Well, not toxic, exactly... maybe just a little bit rank. But in a nice way. With a garnish.

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Hose me down with Domestos, please

I was assessing a guy today when I noticed a little black thing exit his hair line just above his left ear and scuttle purposefully across his cheek towards his mouth.
I can tell you, my scalp started itching immediately and my ears sounded like someone had just plunged my head under water.
Although appalled, there was a tiny bit of me that was absolutely fascinated. Didn't he know he was host to an indeterminate sized family of bugs making themselves comfortable on his bonce?

The bug had managed to leg it to within a gnats knee of his mouth when he scratched it, and it disappeared somewhere down towards his neck.
My entire body was itching by this point and I was thanking every deity I chance to think might be listening, that I hadn't sat a little closer.

Brings to mind a hilarious post I read a while back on the Darwin Awards web site.
Read on, but only if you don't get too easily upset by the utter stupidity of Americans!
Not, of course, that I'm suggesting that all Americans are stupid. Just a tiny bit dense. Some of them.

Here it is:

(August 2002, Texas) My Cosmetology School instructor was answering questions concerning the common problem of head lice, when she told us the story of a woman who caught the little parasites while working at a day care center.
After consulting with her mother and grandmother, the woman decided to stop by the local gas station instead of the local drug store. You see, an old wives tale holds that soaking one's hair and scalp in gasoline will kill the bugs. To some extent, it is true; however, lice are not the only creatures liable to suffer damage during this procedure.
After soaking her head in gasoline, the woman was in the mood for a cigarette. So she carefully washed her hands, covered her hair with a towel, and stepped outside to light up (no pun intended.) Shortly thereafter, the day care worker was no more, although it may be safe to say that she had rid herself of head lice.
I do not know which is more disturbing: that this woman was so lacking in common sense as to douse her head in gasoline and light a cigarette, or that she was entrusted with several children's lives on a daily basis. © 1994 - 2005

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Counted down

Sad to say, Richard Whiteley died on Sunday.
Countdown won't be the same, I mean, who else will make crap jokes and be as generally inept as he was, in as charming a way as he did??? (if you get my drift)
He was to daytime TV, what John Peel was to music. But crapper.
Sorry to see you go, matey.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Planes, trains and multi-terrain Stannah scooters...

Hats off to the Disabled ramblers of the world!
These intrepid whirley-hikers are everywhere! Honestly, stick a search in your favoured search engine for these bods and you'll be amazed how many there are.
I'm humbled. I've walked up a few mountains in my time but never in an electric wheelchair.
It must be like Alton Towers, but scarier.
Can I submit this as a possible extreme sport for the next Olympics?

Finally, can I say, the dedicated hunter amongst you will find some sterling head-gear. Look out for the old blokes, they're great!

Sunday, June 26, 2005


What can I say?
I've found the most addictive game in the world since they invented addictive games.
In fact, I even dreamed about this game last night (how sad is that?!).


Saturday, June 25, 2005

Bare my soul

Things that I like doing but really shouldn't admit to it.

I love it, especially if I can make a big song and dance about it! Jet propelled snot (see listing a couple of days ago) and million-mile-an-hour spit particles. Cool.

You just can't simulate a good stretch... you really do have to make the most of them when they happen. Bliss when you do!

The highlight - or sometimes highlights - of my day! I try and save them all for work, 'cos it makes me that extra bit happy when I know I'm being paid for doing it :-)

Friday, June 24, 2005



Check out this essential vessel for when Jesus cometh.
The religion-lunes amongst you can watch His forthcoming reappearance over and over with every mug of brew.


Thursday, June 23, 2005

Born-again pain in the jacksy

Met a guy today who was intent on converting me.
I was doing a stint down at the job club - guidance and advice. Makes it sound like I know what I'm talking about. Well I don't! Well maybe just a bit.

I asked him what kind of job he was after.... to which he answered,

"8 years ago I gave my life to the Lord Jesus Christ......................."

What's that got to do with Jobsearch???

HELP!!! What is with these people? Does he go home and put a little star on the 'Witnessing to poor, unsuspecting normal-people' chart on the fridge door? 'Hey, honey, I'm home! Witnessed to seven heathens, a dyke, a scab-encrusted baby and a crazy lunatic hobo today. They all told me to bugger off, but I'm sure Jesus is smiling at me'.

Do Christians have some kind of written note from God excusing them from common courtesy?

'To whom it may concern.

Please underline as appropriate.

My son / daughter (in Christ) has got no social skills and is a total pain in the arse. Please excuse him / her from being a reasonable citizen as he / she is stupid enough to think that ramming his / her beliefs down people's throats in some way is a caring and endearing way to behave.
Obviously dying on the cross wasn't quite enough for him / her, he / she still feels the need to make amends by making a total laughing-stock of himself / herself.

Sorry about that.



He spent the whole time avoiding my questions and talking about Jesus.... kept asking me if I 'believed'.
Well my position as a professional means that I can't impose my personal views on him. Shame, because he obviously didn't share the same scruples.
I suspect he might have been a tiny bit offended if I'd told him that I think all Christians are hypocritical bastards.

If I ever want saving, it's from hymn-crazed sawn-off bible carrying people like him.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Hocking a Loogie

I heard when I was about 13, that if you keep a sneeze 'indoors', it kills approximately 300,000 brain cells every time.
Actually I have no idea if over the years my memory of that fact has exaggerated the numbers somewhat - could be - but whatever, a considerable proportion of your grey matter perishes and that worried me a bit.
Think about it, at the young age of 13, I could have demolished half of my brain, just through trying to be polite!

That in mind, I started to appreciate my sneezes.
I went for it wholeheartedly. Massive, industrial-sized, ear-drum-splitting sneezes.

I loved it! I'd found a new hobby... yo-yos were out, sneezing was in.
Bugger being lady-like. In the interests of not lobotomising myself, I became a dedicated sneezer.

Two years ago I developed Hay Fever. Fantastic! If only I didn't get itching eyes as well, I'd be like a pig in shit.

Fast-forward to the present day.

I was merrily driving to work this morning, cruising along the M4, when I felt a sneeze brewing.
With just enough time to turn my head to the side, I did the biggest sneeze the world has seen. It practically propelled me from the outside lane back into the inside lane.
I kid you not.
I'm happy to report that it possessed all the qualities of a well-rounded, throat-ripping YELL of a sneeze......... but unfortunately I also hurled a humongous slug-sized blob of snot into my side window.

It was embedded in the glass, leering at me with all the consistency of silly-putty and all the attitude of a dog-turd in a paddling pool.

In the absence of a tissue, I had to drive the remaining 40 minutes accompanied by this specimen of mucus sitting next to me almost at eye-level, in my periphery vision.
In fact, every junction I got to, every set of traffic lights, I could feel the eyes of the nation boring their way into my car saying 'Look at you! You've got snot on your window...............'

And so, if you were one of those people, I didn't do it on purpose (honest) and no, I don't keep it there all the time.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

live culture....

I've just eaten a yoghurt that's 2 months out of date.
Partly out of need-for-food-ness, and partly to be bloody minded - to stick two fingers up at fate and do exactly what I like.
I walk under ladders for the same reason. No really, I do.

Back to yoghurt.
Imp hates it when I do that; she always throw things away even if they're 5 minutes out of date.
What a waste. I've found myself, on occasion, sneaking looks into the bin and seriously considering rescuing the unfortunate out-of-date food item.

My argument is that yoghurt is bacteria, so what can possibly go wrong?!

Anyhow the yoghurt was nice, and I bet you £20 that I'm still alive and kicking in a weeks time.

While I'm on the subject (did you notice how I did that? Smooth!) I found this amusing little thingy nestling away in the depths of internetland. Thought I'd corner it, catch its heaving, trembly little body under an upturned bucket and re-release it into the heady freedom of Blogdom.

Using Leftovers.

It Could Be Dangerous if...

  • Eggs. When something starts pecking its way out of the shell, the egg is probably past its prime.
  • Dairy Products. Milk is spoiled when it looks like yoghurt. Yoghurt is spoiled when it starts to look like cottage cheese. Cottage cheese is spoiled when it starts to look like regular cheese. Regular cheese is nothing but spoiled milk anyway, and can't get more spoiled than it already is. Well, it can, but it rarely gets that far. You can always cut off the fur coat it grows.
  • Meat. If opening the fridge causes stray animals to congregate outside your kitchen door, the meat is spoiled.
  • Lettuce. This is spoiled when you can't get it off the bottom of the salad tray without a blow-torch.
  • Carrots. A carrot that you can tie in a clove hitch is not fresh.
  • Chinese Food. If the carton must be cut away to remove the contents, it's suspect.
  • Potatoes. Fresh potatoes do not have roots, branches, or dense leafy undergrowth.
  • Canned Goods. Any canned good that has become the shape or size of a basketball should be removed from the premises. Wear a helmet.
  • Mayonnaise. If eating it makes you violently ill, mayonnaise is spoiled.
  • Flour. Flour is spoiled when it wiggles.
  • Raisins. These should not be harder than your teeth.
  • Wine. It should not taste like salad dressing.
  • Tupperware containers. These should not burp when opened.

Rule of Thumb. Most food cannot be kept longer than the average lifespan of a hamster. Keep a hamster in your fridge to gauge this.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Touch of death

Well the weekend went tits up.
Imp and I were supposed to be celebrating i) her birthday ii) her divorce.
For some reason everything I said seemed to come across wrong and vice versa. That's the beauty of communication, I suppose - it's all a bit of a minefield, especially when you're both SLIGHTLY STRESSED!

So here we go; Funny Thing, master of conversation and expert of all things social, triumphs once again... There's not a carefree friendly chat on this planet that I can't make a huge scrotal balls-up of.

Re-run #1.

Imp: Well you've got your Happy-Head on today then.
F-Th: What d'ya mean?
Imp: I can always tell when you're not happy... everything I've said so far today, you've had a negative answer for.
F-Th: That's not fair.......
Imp: Sometimes I feel like it's almost not worth bothering.

At this stage I reach back into the grown-up part of my brain and erm.... can't think of a single bloody thing to say.

*note to self: Keep a stock of 'happy-chat' in case of emergencies.

Needless to say, I then became a real-live mute. Just in case anything I said could be construed as negative. Bundle of laughs, me.

Re-run #2.

Imp: Chatchatchatchat Blah blah blah chattychatchat.
F-th: (nothing)
Imp: What's wrong?
F-th: Nothing.

Please note, I can be hired out for wedding parties and birthday celebrations.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Pharisitic society

I bumped into Jesus a couple of years back.

That was shock to the system, I tell you.

I'd just broken up with my last partner and was low, depressed, thinking that maybe I should be looking for more from life.
So off I go, embarking on a new quest for meaning.

Few problems:
  1. I'm gay. Incompatibility with church-life there, you can't have gay relationships and go to church. They don't like it.
  2. Church music. It's boring! I love music, all kinds of music. Try me, I'll give it a shot. But to my horror I found myself trying to like the musical version of puree?ed carrot. It's a tedious, vibe-less, unimaginative, one-size-fits-all mentality.
  3. Lifestyle. Their idea of a wild night out was caffeine in their coffee and staying up til 10:30. My idea of a wild night out was downing a few whiskeys, hitting the clubs, getting completely arseholed on a mixture of beer and chasers, losing my memory, falling off a wall, breaking my front teeth and pissing in the wardrobe.
  4. Alcohol. I like it. I really like the odd bevy. Or 2. They thought that going to the pub was opening myself up to the Devil. I thought I was just enjoying a pint of bitter.
  5. Praying. Christians see it as a substitute for friendship. You could be on the verge of suicide and weeping with anguish...... but all they'll do is tell you they're 'praying for you'. All I ever wanted was a pint in the quietest corner of my local and a chat.
  6. Guilt. Jesus died on the cross because of me. Oh, terribly sorry, I hadn't realised I was that bad. Oh yeah, and another tiny little minor point.......... I WASN'T THERE!!!!


You've probably already realised that it wasn't an altogether successful time in my life.

I have, however, come away with a once again healthy suspicion of anyone who calls themselves a Christian. After many months of sitting through sermon after sermon about self-improvement (not a bad thing, I admit) and not judging people, acceptance, forgiveness, blah blah BLAH, I couldn't help noticing that the second I gave up on the whole 'I must stay celibate* for the rest of my life' thing, I was dropped like a hot potato and no one has spoken to me since.

Glad to see hypocrisy is live and well.

*masturbation is bad as well. Did you know that? Nor me. Apparently it's wrong because you're satisfying your own needs instead of waiting for some bloke to come along and do it for you. From what I hear from all my straight friends, I could be waiting a VERY long time!

If there are any out there who aren't modern-day Pharisees, I wanna hear from you.

But for now, this is what I think about Christians:

Bag of Arse.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Birthday Sex

We found out today that Imp has been divorced since Tuesday.


Real mixture of feelings... for me - relief. Oh, and might I just mention also, I feel BLOODY BRILLIANT!
For her - really happy and a bit sad as well. She's spent a lot of the day in tears, not really knowing how to feel.

Weird day. We're a proper couple now, although there aren't many people who would acknowledge that.

But that's a whole other story. Let's save that one, eh?

On the subject of celebrations, Imp was wading into her 40's yesterday.
Which moves me on to the subject of Birthday Sex.

It's a funny old thing, innit?!

You meet someone you fancy the arse off and you're horny constantly. In fact, there's a very real danger of dehydration.

*I personally took to wearing a Camelbak hydration pack to work, cos I was becoming weak through desire... I don't think anyone noticed. Handy tip, there.

Blimey, if I even saw the same model car as her's I started hyperventilating, and if it was the same colour, I was practically prostrate.
So that was about every 40 seconds, then.

It took about 6 months to be able to complete a whole conversation with her, without getting distracted half way through by very VERY naughty thoughts.
Now I can last about half an hour.

So, Birthday Sex. Not a problem.

I have in the past been in the position when even Birthday Sex was a distant memory. Took about 4 years.

Just wondering how long it takes other couples before it becomes the only sex you have?
Little survey.

So here are my questions:
  1. If you only have BS, is it (in your opinion) the end of the relationship?
  2. Have you ever been there?
  3. How long did it take to get there?
  4. Would you be/are you happy to only have BS?

My answers:

  1. yes
  2. yes
  3. 4 years
  4. no

Over and out.

Front Bottoms......

'The innocence of 1950's advertising'

Oops! Here's a big round of applause for this gem. Posted by Hello

*note of explanation to those people unfortunate enough to be American
(please accept my genuine heartfelt deepest sympathy) :
To everyone else on the planet, a fanny is a lady's front bottom. Ahem.

Needless to say, that means that everyone - other than you Yanks - falls about laughing everytime you mention 'fanny-bags'! Can't you catch up and call an 'arse' an arse like us Brits?!
I ask you! Fanny-bags, my bottom.

Please excuse me while I snigger just a little bit.
I might be 32, but I'm not too proud to collapse in helpless mirth at the mere mention of a fanny.

I thank you.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

pink = girls?

I'm not a political animal, just your average person with a larger-than-average set of opinions.
Oh, and I'm ususally right.
Obviously I don't claim to be right all the time, but I'd have to invite you to come outside with me for a little chat if you dare argue...;-)

Anyhow, I just need to share something that REALLY gets on my nerves, and that's pink sections for girly stuff in supermarkets.

What's all that about then?

Who was it who sat back and decided that pink should always denote all things female, and blue, all things male.
OY!!! I've got boobs, but my favourite colour is blue....... and I can't stand pink!

Last time I looked, pink was a colour... same as orange, and emerald and yellow... you know, the result of other colours mixed together.
What's that got to do with gender?

I was browsing for birthday cards for my girlfriend in Tesco, and I had to enter this enormous PINK ZONE... it was like standing in a giant intestine. -Maybe it's just me, but all the women's cards seemed that extra bit crap, doubtless due to the fact that it seemed compulsory to daub frilly stuff and glittery doily things over everything.
I tell you, I couldn't get out quick enough.

The blue section was loads better. The blokes are treated to cards with Humour as opposed to Sequins.

And while I'm on the subject of stereotyping, I was in Woolworths a couple of weeks ago and couldn't help noticing that all the toys were split into 'Boys Toys' (blue area) and 'Girls Toys' (pink area).
Needless to say, when I was little, I would rather have eaten my own legs than played with the rubbish on offer in the 'Girls' section. Give me a Mutant-Killer-Power-Water-Cannon anyday, over a Little Princess I'm-Being-Primed-for-Wifedom-and-Subsequent-Breeding Spangley Pushchair.


Wednesday, June 15, 2005

pizza famine

It's Imp's birthday tomorrow. That means I get a day off my diet!

Let me explain........
Since I stopped being a muscle-bound landscape construction worker, I woke up one morning and realised that I'd put on 2 stone.
I'd stopped being a reasonably fit 8 1/2 stone baby-butch dyke and turned into a lardy-arsed minger. Honestly, you can see my bum from space.
How does that happen? You're innocently getting on with being you... and then your body rebels! There must be some sort of critical level, a danger-zone, filed away in my liver or my spleen or something (what's yer spleen for, then, if it isn't to store up fat and spring it on you when you go one bag of Nik Naks too far? Eh? Eh?!) that SPLURGES over-weightness on you just when you've been lulled into a false sense of I-can-eat-pizza-without-bloating-ness.

So now I'm on SlimmingWorld.

Great, 'cos I'm veggie - I can live on Quorn concoctions, technically called 'Stwnch'.
Bad, 'cos I can't eat pizza or overdose on beer without feeling like I've become a failure

*and that's what you are, isn't it? When you traverse 30 and have to go on a proper diet! No more skipping meals and substituting with beer. Oh no! Now instead of staying trim, my body thinks there's some kind of famine!! Oh yes!!! Now it stores fat if you go for more than 20 minutes without food!

Anyhow. I'm getting my own back tomorrow.
I'm going to trick it into thinking we've moved into years of plenty. This involves eating mucho pizza and many forms of curry and lovely lovely lovely lovely BEER!
Obviously it'll be difficult but I'll do it for the sake of scientific research.

Someone must be researching it somewhere.

Roll on tomorrow...

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Job list

If I could do any job in the world I would be...
  • a paramedic
  • a mountain walking instructor
  • a world-champion weight-lifter
  • a web designer
  • a dry-stone waller
  • an assassin (just seen Mr & Mrs... and yep, I'm fickle!)
  • a scientific-type person living in the antarctic and doing something complicated to do with studying penguins


Points that need to be taken into account:

  • I'm not very fit at the moment. Can do ruck-sacks. Can't do press-ups.
  • I'm strong, but not that strong!
  • I have got a copy of Dreamweaver but I haven't quite got round to loading it onto the machine yet
  • I've got a copy of The Web-designer's Bible but I haven't quite got round to reading it yet
  • I can cope with blood, but I'm a bit twitchy about breaking the law. Still need to get my first speeding ticket. Getting my first sniper-rifle... can I use my Tesco points towards one?
  • I've watched 'Life in the Freezer' a few times but I'm a bit vague on science...

Points in my favour:

  • Do a few medic-type things - got various quals
  • Got a few quals for hill/fell-walking, instructor stuff, but out of practice
  • Am a (rusty) graphic designer. Or that's what my degree says.
  • I'm a great bull-shitter.


Monday, June 13, 2005

Heh heh :-)

What do you call a chicken in a shell suit?

An egg!

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Hot Tunes

Spent the weekend drinking as much coffee as is humanly possible. Heaven.

Last summer I took part in a burn-yer-own-cd-and-send-it-to-a-stranger thingy. This year's is looking good.

Summer Burn 2005

Burn your favourite summer tunes and send them to 2 people. the beauty of it is, of course, that you also receive 2 cds from who-knows-where across the globe. Genius.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Am-ewe-sing. Ahem.

It's hot!
Damn hot....... REAL hot.
As Robin Williams would say.

Can't beat it.

I read today about a James Bond-style escapade by Myfanwy the sheep, who legged it, dived into a body of water and swam 100ft to a small island to avoid the abattoir.


She then lived on daffodils for 6 weeks!
Good old Myfanwy.

Can't help thinking however (call me cynical) that I would bet my left leg she didn't have a name before this made the news.
Somehow 'Myfanwy' is just too good to be true. Watcha reckon?

Obsessive Compulsive Bombin'

I am so addicted to this game.

James Bomb

Not that I'm suggesting that my ability to work has been affected in the least.
Because although I'm at work right now, I'm actually thinking in a dedicated way about paperwork and spreadsheets. You can't pull me away from them. No Sir-ee.

Total addiction. can't stop thinking about it.


50 bad barnets

This made me feel a whole lot better!

However, I did notice to my mild amusement that the haircut my Mum lovingly fashioned on my tiny 10-yr old bonce featured as Number 26.
Ah well, I'm free of all that seventies nonsense, now that I'm enlightened and have a bouffant.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Bleeding misery

Period started just before I went to bed.

That says it all, really.

The gods were frowning upon me. Obviously I've done something to really upset one of them. Either that or I'd unknowingly trodden on the ethereal toe of one of their messengers. Gits.

I taught all morning then had to miss my lunch to meet a dyspraxic bloke and carry out a maths and literacy assessment on him.

He yawned all the way through. Can hardly blame him, really... had to fight not to yawn myself! And just to smooth things along a bit, his speech was almost impossible to understand and he kept closing his eyes. Felt like I was keeping him from his bed....
Nothing personal I hope.

The day went downhill from there. As it would really. Start the day off in agony..., of course it gets worse!

I finally got to Imp's house (my partner) at 9pm and then spent the next hour worrying that I'd left the oven on. She was chatting - I was pretending to listen while mentally going over every movement I'd made in the past 3 hours. Grrraagh!

Couldn't do it. Couldn't relax... had visions of the entire building going up in flames, nicely barbequeing the other residents, while I snuggled up next to Imp in her nice, flame-free bed.
Plus, of course, I'd lose my cd collection......

I had to drive a 16-mile round trip to check. It wasn't on.

She texted me to say that she's discovered that she'd left hers on, though. How ironic.

Got back to hers finally and tried watching a film but we were both too knackered. It's a dog's life!

Tuesday, June 07, 2005


You know on the back of a postcard, it says 'post card'?

Is that a label or an instruction?

Suburbian Slaughter

Things I would like to do in the next ten years:
  • learn to hang glide
  • go to the Antarctic
  • climb a load of mountains in Norway
  • become a brilliant drummer
  • seriously damage the health of my partner's soon-to-be-ex-husband, perhaps leaving him in some kind of vegetative state... without the use of either his legs or his mouth, while mashing his irritating freckley face into the ground
  • lose 2 1/2 stone