Venting at Auntie Muriel

I feel

"And if fate should remember

And come to claim her due

What sorrow could be greater than the joy I shared with you?

For today, lit by your laughter,

between the crushing years;

I can endure in the hereafter

Eternities of tears"

Not that there's anything wrong with that

 But perhaps showing my solidarity for  a certain person here could better be done in more constructive ways.

It's probably not the best idea in the world to announce to the Internet that  I am a committed lesbian. And then fight to uphold my sexuality and stand it out there. That's another brilliant kittyrex moment, which looks perfectly logical at the time. Which usually occurs around the bottom of the second bottle.

I shouldn't  post when drunk.

The point is, however, that we all have to respect each other. Aggression is the not the right thing in any circumstances, even verbally. I was guilty of that and I apologise.

And thanks for the offer. I do appreciate it very much. I've got great friends here.

I hate bigots.

It's cowardly and pathetic and mean.

I've been looking lately at some comments on various blogs and I'm incredibly pissed off. I was generally pissed off anyway tonight but I'm pleased to welcome another reason to yell at the world at large.

The thing is, these moronic modern Cro-Magnon types don't have the intelligence to make any point worth debating at all.

God, please give me a bigot that can string a coherent sentence together so I can display in turn my own brand of incredibly overdone sarcasm and generalization.

I'll feel much better and I don't give a fuck what impact it makes at all.

I do a lot of yelling

So my husband tells me. And he's right.

Tonight I am definitely doing a lot of yelling. At him, mostly, with short side trips into the realms of yelling at kids, and yelling at the cat.

And any nasty commenter’s out there, you can kiss my sweaty backside.

Which is particularly nasty after a good hour working it at the gym. If you don't like some of the blogs you read, well piss off then and don't read them. You might not like me; most people don't. But I can guarantee that I'm liked a hell of a lot better than you ever have been. And I like the community around here.

We are all different, from different walks of life, backgrounds, inclinations and educations. The one thing that we have in common is that we respect each other, a rare and precious thing in today's society evolution. We support each other.

Nobody supports arrogant egotistical morons, who jump into commenting on things without having the benefit of at least two brain cells to rub together.

And I am really sorry that the aforementioned morons aren't around right now. I feel that I've just whetted my yelling appetite and I'm not planning on stopping any time soon.

On television just now

The Homeless World Cup.

I kid you not. It looks like it's for the five a side disadvantaged no dwelling strata of society. Is there a selection criteria at all, I wonder?

Do they trawl the streets of cities, to look for the right type of homeless? The ones that look like they might actually be able to play soccer. Or like maybe just picking those who actually own boots.

And it’s not just playing soccer. The Homeless Soccer Squads are being taken on a great many tours for a relative lesson in the social strata. You know, a sort of ‘if you think that your homeless state is bad, well getta a load of this!’ our homeless are much worse off than your homeless bragging competition.

Apparently, there are levels of homelessness.

Australia came 41st, by the way. That means in the stakes of relative one upmanship (or should it be downmans ship?) there are forty other countries with better homeless soccer skills than us. I think that coming 41^st must put us in the category of Nouveau Homeless.

I just saw a great sign.

Our local laundrette doesn't look terribly laundry oriented from the outside.

Obviously, others think so also and business is slow.

How else can I explain away the large tempting sign in the window, offering  a "Fluff and Dry Full Service, only $15.00", with no mention whatsoever of clothes or linen.

I'm tempted.

In other unrelated news, I must check the pets more frequently. My child informed me this morning that our guinea pig population had suddenly  increased. Nobody had noticed the exponential increase, even though they were fed and watered every day!

Am I mean?

Short answer, yes.

I did a trip today, usual stuff, usual mix of passengers. As always, everybody gelled more as a group after the second vineyard and by the time we'd finished lunch, they were all into it. There wasn't quite communal singing but you got the impression that it only needed one girl to stand up and start belting out "Stand by Your Man" and the whole bus would be involved in tuneless vocal interaction.

By the time we hit the chocolate factory I had a load of obedient sheep following behind. I could have asked them to shoot down any purveyors of less than fantastic wine and they would have done.so. I was their bitch goddess.

Because I am nasty, I led them all to the viewing windows, primarily designed to let customers see how the hand made chocolates are actually made, by hand. We divided into teams (red and blue) and chose our favorites. First chocolate maker to scratch a body area paid the best dividends.

(In case anybody reading this thinks that I am utterly soulless I must stress that the chocolate manufacturers were unaware of this, pressed up as we were with other groups, whose tour leaders were less nasty than I: the evil got lost in the multitude.)

My group won. I am on fire this week for betting! Admittedly, watching some spotty teenager scratch his arse, whilst supposedly working in a sterile environment, is not as lucrative as betting on the Melbourne Cup but I have to take my psychic victories where I can find them.

And one of the pleasures today was a beautiful sunny day, when the powers that be had forecast rain. I always apologize for the inclement weather.

And another pleasure is interacting with people from different backgrounds and cultures. I've been enjoying e-interaction with people from all over the world, simply because they took tours with me and stayed in touch afterwards. I have contacts all over the world. Some I communicate with regularly, others only sporadically but they're all wonderful people and I love getting to know them.  I have a great job.

I expect commissions!

The commissions are from the vast pile of moolah various friends and family have won, betting on my pick for the Cup.

About 3 nights ago I dreamed of the Melbourne Cup winner; a horse's name starting with D. At that stage I had no idea who was even running.

I told the opposition about it and he immediately got hold of a list of the runners and read them out to me. I picked out Delta Blue as the name that had been flashing around in my brain. He then put $5 on it and caused a big laugh at the office when he announced that his wife had dreamt the winner.

Who's laughing now?

Sometimes it's worth staying up late

Especially if you can get in touch with Nicole.

Nicole's blog is called 'adultsexchat' and apparently she's  a model. With money problems.

We are mostly adults here and perhaps somebody wants to alleviate poor Nicole's sad lack of cash. Here is her plaintive profile, reproduced by me in the hope that someone will be able to help her.

"I study foreign languages and my name is Nicole. I suppose everybody knows how hard it is to pay for college these days; it just seems crazy so I had to do something to support myself in college. While I was thinking about what kind of job I could get that would allow me to have time for studies too; an idea hit me. I have heard before about girls being adult sex chat models, and they work from their own homes, being their own bosses, I decided to try my luck as an adult sex chat host also.

The hard part was finding the right adult sex chat to work on I mean there are so many out there on the Internet, but after I found the perfect one everything was so very simple. I created an adult sex chat account and I started my career as an adult sex chat host. Working as an adult sex chat model allowed me to get to know lot of people and having lot of fun all at the same time, while I managed to save money for my college studies too, how wonderful is that! Now after 4 years I have finished my college studies and I have a college diploma, but I am still working as an adult sex chat host, because I love this job so much that I don’t want to give it up for nothing in the world."

I did ask Nicole if she catered for women but she never got back to me. Nicole is probably Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, sitting at the other end of the internet with a fat hairy belly and an attitude.

5000 billion dollars!

Apparently, there's an Australian politician/or department (I didn't hear quite correctly because I was picking my jaw up from the floor at the time) who has come up with a novel idea of saving the Great Barrier Reef from the warming climate due to the ozone layer hole.

I just saw this on the late news, in case anybody doubts my veracity.

The suggestion: shade cloth.

Yes, let's think about this for a moment.  Now you can buy this in bulk at Bunning’s and I guess they would give a discount for bulk, which is just as well, seeing as how they are going to need A F**K OF A LOT OF IT!

But the discount is obviously not very substantial as the cost is estimated to be $5000 billion dollars!

Sometimes I feel that I'm in a very surreal world. Either that or the acid I don't remember ever taking has addled my brain. Still, a good laugh last thing at night is good for the soul.

The Big Suck!

People, I have to share my joy with the world.

I got the new sucking machine out of its box and tried to assemble it. It came with detailed instructions on how to put it together and I still took ages. It's very silver and swooshy looking, glides here and there and comes with all these different attachments. I feel threatened.

Do other people use lots of different attachments? Is this really necessary? I thought the sucking head thingy could do everything. I have now got SIX extra attachments and it’s making me feel inadequate. On the other hand, it does give me bragging rights, along the lines of “Mines bigger than yours!”

So I vacuumed and whilst it wasn’t the orgasmic experience that is promised in the world of brainwashed housewives, it was rather slick and glidey.

And I discovered something magnificent. My new super Swoosher comes with a parking position. You know, for those serial sessions of vacuuming that we all do. Just roll her up, and park her. It has a brake as well and gears. Well, maybe it doesn’t have gears but it has powerful adjustable levels for vacuuming different things and you can call those gears if you like, which I do. Now I just need a seat. The ride on vacuum cleaner has a market in me when they get around to inventing it, which will probably be pretty soon, if the number of auto accessories on my Swoosher is anything to go by.

The more suck the better

I just spent what I consider an inordinate amount of money on a new vacuum cleaner. I got one of the cheaper models around the $150 mark but it was perfectly possible to spend up to $900 if you felt so inclined.

Who would do that? Why would anybody be so enamoured with cleaning that they wanted to get a top of the range model to help them do something that is extremely tedious at best and positively life threatening at worst? (I say life threatening because my next-door neighbour a few years ago had a heart attacking whilst vacuuming. Ever since then I've held the view that vacuuming is a hostile pastime and should be indulged in as little as possible. I can rationalise ANYTHING).

The top model was a Miele (German I think) and that sort of makes sense, given the Teutonic predilection for thoroughly boring things, done in a dogged methodical way.

But the next most expensive one was Swedish, or at any rate Scandinavian. Can you say 'Smeg', without laughing? What are those hot blonde gods and goddesses doing, being so clean and wholesome and into housework? They were designed for frolicking in the snow, whipping each other and being very inventive in the sack, I thought. The ‘Smeg ‘ has forced me to re-evaluate certain parts of my fantasy world and quite frankly, a Swede vacuuming doesn’t do it for me so I’m a bit annoyed.

I wanted to get a machine that had the most amount of suction for the least amount of money as I refuse to be excited over the concept of buying something that will enable me to do more cleaning, thank you very much. So, I test drove a few.

I should have just stuck with the ‘suction’ bit and not proclaimed to the sales guy that ‘the more suck the better’. His eyebrows shot up and you could see he was trying not to laugh. Sometimes I think I should have a 3 second delay on my mouth so that my brain can edit before I talk. I didn’t redeem myself with my next comment, either. ‘No! I didn’t mean that. I meant…” and then trailing off into confusion.

After that, the clearest course of action was to simply lunge at the nearest model, say ‘I’ll take this” and hurry up and pay for it so that I could get the hell out. It’s an interesting way to choose a vacuum cleaner but it seems okay so I’ll pretend I wanted this one all along.

First post, new site!

And didn't I have a roundabout method to get here because I hadn't bookmarked the new address?

I googled me and eventually I got here, after brief but interesting side diversions to the worlds of Maine Coon cats and transvestites. And general filth. But that was really me. The others weren't.

Last uni lectures today. Now two weeks of swot vac before the exams and I'm knuckling down. I'll miss my lab classes, though. There is a girl in there who delights me with how ingenuous she is, she of the 'Gonad Family' fame. She must be reasonably smart because she got into the course and the work load is very intensive, but she doesn't really have much of a clue about some things.

She was talking about health scenarios and how you explained them in an exam and her example was blood in the stool. Nothing wrong with that, except her follow-up comment: "Well, you have to know why there's blood in the feces, and you have to know all the shit behind it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then the laughing started.  I felt really bad afterwards, especially as she didn't get it and rephrased it to say "You know, all the crap behind it", which made it worse.

Oh dear, I hope she doesn't obsess about it. But it made my lab class memorable and I'm grateful.

Suitable for my 200th Post!

Well, typical, anyway. Auntie Muriel, don't read this.

I've been really busy lately and devoting any spare time to online interaction (that doesn't mean cybersex, by the way!) and ignoring my little position here. Here's some food for thought (ugh, I really could have phrased that better!).

I've discovered a new reason not to go to the dentist. I'm the first to admit that I've developed a phobia about medical health professionals and I will deny and deny and deny any problems until somebody physically drags me there. This is not really a good attitude to have but it's understandable, given my medical history and the number of times I've been told, by doctors, that there is no problem. I'm not delivering a diatribe against doctors as such as I realise that diagnosis are hard but I would really rather have a simple "I don't know" rather than an attitude that virtually accuses me of being a neurotic drug seeking attention whore. If others hadn't been more proactive than I was, after hearing a doctor say that to my face, and dragged me to other specialists I could very well be dead by now. Fortunately, surgery was a good option and things were fine but they might not have been.

I didn't like going to the dentist anyway and I was thrilled to find another reason to avoid it. I was casually surfing around (and I regret I can't remember where because I don't like to not attribute) and I found a newspaper article from a couple of years ago.

A dentist was convicted of indecent assault (I think) for squirting syringes of his own semen into his female patient's mouths. He would get the dental nurse to leave the room, then squirt it and tell the patient to gargle, as it was a special tooth treatment! Okay, I've mentally cancelled all of my dentist appointments for the next fifty years.

The funny bit (in a sick sort of funny way) was the reason for his being caught. One of the patients recognised the taste and knew damn well that it wasn't any mainstream approved fluid for dental hygiene!

I'm posting a lot today.

Maybe because I'm online studying and every so often the attraction of brain matter loses its charm, unlikely as that sounds.

Only because I want to hit 200

It is very hard to peel tiny teeny potatoes. They were the only ones in the house and what is Roast Chicken without Roast Potatoes, I ask you? (Capitalization intended so that you get the idea that these are Very Important Foods and should be treated with respect and deserve their own capitals).

 However, potatoes that are roughly the size of golf balls are very hard to peel and I’ve only done one so far because I lost my temper and threw the fully peeled spud, now the size of a marble, across the room along with the peeler.

I now have two fewer nails than I previously had and I’m missing a lump of skin from my knuckle. I’m sure that blood dripped in the gravy but hey, what my family doesn’t know won’t hurt them, and there’s been a fair bit of bodily fluid exchanged over the years in one way or another.

So mi sangre es su sangre.

And we’re eating unskinned mashed potatoes (note non-existent capitalization because, in the scheme of things, mashed potatoes are not in the same game as Roast Potatoes). And they can lump it if they don't like it.

When I was young...

...we never even had a television.

That's probably why I'm technologically challenged. . Hell, where I grew up it was a Big Deal if you even had a big tv screen in black and white. Your social status went up steeply if you either had watched a colour televsion, had family that owned a colour television, or had family who were talking about a colour television in some nebulous future. Actually owning a colour television set was a luxury unattainable, or so it seemed at age 9. We didn't but the doctor's house down the road contained one of the two colour tvs in the town and all the neighbourhood  kids would show up to watch at cartoon time. Why they never told us to rack off home, I have no idea.

I can't resist!

Are you bored? Try this.

Type your name and the word "needs" into the old Google and list your top 10 results.

Ready. Set. GO.

These are some of mine:

Kitty needs a Chopping Up

Kitty needs help

Kitty needs a new home

Mr Kitty needs a home

Kitty needs airplane companion to Baja, Mexico

You get the idea. Do and it and post your best results.

(with thanks to Rachelle, whose blog I pinched the idea fromhttp://members.diaryland.com/edit/view.phtml?user=thedailywtf)

Another post inspired by Halloween

Just because

I wanted to display the entry below, and it's not coming up as updated for some reason.