Clairwil Is Not In The Nude For Dancing.
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Baffled




I expect all you young folk about town think there is nothing worse than being too hot in a night club. Well there is, much worse. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you STARKERS!.

I'm truly baffled by nudism, more so in a club setting. There you are jigging away when your eye alights on a likely conquest only to glance down and note they are hung like a mouse or their nipples bounce off their kneecaps as they dance. That type of disappointment is okay when you've got them home and in your drunken state have begun to think of them as a great wit, but if you see the whole package upfront, you're not going to go any further. I can't see the attraction in it.

Moving on, you will be relieved to hear that the ruler of 'The Lost Mertonian' responded to my heartfelt appeal and has joined my mischief. There is still room at the mischief for more magpies. If any lurkers fancy writing a post a week for us, make yourselves known.

Finally, I fell asleep when I got home from work and didn't wake up until eleven. Now I cannot sleep and have been condemned to blog the night away. Hence the post at this ungodly hour.


Cheerio

The Type Of Media Circus That Claimed Diana
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: The Hand That Rocks The Cradle- The Smiths
Topic: Baffled



Evening,

There I was making notes at the end of a client interview in work today when my life descended into a media circus, the like of which claimed Diana. I'm exaggerating slightly, but it was a most peculiar incident. My clients suddenly started looking all bashful, giggling and whispering to their interpreter. The interpreter then asked me if I would be kind enough to allow them to have their picture taken with me.

Naturally I graciously consented to their touching request, chiefly because I didn't know what else to say. So if any of you ever come across a picture of a puzzled looking white woman standing in between two grinning Pakistani women, you'll know what happened.

The crazy builder last night, the adoring clients today- what on earth is going on? Am I on some sort of Candid Camera style show? Are you all playing tricks on me?

Answers please


Cheerio

I Must Confess That I Quite Like Men Really.
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Season of The Witch-Donovan
Topic: Baffled


Good Evening,

I hope you are well. I've spent a large part of the day asleep following a work's night out. Sadly I do not have any hilarious anecdotes for you. It was a very dull evening, the food was edible but astonishingly bland and overpriced and the wine was gutrot. I would also point out the restaurant was chosen my my irritating work colleague who assured me that the food was 'brilliant, really nice'. That man is a liar and an idiot. I like men but I do not like him.

Moving on I remember my late granny telling me about a dance at an afternoon pensioners club she attended. One of the ladies in her set spent the day dancing with a series of men before returning to her female friends who were sitting at a table tut-tutting at her shameless behaviour. What upset them was that any woman would spend time in male company when there were women available to talk to. It puzzled them. My granny turned to the woman and asked 'do you like men?' in a doubtless incredulous tone. To the horror of the assembled company the woman confessed that yes she did like men. 'Well I thank that's disgusting' my granny said and she meant it.

Like the above pensioner I must confess that I like men, not all of them of course, but most of them are good eggs. That may be why my dreams of a TV career lie in tatters. As Charlie Brooker points out in todays Guardian men are continually portrayed as idiots and 'tumbling ninnies' on television. He draws our attention to a programme entitled 'Bring Your Husband To Heel' which involves naughty men being retrained by a dog trainer. Incredibly this is a real programme on an actual television channel, not one of the ones Charlie makes up. I realise that certain men, like politicians, would probably pay a lot of money to be brought to heel by a dog trainer but surely to Christ no one normal would wish to take part. What sort of man would consent to such a thing and what sort of woman would want him to? It would be impossible to have any respect for a man prepared to undergo such demeaning treatment in front of people. If a series were commissioned in which women were brought to heel by dog trainers there would be riots up and down the country.

Apparently programmes of this sort are aimed at women. I expect they are the the sort of women who buy 'bloke joke' books, yet are completely unable to function without a boyfriend. In other words television is, as ever, pandering to idiots instead of telling them to fuck off and get an education. This will not be allowed when I'm in charge.

Anyway I recommend you have a quick look at Charlie's article, which is as always very, very funny.


Cheerio

Where Do Statistics About Porn Come From?
Mood:  quizzical
Now Playing: Mrs Jones- Hole
Topic: Baffled

Evening,

I have just finished reading an article in today's Guardian about the Playboy stationary on sale in WH Smith.

The article follows on from an earlier article on the same subject and consists of readers views on this most serious of issues. I have to say I'm fairly indifferent to the whole issue, as far as I am aware the stationary just shows the Playboy logo and I can't see a generation of children being traumatised by that. It's been many years since I saw a copy of Playboy, I think I was about eight when I chanced upon a stack of abandoned girlie mags in a lane. I remember thinking Playboy was the best because it didn't have open crotch shots like some of the others which I thought were most unladylike. Mind you I also remember informing some of the other giggling children present that the ladies had their legs open because they were going to have babies, so my eight year olds perspective might not be particularly helpful here. Anyway given that we children were amused by the actual magazine and rather indifferent I can't see that a bunny head in silhouette is likely to bring about the decline of western civilisation.


However The Guardian readers are less than amused. One writes that '....reports indicate that perhaps 80% or more of porn that is routinely viewed shows women and girls being raped and enjoying it.' Really? I must confess that I am not a regular viewer of porn but I do like the odd glance and can only think of one occasion where I have seen rape depicted. In fact the vast majority of porn I have seen depicts women who are in a permanently cartoon like state of sexual arousal and willing to the point of nymphomania. And girls? I can't say I've ever been particularly convinced by barely legal porn and suspect most of the actresses and models are rather petite looking fresh faced twenty somethings. I have never in my life seen anyone who appears to be underage in any type of pornography suggesting this might be something of a rarity.

I'm not particularly fussed about the depiction of rape in pornography given that it is all fantasy and wishful thinking aimed at the still largely male audience. I'm just a bit sceptical about this 80% figure. Where did it come from? Who watched this 'routinely viewed' porn in order to arrive at the figure? How is 'routinely viewed' defined? Most porn that one sees is of the soft variety, a bit of tit here, some implied lesbianism there, but no sexual assault that I'm aware of.

I make no claim to be an expert on porn and am quite happy to be set straight if I've missed something, however I'd be very grateful if anyone could enlighten me as to where these peculiar statistics come from.


Cheerio

Americans Or American Speakers Wanted Urgently!
Mood:  quizzical
Topic: Baffled


Evening,

As some of you may be aware I am only Scottish and as such ignorant of the sophisticated ways of the fine citizens of THE BEST MOTHERFUCKING COUNTRY IN THE GODDAMN WORLD YOU FREEDOM HATING RAGHEAD SON OF A BITCH. That is why I need your help

What in the name of all that is sacred and holy is an 'asshat'?

I know what an ass is: it is an arse in the playground and a donkey in the classroom. I know what a hat is, I own several, but an asshat. Why would someone put a hat on their arse? I realise it is an insult and it has a pleasing ring to it, but where did it come from? Why not an assshoe, or an assbra? Is it a weedy way of saying asshole in front of children and maiden aunts like the woman in my work who say's fishing instead of fucking?

Anyway if anyone can enlighten me I'd be very grateful.

Cheerio

The World Goes Mad In My Absence.
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: Hollywood-Madonna
Topic: Baffled
Evening,

As I mentioned earlier I nipped out to the pictures to see Kingdom of Heaven. It was quite enjoyable as it goes although I'm led to understand a stranger to historical accuracy. I'm afraid I don't know enough about that period of history to offer an opinion here. I have to say I thought that the fellow playing Saladin was fantastic and his performance and costume was worth the price of admission alone.

However it seems to have made some people very angry indeed. Apparently it is anti-American and promotes paganism and homosexuality in toddlers. I have to say I didn't get that from it at all but then I'm only Scottish and a wicked liberal so what do I know? Perhaps one of my readers from THE BEST MOTHERFUCKING COUNTRY IN THE GODDAMN WORLD!!!! could enlighten me if they get a minute.

Anyway that's not the most alarming event of the day. I came home to find a man on all fours crawling about outside my close screaming 'ya dirty fucking orange bastards' at the top of his voice. I should point out that there was no-one else there. I was tempted to shout 'I'm not a Rangers fan, I'm just big-boned' at him but I thought it best not to provoke him. A Google news search reveals that Celtic were beaten by Motherwell today which means, I believe that Rangers have won the league or something on goal difference. I can understand why they are upset but they're all carrying on outside like half their family have been struck by lightening. A bit of perspective please! I was gutted when Johnny Cash died but I didn't go running about shouting abuse at innocent members of
the public or vandalising bus shelters.


Anyway I intend to remain indoors until calm is restored.


Cheerio

Free For All Orgy With Hot Slutty Women.
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Friday Mourning- Morrissey
Topic: Baffled
O Dear Lord Will This Hell Never End?

Why in the name of all that is sacred and holy did someone send me this? What have I ever said or done to make anyone think I'd like this? I feel closer to the edge than ever before.

The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a
day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front
of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and
empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then
asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar.
He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between
the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the ! jar was full.
They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of
course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar
was full. The students responded with an unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and
poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space
between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize
that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important
things---God, your family, your children, your health, your friends and your
favourite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained,
your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and
your car.

The sand is everything else---the small stuff. "If you put the sand into
the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf
balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on
the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important
to you.

"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with
your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to
dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and
fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first---the things that
really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."



One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee
represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's
always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

Please share this with someone you care about. I JUST DID

It's that 'share this one with someone you care about' bit that really distresses me. I should also point out that I have never in my life heard of the person that sent it. O how my heart soars, even my stalker is an idiot. JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!

Cheerio

Schoolgirls Fucking In Positions You Never Imagined.
Mood:  quizzical
Now Playing: The Ultimate Maria Callas Collection.
Topic: Baffled



Hello

As my regular punters will be aware I am a hits whore. I note from my statistics tracker thing that I have recently had six hits from this site. Normally I would add a link as a thank-you, but readers I'm feart. I have visited the above blog and it's very good, I feel certain that Mr Pond is a man I could do business with. But what if he isn't? I have read most of his recent entries and searched for a links page but I can't find the link to my blog anywhere. What if the bad karma of mocking Sian has caught up with me? He might just have placed a link to my site in one of his posts and called me a cow. I couldn't bear it if he thinks I'm a cow. Only people who don't respect you enough to think up a proper insult call you a cow. He seems a clever boy, what if his egghead readers are coming here to laugh at the fool? I feel like the dwarf in The Birthday Of The Infanta. How should I respond? It's a puzzle.

O in case you're wondering, I'm trying to get more hits by having pornographic titles to my posts. There is no fucking here as I am only too painfully aware.

Cheerio

Man Given #6,385 For Unsolicited Blow Job.
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: The Pill- Loretta Lynn
Topic: Baffled



I know I'm days behind the rest of the world. Forgive me, but this was only brought to my attention late last night by a very fine fellow of my acquaintance and how we laughed.


BERGEN, Norway (UPI) -- A Bergen, Norway, woman has been convicted of raping a man, newspaper Aftenposten reported Wednesday.

The unidentified woman was sentenced to nine months in prison and ordered to pay the man $6,385 in damages for the Jan. 4, 2004, incident.

The man told the court he fell asleep on a sofa in a Bergen apartment and awoke to find the woman performing oral sex on him.

The woman admitted the sexual contact, but claimed the man gave consent.

The case marked the first time a Norwegian woman was charged with raping a man.

Copyright 2005 by United Press International


Who is this fucking weed? Was he conceived with a weak sperm and a defective egg? On the thankfully few occasions when I have been subject to forceful unwanted sexual advances, a struggle has ensued. Could he not fight her off? There have been numerous cases where women have been deemed not to have put up a sufficient struggle for what happened to be classed as rape and the man in question let off scot free. I think he should be jailed for being a weed.

Surely an unwanted blow job administered by a female acquaintance is more of an embarrassment than a trauma. Anyway what was he doing staying the night in her house if he wasn't after getting laid? A crybaby and a clit tease! Let's track him down and pelt him with vegetables.

I should also declare an interest here, I too have committed the 'blow job crime' on several chaps. Not all on the same night I hasten to add, I'm not that loose. Until now I had never suspected I was a rapist. At last my blog has a purpose. A gimmick! Diaries of a Female Rapist! Hurrah! Can a book deal be far way? An appearance on the Fantasy Channel?

Readers I'm the bad Abi Titmuss!

Cheerio


UPDATE: On a trawl for smut, I have stumbled across a porno of the truly remarkable name Double Lesbo confinement chair trance. I am lost for words.

Even The Vatican Are Ignoring Me!
Mood:  surprised
Now Playing: Delia's Gone- Johnny Cash
Topic: Baffled



I see from the news this evening a new Pope has been chosen. I also note they have ignored my choice of Oscar Andres Rodriguez Maradiaga. The arrogance! Well I'll have the last laugh, if I decide to get religion I'm going Sikh.
That'll show them.

Anyway I am still looking at other peoples blogs to earn credits which in turn will force people to look at mine. The whole thing makes me think of a sausage dog chasing it's tail for some reason. Anyway I've found a nice, restful blog with some lovely pictures of betta fish. The ruler of the blog reckons bettas are beautiful, hearty and graceful. And having seen said fishes for the first time on her blog I quite agree. To see the lovely fish click here.

To cheer myself up last night I sat down with several bargains from my favourite shop -Poundland. There I was feet up watching a Women Of Coronation St video writing myself little notes with a pen disguised as a big glittery quill both purchased for only a pound. The corrie video is a gem. It's a compilation of clips of the finest female street characters. All the greats Ena, Bet, Mrs Walker, Elsie, Hilda and one of my forgotten favourites Maud Grimes were included. I wish they'd bring Bet back. Watching the scene of her and Raquel getting royally pissed in the Rovers after hours was a joy as was the scene of Hilda unveiling her fabulous 'muriel' to a dumbfounded Bet and Mrs Walker. Ah happy days.

Cheerio.