Jessica Rabbit, tigers that burn and the men down under

I  had another dream with the tiger in the forest.  The tiger, tiger burning bright in the forest of the night!  I have had this dream before and I know it stems from my love of and constant singing of the song “Tiger in the Night” by Katie Melua.

My favourite line being “I live like a wild and lonely soul”, ahh it’s very beautiful, trust me.  I also love tigers, not physically, stop dialing the RSPCA!

The tiger in the dream is stunning, he has ember eyes and he sleeps. In the clearing of the forest, which has a stream nearby. I can’t see the stream, I only hear it but I know it’s pure and if I drank the water I would be immortal. The tiger drinks the water, I never see this, but he must. His fur is the richest colour of fire you could imagine with  velvet jets of black . He’s very regal, I would liken him to Aslan though not to Jesus, which is what CS Lewis aka “creepy religious dude” was getting at.

I want to speak to him but I’m not there, it’s just my spirit watching the tiger and his breathing, up and down, so soothing. Just like the soothing sound of the heart beat.

Much better than the size 0 boy-girls (that surely only a catholic preist could love?)

I was having my lovely tiger dream when my phone rang and who should it be but none other than Jessica Rabbit (so called because she has huge boobies, that’s it really). Rabbit is one of my bestest friends.  Rabbit is a cockney lass and her parents are originally from the Caribbean but I like to piss her off and say she is from Nigeria. Rabbit is the one that taught me the most offensive thing you can tell a black woman is that they wear a weave, ha ha.

Anyway, Rabbit has been gone for a long time,  and before that I was gone for a long time.  So now we  are back in each other’s lives and it is a wonderful thing, like the dust that might fall off a shooting star as it travelled to earth!

I will see her tomorrow but from what I gathered, she had a great time away. Rabbit usually only dates black men but she said and I qu0te, “I didnt want to go to Australia because I thought they might be a bit racist, but oh my god, the white boys there, they’re so fit!”.  I have to agree with her.  We reeled off a quick list why australian men are possibly the hottest white men:

1)  Tall (on the whole most are tall)

2) Tanned

3) Good at sports like surfing! Sexy sports. Over here it’s mainly rugby and the men that think they are good at rugby but are not professionals, well… they are fat and gross.

4) FUN – the most important thing, they really are super laid back and enjoy mucking around.  These british boys are very anal, let me tell you.

5) Confident but not cocky – if a guy over here in the UK is confident he tends to be arrogant and a bit of wanker.  Over in Aussie, they’re confident but down to earth. They actively come up to you and ask you out. When I was in australia,  I can say, with modesty, I got a loooot of attention. A lot more than you get in London because everyone is terrified of everyone and english men are too “stiff upper lipped” to approach you.

So yeah, it seems the men down under have tempted old Jessica Rabbit. I told her the kiwis are nice too.  The Kiwi guys are really sweet, maybe even a bit shy.  They are the nicest though. Of all the men in the world that I have met and like to racistly stereotype.

Rabbit asked if anything was going on  with me, I told her I’d fill her in on all my scandalous-yet-still-virginal escapades when I was away when we met up for an official marathon exchange of travel stories.  I told her that I think I am finally ready to have a boyfriend. I told her how I was a bit jealous the other day when my friend was watching a DVD with her “non boyfriend”, the Puppy.   I said I like DVDs! I want a boyfriend to watch one with.  To which Rabbit replied, in her usual way of spoiling my PG fantasies “yeah watching DVDs naked with a guy is nice”.

 

Today I was sporting an erection

Years of sexual repression has finally caught up with me.  My denim skirt today seems to have created an outward fold just at the spectacular crotchtacular area.   It’s a magical skirt with sex change properties.

harmless skirt erection or penis from botched sex op growing back?

I tried to walk like a man with a massive  erection (ok kinda teeny erection, but an erection nonetheless)  in public would… proudly and pervertedly.  This means standing with your legs apart, leading from the hips  and swaggering along whilst winking at everyone you see.

 

People who pretend they don’t ever look at their poo

Poppycock!

Riddle me this… If they never looked how do they know what poo even looks like? Could look like flowers or Christian Bale’s chiseled face for all they know!

He might be... how do you know if you've NEVER LOOKED!?

There is far too much poo in my blog, need a verbal laxative.

 

Is it worth sacrificing your ideals for a shag?

Or a hand to hold?

Someone to text in the evening or take to the cinema on Orange Wednesday?

See, I don’t think it is, but my housemate and the guy she is “seeing”, I think they both do, for different reasons.

The problem is, she got out of a relationship with an army man, whom she was head over heels for, like seriously head OOOVEEER heels. He even admitted to her that he knew she liked him more than he liked her… and she was so smitten she just nodded, accepted such arrogance and smiled blissfully in his ginger hairy arms.

Well, he turned out to be a ne’r do well bastard.  She was sad for a while, she started to get over him. The old facebook reared it’s ugly informative head when she saw he was “in a relationship” again etc, etc.

She met this guy, I’ll call him Puppy. This does give off the impression that he is cute, but dear reader, he aint.  It’s more to do with the fact she kicks him and he yelps then comes back for more. He is trying to get her to make it official, that they are boyfriend and girlfriend, my housemate is denying this, saying she doesnt want a relationship. He takes her out all the time, pays for dinner (V day was a hefty 120 pound meal). He stays over frequently and she stays at his. It has all the markings of a relationship but she refuses to yield.

Last night they had an almighty row. A huge row that woke me up. Slamming doors,  tears, swearing. He was mad because they had gone out together to a place where she knew lots of people and he knew only her.  She had apparently ignored him  and flitted off, flirting with other men. She was mad because he had gone off the rails at her and said she was a user and treated him like shit.

All very bad business but I must confess, very fun to “eavesdrop” on… you’d have to be deaf or comatose (like one of my other drunken housemates at the time) to not hear it.

My question is, yes I am alone, yes I have always been “alone” (in the sense of no sexy boy to cuddle up to, a thought that until very recently made me want to vomit!).  Though, I’d rather be in my shoes, than in my housemate’s or her “non-boyfriends” situation.

For her, she is just filling a void… quite literally. Puppy is convenient.  She admits it’s nice to have someone to take you out and someone to fuck, lets face it.  But he’s nothing special and his clingyness is annoying, I know she cares for him but she doesnt see a serious future together.  I couldnt do this, fuck someone I didnt really, really like.  It may be because I have a clean slate and cant start off with something luke warm, but I’d  also like to think it’s because I have respect for myself and others.  I told my housemate, if she was truly altruistic (which it is very hard to be anyway) she would “finish” with him because it is only going to get worse.

I would definitely not trade places with the Puppy. Not only would this mean being a man, it would mean settling for scraps and less than ideal treatment from someone you really liked. She isnt overly nice to him, I mean she is, but she makes it quite clear he is not to bring up anything to do with “where they are relationship wise” and because he is so into her and she is luke-warm for him, she sometimes snaps at him or is careless of his feelings.

I never want to be like that. I hope that, if someone were to treat me badly, I would respect myself and step away. It’s worse because he’s a “man”, you expect them to be made of stronger, less wussy stuff .  When I was drunk, I told him over the phone that he ought to be “more of a bastard” to my housemate, because she likes bastard men that she thinks are too good for her, when really they are just jerks.

He didnt take the advice on board and now they are having a “crisis meeting” at his, as I type this, after the fireworks last night.

So in conclusion, it is not worth sacrificing my ideals just for a hand to hold or someone to take me out to dinner.  What’s the point if the hand isn’t special? Or if the person across the dinner table is as exciting to you as a… erm, tic tac?

No point!

Best things come to those who wait e.g. Guiness… and the Irish guy that drinks it.  Eek, what is it with me and the Irish boys?  Twill end badly,  you mark my words.

 

My life as a piss-o-gram

Piss-o-gram - the new "happy slapping"

I was perhaps 4 or 5 or 6 or  perhaps 17… wait, scratch the last “perhaps”.

My siblings and I were round at my mother’s best friend’s house, playing in the grass embankment with her children, who were our close friends. We were playing tag or something peasant-esque like that, (Wii wasnt invented back then, I think it was the age of the super nintendo console).

Being the youngest of the troupe, you always want to be included and once included and accepted by the elder and wiser ones (my sister being the opitimy of this, the Ralph of our Lord of the Flies brigade if you like, I am obsessed with that book).  Anyway yes, once accepted you will do anything or in this case *nothing* to rock the magnificent boat of inclusion in the cool older sibling gang.

I needed to piss really bad.  I was wearing some kind of  gay girly dress.  For some reason I was born with a hole in my logic. It generally means I leave things till they get worse and worse, thinking they will magically get better. The upside to this is that often, for no other reason that I can find other than I am an exceptionally lucky gal, this happens. Things just sort themselves out. However, my pee didnt evaporate inside of me that fateful morn.

I finally realised I couldnt hold it any longer, I called my sister’s name and kept wailing that I needed the loo.  She said, “oh just go yourself or wait, we’ll be done soon…” Pfft, I said I wasnt supposed to cross the road by myself.  My sister asked one of the others to take me but no one wanted to. They told me I  was old enough to go.

I worried and dilly-dallied with the situation. Ooh I needed to pee so bad!

I did it. I ran across the road and up to the house, but then that thing happened, you know the thing? When you are bursting for the loo and the closer you get the more imminent disaster feels.  Like when you are taking down your pants and about to sit on the loo and the closer you get to completing your mission, the more likely you are to wet yourself? No?

So I rang the doorbell, hopping from foot to foot,  the disaster was still contained, the tights were still dry…

I heard the door handle turn… the sound of respite, so sweet to my ears…

Mayday! Mayday! My urgency seemed to increased ten fold!

Then my mum’s friend, a wonderful woman, was standing there, she asked if I had come all the way by myself.

It was too late.

The combination of a grown up who I felt so safe with and the stress of the road crossing and full bladder meant one thing…

I stood there, wailing and lost control. I just peed my pants on her door step.  For a good thirty seconds, I think.   How bizarre it must have seemed to her. I think she said, “Aww poor Miley”, whilst I hysterically peed and cried all at once.  If only, I had been a funny 5 year old, I would have started to sing “Happy Birthday”…

Thinking back on it, I wonder if there is such a thing as a piss-o-gram. Hire someone to ring someone’s doorbell an reel off a rhyme about how much you hate them whilst pissing on their doorstep. Ha,  ultimate diss!

The end of the story,  she took me upstairs and I had my first and only ever encounter with a bidet.  Yeah she was a posh lady with a bidet!  I have a few more stories of my youth where I pissed myself, mainly when I was wearing a leotard, oh joy.

 

Do not visit Scotland, you will step in feces

I really hate Scotland.

Recommended addition to Scottish Flag

I have been to the far east, australia and new zealand, a few pacific islands, across the USA,  a fair few countries in Europe and South Asia and I have never stepped in shit in any of those countries.

In the UK, I  have been shit-free in England, Ireland and Wales (I stepped in cat feces when I was 6 but for 20 odd years of living in Wales, one shitty step is forgivable).

What did I do the moment I got to Edinburgh for Hogmanay (WHICH WAS CANCELLED THAT YEAR DUE TO RAIN FFS)… I stepped slap bang into poo.  In the middle of an open clearing as well.

Dirty scots! How I loathe them!

I find scottish women rough as barbarians. I find the men mean.  The only scots I can stand are the fake ones in Braveheart.  Do you know one single, nice  Scotsperson? James McAvoy doesn’t count.

I wage war against Scotland.  May the lord strike it down!

Ha ha, I like typing silly like this. It doesn’t help that I am watching “The Devil’s Whore”, a drama set in the times of the English Civil War.  It’s got some sexy men with long hair and swords in it.  Oh dear, lately my mind is on nothing else but men. Sword-wielding men at that, how am I going to come across one of those? Any men that brandish swords in this reality will probably be posh fencers that say “raa raa” or real day pirates that smell worse than the crap in Scotland.  Rock and a hard place indeed.

 

Becoming wrinkly from spending too long in the bed

I think this would be a great evolutionary advantage.  I can sleep in bed for so long. I love dozing and I love the dreams, especially when they involve sexy men.  Though they never involve sexy men.  Once, I had a dream where I got to take loads of wonderful clothes for free from shops. Another dream, a particularly excellent one, was where I was stealing chocoate from an underground warehouse and eating it. I actually got to eat it in my dream! Oh my it was like that cake in Matrix 2 that gives the lady an orgasm.

An experiment on egg-plants showed that 9/10 of them became wrinkly when placed in a bed for more than 8 hours

Anyway, yes, I would spend much less time in bed if it made me wrinkly like what the bath water does to your skin. Makes you all prune like and icky.

The End.

I think we should all go to bed, cmon! I race you, raaaaaaaaaa!!!

 

Fatty on tv show constantly referred to as “28 stone virgin”

So one of my housemates and I were watching this show where they get a super skinny person and make them swap diets with a right fatty boom ba.

OH MY GOD IT'S A FAT, 27 YEAR OLD VIRGIN THAT LIVES WITH HIS MUM!

The fatty boom ba was 27 years old and he weighed 28 stone. He lived at home and his mama fed him rotis (this indian type of food that will turn you into a heffa in no time… just take a stroll through Hounslow!).

Well he was pretty fuckin fat, man.   The funny thing was, whenever the narrator of the programme referenced him, it would be like so…

“Serial singleton, Fatty Mcgee has never had a girlfriend…”

or

“Meanwhile, the 28 stone virgin is having a difficult time resisting take away temptation”…

or

“Georgie (the skinny girl) and the supersized virgin have really improved their diets”.

Seriously, whenever he was mentioned, they made sure to add he had never had a relationship and was a virgin.  The dude is 28 frickin stone and lives with his mother, we pretty much guessed he aint having sex, give it a rest already!

They even had this bit where he was talking to the doctor (who has a haircut which makes it look like someone pissed on his head…) and the doc said, “how does this effect your relationships?” and then  sweet shy fatty said “I never had one”.  It wasnt enough he was on the show, showing everyone he ate about 7000 calories a day, they had to make him say it outloud. He was a sexless wonder. Well fatty boom ba, you’re not alone.

It made me realise however that in just over 3 years, my relationshipless and virginity will be highly unacceptable instead of  “a bit weird”.  I said to my housemate, “oh great, they’re all like,   omg this guy is a virgin… HE’S THAT FAT, HE’S A 27 YEAR OLD VIRGIN!!!  I’m not even a fatty boom ba, they’d have a field day with me.”

All I can hope is that I never have to go on Channel 4 and if I do they never learn my secret.

 

Youth is wasted on the non-extinct

 

Capturing America through a lense in NYC

This was taken on the day Obama got elected... not really.