going to win, and I don't think it's really all that funny and I kind of don't get the fuss about it. There. I said it.

Now get voting!*

* apparently manners count, so "please".

edit: And also Dr Zibbs

What Happens When You And The Person Filming Are Drunk In Morocco and There's A Big Tea Set In Your Way

2009-04-28T20:07:00.004+01:00

Yes, that's me acting like a cross between a game show hostess and Lady Muck because I got to stay somewhere way too good for the likes of me. No, I'm not the one who crashed, that was my best friend. Yes, I have a very strong accent. And no, I don't look too hot - but that may be down the fact I'd just had 2 bottles of wine on a nearly empty stomach and frankly, the fact I was still vaguely upright is nothing short of impressive.

Where Did All The Good Women Go?

2009-04-28T15:26:00.005+01:00

Maybe I'm just nostalgic and out of touch, but it seems that there is a shortage of great women for us to look up to these days.
Of course, looking for role models in the celebrity world is stupid, but young girls to want to emulate the women they see on TV, for better or worse.

When I was a teenager, the women I respected most in the land of the 'sleb were Tori Amos, MC Lyte, PJ Harvey and Lauryn Hill.
Strong, intelligent women who marketed, not their looks, but their talents as artists.
Not to mention the women I grew up listening to: from Joni Mitchell to Nina Simone, I learned without realising I was learning it that women can be beautiful in myriad unique ways and that talent and intelligence are a blessing.

Now, my 8 year old daughter tells me she wants to be like this when she grows up:

Awww, hell no!

I've got a feeling this may have started when the dark overlords who operated The Spice Girls decided to disguise whoring out your vagina in a Union Jack dress as "Girl Power".

Hey, they said, you want to do your bit for feminism? Never mind breaking through that glass ceiling, instead, pick something you are absolutely no good at then get a boob job and wear very little. You go girl!

The media doesn't help. Amy Winehouse might be very talented, but nobody reports on her music. Apparently her being desperately in need of help is more fun to exploit. You're "boring" if you're not either

a) Flashing your crotch at paparazzo whilst falling out of a limo.

or

b) Slowly killing yourself.

Then there's the Disney-bots. Sure, they're clean cut, but they have no fucking talent! I'm also fairly sure they're not actually humans but clones made from sheep placenta, monkey DNA and Satan's sperm.

And who's to blame most of all? Us. That's right. Supply and demand baby, supply and demand. The talented, intelligent women are out there, but we're not buying their records. We're pandering to our kids, jumping on so many bandwagons Flash himself couldn't keep up and ignoring the good stuff.

Come on - let's stop idolising vapid whores. Don't think you don't do it - every time your cellulite has made you feel like crap as a human being, every time you watch your mouth on a date in case he finds your intelligence overbearing, every time you think your life would be better if you only had longer legs/bigger boobs/better skin, you are falling into the trap.

And you're better than that.

Rant over.

It Was The Principle Of The Thing (or, why I kicked a dwarf at a funeral)

2009-04-27T14:03:00.006+01:00

I used to live in a house that was built directly opposite a church. A Church of Scotland church, no less. For those of you who have no clue about the Church of Scotland, just imagine a life in grey cardigans, incessantly tutting and in possession of a big Jesus-shaped straw to suck the joy out of, well, everything.

The house I lived in being built had caused the catastrophic loss on ONE whole parking space for the church. The church that has its own car park, I might add.
The discovery that this precious parking space had been lost by the provision of shelter to a single mother only served to make them ass rape "judge not lest thee be judged" to the strains of the banjo music from Deliverance.

My house had a kind of car park in the front. Well, enough parking space for me and the next door neighbours. Surrounded by a wall and quite clearly on private property.

The only space they'd lost was the one directly in front of my house, because parking there would totally block the entrance and that would be selfish and wrong. Not that that stopped them.

Sunday after Sunday, someone would park right across the entrance, blocking me, my neighbours and any potential visitors completely in or out.

I put notes on windshields. And not the anonymous, I'm a total dick with nothing better to do than bug people who park here but don't have the balls to sign the note type of notes either. I was polite. I went to the church and asked them to kindly stop. I pointed out they had their own car park and had only lost the use of ONE parking space.

But to no avail.

So, after nearly a year of this, one Sunday the church looked quite busy. Great, I thought, someone is bound to block the entrance.

But no. On this day, a new low was reached.

I had been in the shower and came downstairs only to find someone had parked right in my freaking driveway. Right in front of my window. On what was clearly private property and the parking space of the person who lived in said property (I should point out that I didn't have a car at this time, but I had frequent visitors who did and also, it was the principle of the thing).

Whoever it was was nowhere in sight. Fine, I thought, I'll wait until the church comes out and then go and have words with them. Enough is enough. No more Miss Nice Girl.

I had failed to notice the hearse parked in front of the church.

My dad came to visit and had to park on the next street. I told him my plan of attack. He agreed, some might even say encouraged.

The church began to empty as I was making lunch. I missed the selfish prick parker getting into their car. But by God, I heard them turn the key.

Out I fled, wild-eyed and possibly a little drunk but probably not because it was lunchtime on a Sunday.

"Oi!" I cried as I bashed at their window with my fists. "You can't park here, can't you see this is private property? There are places to park everywhere around here. Would it have killed you to walk an extra two minutes to get to the church?"

Then I used an insult I have never used in my life and I have no idea why I decided to use it on that day to that specific person, who, up till that point, I had only seen sitting down in the driver's seat of their car:

"Are you dopey or something?"

And out of the driver's seat steps a dwarf.

This is the point at which I notice the hearse. And the gathering crowd. And the tearful widow.

You'd think I'd stop there.

You'd be wrong.

I kicked her. The dwarf, not the widow, I'm not that sick.

It was an accident, I swear. More a tangling of feet. I flail when I'm indignant.

My ever so encouraging father was nowhere to be seen. Someone in the crowd whispered a little too loudly

"She kicked the dwarf"

to which the dwarf replied

"Actually, it's little person"

to which I replied

"Actually, it's selfish bitch who parks on private property and needs to get her arse out of here before I kick her even fucking harder".

I am why Jesus wept.

And I don't care. Bitch had it coming.

My Pen Runneth Over

2009-04-25T17:57:00.004+01:00

I'm up to my eyes in "serious" writing this weekend. Well, I'm only 5' 3", so I'm up to someone taller's eyes in it.
There are a whole stack of end of April deadlines just waiting to send me rejection letters, so why I've spent half the afternoon on Facebook finding out which X-Men character I am is beyond me.

Anyway, since I really should write more for the rest of the day and am sitting with poetry and short stories surrounding me like some kind of massacre in a forest, I'm just going to post some poems.

Don't worry, they rhyme and are stupid, so I haven't gone highbrow on you or anything (and I have no intentions of trying to get these ones published so I can post them here and not have to worry about simultaneous submissions or thinking up a blog post and hardly anyone reads at the weekend anyway. Result!).

Ah, So That's What A Condom's For

I remember the midwife when I was in labour
An ugly old bitch with skin like crepe paper
"And where is daddy?" she scornfully asks
"With his new girlfriend, smoking grass"
Of course, I don't say this out loud
Telling myself it's because I'm too proud
But then I have to gently remind her
She's got her hand in my vagina
"You're having his baby, why did you go?"
"Two black eyes and a broken nose"
"If that was me I'd have used protection"
"That's cos your face is your contraception."

Admit It Ladies

If the brooding Mr Darcy
Really spoke to Miss Bennett like that
She'd have had him out those britches
In twenty seconds flat.

Romeo And Juliet Go To Maryhill

Now, Juliet loved Romeo and Romeo loved her back -
He even took on her three wee weans by Jimmy, Jock and Jack.
But it was doomed fae the start between her an' him,
Cuz she wiz a Hun and he wiz a Tim.
Her ma had tellt her 'boot they Kafflik boys
But Joolz wouldnae listen tae a' that noise.
She'd scream fae her verrandah night after night,
'Romeo, git up here ye hoop wearing wee shite.'
An' Romeo'd climb up the side o' the flat
Dodgin' her brother's big baseball bat.
'Juliet, yer jist like a dead nice rose
'Mon hen, lets get ye oot o' they clothes.
See thon sun risin' in the eastward direction? '
'Ye wee fucker, ye gied me a yeast infection! '
So war they did, but loved each other still
Till Joolz mistook Jellies fur her birth control pill.
Romeo found her lookin' deid on the floor
And his heart broke till it could break no more.
He stabbed at his chest wi' a Special Brew can
Then Joolz mammy caught them and phoned the white van.
The doctair thit saw them wiz Kafflik an' all,
Took Romeo oot fur a chat in the hall.
'Look son, fur yer ain guid, gie this yin the bin,
The bith control pill mixup wuldnae happen tae a Tim.'

(Maryhill - an area in Glasgow
Hun - Protestant
Tim/Kafflic - Catholic
Jellies - Valium)

OK, normal service resumed soon. If you're still reading, well done.

Another Meme For Blog Fodder

2009-04-24T15:00:00.005+01:00

I was going to do Maisy's 8 Things one, but someone emailed me this, so I'll do it first and probably do Maisy's one over the weekend. Thank you memes!

This one's just random questions (it's called Unlucky 13. Hmm):

1) What was the last song you listened to?

Jean Grae - Shadows Forver. She is easily the best female emcee in the game right now. And the BSBD production is so slick - that Venus in Furs sample is genius.

2) What's your favorite flavor Kool Aid?

Ok, not only do I not know what Kool Aid is, I would like to know what you have against the letter U. How would you like it if I came to a World Series baseball game that didn't have any other countries in the world competing in it but is still called World Series and chanted "S.A! S.A!"? And it's favourite flavour OF Kool Aid.

3) What was the last song to make you cry?

Hurt by Johnny Cash. It's that video, it destroys me every time I see it.

4) What do you think about sex before marriage?

I don't usually think about anything before sex, except that I'm horny. That's why I'm a single mother. All things considered though, I'm more in favour of sex than marriage. I'd rather get the clap because we ran out of condoms before we got through every position in the Kama Sutra than because my husband cheated on me with a 19 year old skank.

5) What was the last thing you got in Walmart?

Deported to the nearest Asda.

6) Do you have an accent?

Compared to who?

7) Do you own a gun?

No, I don't own a fucking gun. It's illegal to own guns here on account of them being killing machines solely designed for killing people, quite often by accident.

8) What are your plans for tonight?

Curling up on the couch with a good book.

9) Last thing that made you laugh?

Cap telling me that in Scotland, there's "frequent Robert Burns up in various bitches".

10) Top 3 places you've never been but want to visit?

Cuba, Japan, New Zealand.

11) Why did your last relationship end?

He was suffering from incurable fucktarditis.

12) What pisses you off?

Ha! Oh man, how long have you got? Right now, my pet peeve is people getting so caught up in being "right-wing" or "left-wing" that they don't bother to look at issues separately and are unwilling to change their viewpoint when the way they want things done clearly isn't working. Also, how hard to clean garlic crushers are.

13) How many languages do you speak?

Fluently, only English. But my Italian is improving and I speak some Gaelic (I used to be nearly fluent in that when I was a kid, but to my shame, I got lazy with it and forgot. I'm trying to remedy that).
I speak excellent French when I'm drunk and I have a tiny bit of Turkish.
I also have a Brazilian ex, so I can say 3 things in Portuguese: I love you, blow job and you fucking bastard. Which pretty much sums up my relationship history.

If You Thought Midget Porn Was Hot, How About Some Tentacle Rape?

2009-04-23T15:19:00.005+01:00

So, I put "Midget Porn" in the heading of my blog post yesterday and got the most hits to my blog I've had since I started it.

My stat counter showed me that in the past week, several people have found my blog by Googling

"Show me penis of a lion".
"Static shocks penis"
"How big is a lion's penis"
"Rabbit orgasm"
"Snow White midget porn".

You may see this and question the very moral fabric of society - I see it and know I need more bestiality and cartoon fucking in my blog.
You really want to pander to the masses? Never mind mid-level inoffensiveness and the avoidance of political talk. Screw catchy choruses and easy-to-learn dances:
You need Pooh Bear getting fisted by Kanga. Teh internets said so.

Anyway, Mr the Fella nominated me for a Blogger's Choice award ~~to make up for the fact he hasn't been sexually harassing me enough~~ because he's nice like that.

Blogger's Choice award.

Click the link above and vote for me. I will totally offer sexual favours in return for your vote as long as you don't mind the fact I need to wax my bikini line because I think it's funny to walk about changing rooms in clothes shops with your pubes sticking out your knickers and laugh at all the people trying not to stare. Also, I will film it and put it on this blog, because that's how you get rich these days.
Ladies, no need to feel left out, I will totally get my lez on for you if you vote for me. Steam Me Up Kid, I will get my lez on for you even if you don't vote, especially if you say scrotum to me.

To end, BARELY LEGAL LESBIAN SQUIRTERS. FREE!!!!

Google that, bitches.

A Demand To Be Sexually Harassed, Some Shameless Begging For More Attention Round Here And Free Midget Porn

2009-04-22T15:26:00.008+01:00

Ok, I lied about the midget porn. Although...

... I'm fairly sure something involving baby Jesus butt plugs, whipped cream and a webcam is about to kick off here.

Anyway, as I wasn't saying but am about to, I nearly didn't get sexually harassed today.

There I was, walking down the street when what should be before my eyes but a building site? I upped my speed a little, keeping my eyes directly to the front and braced myself for the inevitable and highly degrading barrage of sexual innuendos and wolf whistles that would make me throw copies of The Female Eunuch at them with such force their hard hats would be the only hard part left of the chauvinistic pigs. And....

NOTHING.

Not one damned word. Not even a whistle.
Ok, granted, I need a haircut and I may not have been wearing my best ass-showy-off jeans, but come ON. Not even a wink?
I slowed down. I pretended to look for something in my bag. I may or may not have pretended to drop something so I could bend over seductively and pick it up (probably not because that would be demeaning and I'm better than that and also it didn't work so it's just embarrassing) and I even did a hair flick at great personal risk to myself because I have a lot of hair and I'm clumsy.

Still nothing.

Then, to the strains of angels singing Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen or maybe Jeff Buckley because he kind of made it his and with a glistening shaft... of light people, light (jeez)... out steps Mr Middle-Aged-Balding-Beer-Belly and says

"Alright darlin', gis a smile!"

The other builders then join in on the act with a

"Whhhayyyyy!" (or however you spell that noise builders make).

I am disgusted. Utterly furious on behalf on my gender. How dare they make me have to encourage sexual harassment?
Sort it out builders. Next time, I want degraded the second I come into view, or I'll be having a word with your superiors.

Now, what's with all this Blogger's Choice Awards broohaha and why haven't I been nominated? Not that I care. I do this for love, not comments and huge readership. But y'know, someone fucking nominate me. Because I lied about doing it for love.

AND

Everyone keeps celebrating hitting 100 followers. Apart from the fact that's assault on a mass scale, I only have 71. I need another however many more than 71 it is to 100 so I can hit them too. So follow me. But not in real life. Unless you wolf-whistle at the same time.

(oh, Insults has had some problems with his/her (?) blog going a bit screwy and telling people it's not there when it is, so be sure to click the link and drop by).

Even More Motivational Posters

2009-04-21T12:41:00.003+01:00

The Greatest Movie Never Made

2009-04-20T13:52:00.006+01:00

I can't take all the credit(?) for this one, Dougie has to get half of it - not least for the photoshop - because it came about as a result of his discovering Google Street View was ~~spying on him with its hands down its e-pants while he was in the shower~~ maybe looking at him and the ensuing conversation we had about how Will Smith should totally be in that movie. (also, I didn't steal this from Kurt. He just Will Smith posted first because Kurt posts everything first and the rest of us just have to try to keep up).

Here it is folks:

David Fincher will be called in to make Walter Matthau appear through the power of CG and he will age backwards and have many adventures across the world just the same as Forrest Gump did only it's totally not Forrest Gump because he didn't age backwards and... nope, that's it.

He will be the Smithster's mentor type. The sweet old man who's totally going to get killed so we can all shed a tear and see how truly bad the baddies are because this is a Will Smith movie and Hollywood doesn't get to kill off the black guy first in those.

Plot: Google is creating an army of clones (fuck off Lucas, it was so my idea). They take your picture on street view and bam! Clone.
Who can save the day? Will Smith can. Obviously.

Script excerpt:

The Smithster turns the corner, thinking he's safe when suddenly he sees a Google camera directly in front of him.

The camera zooms in on Smith's face. In slow motion.

Will Smith: Awwwww, hell naw!

Google cam: Bleep.

Will Smith: Psh! (takes out gun and shoots camera. Camera explodes). Now that's what I'm taking 'bout!

Walter Matthau: You have done well my son.

WS: Dude, you be freaking me out with that shit. You dead, fool! Don't be coming all up in here looking alive while I'm trying to get my action hero on.

WM: (sighs).

A hot chick appears. The Smithster gets jiggy with it.

Fade out to Will's new song. It's to the tune of Wild Wild West, only Smith says "We're going back to MSN. Micka-micka-M, micka-micka-M!"

End of excerpt.

Things I Have learned From Teh Internets

2009-04-18T18:06:00.006+01:00

1) I have an IQ of either 123, 146 or 119, depending on which totally reliable test I take. I think the 146 one was the most scientifically reliable.

2) People who leave comments on Youtube videos are chronic masturbaters with some kind of personality disorder who should all be shot.

3) Number of random men I have never met or even had any kind of internet contact with before who have added me as a friend on Facebook = 3.

4) Number of random men I have never met or even had any kind of internet contact with before who I have accepted as friends on Facebook = 3.

5) If you spend enough time online, words like "meme" and "win" and "HTML code" will start to creep into your everyday vocabulary.

6) Hentai is not the right thing to google to find a nice little anime cartoon.

7) The Japanese are into some fucked up shit.

8) So is the rest of the world.

9) A surprising number of Nigerian people are related to rich dead people and need your help to get their money.

10) Using a penis enlargement treatment on myself will change my life.

11) I'm quite sure it will because I don't have a penis. I checked.

12) Parents will exploit the shit out of their kids if they think it'll make for a good Youtube clip. Especially if their kid is upset or in pain at the time.

13) People won't put down their camera phones to help anyone in trouble.

14) You will get into a pointless argument with someone, somewhere, at some point. There is a 90% chance this argument will be over either politics, race or music.

15) You will feel like a dick when you're done arguing.

16) But also strangely proud of yourself.

17) My ideal celebrity husband is Will Smith. Sorry, Antonio, but teh internets said so.

18) When someone uploads a free and illegal copy of a movie that you're supposed to pay to go and see, you'll complain like hell if it's got poor sound quality.

19) People who blog are fucking weird.

20) Except you.

There's More Than Just Braveheart

2009-04-17T15:07:00.003+01:00

Just a quick wee clip from Trainspotting. If you haven't seen it, you need to - it's a great film. I went to see it at the cinema when it came out, and when Ewan MacGregor gave this speech, everyone in the cinema gave him a standing ovation. Not sure what that says about the Scottish psyche, but see the film if you haven't anyway.

Look What I Got!

2009-04-16T14:22:00.008+01:00

This one's from Jimmy (if you're not reading his blog on a regular basis, you'd better have a bloody good excuse. Like you're dead or your eyeballs just fell out). Thanks Jimmy!

Awards always impress me because

a) I deserve them on account of being awesome.

And

b) I can't work my ~~stolen~~ totally legal and paid for Photoshop so I can't make them myself.

Since this is a Weegie award (which is another word for someone from Glasgow), I'm going to talk about our Dear Green Place (which is what Glasgow means) and probably use a lot of brackets to explain what I'm talking about since most of my readers aren't Scottish.

There are two main misconceptions about Glasgow from people who have never been there:

1) It's an ugly, industrial city.

This is so untrue. I originally come from the Highlands of Scotland, about 10 minutes away from the banks of Loch Ness. I grew up with views of mountains from my window (yes, even those of us from council estates in the North get pretty scenery) and if I can find beauty in Glasgow, anyone can.

Best tip when walking around Glasgow - look up. The architecture is breathtaking.

(side note of complaint: Stop throwing your fucking litter everywhere. Neds, I'm talking to you. Take a bit of pride in your city you wastes of fecking space in Kappa tracksuits. If you don't know what a Ned is, either google it, or just consider yourself lucky).

2) It's violent and dangerous.

I've lived here for nearly 5 years and have lived here on and off plenty of times before that. I was born and raised in the Highlands, but my family's all from Glasgow and I've spent a lot of my childhood here. Not once - not a single time - have I had any trouble.
Yes, there's poverty here: some of it so deeply ingrained in the culture that you wonder if anything can be done at all. But most of the problems are kept on the inside. If you're not involved, you won't get any hassle.
Glasgow is no more violent than any other big city. Don't go walking about bad areas at 3am and you'll be fine.
The scariest looking Weegies usually tend to be the salt of the earth types who'd give you the shirt off their back if you needed it.

(side note: Don't get involved in public domestics. Trust me, the woman's going to win. Just stay the fuck out her way).

To end, here are some lovely Glasgow insults you can use and people will have no clue you're insulting them (unless they're Scottish, then you're screwed). English translations at the side:

Baw heid: You, sir, have a head that somewhat resembles a testicle.

Awa' an' bile yer heid: Kindly place your head in a receptacle full to the brim of boiling water.

Och, yer maw: Yo Mama!

Get that cleant, ye wee midden, it's a coup: Please tidy the area I am indicating, you woman of questionable morals, it's rather a mess.

Glakit: You were not blessed with much in the way of brains, were you?

You'd eat the trimmings aff a coffin: My, what a large appetite you have - and it shows in your large person.

See you - yer claimt: Ignore what I said about Glasgow not being violent, don't bother trying to translate this one - if it gets said to you, run.

I Don't Care If I Haven't Been Tagged, I'm Doing It Anyway

2009-04-15T14:56:00.004+01:00

So, Prosy posted a meme where you're supposed to tell everyone 10 things they don't know about you.
I was tagged by exactly no-one, but I'm doing it anyway because memes are the best things ever when you have nothing else to blog about and also I want to talk about myself because I have an inflated sense of self-importance and why else would I blog if I didn't think everyone wanted to hear all about me anyway?

1) I am listening to Dancing Barefoot by Patti Smith as I type this. I have twice now typed the lyrics to the song instead of what I'm supposed to be could it be he's taking over meeeeee and have to keep deleting here I go and I don't know why. I think I've caught them all though.

2) I do not find Brad Pitt attractive. Yeah, he's technically a good looking guy, but he does nothing for me. If I wanted a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American, I'd take Paul Newman over Brad any day.

3) I once stole a hanging basket and I have no idea why I did it or how the hell I managed to reach it, but I like to think I liberated it. Hanging things is wrong.

4) I can speak a tiny wee bit of Turkish. But not enough to tell Turkish people I'm cold without telling them instead that I'm a garlic sausage then wondering what the hell they're all laughing at.

5) I have a crush on 3 comic book characters: Wolverine, Superman and Jesse Custer from Preacher (that man is sex on legs). I want to corrupt Superman. But in a good way.

6) There are 3 women I would totally go lesbian for: Salma Hayek, Monica Bellucci and Asia Argento. And probably Dita Von Teese although the Marylin Manson thing worries me.

7) I can't sing and it really pisses me off. I trained as a dancer and grew up around creative types who all had great singing voices, but I sound like one of the joke contestants on X-Factor (or American Idol if you don't know what X-Factor is). The ones Simon Cowell says things to that are so mean they make me want to have sex with him.

8) I did karate when I was a kid and was the Scottish junior champion - a title I won because I bit someone then denied it. Look, I'm small and not very strong, it was self-defense.

9) I would rather stay home with a good book or a good movie than go out partying. Sad, but true.

10) My best friend has been my best friend for 18 years. It works because of all the blackmail material we have on each other.

An Easter Post That's Late And A Repost And Not All That Eastery. Don't Judge Me, It's Better Than Nothing (sort of).

2009-04-14T16:00:00.004+01:00

THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST: A FILM BY GEORGE A. ROMERO

When there's no room left in hell, the dead will walk on water.

Script excerpt:

Mary Magdelene: The boulder has moved! The fucking boulder has moved! Oh jings, there are bodies everywhere. Apostles, get your shovels!

(the Apostles rush to find weapons in a panic)

Peter: Crap, we live in the olden days, there are no shopping malls. Where shall we seek refuge?

Andrew: Let us make an armoured donkey with things we have in the olden days and a donkey then ride to the fish stall in the market place!

(the armoured donkey is constructed in a montage with loud guitar music and much apparent bonding. Except with Mary and Thomas who we can see from their sad expressions when they think nobody is looking that they feel a bit left out of the group.)

Bartholemew: And a fine armoured donkey it is.

Thaddeus: Who the fuck are you?

Bartholmew: Bartholemew.

Thaddeus: There's an apostle called Bartholemew? Well, I'll be damned.

Matthew: You can talk mate.

(the apostles and Mary ride the armoured donkey to the marketplace with much dangerous type stuff happening and Bartholemew and Thaddeus getting their brains sucked out during a surprise attack from Judas Iscariot)

Peter: Man, it really reeks of fish.

(they all look accusingly at Mary)

Mary: He-ey! You want to know why men get women drunk in the hopes of getting sex from them? Because it works, that's why. And he could turn water into wine. You try keeping your legs shut around that. You are such a dick, Peter.

Peter (muttering under his breath): Women. This is why I... never mind. I'll be damned sure none of them are getting managerial posts at my new company, that's for sure.

All: It's JC, run!

(they all dive under a pile of haddock)

End of excerpt.

(thanks Dougie for the tagline and photoshop skills)

Me And Blog, Sitting In A Tree....

2009-04-13T17:44:00.006+01:00

What my smug married friends don't seem to realise is that I do actually have a relationship, of sorts.
Me and my blog, we're a great couple.

With my blog I can:

1) Talk about myself as much as I like.

2) Not bother putting make-up on/getting out of my pjs.

3) Tell as many dirty jokes as I want.

4) Have as many geeky discussions as I like. And win them.

5) Control who gets to give my blog attention. Sexy blog, all shiny and funny and probably with enormous boobs? Fuck you, comment deleted.

6) Give other blogs as much attention as I want. My blog knows I'm coming back.

Plus:

I can totally and openly fantasise about being with any one of the above men and my blog won't complain.

For all other needs, there are the contents of my bedside drawer. Ahem.

Course, if I get a real man, blog's getting dumped. But he's going to have to a one hell of a man.

Don't Lie, You Know You Love It (and Kurt can get his Barry White on)

2009-04-10T15:19:00.001+01:00

Is That The Lion's Penis?

2009-04-09T14:29:00.007+01:00

I started 3 different blog posts today, then scrapped them all because of their shitness. Some inspiration was in order. You know what the best source of inspiration is? Google.

I googled "What the fuck?" and kept safe search on (because internet porn is all well and good but when you find it on Google images when looking for a recipe for soup, you start becoming kind of immune to midgets shitting on pregnant women and I'm not sure if becoming immune to that is good or bad for society and since this search had the word fuck in it, there was no way I was going to find anything that wasn't porn without safe search on) and I found this:

What the fuck, indeed.

I am fairly sure that dangly thing is the lion's penis. With safe search on. You hear that Google? You show me dick even when I specifically ask you not to. Lion dick, no less.

You know, proportionately, it doesn't look that big. Maybe being forced to do dressage has somehow emasculated him. Maybe he's a "motion of the ocean" type (which is really just another way of saying he has a small dick).

Have you ever seen an ungelded horse? DAMN! (I don't know if ungelded is actually a word. Spellcheck says no. But spellcheck is a wanker).

Maybe that's why the lion jumped on his back: penis envy.

Or maybe it's a girl horse. There should so be a lion/horse baby. A lorse? A hion? Of course, if it's a boy, it better get the horse-dick genes.

I am so highbrow.

Even More Things That Make Me Want To Kill

2009-04-08T15:06:00.004+01:00

1) Novelty Ringtones.

Let's just get this straight: I am not going to phone you while you're sitting right in front of me just so I can hear whatever song you have decided to pay money for as a ringtone. Nor am I going to listen to you forcing everyone else in the room to do it. I don't give a shit what your phone sounds like when it rings.
How clever you think you are is way out of proportion to how clever you actually are.

2) No simultaneous submissions.

Any struggling writers out there will have had to deal with this one. When you submit a piece of writing, it has to be totally original and not submitted or published elsewhere. I can sort of understand why they do it, but when you're playing the law of averages when trying to get published, it means you submit constantly and even though they might not get back to you for 6 months or more, you cannot submit that piece to anywhere else in the meantime.
Plus, now they say your blog counts as previously published! So, I can't get my work out there without putting it on my blog, but I can't put stuff on my blog that I think is good enough for publication because I'm not a fucking super-human who can write that much freaking stuff at once.
Grrrrrrr!

3) Nahmeen?

If I don't know what you mean, I'll tell you. "Do you know what I mean?" is a phrase made up of 6 words, not a slurring of one. It is not supposed to be used as some kind of punctuation. Stop it, it makes you sound stupid.

4) Baby Collectors.

Unless you're Trodo, this is not cool. If you really want to help, take the insane amounts of money you make for doing nothing of any great importance and donate it to poor countries to help them be in a better position where they don't have to put their children into orphanages. You really think growing up the kid of a megastar is going to be easy for them? It's not. Put your time and money into helping these countries, not collecting their children for your nannies to raise.
This whole thing to me is just further proof that celebrities do not understand that they live in the real world.

5) "Hip Hop Isn't Music."

Turntables: an inanimate object created for the sole purpose of making sounds. It is capable of making a finite number of sounds and with time and practice, the user can form that collection of sounds into something cohesive that people want to listen to.
In other words - a musical instrument.
You might not like listening to it, but that doesn't mean it's not music.
(I'm not even going to dignify the "it's all violent and misogynistic" brigade with a response, because they clearly know nothing about hip hop and I don't respect uneducated opinions).

6) Diets.

Hey, Dr Atkins, you know what sounds like the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard? Cutting out a major food group in order to lose weight, that's what.
Don't eat too much processed crap, drink plenty of water and walk sometimes instead of taking your car.
Everything else is just tinsel designed to make you part with your money.

In My Quest For Spiritual Enlightenment, I May Have Inadvertantly Given My Rabbit An Orgasm

2009-04-07T16:40:00.005+01:00

Being an agnostic doesn't really come with much in the way of spiritual well-being, given that all answers pertaining to the mysteries of life and the universe are made up of "Um... I dunno".
But, I don't know. None of us do, not for a fact.

The Jewish God is awfully vengeful and kind of pissy, the whole zombie-spawn thing just makes me laugh, Mohammed won't let me draw cartoons of him (and what use is a religion that you can't make a cartoon out of?) and I lost track of Hinduism at god number 314.
Atheism is out too, on account of them not seeing the irony of believing in something there is no proof of then being evangelical about said belief and thinking the world would be a better place if everyone thought like they do.

I'm always suspicious of anyone who claims to know the unknowable, even those who claim the unknowable doesn't exist. If you tell me what's going to happen to me when I die as though it's a fact, I will argue with you for the hell of it then switch off to everything else you say.

Which leads me to Taoism. No gods, no claims to know what happens after death, no sins and laws. Just accepting that the present is what we live in and we should learn to just chill the fuck out and accept it.
Sounds perfectly sensible to me.

Now, obviously I can't practice it when I'm drunk. Or straightening my hair. Or watching Lost (although I'm fairly sure the sight of a shirtless Sawyer does wonders for my chi).
But this afternoon I did find some time to meditate - if finding time and deciding I could be bothered are the same thing.

My vinda was going, my Oms were Om-y and my lotus position was... OW! Ok, half lotus. I really don't want to give myself a homemade episiotomy.

Meditation is fucking boring. Plus, my ass bones were starting to grind into the floor. When do you know it's working?

"Think by not thinking".
Thanks, smart arse, that's really helpful.

So I'm sitting there, scared to think about my vagina because I'm fairly sure this half lotus malarkey has made it go horizontal and thinking about thinking by not thinking and I'm thinking this isn't as easy as that Lao Tzu made it out to be when all of a sudden I hear a noise.

My rabbit.

A bunny, not a vibrator, just so we're clear.

He's humping my arm. Not only that, but he is making a noise that sounds very much like the noise a man makes right before he farts and falls asleep.
Apparently my meditation attempts are some kind of bunny porn. I am being arm raped by this:

I think about just switching to Scientology, but then I realise that a) I am not a complete dumbfuck and b) they wouldn't pay the bills for the therapy I'm going to need after being sexually assaulted by a bunny rabbit.

If You Can't Say Something Nice... Call Someone A Cunt.

2009-04-06T01:16:00.006+01:00

Well, it had to happen: my mother read my blog. I may be nearly 30 and a mother myself, but something about the look in that woman's eyes has me reverting to my 15 year old, just-been-caught-smoking self faster than Michael Jackson RSVPs an invite to a slumber party. The working class Scottish mammy is a thing to be both admired and feared. Mostly feared.

She wanted to know why I felt the need to call Dan Brown a cunt so often and insist that Michael Bay must die (after I'd explained to her who Michael Bay is). Couldn't I have found a different way to say it?

Short answer: yes, I could.

I have never met either Dan Brown or Michael Bay, but I despise everything they represent (for those of you who don't know, Dan Brown is the guy who wrote The Da Vinci Code and Michael Bay is a director who makes shitty films like Pearl Harbour).

Society has been dumbed down. Whether that's some kind of global conspiracy to keep us stupid and therefore less likely to question the status quo, or just the natural progression (regression?) of the human race, I have no idea.
But the fact remains that our school systems foster mediocrity, 8 year olds are presented vapid whores as role models and more people in the western world could tell you what Britney Spears did yesterday than could talk about the situation in Darfur.

Dan Brown and Michael Bay are representative of that problem. I don't mind some trashy escapism at all - come on, this here blog is hardly highbrow - but when it's done at the expense of all artistic merit, then I take issue with it.

A Michael Bay movie costs an insane amount of money to make. His penchant for making everything go boom for no apparent reason is not cheap. So studios throw enough money to feed the children of a 3rd World country for a year at one of his movies (Pearl Harbour alone cost $135million) and then they know they need to recoup that. So they do the sensible thing - advertise it like crazy.
The smaller budget films made by passionate film makers who want to tell a great story using great actors? Fuck 'em. We've got a Bay budget to recoup.
It costs so much, it gets advertised to the hilt. Adverts for it are so prevalent that people go to see it in their droves. Bay gets even more money for his next movie. And so on, and so on.
It's a vicious circle.

Dan Brown got lucky with The Da Vinci Code and it became a huge hit. The kind of hit any author dreams of.
Because society has become so dumbed down and schools foster mediocrity, with large corporations realising there's far more money to be made in making kids buy a new games console and all the games to go with it every year than there is in getting them to buy books, people don't notice how badly written The Da Vinci Code is.
People are not reading so much any more, and most of what they do read is average, at best.
So Dan Brown makes a shitload of money for his publishing house, who in turn offer him a shitload more to write something new for them, then advertise the hell out of it to recoup... you get the idea.
Just written a linguistic masterpiece that shakes the very core of notions as to what a novel can be? Screw you. No movie deal, no merchandise, no fucking contract.

So, mother, when I say Dan Brown is a cunt and Michael Bay must die, that was a needlessly long explanation as to why.
Fuck them both, and everything they represent.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go and fake my death and emigrate before my mother sees this.

One Requested Post Coming Up

2009-04-04T15:29:00.004+01:00

So, I needed help changing my blog template and said that whoever gave me the most help could pick what they wanted me to blog about and I'd write it up for my next post.
My friend Dougie basically sorted the whole thing out for me, so he got to choose and he asked me to write about the first time we met.

The blurry picture above is from the Public Enemy concert I went to in May last year, the day after my birthday. It's a big blurry mess because it was dark and I was drunk and insanely excited. It's also where I first met Dougie.
As most of you know, I'm a huge hip hop fan (not the MTV crap, the good stuff) and Chuck D is my favourite rapper. Public Enemy were my introduction to hip hop and I've loved them since I was 12, so when I finally got the opportunity to see them live, I was higher than Ozzy Osbourne with a box of bats. This was their Nation of Millions tour. Kool Keith was supporting. If you don't know anything about hip hop, trust me when I tell you that's about as good as it gets.

I went with a friend who was in turn taking his friend, Dougie. The show was in Glasgow's ABC (which is a old cinema and a great venue) and we were all meeting up in a bar first. I was half an hour late and insisted on a pint of Guinness before going to the show - which I knocked back really fast just in case we missed anything.
Dougie told me he didn't drink, which disturbed me a little, for who would turn down an ice cold pint of Guinness on a warm evening? (ok, that's a lie, it disturbed me because I had no intentions of ending the evening anything that even resembled sober and didn't want a sober witness with an untarnished-by-alcohol-memory there to record events).
But then he told me a stream of some of the most offensive jokes I've ever heard and totally redeemed himself because he even managed to get dirty looks from the people who'd overheard him and that is always impressive.

By the time we got in the queue, I was jumping up and down to the point that I was in danger of not being allowed in on account of clearly being fucked in the head. At which point Dougie thought it would be funny to tell me they were cancelling the show. Dougie will not ever make the mistake of pulling a stunt like that on me again. Ever.

Once inside, I proceeded to get so drunk that I very loudly started insisting that "I am NOT drunk!" to people who hadn't even asked and Dougie started to look a little disturbed. Disturbing. Whatever.
Then Public Enemy were due to take the stage. I grabbed Dougie's arm and jumped up and down so much that he woke up with bruises. Impressive for someone who doesn't drink, methinks.

After that, I'm not sure what happened because I completely lost it in my best white girl at a hip hop show way and jumped up and down like a lunatic, leaving Dougie with my bag and jacket and kicking big people who thought they should have the right to stand in front of me.

Dougie? He did what Dougie does and calmly enjoyed the show and kept an eye on me. Even when I fell on the way out and did something that can't have been good to my hand.

We've been in touch ever since, even though he's clearly a way better person than I am and now he's one of my closest friends. He has a collection of offensive T-shirts, an even bigger collection of offensive jokes and Wall-E makes him cry. He takes me and my daughter out for Sunday afternoon trips and lets me pick the music and he calls his car the Bluesmobile.

He's an absolute sweetheart and if any of you out there have a friend who is half as good to you as Dougie is to me, you can consider yourselves some of the luckiest people in the world.

(he also keeps a blog that he never writes anything on, so please convince him to post because he's a very funny man).

Finally!

2009-04-03T19:00:00.004+01:00

The new look Incoherent Ramblings has arrived. And the new look Room 102, which you should totally check out.
Thanks so much to everyone who answered my last call for help. And a special thanks to Dougie, who patiently explained to me what a dipshit I am without actually saying it, because he's nice like that and not because he's in the slightest bit scared of me. It's up to you Dougie - pick what you want me to blog about and I'll do it.

So, what does everyone think of the new layout? Love it? Hate it? Couldn't care less? Let me know.

There will be a proper post coming up as soon as Dougie lets me know what he wants me to blog about.

I Need Help!

2009-04-03T13:33:00.003+01:00

Ok, I need to ask you guys for a favour. In return for this favour, the person who gives me the best help can pick any subject they like, and I will write about it in my next blog post (I must be mad).

I'm trying to change my blog templates for both this blog and Room 102. I have picked the templates and know how to get them on here, but the problem is, when I try, I lose all my widgets, including my followers and my blog roll.
What I need to know is:

1) How do I transfer my widgets to the new template?

2) If I lose something like my followers widget, does that mean I've lost all my followers or is it just the widget?

3) Once the new template is up, can I change the layout of it like I can with the classic template (like where things are sitting on my sidebar)?

4) Can I change the heading colours and font?

5) Can I still add more widgets at a later date?

I am a total spazz with computers so I really need layman's terms here.

If you can help me (you wonderful person, you), just give me your answers in the comments below then tell me what you'd like me to blog about.

Since this is supposed to be a funny blog, here's a joke stuck on at the end of this post:

A man and his wife go to their honeymoon hotel for their 25th anniversary. As the couple reflected on that magical evening 25 years ago, the wife asked the husband, "When you first saw my naked body in front of you, what was going through your mind?"

The husband replied, "All I wanted to do was to fuck your brains out, and suck your tits dry."

Then, as the wife undressed, she asked, "What are you thinking now?"

He replied, "It looks as if I did a pretty good job."

Things That Really Need To Exist

2009-04-02T14:23:00.004+01:00

Justin Somper, I salute you. Who is Justin Somper? He is the man who wrote the book my daughter is currently reading:

Yes, you read that right. Vampirates. Vampire pirates. On a scale of awesome from 1-10, that's got to be a Spinal Tap-esque 11.
Mr Somper, should you wish to create any more awesome hybrids from your clearly genius brain, I have some ideas for you:

1) Fraggle-San.

Hai! Aregato! Ninja Fraggles. Down at Fraggle Rock (boom, boom), kicking ass with a kung-fu chop.
Those little Doozer bastards wouldn't stand a chance. With Gobo as their sensei, the Fraggles would run shit in the caves.

2) Mary Popacapinyoass.

Gangsta Mary Poppins. Won't take your medicine? Fuck a spoonful of sugar, Ms. P-izzle's gonna fuck yo shit up. With her bullet shooting umbrella (ella, ella, eh eh eh) and her trusty sidekick Dick Van Dizzle, those kids are going to learn the street value of that syzurp they won't swallow. Supercalifragilistic, bitches!

3) MacA-Team.

Soldiers of fortune, Scottish style. You need help? They take you to the pub and get you drunk enough to forget your worries. B.A refusing to get on no damn aeroplane? Celtic are playing Seville again and the only way to see the match is to fly. Problem sorted.
Plus, Gerard Butler could play Face.

Yummmmmmmmmmm.

4) Velocirappers.

You know what the problem with dinosaurs is? They don't wear Hammer pants. A T-Rex tells you U Can't Touch This and you'll damn well do as your told.
Baby Got Back? Fucking right she does. And a tail.

A Multi-Cultural Sharing From Over The Web

2009-04-01T16:43:00.004+01:00

I've recently been reading an excellent blog by Jimmy Bastard, a Glasgow man who can tell a story like... someone who can tell a really good story (unlike me, who could not come up with a simile for that but I'm a bit hungover so you should give me the pass just this once).
It got me thinking about the weird and wonderful country I call my home and the rest of you call Scotland.
So, I thought, touched by genius in the way that I am (genius is totally a strange man's penis after you're too drunk to complain), that I would tell you all a thing or two about Scotland.

1) We're Not Mean.

The classic stereotype of the Scot is that he is tight with money, but it's bollocks. Scots are some of the most generous people you'll ever meet, but we hate to get ripped off. We'll gladly give money to a homeless guy, but God help him if he asks for too much - you have to do something to earn that, mate.

2) We Are A Bunch Of Alcoholics

This stereotype is fairly accurate. Sure, there are people all over Scotland who don't drink, but drinking culture is a big part of our way of life. Today is Wednesday and I have a hangover. I have a hangover because I saw some friends last night and if there are more than 2 Scots in a room together after the sun has set, someone's getting wasted.

3) God Can Save The Queen If He Likes, But We're Not Fucking Singing About It.

This may come as a shock to a few people, but Scotland is part of the UK (honestly, there's more than just London). As such, our official national anthem is supposed to be God Save The Queen. A song whose 4th verse is all about killing Scottish people.
Fuck that. We sing Flower Of Scotland and whether they'll officially recognise it or not, it's what we consider our National Anthem.

4) There's No Such Thing As A Scottish Accent.

I'm originally from the Highlands and I now live down south - my accent is totally different to the locals around me. I don't know exactly how many accents there are in Scotland, but I'd be surprised if it was less that 20.

5) Kilts Are Sexy.

Men do wear kilts here for weddings and official-type things. A man in a kilt is like porn to me. There should be a law that all guys have to wear them. And wear them like true Scotsmen too.

6) We Are Not "Carried" By England.

The money Scotland brings in with tourism alone is massive. Not to mention our vast natural resources (like the North Sea oil we see no income from, or the water we pay for while it gets syphoned off, but anyway). Scotland is a rich and fertile land and brings much of benefit into the UK, whether we like it or not (me: not. Others feel differently). Even with a Scottish PM (who's about 2 pies away from a heart attack by my estimation).
As a side note, we don't hate the English. There is amnosity over the way English governments have treated us over the years, but there are very few Scots who would have a problem with your average English person. Although, we would never support them at football (something we might reconsider if they ever shut up about 1966).

7) Braveheart Is A Load Of Mince.

William Wallace was a folk hero and freedom fighter. The English armies did attack us repeatedly and rape our women. But the rest of that film is a load of nonsense. Truth is, nobody knows enough about William Wallace to make an entire movie of his life, especially not an anti-Semitic Australian with a drink problem.
Still makes me all patriotic when I watch it though.

8) We're Not Aggressive, You Just Didn't Get The Joke.

We're funny as fuck. Offensively, crudely and dryly funny. Some people don't get our humour, but to me, the Scottish wit is probably the best thing about us. And we say cunt all the time. I saw a stand-up comedian from England once (whose name I'm afraid I can't remember) who said "Scottish people use "cunt" for everything. So much so, that you need to get them to add an adjective so you know what they're talking about".

Now, don your kilts and c'mon over. You'll always get a ceud mile failte (a hundred thousand welcomes) and plenty to drink.

Someone Cut My Head Off!

2009-03-31T12:11:00.006+01:00

Another meme, this time from Nikki. You're supposed to post a picture of yourself that's 1-2 years old then explain what it's about.
I actually cut my own head off because I didn't want to post a picture of myself on this blog, so I posted a picture of half of myself instead.

This was taken the summer before last in Morocco. I went with my best friend and a Moroccan friend of ours who lives in Scotland. My daughter was with her dad, so I had total freedom for a week.

We spent half our time in Marrakech and half in Essaouira, which is where that photo was taken. Our apartment was the most gorgeous thing, with views right out across the ocean and I wanna go back now!

This picture was taken after I got high on mint tea. I'm not making that up. Moroccans drink this yummy mint tea by the truckload and it got me wrecked. I don't know if it was the sugar they put in it or what, but every time I drank it I felt like I was back at college and had just done a bong challenge that I won because I was the only person who had no concept of stopping when you start to hallucinate and who cares if you think your arm is an extension of the universe with purple spirals all over it because it's not like you've passed out or anything, right?

My best friend was affected by it just the same. We even made our own just in case someone was spiking us (with something very nice. If someone ever tries to spike your drink, ask them to spike it with Moroccan mint tea instead of roofies), but it still had the same effect.

Because of this, I invented the term "Chai-Eyed". I'm clever like that.

After getting Chai-Eyed this day, then literally bumping into a camel (which was honest to Silent Bob a real camel because they're fucking everywhere over there and it was not a figment of our tea-d up imaginations because we were wasted, but not that wasted), we went back to the apartment and decided to hang upside down on the furniture and take pictures. As you do.

After this was taken, we went out to a bar and salsa danced to Guantanamera and forgot we were in Morocco and not Cuba. Then I got drunk because along with Arabic, they speak French in Morocco and I can speak excellent French when I'm drunk. I have no idea why, because I can't speak a damned word of it sober.

If you ever get the opportunity to go to Morocco, go. It's an amazing place. Way better than I just made it sound.

Random Monday Roundup Type-Thingy.

2009-03-30T16:44:00.003+01:00

I got an award! Ain't she pretty? This one came from Vic. I'm sure most of you read her blog already, but if you don't, you should because she's way classier than me but still manages to be pee your pants funny (although she would probably have found a much more ladylike-yet-still-funny way to say that because that's just how she rolls).
Anyway, as one of Vic's Chix and Dix, thank you - you are all kinds of wonderful my dear.

Venom over at Venom, Secrets and Lies was kind enough to do a blog post about this here blog, which was lovely of her, so a big thank you to Venom too. Another blog you should all definitely check out.

Now, on a completely unrelated matter (well, kind of) - funny women.

I read an article - that I don't have a link for because I can't remember where I read it - that made my blood boil a little.

It said that men aren't attracted to funny women. This science-type person tested whatever it is they test to tell us how we work and made the discovery.

She asked men if what they were attracted to in a woman and nearly all of them listed "sense of humour" as an important trait. Turns out they lied their penises off.
What they really meant was that they like women who laugh at their jokes but don't make any of their own.

Apparently, humour is a sign of intelligence and men feel threatened when a woman displays too much of that. And they don't want to be on the receiving end of a witty put-down from 'er indoors.

So, that's me screwed then. Or not, as the case may be. Or screwed plenty but never married. Either way - pah, and indeed, hmph!

How accurate do you think this is? Ladies, do you feel men are threatened by your sense of humour? Gents, what do you really think about funny women? Be honest, I promise I won't get nasty. *looks all innocent*

I'm At It Again

2009-03-27T17:18:00.002Z

Another re-post. Because I'm lazy (which is an excellent reason for nearly everything).

Things You Should Be Able To Download Off The Internet No. 1

Booze. Yeah baby. All kinds of booze. Cold, flowing, crackly noise in the glass as it splashes over the ice booze.

Your computer would have an attachment on the side like those ice dispenser thingys you get on fridges that cost more money than I am willing to spend on a fridge (if willing and able are the same thing). Well, my computer's shit, so it would probably have one that looked like those plastic "push here" things you get in service stations; the ones that always give you either too much so it spills everywhere and everyone stares at you, or too little but you don't want to seem like a tightass by going and complaining that your soft drink is 2cm short of what was promised (but you do anyway because you're having a bad day so fuck it). Still, you get the idea.

Of course, the big drinks companies would get in on it straight away. There would be 5000 different sites where you could get happy hour prices and crazy Tuesdays that all looked exactly the same, but for some reason people would flock there in the masses. And you'd have to click on a bouncer who would grunt at you then make you get a Zwinky who was dressed properly (no trainers) before you could enter.

You could have rum. All kinds of rum. Beautiful rum in all its glorious forms. You could have ice cold Guinness that knew when to stop pouring and when to start again so you didn't have to threaten to rip the head off some arrogant bartender with a stupid haircut for handing you a glass of sludge.

Wine, port, Southern Comfort with proper lime, not just the cordial. Any booze you want.

And Smirnoff would have its own site.

And you could get your vodka served to you by this guy:

Rocket launcher in the ass for no good reason optional.

And you could have tequila.

Oh dear.

This is where the problems begin.

It's starts when I go to the tequila site, needing a hair of the dog. I enter, a little headachey, but happy enough. And a message box flashes before my eyes saying:

You've got some hard neck showing up here after last night. Kindly leave these premises and do not return.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Before long, I have been barred from every site on the internet. Even Google won't have me. Hell, even Myspace won't entertain my company.

My pop up messages go from:

Warning: you have performed an illegal operation!

To:

Fucking sort yourself out. I'm not going to tell you again.

I have to resort to Pirate Bay, but it all goes horribly wrong when I try to download Captain Jack Sparrow and Vanessa Paradis threatens me with legal action.

My computer won't work properly because of all the spillages and I become the first person in history who AOL actually lets out of their contract.

Still, the rest of you would love it. Especially once I've been barred for life from the web.

Fine, I'LL Fix The Economy

2009-03-26T16:13:00.006Z

Ok, world leaders, you listening? Let's cut the bullshit and try things my way, since your way is clearly not working:

1) Legalise Drugs.

A lot of people have been saying this is the perfect time to legalise - and therefore tax - cannabis. I say it's the perfect time to legalise all drugs. That's right, even heroin and crack. I do not believe legalising these things is going to make more people drug addicts. But there are drug addicts in this world and the fact that their drug of choice is illegal is not going to stop them taking it. At the very least, legalising it will cover the costs incurred by the problems that come with their usage.
Cigarettes and alcohol are bad for us, but they're legal. The CIA has allowed drugs to come from Afghanistan and Colombia in exchange for control* (sorry, the spread of democracy), so it's not like they give a shit about our health. If they did, they'd ban McDonald's.
People are going to take drugs one way or another, why not reap the taxes?

2) Legalise Prostitution.

But you can't do that! It's... it's... sex!
Yes. The reason you're here. Imagine condoning consenting adults having sex the way they want to have it. Oh my!
If a woman wants to charge for sex, let her. If a man wants to pay for it, let him. Make it so the prostitutes have to get check-ups on a regular basis and must show a clean bill of sexual health before they can work, and they must use a condom. Make it so they're safe, not treated like criminals for choosing a life that may be hard for most of us to understand.
And most of all, tax them.

3) Let's All Be Swiss.

Neutral. Yeah baby. Let's stop invading other people's countries and take the BILLIONS we spend a year on "defense" and put it into finding a reliable, renewable energy source that will cut down our dependency on oil.
Is that really so out there?

4) Stop Legal Loan Sharking.

If someone can't afford the payments, don't give them the loan. Duh.

5) Ok, This One Is Probably Fantasy...

Stop being so damned greedy. Our consumer society has become a disease that feeds on the worst traits of human nature. The elite rich won't let things change because they're terrified they'll have to cut back from 3 private jets to 1. Fuck them. Seriously, fuck them with a truck full of splinters.
These people sell products made by 8 year old children working 20 hour days in sweatshops then sit back and reap the rewards.
And us? We buy it. We buy it because we think having it matters.
A person's character cannot be measured by the size of their bank balance.
This culture of greed has got us to where we are now. It needs to stop or things are only going to keep getting worse.
I'm not saying no-one should spend - that's not going to help. But don't spend what you can't afford on unethical products because you believe the brainwashing their ad campaigns use on you.

Before anyone starts, I'm fully aware that none of these things are without their own set of problems. But things are in the shitter, and trying to get them out of there whilst desperately clinging to the same way of life that got them there in the first place is absurd. We need to take risks and make change. And change is more than just a word that Obama guy says a lot.

* Allegedly (they so have). Allegedly (but they have). Allegedly.

Damnit, It's That Time of Year Again

2009-03-25T17:21:00.004Z

Parent's Evening. Sent by God to punish us for being stupid enough to believe the rhythm method is an effective form of contraception.

Here's how it works: I go to the school with my little slip of paper that says my appointment with my daughter's teacher is at 6:45pm. I get herded into the school hall with its lack of adequate space and air conditioning that can't even be bothered to pretend it works and get a big folder with my daughter's name on it which is full of worksheets I don't care about and is supposed to keep me amused until the teacher is ready to see me. And the teacher will not be ready to see me at 6:45pm. The teacher is never ready to see me at 6:45pm. Oh no, I'm in for at least an hour of this.

I will try to pass my time by considering chatting to other parents, then I realise they are all on the PTA and do things like bake cakes to take down to days the school has for things I thought the government was supposed to pay for because we're not living in a 3rd world country and we have Starbucks here and everything so surely schools shouldn't have to ask people to bake cakes to sell so they can afford to be schools?

Anyway, these women don't gel with women like me. They look immaculate, they are involved in all things curricular and they bake freaking cakes from scratch. I, on the other hand, only do this because if I don't my kid's probably going to grow up fucked up because apparently mothers are meant to spend time in stuffy school halls waiting for 5 minutes with a teacher whose name you can't remember to tell you nothing of any import whatsoever.

And, you're meant to be "sober". Draconian.

My kid is bright. She has lots of friends and no problems at school. And every Parent's Evening, that's what they tell me.
If I had an issue about her education, I'd tell them. If they had an issue with her, they'd tell me. So why this unnecessary torture?

This evening, I'm getting wise and taking my DS with me and will snarl at any PTA type who looks down her nose at me. Literally snarl. Wish me luck.

OK, So I'm 2 Days Late, But...

2009-03-24T19:07:00.005Z

Since it was Mother's Day on Sunday (over here anyway) and I didn't get a chance to blog, I wanted to honour some of the women I admire most. As a lot of the women I admire most are friends and family who wouldn't likely appreciate me putting up their photos and private business on a blog that uses the word cunt like other people use the word the, these 5 women are all ones I've never met.

1) Janis Joplin.

Aside from that voice - which is so amazing it must be written of in italics - Jains was all woman. This chick unleashed all over the mic.
This was no sexuality-lite from a manufactured pop princess, contrived to cause as little offence and sell as many FHM covers as possible: this was raw and real and all woman.
Janis sang about masturbating without batting an eye. And more importantly, she sang it well.
Janis didn't care what you wanted or expected for her, she just did what she felt like doing and fuck you if you couldn't handle it.
Equally included in here are Etta James and Nina Simone, pretty much for the same reasons.

2) Bette Davis.

"Fasten your seatbelts darlings, it's gonna be a bumpy night!"
Bette wasn't the prettiest actress around. But Bette didn't care. If anything, she took on roles that made her look downright deranged (What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte).
In All About Eve, Davis shares screen time with a young Marylin Munroe. Munroe is at her peak - all doe eyes and breathless sexiness. She's striking, to say the least. But I defy you to watch anyone other than Davis during that scene. The woman invented the art of chewing scenery.
She may not have had the obvious looks of some of her contemporaries, but she made up for it in sheer presence.

3) MC Lyte.

There's no denying that hip hop is a pretty male dominated industry, but MC Lyte helped to pave the way for women in the game. She didn't do this by trying to act like a man, and she didn't do it by trying to act like a whore - she did it with talent.
Her debut album, 1988's Lyte As A Rock, is an undeniable hip hop classic. And men think so too. Lyte has commanded respect without ever losing her own.
Just take a look at any list of hip hop albums released in 1988 (a list that includes PE's Nation of Millions and NWA's Straight Outta Compton) to see the achievement this kick ass woman made in making her mark.

4) Tomoe Gozen

Tomoe Gozen was a female samurai warrior who lived in 12th Century Japan. She is one of the few examples of a woman who fought side by side with the men in full samurai capacity. In fact, many accounts have her as her master's - Minamoto no Yoshinaka - right hand (wo)man.
Her death is shrouded in mystery. There was a battle, a defeat and then about a million different stories as to what happened to Tomoe next.
Her memory will live on forever though.

5) Wonder Woman.

If you've even vaguely read this blog, you probably know this one would be here.
What people forget when they read/watch Wonder Woman stories now is just how groundbreaking her character really was. Women just did not get to be that tough and utterly without the need of male help.
And then there's her beauty: it makes her an even better character because rather than allow herself to be weakened by all the men fawning over her, she totally ignores her own hotness in favour of kicking ass.
Plus, the age old question might be the Batman vs. Superman one, but Wonder Woman could destroy them both.

Sorry About This But...

2009-03-23T15:41:00.002Z

Today's post is a re-post. Lazy, I know, but I had a yucky migraine yesterday and I still feel all shoogly and not quite together today. I posted this back when I had next to no readers, so hopefully it'll be new to most of you.

And I'm also sorry I'm behind with comments and Facebook/e mail replies. I promise I'll get back to everyone soon.

MICHAEL BAY, MY LOVE FOR YOU IS LIKE AN ICELANDIC BANKER'S JOB SECURITY.

Pride and Prejudice: A Film by Michael Bay

Tagline: Move britches, get out the way!

(excerpt from a pre-production meeting)

Studio Exec. 1: So Michael, we've agreed to your casting requests. Jessica Alba as Elizabeth and Ben Affleck as Mr Darcy.

(Michael thumps his hands on the table)

Studio exec. 2: Ok Michael, calm down, we'll fit Shia Lebeouf in there somewhere. The part of Charles Bingley may perhaps be...

Michael Bay: Car go boom?

SE.1: No, no, the car can't...

MB: CAR GO BOOM! CAR GO BOOM!

SE1: Michael, for the love of God, it's the 1800's - there were no cars.

(Michael scratches his head for a moment)

MB: Horse go boom.

SE.2: Ok, son, ok. Horse go boom. (he pets Michael on the head which seems to please him).

SE1: Right, so the lake scene. That's the important one, the one everyone knows. We were thinking...

MB: Jessica. Jessica white top. White top tight and wet. Jessica go jiggly!

SE2: Actually Michael... Michael, what have you got in your mouth? Remember we talked about the difference between food and marker pens? Spit it out. Here, I've got a nice toffee. There you go, good boy. Michael, it's Mr Darcy who comes out of the lake, not Elizabeth.

MB: Affleck go boom?

SE2: No, nobody go boom. Michael, no! No. Put that down. Don't you dare throw that Mister, or I'll send you to the naughty corner. Do you want to go to the naughty corner again, huh? Thought not. How about a compromise - somebody can go boom, just not Mr Darcy. We need him for the plot. Remember we talked about plot? No? (turns to colleague) You talk to him.

SE.1: Mr Bennet can go boom Michael, would you like that?

MB: Shia make Mr Bennet go boom. Shia say cool thing first. Then someone on the toilet nearly goes boom. Make funny. And boom. Funny boom. Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehhehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehhe... funny boom. That's funny.

SE.1: Ok, but there's one thing we need to tell you son. I don't quite know how to say this, but...erm... well... you see, this story, it sort of has class. It needs to make sense.

(all hell breaks loose)

(missing dialogue)

SE.1: Michael? Michael! Oh Christ on a bike, he's got Satan's dick in his mouth. Michael, stop that right now!

SE.2: Michael, would you like a toffee?

(end of excerpt)

Look, I'm Missing A Boyfriend, Not A Limb.

2009-03-21T15:12:00.004Z

(0 for 3. Oh well)

I have leprosy. Otherwise known as being single while all my friends are married/engaged/loved up. They love to give me pitying looks and pats on the back and seem utterly oblivious to the fact that my singledom wouldn't be nearly as big a deal to me if they'd just fucking stop it.

"But we just want you to have what we have". No you don't - you just want to advertise that you have what you have at every available opportunity. And even if you do, who says I want it? "What we have" isn't the be all and end all of love. Maybe I want something completely different to what you have. In fact, if what you have turns me into someone who declares what I have to be the only thing that can bring happiness into a person's life, then I don't bloody want it at all.

Now they've started trying to set me up with men I would never in a million years be interested in. Men they would bitch-slap me for even suggesting they should date them. When I say no, I'm told I'm too picky - which is also known as "beggars can't be choosers".
My nearest and dearest think I should lower my standards (which have actually gotten higher since I figured out the difference between hot and creepy) because I won't find a man otherwise and will therefore be miserable because... you guessed it, I don't have what they have.

Apparently, I also have weird criteria. My 3 important questions for potential suitors are:

1) Who would win a fight between Wonder Woman and the Green Lantern?

2) What do you think of Asia Argento?

3) Who is your favourite Rat Pack member?

According to my friends, this will get me nowhere. Pah.

I feel like they want some kind of arranged marriage for me. A good prospect rather than a soulmate. Hmm.
I'm turning 30 in a couple of months and I freely admit I would find it easier if I had someone. But I don't want a good prospect, I want jelly knees and butterflies in my tummy. If I can't have that, I'd rather stay single.

I Have An Evil Hangover, So I'm Going To Let Someone Else Entertain You Today

2009-03-20T16:50:00.002Z

Question of the day: How come you can sell sperm but not sex?

Random Crap From My Brain

2009-03-19T15:27:00.004Z

I can't think of a damned thing to post about. Plus, I'm going out tonight so I suppose I'm going to have to shave my legs and find something to wear at some point. And I decided I want to wear my hair straight, which is a 2 hour job given the Celtic mess of curly I have on my head (which I call Romantic-era painting inky black tumbling locks when I'm not in a bad mood with it, which is never).
Straightening my hair hurts my arms and my scalp and I never get it looking as good as the hairdresser does and end up with random curls sticking out like little head ninjas and at some point in the evening I just tie my hair up anyway so the whole thing was a waste of time.
And then I'll do it all again the next time I'm going out because one of the signs of insanity is repeating the same thing and expecting different results and I am totally insane.

Anyway, some things I've been thinking today include:

1) Does Superman masturbate? Does he need a lead room to do it in if he does?

2) Why is my rabbit so damned stupid? He's clever enough to use an elephant ornament thingy to jump onto the couch, climb over the cushions and make his way to my daughters keyboard to chew the keys and pee on it, but too damned stupid to know he'll get put back in his hutch every time he does it.

3) How much walking am I going to have to do tonight? Because I have gorgeous new shoes that are going to cripple me if everyone decides to be all "oh, it's a lovely night, let's just walk".

4) Where is my Complete Ballad of Halo Jones? If someone took it, I will kill them.

5) Are you still reading? Really? Wow.

Happy Supreme Sacrifice Day!

2009-03-18T16:51:00.004Z

Yes, it's a real thing. Today is the day we're supposed to celebrate those who have made sacrifices for the good of all humanity. So in honour of that (and the fact I have nothing else to write about here and am trying to write about 7 other things for people who don't think lists of superheroes and dick jokes count as "proper writing" and want me to use metaphors and long words and other such brain freezing nonsense), here are some people I would like to give thanks to on Supreme Sacrifice day:

1) The Barman.

Sacrifice: Their weekends.

Why they should be honoured: Because they get the rest of us drunk. While they're working away behind the bar, watching everyone in front of it get increasingly drunker, louder and more annoying, we're getting wrecked.
And do they complain? Well, yes, probably, but we're all too drunk to notice.
Barmen and women of the world, I salute you.

2) Vapid Whores.

Sacrifice: Respect.

Why they should be honoured: Because whilst it may seem like they're giving women a bad name, in actual fact, they make the rest of us look good.
If you (with the power of the time machine in my garden) sat me in a room with Janis Joplin, I'd feel like a talentless fool. If you sent me for dinner with Dorothy Parker, I'd come away depressed, knowing that my wit was Spiderman to her Wolverine. Marie Curie? Screw her, she'd just make me feel stupid.
But you sit me in a room with any headline-grabbing starlet who has marketed her willingness to market herself as her only discernable skill, and I'd feel like I was just about to win the Nobel Prize for Being Better Than Everyone Else in the Room.
And for that, vapid whores, I thank you.

3) Soulja Boy.

Sacrifice: All credibility as an artist.

Why he should be honoured: I'm picking Soulja Boy because I'm a hip hop fan - if you're a rock fan, you can switch this for The Jonas Brothers, it works for pretty much every genre.
Soulja Boy took hip hop to a new low. He selflessly massacred an art form and sent people underground in their droves. And by underground, I mean the place where good rappers live. Soulja Boy was the straw that broke the camel's bling and as much as I wish death upon everything he represents, if it wasn't for his altruistic awfulness, a lot of good underground artists would be missing out on the support they're enjoying as a result of the backlash. Good for you, Soulja Boy.

4) My feet.

Sacrifice: Comfort.

Why they should be honoured: Because they understand that when given the choice between agonising pain and a gorgeous pair of stilettos, the latter should always win. I make them hurt, but they put on the shoes and don't complain. Well, unless you count the blood and welts. But they make my calves look fabulous. Feet, if the rest of my body is Judas, you are Jesus. Only in better shoes.

I'm Not A Grown Up, I Just Don't Have To Eat My Veggies Any More

2009-03-17T18:06:00.005Z

I was reading a short story over at Bryan's blog (you should check out his blog if you haven't, he's a great writer), and it got me thinking about childhood. Specifically, childhood innocence.

Do you believe in magic?

I still sleep with a thimble on my window sill in case Peter Pan comes to visit. When I was a kid, I pulled my parent's wardrobe down on top of myself trying to get into Narnia - these days, if you have anything private in your wardrobe, hide it from me, because I'm still determined to go to Mr Tumnus' house for cake.

Believing in things that aren't supposed to be real is apparently unhealthy. Ask James Randi or Richard Dawkins, they'll tell you.
Then ask them if they've ever fantasised about having sex with anyone other than their wives and if that fantasy brought them a feeling of gratification. Do they tell their wives they may not be enough to satisfy all their sexual needs and that they'd quite like a threesome with that chick they saw in Starbucks? Or do they keep it to themselves knowing that fantasy is completely false, but is a harmless release that brings some happiness and harms no-one?
My bet is with the latter.

I'm not giving up my childhood innocence because societal norms tell me I should.

People may believe that childhood innocence only exists because kids haven't been exposed to the harsh realities and let-downs of adult life. Bollocks.

There is no living entity more miserable than an 8 year old who's just been told they can't have money for the ice cream van. It's like they've just had their lives ruined.
Do they smile sweetly through gritted teeth then bitch about you behind your back until they end up getting a hernia and needing Prozac? No. They scream and slam doors and tell you everything is unfair and you just don't understand. Then they forget all about it.

Kids are perfectly aware that life can be unfair. They just deal with it by getting angry when they've got something to be angry about, then stopping when they don't. No further analysis. No needing therapy or booze or Oprah. Scream and cry when you're pissed off, climb trees when you're not.

That's why kids get into Narnia and adults don't.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a handsome prince to rescue. That's how we roll in my magic world.

Ok People, It's Voting Time Again

2009-03-16T15:56:00.006Z

We voted for a new Jesus, and Kevin Smith got the job. But now I think this world needs one leader. It would save so much confusion. So, today's vote is for (drum roll please):

Which Superhero do you want to run the world?

1) Batman.

CV: Playboy turned Dark Knight with the grudgiest grudge in all of grudgedom, ninja training, rubber nipples and some really cool shit.

Pros: The list of men in this world who don't like Batman is about as long as the Goldman's Christmas card list. Obama-mania would have nothing on this. Plus, he'd probably free Tibet on account of him liking cold places in the mountains that have mystic monks in them.

Cons: Er... you seen Gotham lately? That's Batman's domain and it's a shit hole. And he probably likes it that way what with the incessant misery thing he's got going on. Plus, he'd no doubt give ridiculous tax breaks to the rich to fund a new Batmobile.

2) Superman.

CV: Kryptonian orphan raised in Kansas by wholesome folks who made him really, really nice so he wouldn't destroy the world with one hand tied behind as back like he could if he wanted to. Partial to the letter L.

Pros: He's freaking Superman. Nobody's getting away with anything. Not only could he put a stop to all the crazy shit we humans do, he could avert natural disasters too. And if he couldn't, he'd just turn back time.

Cons: All that travelling the world might make him sick. Do you really want Superman to sneeze? Plus, with all the saving of lives he'd be doing, overpopulation would become an even bigger problem than it is right now.

3) Wonder Woman.

CV: Amazonian princess in hotpants with the best bracelets ever.

Pros: Her lasso of truth would negate any need for torture. She's second only to Superman for general superpoweriness.

Cons: If her and Thomas Tresser decide to join the mile high club in her invisible plane, there are going to be a lot of accidents. Also, she's too damned tall.

4) Wolverine.

CV: Mutant wolfy guy with metal claws and self healing powers. Very with the brooding.

Pros: I want to be First Lady! He can kick ass, is nearly impossible to assassinate. I want him. I want him a lot. And the desire to have sex with someone is a perfectly good reason to vote for them.

Cons: Jean the skank Grey. Hmph. Also, would probably kill people just because they were in the way/maybe guilty/there.

5) Iron Man.

CV: Eccentric alky with a killer sense of humour and an even more killer evening wardrobe.

Pros: He gets what it's like to be the underdog. Political speeches would no longer be sleep-inducing monotone pieces of crap, but would instead be given to us in the form of witty one-liners.

Cons: May be drunk on the job a lot. Probably smells of pee close up.

6) Jean Grey.

CV: Telepathic mutant who can move things with her mind.

Pros: Caring and nurturing. Would be all about saving the kids and feeding the hungry. The mind reading would make sure only the guilty were punished.

Cons: If she goes Phoenix Force on us, we're a bit screwed. Wolverine stealing whore.

There's your candidates folks. Who gets your vote?

I Am A Total Slut

2009-03-13T15:24:00.004Z

First I guest blog over at Brandy's blog. Now, I've guest blogged for Nick. Go and read them and comment. Comment damnit! For I am a comment whore. Only, the nice kind with a heart of gold who gives you freebies. Slut, in other words.

You know what a male slut is called? A stud. Hmmm.

I want to go and have sex with a guy (I could stop that sentence right there and not be lying) then wait till he asks for my number in the morning and say:

"Sorry mate, but you just put out on the first night. I no longer have any respect for you".

I can say that on this here comedy blog because it sounds funny. Oh, the hilarity. You can't say that to a man if you're a woman. Silly goose (I can't say I've ever met a sensible goose so I have no idea how accurate this little insult is).

You know when I last met a guy who went out and hunted and killed what he wanted for dinner then built me shelter with his own hands? Never, that's when.
You know when I last met a guy who wanted a woman to be more traditional? All the damned time, that's when.
You know when I last met a woman who really, really wanted to see what a guy was like in bed before she got too involved but was scared to sleep with him in case he wouldn't see her as girlfriend material? All the damned time, that's when.

But... respect yourselves ladies!

Yes. Respect yourselves. Not the you you think men want you to be. Just you. Fuck if you want to, don't if you don't. It doesn't make you any more or less of anything. It just makes you you.

Rant over.

Now men, you want tradition? Don the loincloths and go and hunt me some dinner!

Hattori Hanzo, A Guest Blog, Mind Rape and Effen.

2009-03-12T23:16:00.003Z

My first guest blog is now available for your viewing pleasure over at Miss Brandy's blog (which you should subscribe to if you haven't already). Thanks Brandy!

Also, Kurt let me borrow Hattori Hanzo since he's fallen out with him. For those of you who don't know, Hattori Hanzo is the voice inside Kurt's head. He's been keeping me company this evening till he's ready to forgive Kurt.

Hattori Hanzo: Hey Anna!

Me: Hey Hattori Hanzo!

HH: So, you need some inspiration? Kurt doesn't listen to me. You know, sometimes I think he just doesn't get me.

Me: Wanna have sex?

HH: Um... ok.

(some time later - I'm not telling you how long because HH may or may not be embarrassed)

HH: Erm... since I'm technically the voice inside Kurt's head, you do realise you may have just committed mind rape?

Me: Meh. They'll never prove it in court.

HH: So you want a cool blog post.?

Me: Yeah. But I have no ideas.

HH: Kurt quite likes to say "effen" instead of swearing.

Me: Idea! I'll post this video of a Scottish legend making the best use ever of the word effen.

And all the world rejoiced. Except Kurt, on account of the mind rape. Sorry Kurt.

A Fireside Tale

2009-03-12T15:54:00.003Z

Once upon a time (as all good stories should start), there was a great land called Libertia. The people of Libertia had come there many years ago from far off lands where people worshipped the great god Zan. There had been much fighting in these lands over what Zan should be named and how he should be worshipped and much blood had been shed as a result. So, some of the people packed up and set sail for Libertia, promising Zan should not interfere in matters of State to allow every citizen to worship him as they chose, free from fear and bloodshed.

The people of Libertia grew to be many, but they all had a common goal: freedom for all. This goal made Libertia the envy of lands from one end of the earth to the other and it was indeed a great nation.

Within Libertia, there lived people called Jadites. The Jadites had green eyes – something very unusual in this land. They found themselves only able to love other Jadites and no two Jadites could bear children together.

Now, the word of Zan had been bound together in a great book and many people lived by this book. But, the word of Zan was written by man and it had been translated a hundred times, each time losing original words and gaining errors. It came to tell that Jadites were evil and Zan was angry with them. It told of many other things Zan was angry with too, but little heed was paid to them. People focused only on the Jadites.

They decided the Jadites had chosen to sin against Zan, and should be punished. The Jadites were confused: surely Zan loved them as he did all his creations? Some tried to change their eyes to blue or brown, but it was futile. Their eyes had been green since they came from their mother’s wombs and would not change to any other colour.

They were beaten in the streets next to statues espousing the freedoms that had made Libertia great. Laws were made that forbade them the same rights as the blue and brown-eyed citizens and the Jadites were confused again: was Libetia not built on the freedom to separate Zan from mortal matters of state? Should these hazy words from a book of Zan be involved in the laws of this great land? Surely not. Perhaps, they thought, there is some reason that doesn’t involve the word of Zan, something legal according to the freedoms granted to every citizen of Libertia? But they could find nothing, and still the people beat and ridiculed them. It was as though the feared them, though the Jadites could see no reason why.

Libertia fought their enemies in the name of freedom, but would not let the Jadites help. They were hash opponents, smiting those who did not agree with their ways and killing many in liberty’s name. But the Jadites could not take part.

Finally, the Jadites were allowed to live with those they loved. But they were not allowed to marry. They would not be granted the rights of the other eye colours. Should a Jadite fall ill, their beloved could not be at their bedside. Should a Jadite die, their beloved could not be named in their will. Should a Jadite wish to bind themselves to another in love, the law would not acknowlege it.

And still Libertia cried freedom for all. The lie was a terrible one.

Epiphany!

2009-03-11T15:53:00.003Z

I know you've all been incredibly worried about my awful taste in men, and have been losing sleep wondering how you can possibly help me since I am your favourite blogger/cyber personality/delusional nutjob.

Well, worry no more, good people for I have figured out what the problem is. Bold letters for emphasis time:

I can't tell the difference between hot and creepy.

For example:

"I love you and want to be with you all the time. I want to know where you are all the time. Answer your phone. Why aren't you answering your phone? You're cheating on me, you bitch! I'll take you back though. Just tell me who it is."

Is not hot at all and is, in fact, rather creepy. I have only just realised this. Hmm.

And apparently, you shouldn't take a guy back after he trashes a hotel bathroom because you dumped him. It's not "a sign of his love", it's "a sign that he needs to be medicated".

And offers to go to Narcotics Anonymous just for you are not "sweet", they're "warning signs".

See, with the learning. I am so clever.

I am also learning that what may have seemed creepy is actually hot. Things like showing up when they said they would and treating you like they care and making the occasional romantic gesture are not signs of mental illness after all. No. Apparently, these are things the real, actual guys do when they love someone and want to make them happy. Who'd have thunk it?

Now, since I've learned a big important lesson, karma now has a duty to send me a boyfriend or I'm telling My Name Is Earl on it.

Oh, and 10 bonus points if you can tell me where the pic is from.

God Bless The Meme

2009-03-10T18:28:00.005Z

You can be all "Oh, I'm too cool for that meme shit" all you like, people who say that sort of thing, but these little beauties save me from having to come up with something to blog about. Plus, they let me talk about myself, which is an awesome subject, if I do say so myself. Which I do. Did. Will. Anyway:

This meme is 5 Things You Love About Yourself. Nikki tagged me in it. If you get tagged, you're supposed to play. If you don't, I'll come and find you and tickle you. With acid.

1) I love that my daughter is smarter than me.

Ok, it's not hard, but she really is a smart cookie. Which means that in between hangovers and taking her out of school for 2 weeks because I felt like going to Turkey, I must be doing something right.

2) I love my badonkadonk.

I'm pear shaped and I love it. Most women hate their asses and obsess over them a ridiculous amount, which makes no sense to me considering it's the part of your body you see the least. But I love mine. It's all smooshy and jiggly and my weight goes there instead of on my waist so fuck you calories.

3) I love that my favourite word is cunt.

This may not seem like something to love about yourself, but you've obviously never been dragged to see your mother's church friends - who are all about a gazillion years old and smell like stale pee and death - then have them start a conversation about what your favourite word is.

Old church lady: And what's your favourite word dear?

Me: Cunt.

Entire room: ....

Totally worth my mother's wrath because even though I'm a grown woman and she's 4'11" and barely has enough coordination to walk most of the time, she can still slap the shit out of me no matter how much I duck.

4) I love that nothing offends me.

I don't care if the joke's about gang rape, retards or natural disaster; if it's funny, I'll laugh. The sicker the better. This means I find more things to laugh about than easily offended people, and am therefore happier than them.

5) I love being a geek.

Whether it's hip hop, comics or movies, I'll geek it up with the best of them. It makes men think you're awesome and women think you're weird enough not to be a threat even though you've got a really nice ass so they won't be bitches to you.

Ok, I'm going to tag Nick, Vic, Cap and Dougie. Get to work you lot.

In Defense Of Superman (or: Screw You, Fanboys)

2009-03-09T19:33:00.006Z

(the other title for this post is Bryan and Nick are never going to speak to me again).

Batman: Men love him. They love him so much that they dream of settling down in the Batcave with him and adopting little bat babies.

If you ask who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman, the answer is a resounding "Batman, of course!" If you ask who is better, the answer is the same.
If Batman was a rapper, he'd be Tupac: good and all, but for the love of God not that great and please shut up about him already.

But Superman is an alien with superpowers, Batman is so much easier to relate to!

You people are to Superman what Trandoshans are to Wookies. That's right, Chewbacca's an alien too. Just you think about that. Because if you hate Chewbacca, you are a terrible person who probably kicks puppies and steals from charity.

Apart from that, let's look what it is you relate to in Batman so much more than in Superman.

An incredibly wealthy trust fund baby who watches his parents get murdered then goes on intensive ninja training before adopting an orphaned circus acrobat, having expensive weaponry made from daddy's money and being a socialite playboy in his spare time.

OR:

A man who never quite feels like he fits in, is lonely a hell of a lot and searches where he can for the good in people in order to try to make some sense out of the world.

If you really think you can relate more to the first one, you've either got way too interesting a life to be reading this blog, or you're delusional.

But Batman would kick Superman's ass in a fight!

Uh-huh. Because Batman is so intelligent and ruthless that a man who can fly, shoot lasers out of his eyes, deflect bullets and turn back time wouldn't stand a chance against him.
Really?
And you honestly want a Republican slum lord to win this one?
You may like Batman more, but I think you're seriously underestimating Superman's powers.
Kryptonite? I'll see you Batman's use of green kryptonite and raise you Superman's use of red. That negates the "Superman's too nice argument" too.

But Superman's just so dull!

If Superman was dull, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. If you know enough about Superman to have this argument, then you don't think he's dull or you wouldn't have paid so much attention to him.

Go to Gotham and see what happens when you inadvertently find yourself an innocent bystander in a place where Batman's permanent PMS means he's pissed off with someone yet again.
Then tell me how much better than Superman he is while they're feeding you through a tube.

The Best Days Of Your Life My Badonkadonk

2009-03-09T16:15:00.005Z

Badonkadonk is an awesome word.

Anywho (I hate people who say that), schooldays. You want to know what the difference is between your schooldays and your adult life? Not a lot, that's what.

1) "Don't Worry, She'll Be Working In Burger King"

Yeah, she is. But now I want a spicy beanburger and large fries and the bitch is going to spit in them, I just know she is.
There was always that horrible person at school who you knew was never going to amount to anything, but it didn't make them any less of a bitch.
They don't get nicer when they swap their school tie for a fast food outlet uniform. They just find new ways to make not cooking your own dinner scary.

2) Rules, Rules, Rules.

Less rules? No. You just swap teachers and parents for bosses and banks. And they won't give you detention or ground you if you piss them off - they'll fuck you up.

3) Social Hierarchy.

Look around you. There's a 99% chance that though your social circle may be made up of different people to the ones you went to school with, they're still the same type of people.
My friends are nearly all slackers, stoners and hip hop geeks who drink too much and vaguely understand there are certain things you're not supposed to say or do in polite society but say or do them anyway.
No change there then.

4) Humiliation

When I was at school, we went on a school trip to Berlin. Here is a conversation I had with my best friend:

Her: Get off the bus!

Me: I'm not getting off the bus, it's bloody freezing.

Her: But don't you want to see it?

Me: It's a wall. Why the hell would I want to see a wall?

Her: It's the Berlin wall!

Me: Don't be so stupid, they knocked that down.

Now, apart from the face that every news reporter in the world lied their bandonkadonk off when they said the Berlin wall had been knocked down when actually it had just had a bit of a hole put in it, I have never lived this down.
People I didn't even know when I was at school now call acts of gross stupidity a "Berlin wall moment".
You will never stop being humiliated. Ever.

5) That Special Boy/Girl.

When I was at school, it was Tarquin Wonderstorm (which is not his real name, but it should have been). He was tall dark and handsome. He was mean and moody. He was the reason I may or may not have stuffed my bra with tissue. He showed no interest in me whatsoever, and oh my lord did I want him.
Now, it's a certain bouncer at a certain nightclub who totally only threw me out because he wanted to touch me. Sigh.

Oh, after I defended the penis (under this post), Cap defended the vagina. Read it.

Anna Russell: Penis Defender*

2009-03-07T15:25:00.004Z

Poor men. They get a pretty hard time from us ladies (stop laughing, I am so a lady). Now, whilst said hard time may be pretty justified for various reasons, I'm going to go easy on them for this post and talk about the things that are great about men.

1) They're taller than me.

I'm 5'3" which means that even a short man is taller than me. Do you know how impressive it is to watch someone change a lightbulb without the use of a stepladder? Very, that's how.
It also means that when they give you a hug, it's all smooshy and blanket-like and very, very nice.

2) The Male Ego.

Usually, this is seen as a flaw in men. Usually, it is (tip: men don't like it when you kick their ass in an argument using logic and knowledge. Especially if said argument involves superheroes or music).
But it has advantages. Do you think that he is any less terrified of the spider in the bath than you are? Or that he hasn't considered the strange noise from downstairs is a serial killer preparing an acid bath? He'd rather watch a Sex and the City marathon followed by a day of shoe shopping than touch that spider or go downstairs.
But there is no way he's going to let you know this. He will get that spider out of the bath and then tell you it's cool, he'll check before making his way downstairs to tackle the potential serial killer who is actually just the heating making a funny noise.
You? You can just stay in your bed, all warm and cosy. Because you're perfectly happy to admit you're scared.

3) It's Not Just Boobies That Turn Them To Jelly.

If you think men are only attracted to FHM covers and fluttering eyelashes, you're way off the mark.
I know 2 guys who can barely stand to watch Baz Luhrmann's Romeo and Juliet because Claire Danes is so lovely in it, it breaks their heart.
And as for all the money we spend on nice outfits - you know what a guy loves to see you in most of all? One of his old t-shirts.
They're really not as shallow as we think they are.

4) They're Kind Of Useless, But They Try.

Men don't tend to know what to do in times of crisis/illness/things not going quite right for someone. They tend to want to just fix things and leave the nurturing stuff to us.
But bless their hearts, they try their best. They'll tell a fart joke at a funeral if they think it'll cheer you up. It's wrong, but it's endearing.

5) They Don't Want To Talk About Their Emotions Every 5 Minutes.

You know what's great after one of your girlfriends has just been dumped and another has boyfriend problems whilst yet another is convinced she's fat when she's clearly delusional? The company of men.
They'll discuss the meaning of life, list Coen brothers movies from best to worst, give you beer and let you away with being in charge of the stereo because you have a nice ass and have to bend over to put in a CD. But they will not tell you they think they have a spot coming out that's going to ruin their weekend and that if their father hadn't been so emotionally distant maybe they'd have more luck in relationships.
And I appreciate that.

6) Love.

When men fall in love, they don't do it by halves. They will love from the toes up, with every fibre of their being. They might not always be romantic and they might not ever learn to put the toilet seat down, but they will love you with a fire that could burn the sun.

* That's the second post in a week I've done that has the word penis in the title. Hmmm.

Side Note: I have decided I will not date men who don't find Asia Argento attractive. There are 2 types of men in the world: those who get that she's sexy and those who don't.

Friday's Music Madness

2009-03-06T14:43:00.004Z

Usually on a Friday, I post a Don't Lie, You Know You Love It. But recently I've had so many conversations about the state of music right now, that I want to illustrate that instead.
Instead of a long rant about the evils of Clearchannel and the dumbing down of society, I'm just going to make my point in the form of youtube videos, because I'm down with the zeitgeist like that.
There are 8 videos in all, but don't worry - only 4 of them are worth listening to (I should point out that each of these categories have still got great music happening, but my point is about what's selling in big numbers in the mainstream).

1) Country (Then)

Country (Now)

2) Rock (Then)

Rock (Now)

Pop (Then)

Pop (Now)

Hip Hop (Then)

Hip Hop (Now)

If You're Not Going To Use That Dictionary, Do You Mind If I Smack You In The Face With It?

2009-03-05T14:21:00.004Z

I've been talking to a few people recently (Kurt and Cap included) about affronts to the English language.
People who are guilty of the following things should not be allowed to live:

1) You literally need to find a dictionary

"I was literally climbing the walls". Unless you are Spiderman or part Gecko, this is a lie. You know what happens when you tell a lie? An angel dies. I hope you're proud of yourself, angel killer.
If you're literally doing something then you are actually doing it. If you're not actually doing it then do not use the word literally to describe it.
Many affronts to language happen out of laziness, but with this one, people go out of their way to add a whole 4 syllable word to their sentence that doesn't need to be there.
I am literally going to punch you.

2) Make up your mind: do you care or not?

I've blogged about this one before, but it's become so prevalent that it's worth mentioning again.

"I could care less".

"I couldn't care less".

Look at those two statements, use your brain and figure out which one makes the most sense if you are trying to convey that you don't care.

If you think it was the first one, come here. This will only hurt for a minute.

3) Their They're.

They are = they're

Belonging to them = their

All other uses = there.

Got that?

4) FOMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOLZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whilst it is occasionally acceptable to use abbreviations when writing text messages or talking on MSN, it is NOT acceptable to write entire paragraphs in LOL speak. What did the English language ever do to you?
I have been called a grammar Nazi for pointing this out to people which bemuses me considering:

a) It's not actually your grammar I'm correcting in a Nazi-like manner. I have no idea if your grammar is okay or not because I can't decipher a damned thing you're saying.

b) You people are to the vowel what Hitler was to the Jews.

5) Double Negatives.

If you try to tell me you're not doing anything by telling me you're not doing nothing, I will inflict pain upon your person.
The only exception to this rule is hip hop. If you wish to debate this exception with me, then spit me a freestyle hotter than a Rakim verse and I'll gladly consider your argument.

Oh, and while we're talking hip hop, here's some Sage Francis for your listening pleasure because a rap song with a country vibe that name checks Ginsberg and Bukowski is 31 flavours of awesome.

Finally, My Genius Is Recognised

2009-03-04T22:32:00.005Z

Kurt made me this award. I totally desrve it and in no way threw a hissy fit and demanded it because everyone had them except me and Trodo is an evil monkey overlord anyway. Everyone knows awards matter. That's how you can tell if you're a good person or not.

Kurt knows awesome when he sees it. Thank you Kurt, for your good taste.

Also, what's with the guest blogging everyone else keeps doing? Why can't I guest blog? I don't really want to guest blog because I can barely be bothered writing posts for my own, but I'm just saying. *

*That was a lie. I totally want to guest blog.

Where Are The Penis Nunchucks? Time Needs A Good Slap

2009-03-04T14:05:00.010Z

I am going to be 30 in (caps lock time to explain the gravity - but not the kind that makes apples hit scientists on the head, the other kind - of the situation) LESS THAN 3 MONTHS!

How the hell did this happen? One minute I'm skipping maths class with my best friend and we're all "Yeah, I'm totally going to be married to a guy who owns a Harley Davidson and loves me more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of ever and he'll totally look like Jason Priestly or LL Cool J and I'll travel the world and be all rich and successful."
And the next minute, I'm a single mother who actually has less than no money if you take into account all the people who want money off me and think telling me that in red ink instead of black will make that money magically appear. But I am immune to their red-ink magicks.

Said best friend turned 30 in December. She was freaking out as much as me, but now she's all "Oh, it'll be fine, no need to worry" and I'm all "You just re-met the man of your dreams after 10 years apart in a total fairy tale and you did it right before you turned 30. So you can just shut up".

I have achieved some things I wanted to before I was 30:

Travelled. Not as much as I'd like, but a decent amount, including a trip to Morocco that was all hippyish.

Learned Italian and went to Italy on my own twice and totally asked for directions and train tickets in Italian. And took pictures like this:

Had some of my writing published.

Trained as a dancer (ok, had to quit because of body being all "Ow, you injured me, you bitch". but still trained as one).

Seen Public Enemy live.

Been arrested (look, men in uniform are hot, ok).

Been a muse for a poet.

But you know what I haven't done - apart from sorted my life out, finished my book, got not scared to open my mail, taken responsibility for my actions, that is?

Been She-Ra

That's right. All I wanted to do when I was a kid was be She-Ra. Only with dark hair.
I pulled my parents wardrobe down on top of myself trying to get into Narnia. I made myself ill sleeping with the window open year-round in case Peter Pan tried to visit. But I would have given all that up to be She-Ra.
Mistress of the Universe? I am so there (Cap tells me he's Master of the Universe).

As for the husband. I think I may need to look at different men. Here are some actual things exes of mine have said:

"What do you mean you dumped me yesterday? You bitch! Why don't I remember? Oh, yeah, there was the drugs".

"Ooh, he's cute".

"Yes, I know I've just trashed the hotel bathroom, but you upset me. I'll still take you back though. That's how much I love you".

"Happy Valentine's Day! Oh, by the way, I've met someone else".

I have terrible taste. But make me She-Ra and I can totally have my pick. Or not care because I'm too busy being SHE-RA and who needs a man anyway.

Oh, and FYI (I only learned what that stands for last week), I am now telling everyone I'm 24. Not because I'm scared of getting older, but so that when I achieve all the amazing things I'm going to achieve, people will call me a polymath and that's a dead fancy word. So this post is a secret.